Ok, dumb joke.
M's scar won't be that bad......
Friday, October 15, 2010
Can't believe it took almost 7 years for this to happen....
This afternoon, I was trying to get the kids ready to take a walk through the neighborhood. Now that it is getting dark at 7:30, our days of playing outside after supper are coming to an end.
And, of course, in the 12.75 seconds I was not paying attention, G managed to shove M's head into the corner of the stair (where there is no carpet), cutting a vertical gash over his eye.
M cried really, really hard for a very short time and settled easily, but I took him to urgent care anyway because the cut was vertical, deeper than I felt comfortable with just leaving alone, and right over his eye. (And why, by the way, does this kinda junk happen at 5:01 pm after the doctor's offices have closed?)
The doctor cleaned him up and closed the laceration with Dermabond. M will have a scar. His first of many given to him by his terror of an older brother.
I know this will be the first of many encounters my boys will have with Dermabond, sutures and scars.
And, of course, in the 12.75 seconds I was not paying attention, G managed to shove M's head into the corner of the stair (where there is no carpet), cutting a vertical gash over his eye.
M cried really, really hard for a very short time and settled easily, but I took him to urgent care anyway because the cut was vertical, deeper than I felt comfortable with just leaving alone, and right over his eye. (And why, by the way, does this kinda junk happen at 5:01 pm after the doctor's offices have closed?)
The doctor cleaned him up and closed the laceration with Dermabond. M will have a scar. His first of many given to him by his terror of an older brother.
I know this will be the first of many encounters my boys will have with Dermabond, sutures and scars.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Two weeks shy of 13
On Nov 1, D and I will celebrate 13 years of wedded togetherness. I would be insane to call it bliss. Not that our marriage isn't good. But bliss simply has never registered with me.
Neither has the idea of soulmates. Maybe I have read too many interviews with celebrities like Melanie Griffith who have had numerous marriages to their soulmates? Maybe she and others use the term more loosely than I do?
Yesterday I checked out People.com to read about the separations of the Cox/Arquette and Aquilera/Bratman duos. I'm not surprised, nor am I upset. I don't know what I would call that sinking feeling upon hearing that any married couple is splitting up, either temporarily or forever. Disappointment?
It's like what I feel whenever I hear of a child who has been diagnosed with cancer. The thought crosses my mind, "That could happen to MY child!" Not that I necessarily think it will, but it could. It is within the realm of possibility. And that is scary, even if it is unlikely.
I am proud that D and I have made it almost 13 years. Because 13 is really close to 15, which sounds like a lot. And 15 years is very close to 20, which sounds like a lifetime. And it is.
So what have I learned about marriage in 15 years?
I've learned that if you think there is something better out there, you're probably right. At least momentarily. I've had my share of Daddy crushes, but it doesn't take too long for me to realize that my crushes have some really annoying habits. Like being Republican. Or sleeping around on their partners. Or watching ESPN constantly. Or being overly gregarious (which would interfere with me be gregarious).
And so it doesn't take very long for me to be extremely thankful that I am married to D.
I've also learned that the sucky times do pass. Every couple goes through such spells. Our crappy spells have usually been the 12-18 months following the birth of a baby. The sleeplessness, the fussiness, the inability to get anything done because you've got a baby howling or needing your constant attention. But it passes, and life gets easier. Or it becomes the new norm. Whatever.
I've also learned that just as a parent picks his/her battles with a child, so too does a spouse with his/her partner. This doesn't mean a certain behavior is no longer highly irritating or that you stop rolling your eyes at said behavior. But it means you don't say anything about it because 1. it ain't gonna change, and 2. there are bigger fish to fry.
D has a habit that drives me nuts. Whenever I purchase something or items are delivered to the house, D enjoys opening it all up. He is really like a kid (and N takes after him). But then those items just sit there and would probably sit there forever if I didn't put them somewhere.
Of course, one of my habits that drives D nuts is that I move stuff around constantly in a futile attempt to find the most efficient means of running the household. So maybe he figures why bother putting it away because wherever he would put it, I would eventually move it?
After nearly 13 years of marriage and 15 years together, being with D feels like home.
And home is a very nice place to be.
Neither has the idea of soulmates. Maybe I have read too many interviews with celebrities like Melanie Griffith who have had numerous marriages to their soulmates? Maybe she and others use the term more loosely than I do?
Yesterday I checked out People.com to read about the separations of the Cox/Arquette and Aquilera/Bratman duos. I'm not surprised, nor am I upset. I don't know what I would call that sinking feeling upon hearing that any married couple is splitting up, either temporarily or forever. Disappointment?
It's like what I feel whenever I hear of a child who has been diagnosed with cancer. The thought crosses my mind, "That could happen to MY child!" Not that I necessarily think it will, but it could. It is within the realm of possibility. And that is scary, even if it is unlikely.
I am proud that D and I have made it almost 13 years. Because 13 is really close to 15, which sounds like a lot. And 15 years is very close to 20, which sounds like a lifetime. And it is.
So what have I learned about marriage in 15 years?
I've learned that if you think there is something better out there, you're probably right. At least momentarily. I've had my share of Daddy crushes, but it doesn't take too long for me to realize that my crushes have some really annoying habits. Like being Republican. Or sleeping around on their partners. Or watching ESPN constantly. Or being overly gregarious (which would interfere with me be gregarious).
And so it doesn't take very long for me to be extremely thankful that I am married to D.
I've also learned that the sucky times do pass. Every couple goes through such spells. Our crappy spells have usually been the 12-18 months following the birth of a baby. The sleeplessness, the fussiness, the inability to get anything done because you've got a baby howling or needing your constant attention. But it passes, and life gets easier. Or it becomes the new norm. Whatever.
I've also learned that just as a parent picks his/her battles with a child, so too does a spouse with his/her partner. This doesn't mean a certain behavior is no longer highly irritating or that you stop rolling your eyes at said behavior. But it means you don't say anything about it because 1. it ain't gonna change, and 2. there are bigger fish to fry.
D has a habit that drives me nuts. Whenever I purchase something or items are delivered to the house, D enjoys opening it all up. He is really like a kid (and N takes after him). But then those items just sit there and would probably sit there forever if I didn't put them somewhere.
Of course, one of my habits that drives D nuts is that I move stuff around constantly in a futile attempt to find the most efficient means of running the household. So maybe he figures why bother putting it away because wherever he would put it, I would eventually move it?
After nearly 13 years of marriage and 15 years together, being with D feels like home.
And home is a very nice place to be.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
What I want to be when I grow up
My friend K recently blogged about finding herself again now that her 3 kids are getting a little bit older, doing things she used to enjoy doing before stay-at-home motherhood became her life 24/7.
I am completely guilty of allowing motherhood to swallow me up. I think if a woman stays at home it is easy to fall into this, particularly if you also have a tendency to be one of those "I give everything I do 110% or I feel like a failure" types. Which I do.
My mom and MIL help me out, but I honestly need them so often while I do things like run to the grocery or take kids to doctor appointments that I can't justify calling on them so I can do something fun for myself. And given that I earn no money, I can't really justify paying someone to watch my kids. I mean, isn't that what I'm supposed to do as the stay-at-home mom? (I don't necessarily agree with these lines of thinking but it is the rut I am in and have been in for almost 7 years now.)
I have thought about finding someone to co-op babysitting for, but I am so flippin' tired from taking care of my own kids, I really don't want to watch someone else's.
So I just sometimes daydream about what I will do with myself once my kids are all in school full-time. Although I even feel a little guilty doing this, as if I am wishing their young childhoods away.....and it is so fleeting as it is, I really don't want it to be gone.
At one point I said something to D about going back to work when M is in 3rd grade or so.....because I'd want a couple years to do things to the house and volunteer at the kids' school(s). His response was, "Well, who would get the kids off to school in the morning?" As a middle school teacher, I'd be out of the house at 6:30ish, so I replied that he would have to do it.
I don't know if he gave me a look or actually verbally responded, but the jist of it was......
DO NOT EVER GO BACK TO WORK SO LONG AS THE KIDS ARE IN THE HOUSE AND NOT FULL-GROWN ADULTS.
It is nice not to be pressured to go back to work by the hubs. It helps that I do the budgeting and pay the bills and am frugal to a fault most of the time. D knows that I am not blowing money on shoes and dresses and manicures.
But there is something about earning one's own money that I miss.
I imagine I will probably substitute teach, limiting myself to schools in which my kids attend or where I have friends and former colleagues who still teach. That way I can work 1 day a week at most, if I so choose. And it will give me a little money.
When I do start to daydream, as I am now, I do get a little freaked out.....because it is hard to imagine my children not as needy as they are now. Hard to imagine when they are all in elementary and middle school....what they will be like as they grow up. And even harder to imagine what I will be like as they grow up.
I am completely guilty of allowing motherhood to swallow me up. I think if a woman stays at home it is easy to fall into this, particularly if you also have a tendency to be one of those "I give everything I do 110% or I feel like a failure" types. Which I do.
My mom and MIL help me out, but I honestly need them so often while I do things like run to the grocery or take kids to doctor appointments that I can't justify calling on them so I can do something fun for myself. And given that I earn no money, I can't really justify paying someone to watch my kids. I mean, isn't that what I'm supposed to do as the stay-at-home mom? (I don't necessarily agree with these lines of thinking but it is the rut I am in and have been in for almost 7 years now.)
I have thought about finding someone to co-op babysitting for, but I am so flippin' tired from taking care of my own kids, I really don't want to watch someone else's.
So I just sometimes daydream about what I will do with myself once my kids are all in school full-time. Although I even feel a little guilty doing this, as if I am wishing their young childhoods away.....and it is so fleeting as it is, I really don't want it to be gone.
At one point I said something to D about going back to work when M is in 3rd grade or so.....because I'd want a couple years to do things to the house and volunteer at the kids' school(s). His response was, "Well, who would get the kids off to school in the morning?" As a middle school teacher, I'd be out of the house at 6:30ish, so I replied that he would have to do it.
I don't know if he gave me a look or actually verbally responded, but the jist of it was......
DO NOT EVER GO BACK TO WORK SO LONG AS THE KIDS ARE IN THE HOUSE AND NOT FULL-GROWN ADULTS.
It is nice not to be pressured to go back to work by the hubs. It helps that I do the budgeting and pay the bills and am frugal to a fault most of the time. D knows that I am not blowing money on shoes and dresses and manicures.
But there is something about earning one's own money that I miss.
I imagine I will probably substitute teach, limiting myself to schools in which my kids attend or where I have friends and former colleagues who still teach. That way I can work 1 day a week at most, if I so choose. And it will give me a little money.
When I do start to daydream, as I am now, I do get a little freaked out.....because it is hard to imagine my children not as needy as they are now. Hard to imagine when they are all in elementary and middle school....what they will be like as they grow up. And even harder to imagine what I will be like as they grow up.
Critical parent genetics
N recently wrote a letter to Santa. It read as follows:
Now for a brand-new first grader, I think this letter is pretty darn good. Heck, I used to teach 6th graders who wrote like this. Words are misspelled, but you can easily decipher what she means. (Recently I helped a bit in N's class where I saw a child write the word "nothing" as "nugn.")
I showed my parents and my MIL the letter because I thought it was cute that she wrote this herself, especially since last year I had to practically beg her to write a letter to Santa. N is very, very into writing now, which I think is just great.
Nana and Mamaw were like, "That's great!" while my dad said directly to N, "You're going to have to practice your spelling."
Sigh.
When he said this, I quickly defended her writing, reminding him that she is a first grader.
But I felt deflated for her, and to be honest, for myself. Because this reminded me a bit of what my childhood was like. Forever trying to live up to a parent's probably too-high expectations. And it is, to some extent at least, why I have spent my life driving myself crazy to be "perfect."
I recognize that I am a critical person like my dad. I hold very high expectations for myself and everyone else around me. But I really try to temper it when it comes to my kids. Because they are kids. Because I don't want them to think they have to be anything other than their true selves, warts and all, to get my love.
Therapy has taught me the pointlessness of blaming my parents for every little thing. I understand now that as parents we bring a whole hell of a lot of baggage to the job. And some parts of the parenting job are easier, more natural for us than others.
I work to find that balance between being my children's biggest cheerleader and encouraging them to do their best and give great effort in what they do.
Dear Santa
For Critsmas
I wold like
some Barbie clotse.
Barbies
Some clotse for me.
A stuft anamal dog not to big
My own pen
Some kid girl's hi-heel shoes pink please
Hanna Montana sticers
Thank you
N
Now for a brand-new first grader, I think this letter is pretty darn good. Heck, I used to teach 6th graders who wrote like this. Words are misspelled, but you can easily decipher what she means. (Recently I helped a bit in N's class where I saw a child write the word "nothing" as "nugn.")
I showed my parents and my MIL the letter because I thought it was cute that she wrote this herself, especially since last year I had to practically beg her to write a letter to Santa. N is very, very into writing now, which I think is just great.
Nana and Mamaw were like, "That's great!" while my dad said directly to N, "You're going to have to practice your spelling."
Sigh.
When he said this, I quickly defended her writing, reminding him that she is a first grader.
But I felt deflated for her, and to be honest, for myself. Because this reminded me a bit of what my childhood was like. Forever trying to live up to a parent's probably too-high expectations. And it is, to some extent at least, why I have spent my life driving myself crazy to be "perfect."
I recognize that I am a critical person like my dad. I hold very high expectations for myself and everyone else around me. But I really try to temper it when it comes to my kids. Because they are kids. Because I don't want them to think they have to be anything other than their true selves, warts and all, to get my love.
Therapy has taught me the pointlessness of blaming my parents for every little thing. I understand now that as parents we bring a whole hell of a lot of baggage to the job. And some parts of the parenting job are easier, more natural for us than others.
I work to find that balance between being my children's biggest cheerleader and encouraging them to do their best and give great effort in what they do.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Bonus Baby is 1
Dear M,
A year ago today the doctor said, "It's a boy!" (Fortunately I was so overwhelmed with joy and love for your sweet newborn face, I didn't dwell too long on what having two boys two years apart might mean for my sanity.)
A year ago today I was savoring your newness, still a little stunned by my surprise baby despite nine months of carrying you.
A year ago today I fell in love all over again, for the third time.
A year has gone by so very quickly.
And now you are sidewinder crawling all over the house, intent on catching one of the cats.
Cruising along every piece of furniture you find.
Pushing the chairs across the floor as you walk behind them.
Eating table food with great interest.
Trying to say "cat" (dat) and "nap" (bap) and "snack" (nack).
Waving when we leave.
Giving kisses with your mouth big and wide.
Clapping your hands.
Singing "lalalalala" with your tongue wagging to the side.
Getting increasingly adept at holding your own when your brother tries to ambush you.
And every day I am so, so thankful I was blessed for a third time.
I love you dearest,
Momma
A year ago today the doctor said, "It's a boy!" (Fortunately I was so overwhelmed with joy and love for your sweet newborn face, I didn't dwell too long on what having two boys two years apart might mean for my sanity.)
A year ago today I was savoring your newness, still a little stunned by my surprise baby despite nine months of carrying you.
A year ago today I fell in love all over again, for the third time.
A year has gone by so very quickly.
And now you are sidewinder crawling all over the house, intent on catching one of the cats.
Cruising along every piece of furniture you find.
Pushing the chairs across the floor as you walk behind them.
Eating table food with great interest.
Trying to say "cat" (dat) and "nap" (bap) and "snack" (nack).
Waving when we leave.
Giving kisses with your mouth big and wide.
Clapping your hands.
Singing "lalalalala" with your tongue wagging to the side.
Getting increasingly adept at holding your own when your brother tries to ambush you.
I love you dearest,
Momma
Incivility online (and that is putting it mildly)
I was scrolling through Facebook when I saw something about a baby who had died as the result of circumcision. Being an "intactivist," I began reading which eventually led me to the blog Fierce & Fiesty.
And it was there that my heart broke.
Fierce and Fiesty is a mom who's son was born with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome and who died shortly after his circumcision from cardiac arrest.
And from what I understand, this grieving mother received all sorts of nasty comments on her blog from intactivists who gave her down the road for her decision to circumcise her son.
And while I am not surprised that people did this, I am appalled.
Because of the anonymity and distance that the Internet affords, some people think they can and should say whatever the heck they want, in whatever way they want, to whomever they want.
And they are terribly fucking WRONG.
If you wouldn't DARE say it to someone's face, then cease typing and think your thoughts to yourself.
If you have never met the person to whom you are writing, then make certain your comments are neutral or positive. Particularly if you don't have the BALLS to put your name to your statements. There are plenty of people who want to remain anonymous because they can't "man up" or "woman up" to their statements. They are ever eager to dish it out, but heaven forbid they actually put their name/face with their opinion.
Some people say, "Well you keep a blog that is public so you are putting it out there for the world to comment on." This is misguided thinking.
Having a public blog is like putting a wreath on one's front door. It is available to view by the public. Any random person can drive by and see my wreath from the street. But I don't invite every person who drives by onto my porch. I don't take a picture of my wreath and send it to people's homes. I don't run into the street and ask people to come give their 2 cents on my wreath.
Respectful disagreement? Fine.
Civil discourse? Fine.
But lambasting a mother who's 7-week-old infant was born with a tremendous birth defect and just died?
I hope there is a ring of hell just for them.
Having a public blog is like putting a wreath on one's front door. It is available to view by the public. Any random person can drive by and see my wreath from the street. But I don't invite every person who drives by onto my porch. I don't take a picture of my wreath and send it to people's homes. I don't run into the street and ask people to come give their 2 cents on my wreath.
Respectful disagreement? Fine.
Civil discourse? Fine.
But lambasting a mother who's 7-week-old infant was born with a tremendous birth defect and just died?
I hope there is a ring of hell just for them.
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