-All in all we had a great Thanksgiving. However, there was some family drama as their always is. I have a cousin who believes the world revolves around her. She always seems to get her way. She is the biggest asshat. Even bigger than her mother, which we all thought wasn’t possible. She didn’t want me to see her daughter (long story, but her oldest kid lives with her dad and step-mom in Colorado, about five hours away from us, but they were in Texas visiting family as well) and made it impossible for me to see her while we were in Texas. (Until this time last year, the girl practically lived at my house and I miss her.) On the drive home yesterday though, we ended up driving behind them and they called us when they noticed it and we all stopped and had lunch together and I’ve invited them to my house for Christmas. Take that, cousin.
-My great-aunt passed away on Wednesday night. She’d had a stroke the previous Friday and I decided not to mention it. It just didn’t feel right. Anyway, we didn’t stay for her funeral, which was yesterday. I did help plan it. It put a slight damper of the holiday. We decided to celebrate her life by doing it all anyway. She would have wanted us too. It did change the mood of the week though.
-We saw the world’s smallest skyscraper. Seriously. See?
It’s four stories high. It’s all small and tiny and cute. The story is this: at some point, lets say 100 years ago, although it may not have been that long ago. What? It’s my story. Anyway, this great businessman came to town. He told the town that he could build them the greatest, highest skyscraper in all of Texas. They looked over the plans, which looked amazing. He told them it would bring people from all over the world to see it. They could charge admission. They agreed and paid him his rate. He built it. They were outraged at how tiny it was. He told them that they’d signed the contract, they’d approved the plans, it wasn’t his problem. He left town. Turns out, the plans were exactly how he said they were. However, the town folks had not noticed that he’d used inches instead of feet in his measurments. It was clear as day on there, but in the excitement, they’d failed to notice it.
-We took roses to put on my grandparents and great-grandparents graves. Took us about 30 minutes to find them. Good thing we did too, since my grandpa’s middle initial is wrong on there. Nobody had noticed it when grandma passed last December.
-Football is a fierce subject in Texas. Doesn’t matter if it is the NFL or college. They don’t care where you live, if you are in Texas, you are a Texas fan. The end. To have a little fun, I pretended not to know a thing about football. I like seeing that vein in my uncle’s neck pop out.
-As a family, we all went and saw Blind Side on Saturday. See that movie. Trust me. It is phenomenal. I am now a Raven’s fan. I had to ask where they played and I don’t even care that I’ve never been to Baltimore. I am now a Raven’s fan. Everyone had a favorite line of the movie. We spent the following two hours at dinner discussing it. My favorite line? Tim McGraw plays the dad and he turns to his wife, played by Sandra Bullock, and says, “who’d of thought, we’d of had a black son, before we’d met a democrate?” Cracked me up.
-My youngest cousin is seventeen years old. He’s a great kid. Funny, sweet, easy going. His girlfriend made him go see the Twilight movie on Friday night. I guess there is a part where the one buff guy rips off his shirt, when the girl is bleeding? Anyway, D stood up in the theater and said, WAS THAT REALLY NECESSARY?? Then he said to his girlfriend, H, don’t worry ALL GUYS look like that. I’m not sure D still has a girlfriend. If so, he owes her big time. He’d already been texting his dad and my husband for scores to the Texas vs. A&M game. Ha. Then again, a smart girl would have gone with her friends, not her boyfriend. Seventeen year old boys don’t care which vampire is hotter.
-The twelve hours in the car on the way to Texas was not so bad. Girls played nicely, read books, watched movies and listened to music. The boy managed to notice every, single bird that flew by; he napped for hours; he watched Cars and was generally a happy little dude. The way home to Texas took thirteen hours, but it felt like twenty-seven hours. The girls fought; with me, with each other. Batteries in iPods died. Movies were toooooo boring. This song is stupid, I don’t like this candy. On and on and on, it went. At 7am, the questions about how much longer started. The answer of ALL DAY AND STOP ASKING was only met with tears. Instead of napping, Harrison screamed and hit people. We had Cars on constand loop, just hoping he’d stop for ten minutes at a time. Then the last three hours, he choose to sob. Non-Stop. For three hours.
-Mostly though, we ate too much, we slept too little and we had a great week. How’d you guys do?
I am not feeling Halloween this year. If it were up to me, which sadly it’s not, we’d skip it all together. I am already thinking about Thanksgiving and Christmas and looking forward to both. Heck, for the first time in oh forever, I’m even looking forward to New Years. However, I’d seriously skip Halloween this year if I could.
Anyway, today is Monday and sometimes Monday’s just need random posts. I have to much stuff in my head and none of it is really long post worthy.
-I am not buying Harrison a costume this year. It will be freezing, he is just starting to get sick as I type this and I am not letting him walk around and get candy that I won’t let him eat. Logan will take the girls trick or treating, while Harrison and I answer the door. The chicks have said they want to be a surgeon and a witch again, so yay, I’m not buying a single costume this year. I was prepared to buy Morgan a new costume, but she really does want to be a surgeon again. Bailey is easy, she’s wanted to be a witch for Halloween every year since she was old enough to ask.
-I had the chance to buy pumpkins this weekend and didn’t take it. I did however buy a butt load of candy. I may be a Grinch, but I’m not stupid.
-Last year it was pleasantly warm on Halloween. We had a blast walking the kids around. The first year we lived here though? It was like 20 degrees. I think we held the girls as we walked them to five houses and then we went home. I have been told that this is the norm. Last year was a fluke.
-I considered offering the girls the entire huge bag of candy that I bought at Costco if they’d forgo Halloween. But it seems cruel. At five and nearly eight, they won’t care if they freeze for an hour.
-I hit mark all as read in my reader. I had absolutely no time this weekend (truly, I am not even remembering if I opened the laptop at all) and even though I said I’d read everything last week, I couldn’t get to it all. I needed to start fresh today. There was just no other way I was going to get caught up, since no one seems to be willing to stop writing while I finish reading. Please to be forgiving.
-My husband went away for the second weekend in a row. It is very different to be a single parent, even for three days. Not bad per se, just different. Tiring. Kristen, if I lived near you, I’d come keep your kids for a day. Seriously. Everyone deserves a break.
-I don’t understand why men don’t sleep on weekend get aways. Does anyone understand this? Last weekend Logan went with some buddies and his brother to Vegas. I didn’t expect him to sleep there. He came home a HUGE grouch who needed two days to recover. It’s Vegas, I get it. This weekend he went to a family event in Los Angeles. We just couldn’t swing all of us going. He, yet again, came home a HUGE sleep deprived grouch. I don’t get it.
That’s pretty much all I’ve got. How was your weekend?
Alex,
Today most people would say that you are one years old. Your sisters have been trying to get you to hold up one finger for over a week now. Your daddy keeps asking you how old you are and you laugh at him.
Me? Well here’s the truth son. I’m not going to admit that you are one. If I say it, it’s real. Instead I came up with a brilliant idea. I will tell people that you are just 12 months. After today, I’ll tell them, oh he’s twelve months and change. It should work for a while.
Yesterday you had shots. You know… for your 12 month visit. Anyway, the shots gave you a fever in the afternoon and you spent the majority of it, laying on me. You weren’t crying, you weren’t interested in doing a single solitary thing, except laying on me. It made me happy. I know, I shouldn’t say that, but it did. Even though you are no longer that 8.6 pound butterball that we brought home. Even though you are now a 22 pound brute of a boy, it made me happy to have you laying on my chest, like you did for the first few months of your life.
Every day, every single moment, for the past 365 days, I have been grateful for you. You are one of the three shining lights in my life.
As a third child you have done and been given certain things that your sisters had to wait for. What can I say? You get tired by the third kid. *shrug* Let’s just put it this way dude. You love to eat Cheetos that I um…possibly put on the floor for you. You’ve had more dairy in the past month than your sisters had by the time they were two. We have, as of last week weaned you of bottles, but I honestly may let you keep those binky’s until college if you want. I don’t mind if you suck on my phone, empty all the Tupperware or jump on the bed. You get the joy of a third time mama. A tired mama. A mama who knows that none of this will harm you. A mama who knows that 10 minutes of peace, is worth the mess.
You love to eat just about anything (I wish you’d stop trying to eat Lil’s food. She’s a dog. You are a boy. Enought said.) and I have this problem with not giving it too you. You don’t scream if I don’t, but you look at me with those puppy dog eyes and your little bottom lips quivers a bit. I hand you whatever it was, that I had just told you I wasn’t going to give you. Don’t get used to it, okay? I can be a hard ass. Just not yet.
Moving on…you have been the baby that makes people say, oh I should have a baby. You daddy likes to say that had you been first, we’d be like the Duggars by now. He’s delirious, but it is funny. For the first six months of your life, I was afraid for you. I was afraid that you were too perfect. That I’d lose you somehow because you were too perfect. Then you turned six months old. You learned to crawl. You stopped sleeping well. You learned how to get into everything. You learned how to annoy your sisters to no end. I think at that point, I stopped worrying about you a bit.
We call you baby Destructo. It’s very fitting. You are all boy and all toddler these days, which is normal. You are very, very, very destructive. Nothing is safe. Nothing. You love to tear apart papers, unload drawers, over turn plants and pretty much you leave a trail of destruction wherever you go. If I lose you in the house (not that I’ve ever done that. ahem) I can easily find you, by following the stuff. The remotes, magazines torn to bits, your sister’s shoes, tampons; all leave a trail to wherever you happen to be wreaking havoc in the moment.
However, you are easily entertained by two matchbox cars. You can sit for an hour and toss the dog a tennis ball down the hall. She loves you best by the way. This is new for me, this ability to entertain yourself. You are better at sitting and entertaining yourself that either of your sisters are at five and nearly eight years old.You sisters both adore you as well. Most the time at least.
You are quiet and serious. Your dad and I have spent literally hours (possibly days) trying to make you smile. You like to laugh at us, but you are not so quick with the smiles. You are a thinker. I don’t mind that. One drama queen and one comedian is enough for one family. I’ll take a serious thinker. The truth is, you are just like your daddy. I ddin’t realize how much until your grandma told me so. She said, eh, he’s nothing, he’s just fine, don’t worry. We didn’t think Logan liked us until he was two. We kept expecting him to walk out and find a new family. Your grandma’s a funny lady.
Smooshy, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Your daddy and sisters feel the same way. I can not believe that you’ve been here an entire year. If feels like you were always here. Always one of us.
Happy first birthday Smoosh.
Love you to bits,
Mama
Yesterday was a big day o’ Fail. Can I just name it that for the rest of time? August 26th, 2009 can now officially be, the day of fail. Let me start at the beginning and you all can decide if I can claim this.
-Tuesday night, well really Wednesday morning, I sleep from midnight until about 1:30am when the baby started screaming. After finally getting Harrison back to sleep at 2:00am, I fell asleep about 3:15am and managed to sleep until 4:30am when he woke up again. At the time I thought he must be teething. He had a low grade fever and was generally just a big ole mess. I finally got him back to sleep, but then I couldn’t sleep and laid awake looking a the ceiling until Logan’s alarm went off at 6:30am. (We really need to paint our ceiling.)
-After taking the girls to school, where I ended up yelling at them both for things that most days I would have ignored, I went to Starbucks to get my coffee. Unfortunately, I grabbed the wrong coffee cup. Got home before I took a sip of it (What? It’s a weird thing of mine. That first sip of coffee is the best.) and realized it was some nasty vanilla and raspberry flavored caramel machiato or something. I have no idea what it was really, but it’s not coffee. I did the only thing a coffee addicted woman could do. I strapped my crying son back in his car seat and drove back to Starbucks for a new coffee.
-I pulled out a dining room chair, to sit down and pay some bills, only to completely smash it down on my foot. The bruise is killer and I swear to you, I must have bruised the bone.
-I called my mom to ask her what time her flight came in on Thursday, the day before Labor Day, so I could make sure I had someone to pick up the girls from school that day. She was all confused. Turns out, I had my holiday days confused. Labor Day is a Monday holiday, not a Friday holiday. So instead of my husband and I getting a much needed two day vacation, while both of our mother’s keep our kids at our house, we will be hanging out at home with our kids and both of our mother’s. I had completely booked the wrong two days away. It being a…you know, holiday weekend, now there is not place nice to stay. We’ll still have a fun weekend and maybe even get a date night, but still, we needed that time away together.
-Last but certainly not least is my sick baby boy. About four yesterday afternoon I realized that Harrison wasn’t getting any better. In fact he was getting worse. He was lethargic, grouchy and basically a crying sad little smooshy heap on my lap. When I took his temperature, I found that is was 102. I did what any good mom does, I asked the advice of the lovely Twitter peeps. My question was should I take him to Urgent care. The answers were amazing. I have a love/hate relationship with Twitter these days. However I appreciate everyone who answered me last night. You guys were awesome. I hadn’t even considered alternating Tylenol and Motrin. It’s funny how a four year gap in between my last two kids, has made me forget some things. Although, honestly I’m not sure I ever knew that one. Morgan can’t tolerate Tylenol. It’s like giving her speed or something. Makes her jump out of her skin. Bailey can’t tolerate Motrin. I was thinking that Tylenol just wasn’t working on him. But I think it does, I just think it wasn’t capable of making him magically better last night. Ha. (Thank you big time to my friendly Internet Pediatrician for the helpful fever advice. Truly, no one has ever explained fevers that way to me before.)
I decided to go with my mama gut and take him in. Which was a good decision since my ear thermometer is crap. The boy had a freaking 103.8 temp when we got there. Two antibiotics (one inner and two outer ear infections and possible tonsillitis) and some Motrin later and his fever started to go down.
-After I put the baby down and got the girls settled, Logan and I sat down to watch Top Chef, which we had DVR’d. We were ten minutes into it, when I hit some button and deleted it. Now, I have it sitting on there again already, since it was showing again late last night. But still, come on now. Really?
Today, is better. This morning, Harrison is doing a bit better. I slept extraordinarily well, since I slept in the guest room, while Logan was on baby duty. I needed sleep. I can not tell you how much, I needed sleep. The girls both seem to be fine, although I will be Lysoling our house and changing sheets and toothbrushes today, just to be on the safe side. Oh and today, there was donuts for breakfast. But oh boy yesterday just sucked.
What do you think? Does yesterday qualify for the day of fail?
What? Who says I can’t do wordless Tuesday? Today Harrison is 11 months old. I am in so much denial about what this day means next month. He has grown in leaps and bounds this past month. He’s walking. No actually he’s now running. Walking is so 10 months. He’s into everything and is great at destroying a room. He’s an absolute joy who has my heart more than I ever thought possible.
For a one time only deal…and mostly because it doesn’t show his face and is too cute not to share, I present you with my son. My boy, who put himself in time out in his sisters bedroom the other day, because Bailey was in time out on her bed. He is nothing if not a copy cat. I literally had to tell him he was done with time out, when I let her be done with time out. He sat there the whole five minutes. Lest you think I am mean to him, he did have two cars in his hand. He was also babbling the entire time to her.
Issa’s Wordless Tuesday FAIL.
Harrison:
He calls to me an hour before the alarm would go off. Mama, mama, mama. MAMA! He gets louder the longer I ignore him. What are the chances he’ll go back to sleep if you leave him, Logan asks? Slim to none, I say as I get out of bed.
MAMA, he squeals as I walk in his bedroom. Shhh baby, it’s quiet time. See, the sun isn’t up yet, I say, as I pick him up. (Anymommy, this sun shit doesn’t work. You got a better idea?) As we walk down to the kitchen for a bottle of milk, he jabbers constantly. This boy is a morning person, that I know for sure. Evey forth word is a word I know: milk, sissy, ball, wow, uh oh, goggie, dada. They don’t make sense yet, but he’s showing off his skills.
Mix the formula one handed, as he doesn’t like to be down in the morning. Why don’t we go see daddy, I ask him. Yeah, lets visit daddy. Dada, kak kak, he says back to me. Every morning, it’s the same thing. I get him and make the bottle, we go back to my bedroom and I basically hand him off to his daddy, as I try and hide under the covers for another half hour. They play some odd game involving duck noises as I try unsuccessfully to go back to sleep. When the alarm finally goes off, Logan goes to shower and I take back over. It’s at this point when I pull out the big guns. Namely the matchbox cars that I keep in my bedside table. Two cars, one for each hand and my boy is a happy boy. Soon, it’s time to wake the girls.
Bailey:
I wake her first because she is easy. Simple as that, she is easy to wake. Easy to make get dressed. Bailey, wake up love, it’s time to get ready for school, I say as I sit on their bed (Yes, my girls share a bed. Swear it’s by choice though, as they both have beds.) She wakes up easily, rolls over and sits up. As she hugs me, she says, I get to go to kindergarten again right? Yes, you do. Okay, then. Can I have donuts for breakfast? Uh, no, you can have cereal for breakfast. Oh man, she says, laughing. We do this every day. Her just hoping for the day when I say, yes, we can have donuts for breakfast.
She gets up and heads towards the bathroom. Please wash your face and brush your teeth I tell her. She still needs to be told. When she’s done, she comes and sits on me for a few minutes. I tickle her and laugh at her jokes, play with her hair and then I hand her her clothes. Clothes that we picked out the night before, because I don’t deal with clothes issues in the morning.
She talks a mile a minute about school as we walk down the hallway toward the kitchen. I need coffee, I think to myself. Instead of saying it, I answer her nine million questions. She picks her cereal as I grab the specific Disney bowl she requested. She pours her cereal and I pour the milk. As she eats, she talks constantly. She stops to chew, because she knows better than to talk with her mouth full. Between bites, she tells me again how much she loves school. How she met so many new friends. Where her teacher sits during reading time, what book they read and how many times she had to be reminded that reading time is quiet time. I remind her again that today I’d like that number of reminders, to be a bit less. She agrees.
I make her lunch and then braid her hair. I ask her about ten times to pick her backback up off the floor in her room and put it by the door to the garage. Please find shoes that match I tell her. Strange child, I think as I shake my head.
On the way to school, we sing to every song that comes on the radio. Ooohhhh I like this one mama, turn it up, she says at least three times.
One kiss and a hug good-by at her door and she’s off. She doesn’t even look back to see me leave.
Morgan:
I wake her three times before she even acts awake. One day, I will leave this to her, but seven and a half is too young, right? I think this to myself each time I have to wake her up. She rolls over and glares at me. Mom, I’m tired. Yes, so am I, I tell her. You still have to get up and get ready for school. I’m ready for summer again, she says. Oh it’s going to be a long year, I think.
I wake her last, after her sister is out of the room for two reasons. One, she is a mean morning person and her sister being happy bugs her to no end. Two, she gets ready much quicker.
I poke and prod her. I sing to her. I tickle her. I finally tell her I will dump Harrison on her if she doesn’t get up. He’s too big for that mom, he’ll crush me, she says. Fine, I’m up. Are you happy now? Sure my darling girl, I’m thilled. Please get dressed and come eat breakfast.
I’m not wearing that, she says as she walks to the bathroom. That is the dumbest outfit ever. I have ugly clothes. I’d rather be nekkid than wear that. Whatever Morgan, I tell her. You picked it. At the store and last night you picked it. I don’t care what you wear, as long as you come to the kitchen fully dressed. I am not in the mood for this, I tell her.
We will do this for the next nine months. At some point, I know she will show up in the kitchen with no clothes on, or her PJ’s still on, just to argue with me some more. Today, her clothes are still brand new. They still have tags on them, which makes her happy. It’s no longer new, once the tags have been removed.
She comes into the kitchen fully dressed. Thank you, I say. I appreciate you doing what I asked. No response is given, although I didn’t need one. I hand her a breakfast bar and a glass of juice. I also hand her an Adderall. She drinks the juice and takes the pill and rolls her breakfast bar up in a napkin, to eat later. Like me, she’s not a fan of breakfast. She puts it in her lunch box. I didn’t want a mini-bagel today, she cries. I hate those. Well, you wouldn’t tell me last night, so that is what you got. Trade with Mackenzie (her bff), you know she loves those. Fine, that’s what I’ll do then. Auntie Kate makes better lunches anyway. I’d say something back, but it’s useless. Plus? I know my best friend is having the same arguement at her house right now with Mackenzie. There is a reason they are as good of friends as Kate and I are. Most likely, the girls will switch lunches and both be thrilled with it.
Head band on her head, flip-flops on her feet and she’s ready to go. Her back pack, neatly put by the garage door the night before is in hand.
She pushes Bailey out of the door and I yell at her. Why do you do that, I ask? Because she was in my way, is the response. I should say more, but I know it’s like talking to a brick wall this early in the morning. On the way to school, she warms up a bit. She tells me about her need to find a good book at the library today. She reminds me that I didn’t sign her reading slip from last night. No, I did after you went to bed. I put it in your Hannah Montana folder, I tell her. Oh good, thank you mommy. I smile at her. Might be the only mommy, I get all day.
As I drop her off, I get one quick hug, before she runs off to find her friends.
This is my new normal. I don’t mind it really. It’s comforting.
-The wedding was absolutely beautiful. That’s pretty much all I can say about it.
-I have been asked to keep this blog about me and our life and for the most part leave our extended family out of it, so that is what I will try to do.
-I am a little irritated about being asked that, but I also understand it. Privacy is a big thing to my husband and lately, in his mind, I have crossed that boundary. Not just because of talking about his sister, just in general, I have crossed that boundary. Anyway…moving on.
-I am not a fan of Mondays. Especially after a fun-filled weekend, Monday is a big freaking let-down.
-Next Monday the girls go back to school. I am excited about this, but also a bit sad. Baily going to kindergarten is a bit sad. When did my baby get all big and five and school age? Who told her she could do that?
-Harrison walked yesterday. Three unassisted steps before he fell on his butt. He hasn’t tried it again, but I know he will. I think he was so shocked at what he was doing that he didn’t realize he was doing it. The twelve people clapping for him might have added to that shock.
-10 months is too tiny to walk. I did not agree to that. There will be no more walking until permission is given. LOL. Oh I crack myself up.
That’s all I’ve got. How was your weekend?
Last night I wrote a post where I basically complained about everything. It felt kind of nice to write it down. Get it out, if that makes any sense. Although this morning, I’m glad I didn’t post it. Not because you guys can’t handle it, not because I didn’t need to complain about petty nonsense last night, but mostly because this blog has become so depressing that I’m just thinking that it would have made it worse.
I’m trying. Trying to get it together. Trying to not be so pessimistic all the time. Trying to not be depressed. Trying to not be this complainy (yes, is word), whiney, pain in the ass that I have become lately.
It’s not really working for me so well. But at least I’m working on it.
Instead of whining about things that really don’t matter outside of my head, I thought I’d give positivity a try. See how it works for me today. No guarantees on tomorrow, but it’s worth a shot today.
I love the 4th of July weekend. My husband won’t be working for three whole days. (Truly, I am forgetting what the man looks like, he works so much these days.) We have BBQ’s to go too, swimming to do and tons of great food to eat. I adore fireworks, now that Bailey has stopped being terrified of them.
I found the business cards I am going to get for BlogHer. They are cute and I loves them.
My excitement of BlogHer is starting to out way my fear of it.
Harrison is cute and fun and the best baby I could ever hope to have. Nine months, really is a fun, if not a bit exhausting age. Although his idea of morning being 5am, needs a bit of work.
Bailey is almost five and while it makes me sad, I see the big girl she is becoming and it’s awesome. She’s awesome. The funniest, most honest baby girl I could ever hope to have.
Morgan has decided that she likes clean clothes enough to help me with laundry. Have I told you she’s my favorite today? She is. At least in this moment, when she’s being so dam helpful. Seven is an awesome age.
I love the Internet. Well I love you guys. Yes there are haters, trolls and asshats. But real life has them too. But you guys keep me entertained on a daily basis and I adore each of you for it.
Oh one more thing, my friend, the lovely Anymommy, had a beautiful baby boy on Sunday. Nathaniel. He’s big and squishy and absolutely adorable. He has red hair!!! Squee. Please go and congratulate her.
So, how’d I do? LOL. Don’t need to answer that. Is okay.
Bubs,
This morning your sister Morgan came and woke me up at 7:36am. I was shocked that you had been so kind as to sleep in that long. No such luck buddy. Although your sister was kind enough to let me sleep, as she’d gone in and gotten you and given you a bottle and basically followed you around for an hour. Today she is my hero and I paid her accordingly.
Of course, I ignored the fact that she came to get me, because she was tired of you, but whatever. She’s seven, so I’m just glad she was willing to play with you for an hour. She super-dup loves you. You and she were both alive and you hadn’t managed to completely destroy the house, so that was a plus.
Darling boy of mine, you are very destructive. Your sisters were too, but in way different ways. Given 22 seconds, you will completely destroy a plant. You overturn the dogs food and water bowl if given any unsupervised second in the kitchen. You can take every book off of a shelf in less than a minute and I’ve yet to find a way to keep you out of the DVD’s. Don’t think you don’t have toys, because you have dozens. You just seem to find them all extremely boring, save for two matchbox cars of Aidan’s, that you crash into each other all the time. Oooommmm you say, as you crash them into each other. I assume this is boom crash, which is what Aidan says all the time. You also think Tupperware and plastic spoons are the best thing ever invented. And remotes, which I swear to god you must be baby Houdini, because no matter where we put them, you can find them and take the batteries out before I even know what you’ve got.
You are all boy. We have, in the last few weeks given you an official, Baby Transformer Name, which is Destructor. It fits. Perfectly.
You stand against the couch, pulling yourself up by your fat baby fingers, but haven’t tried to walk at all. Thank freaking god, because I am not used to the crawling thing, which you’ve been doing for months, so walking is out of the question. Don’t do it.
You have like a gazillion teeth, or nine, but who’s counting? They all seem to have come in at once and sleeping has been an issue the past month. You will eat just about anything. Baby food is becoming lame, you prefer real food. But you aren’t that picky, you just want it now. In fact, you wanted it three minutes ago. You also eat pretty much anything you find on the floor and I’d like to tell you this makes me sweep more, but it just doesn’t. Son, you are the third kid. Enjoy the carpet fuzz. Sorry about that, but mama doesn’t think it’s a big deal anymore.
In the past month, you have found your voice. Meaning you screech all the time. Then you laugh at yourself, because you? Are the funniest guy you know. Then you look around to see where your cheering squad is, because you are used to having someone clap for you. I fear for your preschool teachers one day.
You have also started talking. We had this conversation this morning:
Me: Bubs what does a duck say? You: kak kak
Me: What does a doggie say: You: OOOFFFFFF (You screech this, most likely because our dog is extremely loud.)
Me: You’re right. Yay you. But shhhhh baby, inside voice. You: chhhhhhhhhhh
Me: Exactly. Now, what does a moo cow say. You: ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh
Me: Bubby can you say milk? You: ik
Me: Close enough. How about ball, can you say ball? You: ball. (This was your first word by the way, after dada.)
Me: Can you say more? You: *gives me the sign for more.*
Me: How about daddy, can you say daddy? You: dadadadadadadada *does a little happy dance*
Me: Yay. Where is daddy? You: bye bye. *waves at yourself*
Me: Silly baby. How about mama, can you say mama? You: dadadadada
And this, my son, is what we do every single day. I always throw in new words, just to see how you try to say it. You can say mama. You say it when you are hurt, sick, extremely tired and at 3am when you don’t want dada. But when asked, you will never say mama to me. This is what I’d like you to work on for the next month. It’s your tiny baby goal, okay?
Baby boy, you are an absolute joy. Know this forever, that no matter how bad my life may be for me in the moment, or how sad I might be, you light up my world. Every second of every day, I adore you.
Love, mama
He crawls away from me, until he gets to the edge of the door which will lead him out of our kitchen and into the den. There he stops, turns around, looks at me and comes back to play with the Tupperware again. He hasn’t found his baby wings yet. He hasn’t realized that we are not one yet. I am still his person. At not yet eight months old, I am his world. He lights up when he sees me in the morning and cries when I walk out of the room without him.
This is the way it should be. Yes, he will get over his separation anxiety soon. Yes, he will one day leave the room I am in on purpose. But not yet. I will savor the time until then.
Logan: Iss, I think we need to eat at home this week. He reaches for another hot wing from the container in the middle of the table.
Bailey: Daddy, we are eating and we are at home.
Logan: Did you coach her to say that?
Me: Nope, she got that one on her own. Babe, I’m doing the best I can. Dinner is still dinner, as long as we all eat together.
Logan: Pause. I never thought of it that way. So, okay, dinner at home, no restaurants this week. But I don’t care where the food comes from. One week, lets just try it for one week, okay?
Me: That sounds like a plan.
Morgan was as sick as a dog last week; food poisoning from some treat at the school. I’ve never seen her that sick in my life. Her long thin body, curled up on the bathroom floor in between retching. I sat with her, me and Harrison hanging with her on the floor until I finally decided to take her to Urgent care. I have been scared in my life; scared of many things. But nothing is scarier than watching your baby go as limp as a noodle from exhaustion and dehydration as you carry her too the car to take her to Urgent Care.
At 2am that next morning, she came into our room and said, mama I can’t go to school today. I know bug, I do. But it’s only 2am, I told her. Then I did something I rarely do, I pulled her into bed with us. She slept curled into me, nestled in between Logan and I for the rest of the night.
When I was in California, she slept with me two nights in a row. The two nights following my losing the baby. Those two nights, I felt guilty for, because she was there to comfort me. Now I know it works both ways. It’s okay for her to be a comfort to me on occasion, just as it is for me to be that for her. That’s what makes us family. Yes, she is seven years old, my first baby. But she is getting so big too. Big enough that we are starting to become friends in some way.
I want that, to be friends with my kids. Their mother first? Always. But friends too.
My Mom: So, Papa** and I are coming out mid-June. We’re hoping to find a house to buy while we are there.
Me: Really? That soon?
Mom: Yeah. I’ve already started working on my book and he’s pretty much finished with the practice. Jordan has a handle on it, he’s been there for nearly two years. The practice runs itself these days. We’re ready for the change. Ready for the new chapter in our lives.
Me: Mom, you know there is a house for sale down the block from us.
Mom: You’d want us to look at that? It wouldn’t be too close?
Me: No, not at all. We’d love it.
Mom: Oh I’m so happy to hear that. Ok, well pull the phone number, so I can call on it, okay?
Me: I will call them for you.
Mom: You know it’s funny, but so many people don’t get to say that their grown daughter is one of their best friends.
Me: I know, that’s just sad. God, I hope the girls and I are like that one day.
Mom: I know it will be like that for you.
**We call my step-dad, papa. Have since they got married when I was eight.
Kate: Are you guys sending the girls to summer day camp?
Me: I don’t know. Maybe? We go back and forth on it. Morgan wants too, but Bailey doesn’t at all.
Kate: Yeah, Aidan doesn’t want to either. If we send him, you know he’ll fight me every single morning. It’s almost not worth the trouble.
Me: Yeah, I know. I want the time with them, the freedom to sleep in. Ha. But the reality is, I don’t know that I want to entertain them, or listen to them fight all day every day for the next 10 weeks.
Kate: Well what if we share the kids? Take turns on certain days? Split them up on certain days and then have a day a week where we all do something together? Then we can both say, have a day a week free and the rest will work itself out.
Me: That is awesome. I’m in for sure. Can I have Friday off?
Kate: I knew you’d ask me that.
Me: At least I’m consistent.
Kate: Um huh. Consistent, pain in the ass maybe.
I wake up late/early one night to the bed shaking. He’s sobbing, all 6’4″ curled up around a pillow, with his hand shoved in his mouth to be quiet. I comfort him and calm him down and then ask why he is so upset. I wanted that baby. I wanted that baby so bad that it hurts. I wanted you to never have to go through this again. I couldn’t fix it and I wanted too. You needed time to grieve, I had to be the one to not fall apart.
Well now it’s your turn I tell him. Babe, we will have another baby, I tell him.
I can’t even tell you how much I wanted to have another baby, he says. That baby, our baby.
We will. That one wasn’t meant to be. But there will be another try, another chance. If not through us, we’ll adopt. We’ll find our baby. The one that is meant to be in this family.
There will be another baby. I know it. I feel it. Not yet, I need time. But sooner than one might think, I’d bet.
It’s a crazy life, it keeps me on my toes, but it’s my life and I wouldn’t give it up for anything.
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