Some Drugs are Good

Kids, never tell anyone where you heard that.  m'kay?

I had dental surgery Tuesday.  And as someone so eloquently put it this morning, "Yeah, you are still looking chipmunkish.  But don't worry, chipmunks are cute."  This person has clearly never seen Alvin and the Chipmunks.  Nor has she looked like a chipmunk.  Yes, chipmunks are cute.  When they are outside running away from my dog.  Not when I am compared to one.

It takes a lot of Novocaine to get me good and numb.  Seriously, I had 6 shots.  I'd like to say that I have a high pain tolerance but I think it is finally time to admit that I don't.  I had a good run of it though.  Finally the truth is out.  I'm a big baby.  You'd think after 20 years of painful, um...times of the month, I'd be all good and scarred and strong.  Nope.  I still cry when my finger gets shut in the drawer.  I lament over cutting myself while shaving.  Yes, Brad, I do still shave.  Sometimes. 

Well, two days after my surgery I am still hurting.  And that is where the drugs come in.  It's only Ibuprofen, but it is good, and I like it. 

All I Want for Christmas

Am I the only one who hates to give people a list of things to get me for Christmas?  Oh?  I am?  Oh well.  I hate it.  If you are determined to get me something then you probably should have thought about what it was before having to ask me what I wanted.  :) 

So here is my list, in all it's glory. 

1.  Free time. 
2.  A clean house.
3.  NO. LAUNDRY.
4.  Enough money so I don't have to work.
5.  A new kitchen.
6.  New windows.
7.  10 lbs of weight loss. 
8.  The ability to run for 20 minutes without dying or requiring hospitalization.
9.  A personal chef.
10.  World peace.

Can you help me out with any of those? 

I think it's time to change my ringtone, or get more sleep

So that is basically my entire post...all in the title.

The End.

Other working title:  One should not have alarm on cell phone be the same as the ringtone on said cell phone, lest one sleep through alarm while dreaming their phone was ringing.

Dear Hair

Dear Hair,

I know we have a love/hate relationship.  I know you refuse to be straight and untangly.  I've accepted that and decided to love you anyway.  I know we hit the mother load while I was pregnant.  Soft, full and generally fuss free.  And then you decided bald might be a good look after pregnancy.  I was honestly quite worried about the number of times you clogged my drain (and if my husband still liked me after he had to clean said drain).  I also happen to know you are rather enjoying this little stage of uncertainty we have here.  To be wavy or curly?  To be curly or kinky?  To be dreds or not?  Personally, I would just prefer you pick one.  Preferably wavy.  Preferably not dreds. 

While I understand you have your own agenda I have a favor to ask.  Please stop being nice to me only when I'm getting ready to get you cut.  As in, "I will cut you!".  But not because I want to hurt you, only because you need it.  Do you KNOW I am making an appointment today?  Do you KNOW I've decided to not cut you short? 

Please stop being nice to me.  It's freaking me out.

Me

First Time for Everything

Dear Little Boy,

You are going to the doctor today.  Who cares, you say?  No biggie, you say.  Well.  Today is the first time you are going that wasn't already scheduled.  I'm not going to put on here why you are going as that is too much like showing your future girlfriends bathtub pictures (which I TOTALLY intend to do).  Uh, yeah, I'm THAT mom.

Worst part is I can't even take you, your daddy has to.  It's OK, I generally get all the shot visits.  But what concerns me is, what does this say about us as parents?  You are almost 11 months old, I haven't even CALLED the pediatrician before.  Now, the lactation consultant is a different story...she was on speed dial.  Does this mean we are just good, laid-back parents?  Or are we too nonchalant?  Based on the instruction manual I gave your new sitter today, I'm not sure either of them fit. 

I should have put you in a cuter outfit this morning.  And I'll have to make sure daddy takes a picture to commemorate your first sick visit!  Hmmm, I think I know who is sick here.

But I love you!

Mommy

Used to

Used to be that America's Funniest Home Videos would put me in a good mood, even after a day like today.

Used to be.  What happened?

Oh yeah, this too

Dear Little Boy,

I left out a few things, which inevitably were the things that made me decide to write the post to begin with.  And of course they are how I know you are mine, since I know me best.

10.  You sometimes snort when you laugh.  I'm not proud of this.
11.  Your body jerks when you are falling asleep.  Sorry...

The good news is that your future wife can always say, "at least you come by it honestly".  I may or may not use that almost daily with your dad.

Love you!

Mommy

P.S.  Please stop waking up at 4 AM.

For Future Reference

Dear Little Boy,
There will come a time in your life when you will not like us very much as parents.  There may even come a time when you wonder how you came from this family.  I still have that wonder for myself sometimes.  So much so that I confronted my mother about whether or not I was adopted.  I was in college.  I may or may not still have lingering doubt. 

But rest assured you are ours.  Something happened the other night that made me tell your daddy, "Wow, he is SO my kid".  So I started thinking of all the ways I know you are mine.  And his.  But mostly mine.

1.  That whole pregnancy/labor thing.  Yeah, won't soon forget that part.
2.  You have curly hair.  I'm sorry.
3.  You have blue eyes.  You are not allowed to use these to get what you want from me or any other woman.
4.  You like to sleep on your stomach.  I feel ya on that one.
5.  You like to sleep contorted or with one leg bent.  Your future wife may hate me for that one.
6.  You like the blanket to be beside your face when you sleep.  I love covers.
7.  You like to go for walks. 
8.  Stubborn much?
9.  Short legs, long torso.  Haven't figure out what that is good for, yet.

I can't leave your dad out.  Just a few ways you are like him.
1.  You both like boobies.
2.  So. Freaking. Cute.
3.  Mirrors are your friend.
4.  You  have a laid back personality.
5.  You are kind to strangers.
6.  Full of energy.

I'm sure more stuff will emerge later.  I'll claim all the good stuff.  :)

Love you,
Mommy

Family Dynamics

I have an odd family dynamic.  I'd explain it, but it doesn't really matter for purposes of this post.  Here is the Clff Notes version.

I have an older brother and younger sister.  My brother is 1.5 yrs older than me, my sister 5.5 yrs younger.  My brother and I have the same father, sister and I have different.  Never in the world could you imagine three children who are so completely and utterly different from each other.

I don't know my dad.  I know who he is, but I don't really know him.  He is a voice on the end of the phone.  I don't know how he takes his coffee.  I don't know his favorite type of movies.  I don't know what he likes to do on Sunday afternoons.  What is strange to me, however, are traits that my brother and I have of his.  Neither of us spent much time with him growing up.  Summers sometimes but never anything I can recall.  Camping when I graduated high school but I was molded by then.  My dad is a good man, this post isn't about knocking him.

My brother has his laugh.  And he looks just like him.  I mean, just like him.  I have my dad's body.  Which isn't that great, given that my mom is super skinny.  I have his hair.  I have his temperment. 

This post isn't about feeling bad for me either, I rarely feel bad about my family dynamic.  Sure, there are times I wish I had what my friends had, but I usually didn't feel like I was missing much.  I was more independent than my brother, though.  And I think boys need their fathers more than girls do. 

I remember telling Brad long before we had kids that I would never be jealous of his relationship with our kids, especially if we had a girl.  Every girl needs a strong man in her life, and if it isn't her father, then it will usually be someone else. 

So for any woman who reads this, build your husbands up.  Let them be the man.  Let them lead the house.  Let them skirt responsibility sometimes, if it means they are spending time with the kids or even you! 

For the men reading, build your wives up.  Tell her she is beautiful, even if she hasn't had a shower.  Do the dishes for her one night so she can relax.  Order out so  you can all spend time together. 

If there is one thing I've learned in my short time as a parent, its that we should be the parents we always said we would be. 

Give hugs.  Give kisses.  Let them make a mess.  Take them to the park.  Let them be kids.  And let each other be human.  We all make mistakes, but we are a family.  And families rule.

Unspoken

I  hesitate to post anything somber, since it has been so long since I've taken the time to post anything of note.  But I'm struck today by silence.  Many times we have the overwhelming desire to fill our days with everything, anything, to make it through.  Personally, my days are full of stuff that I'd rather not be doing.  I'd rather sit in silence with my family and marvel that we made it through.  Silence is a hot commodity in the house of an infant, though.  And even before him, silence was often considered "uncompatible".  If we didn't talk then we had nothing to talk about; therefore we were uncompatible. 

As a people, however, we have a tendency to speak when no words need to be spoken.  When we are brave enough to share our emotions, we want empathy, not fixes.  When we are brave enough to speak our fears, we want support, not stories of how others relate.  When we are brave enough to speak of sin, we want forgiveness, not judgement.  I think when it really comes down to it, we know how to fix things, we know our fears are often not going to materialize, we know as Christians we are forgiven.  We want support.  We want love.  We want a friend, a spouse, a confidant, a sense of peace.  And none of those can be found in words.  We know all the sayings, "God won't give you more than you can handle."  "Everything in it's time"  "Everything has a reason", etc, etc. 

What we often don't know, but we wish we did, is that we are loved enough, important enough, and good enough.  I am good enough for your silence.  This tells me you empathize, you love me, you care enough to give me my time to speak.  If we listen enough, everyone has something they need to say.

Ummm, hi

I really should update my blog.  Not that anything of real consequence has happened, but because it seems like the nice thing to do.  I have little snippets of things I would say on facebook or twitter, except I don't.

Thought Sunday and Monday (and probably will today):
Sometimes I'm actually impressed with my mommy abilities.  Today is not one of those days. 

Thought this morning:
Oh, crap.  It's almost October.  Didn't I say I was going to do the 31 Days thing?  Oh, crap.

Thought everyday:
I wish I didn't have to work.  Except that I use work as an excuse for not being good at everything with my kid.  If I didn't work I wouldn't have that excuse.  Nor would I have all my bills paid.  Still, it's tempting.

Awesomeness

Dear Little Boy,

It stands to reason, given my complete and utter awesomeness, that some of that would rub off on you.  Well, my friend, it did.  You are more awesome than I could ever imagine.  God sure knew what he was doing when he gave me you.  Your daddy and I are constantly in awe of how smart, cute, inquisitive, attentive, etc, etc, etc you are.  A friend and I were having coffee one morning and an older couple actually came up to us and commented on how responsive you were.  That was a first.  I never really thought of being responsive as a compliment, unless you are an EMT or a Customer Service professional.

You had your first solid food this weekend.  I know, I know, we could have started months ago, but we decided to wait.  And wait.  And wait.  I'm happy to report that you loved it.  We have it on video so I have proof. 

You started waving recently too.  So. Stinking. Cute.  I didn't think we waved all that much so I'm a little surprised you started doing that one. 

You learned how to propel yourself forward while on your tummy too.  Normally the propel comes from your foot in some very uncomfortable position against one of my body parts.  Glad I could be there for you.  You still prefer to go backwards, though.  Does it make us bad parents that we bribe you with the phone and remote?  I have a feeling that is foreshadowing. 

I wonder what age you figure out that naps are pretty awesome?  It obviously comes later.  You would rather play with the elephant mobile in your crib.  It's pretty awesome too so I can't blame you much.  I'm actually just happy that you are content in your crib for so long.  Every day we say how good a boy you are. 

You get happy whenever your daddy or I walk into a room.  I must confess that I often leave the room just so I can come back in. 

You are such a joy, little boy.  Such a blessing!  I'm excited to see you grow into a young man...just not yet.

I love you,
Mommy

31 Days

If you've never visited Chatting at the Sky, you are missing out.  Not only is her blog visually beautiful, so is her writing, her message, and her heart.  This October she is doing the "31 Days" again.  This year her topic is "31 Days to Change the World". 

She also urges us to do our own 31 Days.  I really think I'd like to do it this year.  I just need to figure out what to call it.  What would you like to see?

Actually, I just thought of what I think I can call it.  31 Days to Making Others Feel Loved.  I'll include 31 ways to making others feel special, loved, thought of...whatever you want to call it. 

What do you think???

All about me

Isn't that what blogs are for anyway?  For us to talk about what we want, what we like?  It's also what I use counseling for.  But I won't talk about that stuff on here.

As I'm sitting at work thinking of how much I don't want to be here today, I started thinking about things I love.  Not people, that is too obvious.  But things.  I know that things shouldn't bring me happiness, but sometimes they warm the soul.  And even on hot summer days in the South, a little soul warming never hurt nobody. 

I love Coca Cola.  And Cherry Coke is pretty awesome too.  I know they aren't good for me.  I don't care. 

I love a good book.  Reading is one of my favorite things to do.  And I admit I'm not as fond of the Kindle.  I'm trying, though.

I love rain.  I love the smell of it, I love the sound of it, I love the feel of it.  I have vivid memories of playing in the rain when I was young.

I love autumn.  The crispness in the air is like a foreshadowing of things to come.  Of warm apple cider and beautiful colors.

I love a freshly made bed.  Pulling back the covers when going to bed is like unwrapping a presesnt.  Even though you know what the present is you know you are going to love it.

I love getting small tokens from people.  For me, it's a sign that they thought of me, that I was important to them.  I know it is greedy, but it makes me feel loved in return.

I love the beach after 5:00 pm.  When the blistering heat and crowds are gone and you can enjoy the breeze and your thoughts alone. 

I loved listening to my grandfather tell stories.  I love for all men of that generation to tell stories of their lives.

I love watching baseball games in person.  It makes me feel like a kid.

I love to hear the national anthem.  I cry and get chills every time. 

I love to get letters/cards in the mail.  I don't do this enough for my friends and I vow to be better. 

Lastly, I love to watch people love each other.  Random people, people I know, it doesn't matter.  I love to watch people be sweet to others.  It gives me hope.

Driver Education

Last week was apparently slow-ass driver week.  Next time I wonder if they could couple this with hang-out-in-the-left-hand-lane-club.  Then I could consolidate my fury into one week.

I thought I would compile a list of driving habits that are guaranteed to make even the most sane, insane.

1.  Slow-ass drivers.
2.  People who hang out in the left lane.  There are subgroups to this one:

Subgroup A:  People who drive fast in this lane and come up on your tail so quickly that you have to look for flashing lights to make sure they aren't pulling you over.  If you are in that much of a hurry maybe you should have left sooner or put your hazards on.

Subgroup B:  People who drive the exact speed limit in the left hand lane.  Also known as people who can't read the sign that says slower traffic keep right.  Or are blind because they can't see the LONG ASS LINE of cars behind them.

Subgroup C:  People who drive 5 miles over the speed limit.  See SubGroup B.

Subgroup D:  People who drive in this lane even if there is no traffic around at all.  My husband does this.  Drives me crazy.  Makes me love him more.

3.  People who don't use their turn signals.  They are there for a reason, use them.
4.  People who match your speed when you are trying to pass them.  Oh, hell no.
5.  People who ride their brakes. 
6.  People who stop at stoplights 20 feet from the white line thing. 
7.  People who have a bunch of crap in their cars.  I know this doesn't really have to do with driving, but it has to be a distraction.  You know, those people who don't have a back seat because of too much stuff.
8.  People who let their dogs ride in their laps. 
9.  People who can't park and take up two spots due to their parking inability.  I can understand if you  have a nice car.  I can empathize.  But taking up two spots simply because you can't park is downright wrong.
10.  People who don't move over to let you merge onto the highway.

I'm sure there is more but I can't think of them right now.  I'm off to go get in my car and be the best driver.  EVER!

Get over it

Here's the thing.  Sleep is my friend.  I know this.  I embrace this.  I fail at this.  When I don't get sleep I get all weird like I did yesterday.  So I apologize for posting that.  It wasn't cool.  Wasn't me.  (Seeing as how I am uber-cool)

Little boy has decided that sleep for mommy is like crawling for him.  He wants it, but not enough to actually let it happen.

Yesterday was just one of those days that I will laugh about in restrospect, although it isn't far enough removed for restrospect to be in play yet.  Little boy woke up at 2:30 and didn't go back to sleep until 3:15 and again at 5:30.  Mommy didn't get to bed until midnight (all my fault).  So I got very little sleep.  And given his recent tendency to bite me, I no longer fall asleep while nursing him.

Then I couldn't get him to take his nap, he was crying and it just isn't like him.  Daddy swooped in to save the day, must to my disappointment.  Disappointed that mommy wasn't the cure-all.  Then I was sufficiently late for work.  But I had to stop by Chick fil a and get a tray because we were having a breakfast meeting and we all brought in stuff.  So I got a coke and some hash browns to go with it.  I know, breakfast of champions.  My hash browns ended up on the floor of my car after I stopped at a stop light and the drink ended up with a puncture the size of a straw.  That would be from the straw after I bent over to pick up said hash browns from the floor.  Don't worry, I waited until I was in the parking lot at work to do this.

That was the last straw.  Literally and figuratively.  I was just done.  Then one of my awesome coworkers was walking by my car, saw the poured out coke and hashbrown on the ground and made the mistake of asking if I needed help.  Poor guy.  He is married and has children so I'm sure he is empathetic.  But I still started to cry.  And I hate crying. 

With the help of caffeine I made it through the day and by the time I got home and saw my sweet boy all was better.  And I actually got some sleep last night so all is well.  Well, mostly well.  Well, there are still a million things I would change but not today.  Today is not for worry about what might be but for appreciation of what is.  "Is" may not be perfect, but it is mine and I'll make the best of it all.

Make it stop

Please, make it stop.  Please, please, please.  Let this day be over before something else happens.  Let this day end without "it" happening. 

Sadly, "it" is a number of things. 

Sorry, faithful reader, today is just a bad day.  Better posts later.

He says he is sorry

I have this BFF.  She is pretty cool.  We've only had one fight that I can think of and it was because I wouldn't buy some stupid pants that she said looked good on me but I didn't like them.  She was brave enough to take me shopping to begin with because I absolutely hate it. 

There is a problem though.  Apparently my son isn't fond of her.  Every time he sees her, he cries.  Every. Time.  We can't figure out why.  Was it because she had gum?  I don't know?  Was it because she had a sucker in her mouth?  I don't know.  Is it her daughter?  I don't know.  Was it her dark hair?  I don't know.  You get the point. 

This weekend we met them at the park down the street.  Little boy had just woken up and eaten so he had everything necessary to make him happy.  I was nervous.  My little boy needs to like my BFF.  I will use her to babysit.  He must have heard my pleas because he didn't cry! 

So he threw up on her instead.  Maybe he got it out of his system.  (pun intended)

Do as I say, Not as I do

My mother-in-law was extremely sweet to me this weekend and brought me a cake for my birthday.  I'm not supposed to eat a lot of gluten which bascially means it is all I want to eat.  Preferably in the form of cakes and cookies.  And brownies.  And bread with butter. 

I put the cake (in its box) into the oven to keep it fresher.  I'm not sure if it is true the oven will keep it fresher than the counter.  Anyway, I went to cook my gluten free lunch and turned the oven on to 400.  I didn't remember the cake until the buzzer went off telling me it had reached temperature. 

Cakes don't smell very good after that type of traumatic event.  So always look in the oven before you turn it on.

And if anyone wants to buy me a cake since I ruined this one, that would be might nice of you!  I'll take chocolate. 

The first of many

Dear Little Boy,

This has been an interesting week!  You had your first bloody nose.  I'm not gonna lie.  I cried a bit.  Apparently you did not.  You are such a vivacious little boy that you got a little too excited with one of your toys and whacked yourself in the nose.  Needless to say that toy has since been put up.  Your nose was still swollen a bit when I got home and I had the yucky task of getting dried blood out the next morning.  All is well now and somehow  I  you survived.  I have to keep telling myself you are probably going to have a few of those during your childhood.  My dad told me yesterday that I was a daredevil when I was young.  Couple that with your dad's natural inquisitiveness and we may have created an Emergency Room regular.

You are sprouting two new teeth which have caused me considerable pain, joy, and bleeding.  How, do you ask, are all three possible at the same time?  Well, I shall tell you.  First, you like to bite.  I understand your gums are hurting and you need relief.  I am not to be that relief.  Saturday morning you needed a lot of relief which led to me crying.  Mostly out of frustration and tiredness, but crying nonetheless.  Your daddy came and got you and was taking you in another room when you clearly and unmistakably called out "mama".  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  Sweetest words I ever heard.  Well, sweetest word.  Instantly I felt better.  Until you bit me again.

Sunday was my bday and your 7 month bday!  It is just you and me all week because your daddy went out of town for work.  Maybe you missed him, but you bit me again and made me bleed.  I'd finally had enough.  I called the lactation consultant and she gave me some helpful ideas and I'm going to try them out.  Hopefully we can nip this in the bud as I'm not mentally ready to stop nursing. 

So I am going to make a deal with you.  You stop biting, and I'll keep feeding.  It is a win-win.

I love you,
Mommy

Overdue

Dear Little Boy,

This letter is late because your mommy is slack.  I'll try to be better.

You're growing up so fast.  You'll be 7 months old this weekend.  Someone once said that life before children was black and white and with children everything was in color.  I can completely understand what they mean.  Life before you was good, but it wasn't complete. 

You have two teeth now!  You got your first one on Father's Day.  I wish I would have known that was going to happen and I wouldn't have bought your daddy a present.  Help me out next time.  You're also sitting up on your own really well!  Of course,  you fell over twice today so it is a work in progress. 

Right now your favorite toys are numerous!  You love the remote, mommy's very expensive phone, an inexpensive teether that is awesome, mommy's hair, and tags.  You have this adorable snorty thing you do when you get really excited.  It's a cross between lamaze breathing sounds and a pig.  Oh, and you do snort sometimes...just like your mommy. 

You love Lucy.  She is your favorite and you will stop what you are doing anytime she walks in the room.  She gets great smiles from you and she loves you right back.  You also flirt with every woman you see.  Anytime we go out to eat or are in line anywhere you will inevitably smile for all the women. 

You've already been to your first (and second) baseball game.  I'm not sure what you think of it yet.  But you did get a fly ball on your first trip!  I've never gotten one so that is a huge deal.  You've also been to the beach!  There was a faceplant in the sand so I think the pool was more your speed.

I like to take you for walks after work.  You love walks.  You generally love being outside and I love spending that time with you.  It's our special thing. 

And do you know what?  You make me special, little boy.

I love you,
Mommy

Never Ever

I recently learned you should never say never.  Unless, of course, you are saying never to say that you will never say never. 

Then I think you are safe.

Stepping onto my Soapbox

I'm not a fan of beauty pageants or scholarship programs or whatever they like to call themselves.  I believe it comes from a lifetime of no talent and awkward looks.  However, I supported my sister in beauty pageants because she has neither a lack of talent nor awkward looks.  Understandably, she did quite well in them.  I remember, though, when Miss Teen South Carolina offered the guffaw inducing answer to her question.  Can't remember the question and can't remember the answer, probably because it made no sense.  But I saw an interview with her later and it didn't seem to diminish her spirit. 

The Miss USA pageant was on recently and I watched about a nanosecond of it.  Enough to realize that most of the hair colors and boobs were fake.  And the fact that this is rewarded is a bit disturbing.  Inevitably it came time for the infamous question and answer.  I'm convinced they give the girls an idea of what the questions might be so they can be somewhat prepared and not make a fool of themselves on live tv.  Which in retrospect may not be that poor of an idea.  However, I read the next day about answers that Miss Texas gave to her question and for which she received a loud ovation.  Miss Texas indicated that wives of politicians shouldn't stand beside their spouses who are admitting to adultery and go out and find a man who loves them.

Well.  Isn't that high and mighty of her?  Given that it is the Miss USA pageant, Miss Texas has not been married.  Miss Texas has not taken an oath in front of her God to stand by her husband.  Miss Texas has not made a choice to be part of a pair that makes a whole.  Now, don't get me wrong.  Adultery is wrong.  It is a sin.  It is painful, disrespectful, and all together bad.  However, the Bible also says having lustful thoughts is considered adultery and I think you may be hard pressed to find someone that couldn't be convicted of that sin. 

I'm so tired of people saying that wives of cheating husbands (or vice versa)  are somehow inferior for choosing to stay in their marriage.  For choosing to believe that their marriage can prevail.  If anything, those spouses who choose to stay are stronger.  The easy way out is to leave without trying to work on the marriage.  To wash your hands and be absolved of having to work through it.  Understandably that is the first reaction.  But it isn't always the right one.  That is for the husband and wife to decide.  Sometimes the choice is to divorce.  And that is OK, but it is each person's right to determine what is best for them.

I implore Miss Texas, even though she is a beauty queen and will surely never have to deal with an adulterous spouse, to hesitate to judge these women.  At some point every person has to make a choice about their love with their spouse.  Because we all know that initial feeling fades and you are left with what you make of it.  You are left with a choice.  Each person has their own reasons for those decisions.

That's all.  Off my soapbox.

A letter

Dear Little Boy,
Every night I put you to sleep and marvel at how wonderful God is.  And then you usually wake up before I want you to and somehow I am still thankful.  But usually only after I make the trek to your room to get you.  Once I see you, I can't be upset.  It amazes me how much I can love someone.  You can't tell me you love me yet with words, but I know you do.

You perk up when you hear my voice.  You also do this for your daddy, but this letter is from me so we aren't going to talk about all the ways I know you love him.  I think you have a special smile just for me.  When I wake you up and whisper "Hi, stinker", you smile before your eyes are even open.  When I'm nursing you there is always a pair of feet touching me.  I have taken to removing your socks so that your skin can touch mine.  You like this a lot.  Often times you will rub your feet on my arms like it is a safety blanket.  I can tell it is comforting to you.  You want my attention on you while you are eating too.  If I look away from you; out the window or at the clock, you immediately stop nursing and look at my face, as if to get my attention back to you.  Don't worry, my attention is never gone long.  When I pick you up you have taken to resting your head on my shoulder, even if you aren't tired.  You also pull my hair.  A LOT.  I think this is so you can have my smell on your hands (or stray hair IN your hands), but I'm probably reaching a bit much on that one.

I know this time of your life passes all too quickly.  Its hard to believe that you are already 4 1/2 months old.  And I'm sad to know that I've already wasted too much time with frustration and sad feelings.  But I  know those days will happen. 

I write this for you, but just as much for me.  So I can remember these times later in life and know that I knew your love long before you could say the words.  You are the perfect addition to two lives that didn't know they needed you.

I love you,
Mommy

My head wasn't a fan, but my toe was

I never had a pedicure until I was about 28 years old.  I was always ashamed of my feet.  I didn't have pretty toe nails and I didn't want anyone touching them.  I remember when I got married my stepmother wanted to buy me a pedicure to go along with my manicure.  I flat out refused.  She was quite confused.  If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't have blamed her. 

So I personally think it is a little cool that the toe nail on my big toe looks like Gumby's head.  Only red.  Like he was in some kind of battle and lost.  Or the teletubbies met him in a dark alley and won.  Regardless, I have a toe nail that is shaped like Gumby's head.  I think it is a bit cool.  BTW, I stubbed my toe and it broke the nail.  I didn't purposefully shape it like that.

I'm in love

I love butter.  Butter makes most things better.  Butter makes oatmeal and grits edible. 

I love butter.

Guilty is as Guilty does

I really don't even know what that title means. 

I realized what I dislike about myself the most today.  No, it isn't my nose.  No, it isn't even those 15 (ahem, ok 30) pounds that like my hips and thighs.  It isn't even my boobs (which have finally proven themselves necessary).  It's that I can let people guilt me into anything.  I've known this about myself for awhile, but I have just realized that I hate it. 

It is possible that this comes from being in a family of the all-time best guilt-trippers.  EVER.  Well, between my given family and my married one, anyway.  My sister in law likes to say that it is people's way of being southern.  In other words, asking if we have something as a way of getting someone to get it for you.  As in, "Honey, are you cold?"  Code for get me a dang blanket before I put my cold feed on your butt.  Or when you are driving past anywhere (usually Dairy Queen, hello Butterfinger Blizzard) and ask, "Honey, are you hungry?"  Code for, I'm freaking hungry and if you don't say you are too then I will feel like a fat cow and you should probably just pull over and get us both something even if you just ate Christmas dinner if you don't want to deal with my sulk after you say you aren't hungry.  Any my personal favorite, which was actually uttered by my husband, "Honey, do we have any water?".  Well, sweetie, I'm sure that since we live in the age of running water we do.  I think that was my actual response to him.  I don't think I actually got him that water.  Hey, I may be the easiest person in the world to guilt into something, but no one said I wasn't a smart aleck.

So back to the point.  I'm having a really (REALLY) hard time dealing with the fact that I spend less time with my most wonderful child than the person taking care of him.  The person is irrelevant.  I would have a hard time regardless who it was.  And now I feel bad that I feel that way.  What is wrong with me???  Well, I feel bad that she knows and I feel bad that she feels bad.  Seriously?  It sounds stupid to even utter that sentence.  So I looked up the definition on dictionary.com.  Not because I didn't know what it meant but because I needed a blog post.

guilt   

–noun

1. the fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, especially against moral or penal law; culpability: He admitted his guilt.

2. a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.

3. conduct involving the commission of such crimes, wrongs, etc.: to live a life of guilt.

So I've decided that I need to read this whenever I feel guilty to know that I haven't done anything wrong, committed no act to feel guilty about. 

Maybe I should just print this out for easy access.

A riddle

What do you get when you have a tired, lazy, working person?

Me.  And my excuse for not posting.

Plans don't compute

It surprises me how much my life has been turned completely around in the last 5 months.  I had a plan for my pregnancy, delivery, child.  Why didn't this compute into reality?  Because that just isn't how it works.

Most of you know that we decided moving while pregnant was a good idea.  Trust me when I tell you it isn't.  Too much stress and heavy lifting.  It looked like all would be great until the contract on our house fell through and we had to relist our house.  In our new house we had a bed (on the floor), a tv, two dog beds complete with dogs, a cat (and litterbox) and dishes.  I think we also brought an armoir.  It wasn't the best way to start in a new house.  Well, our house sold and we were finally able to move the rest of our stuff in.  But the putting away was slow going. 

Then I had a pretty traumatic event happen.  I won't go into detail, but know that I was worried about continuing to carry Aaron, going into early labor, and pretty much every thing else bad.  I was afraid this event would shape my pregnancy and the rest of my life.  The good news is that I really don't dwell on it anymore.  The birth of Aaron really helped erase a lot of the trauma from it.  It still hurts, but it is insignificant in comparison.

Then the birth.  Talk about plans not going accordingly.  I went from wanting a natural water birth to having almost every medical intervention.  When I say stubborn runs in the family it doesn't even begin to describe it.  I was in labor for 24 hours, 20 hours without medication and the whole time I was at the hospital they had to monitor Aaron because they were worried about his heart rate.  Put this on top of not progressing (and I mean staying at 5 cm for about 12 hours) and you have a recipe for c section.  But I couldn't stop there.  No.  I had to get a spinal block b/c the epidural didn't take.  Then I thought I was going to die because I felt like I couldn't breathe.  Turns out I could, but my lungs were numb.  I don't recommend a spinal block. 

Then the fight.  Lets just say the c section threw a wrench in our plans.  Our original plan was to have time to ourselves to bond and nurse, etc.  When that didn't happen it caused a big issue with a family member because I was going to be the first person to hold my child, regardless of what time it was.  So this family member and I spent quite a few weeks not really speaking and it is time that neither of us will get back.

Then nursing.  Oh my...shouldn't this be more intuitive than it is?  I'm happy to say everything is great with it now, but it sure can be stressful.  I understand why people do formula.  I felt like something (either Aaron or a pump) was always attached to me.  My cousin nursed twins...I have so much respect for her right about now.

Then kitty.  If you've read my blog you know about kitty.  We had to put her down.  I didn't think I would be as sad as I was, but I still catch myself thinking I see her and missing her.  It was like a piece of Brad and I died.  We've always had her, our entire married life and most of our dating life (minus just a few months).  She got much sweeter in her old age and loved for me to pick her up.  She would meow at my feet for me to do it.  I was the only one she ever let do that.  Possibly because everyone else was terrified of her.  That was probably the only time I wasn't.  Makes no sense...when her teeth are right beside my face, I wasn't scared.  I loved her.  There.  I said it.

And now.  The ultimate in betrayal.  I have to go back to work.  I cried last night while Brad and I were talking about our options.  You just know that no one will do it the way you would exactly, even though their way isn't bad.  The U.S. is severely lacking in maternity leave.  I can't bear to leave him every day.  And only have an hour or so with him at night.  I know every working mother goes through this.  But you don't plan for daycare.  You plan for a child.  An addition to your family.  You plan picnics in the park and playing catch and beach trips.  You plan for the good times, knowing you will have to accept some bad while hoping they are few and far between.  You plan for their college future (kid better not even THINK about Duke) and who they will end up looking like.  You don't plan for the day you have to drop them off at someone else's house for them to help raise your child. 

So I need some prayers today as I work up the courage to let go a little bit.  And maybe that is the best part of daycare.  To allow me to let go.  But all I want to do is hold him as long as possible. 

Sleep

It is not overrated.  It is necessary.  I'm just sayin'.

Remember me?

Apparently no one writes posts for you after you have a baby.  No one cleans your bathroom either, but that is ok with me.  That is one room I'll clean myself.

So life is a bit different now that I have the most awesome little boy.  It's only fitting, given my awesomeness.  At least he got that from me.  Actually, he looks like me too.  Brad wonders what he gave the little boy.  I swear he got Brad's colon.  And that ain't a good thing. 

Aaron is eight weeks old now.  Eight weeks!  That means I have to go back to work soon.  I should think about it as "I have four more weeks at home!".  But all I can think is "Oh dear Lord, I have to leave him with someone other than me in four weeks.  I don't think I'll be ready."  And then he wakes up and starts to cry and I see how work may not be so bad after all.

So for now I'll just leave you with a picture and a promise that I remember my password and I'll write again!

 

Isn't he just perfect???