Harrison,
Six months, in the span of a life time isn’t really that long. You’ll know this one day. Today however, you have been here for six months. And that, my tiny friend, is a lifetime; your life time. It’s funny, but the memories of my life, of our families life before you, don’t seem quite real. I mean, I remember them (I may be crazy, but I’m not senile), but it seems unreal that I lived this long without you in my life. Six months and I can’t imagine life without you.
You’ve done a lot in the last six months: you’ve learned to sit up, eat with a spoon, to roll around, to bat your eyes at me when you want something. You babble all day long. I fear that when you start talking, you will out talk your sisters, which is going to be a hard feat. You sing, which is one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard in my life.
I’ll tell you a secret, you sleep. Don’t tell anyone, because a sleeping infant is not something to brag about, but you have slept through the night since you were about six weeks old. I’d feel slightly bad about this, except your sister Bailey didn’t sleep for the first, oh two years of her life. So I feel even. Like somehow you sleeping is a gift that the greater forces of the world gave me. Between you and me, I’m glad you love to sleep. I’m getting a bit old for the non-sleeping gig.
Last week during an unfortunate incident with sweet potatoes (dude, I’m sorry, truly), you cried and cried and cried. I realized something that day; it had been weeks since I’d heard you cry. Weeks, seriously. You are not a crier. You get fussy when you are tired or hungry, but you don’t really cry. It broke my heart to listen to you that day. Even when you rolled under the dog yesterday and she stepped on your hand and you cried for a second, it hurt me. Although, dude, you did roll right under her. Note to you, when you are three and having a fit, it won’t break my heart when you cry. But right now, it still does.
You are fascinated by music of any kind. You think the coolest thing in the world is the firetrucks that pass the house. You adore your sisters; you light up when they enter the world. You think the dog is awesome, you love it when she licks your face. You believe your daddy is the greatest toy in the entire world. But I am still your favorite.
Son, you light up my life. I can’t imagine how you could be any more awesome than you are. One thing though? The backwards crawling thing you keep trying to do? I’ve told you a dozen times at least that crawling is not for tiny six month old babies. It’s a house rule. Crawling is not to be attempted until eight months at least. You are too tiny to your mom and you would be good to remember the crawling rule. Because I’m about to start docking your future allowance if you keep breaking this rule. Don’t laugh at me, I will do it, I will. Stop batting those big brown eyes at me, it’s not going to work.
Ok, fine. Crawl. Whatever. Happy six months.
Love you, mama
Eight years ago, Logan and I decided to stop using birth control and see what happened. We had grand ideas about being parents. We’d been married two years, we were both on our second to last year of college, we owned a condo and we were ready. Ready to be parents. Ready to change our lives forever and make a family. Really if you think about it, or well, if we think about it, it was an excuse to have lots of unprotected sex. Lots.
More than that though, I always knew I wanted to be a mother. From a very young age, I knew I wanted kids. We argued about how many we’d have, but we both knew we wanted kids.
I’m not exactly sure we thought it would happen so soon; the getting pregnant part. They say a year at the very least when you’ve been on the pill for a while. “They” are morons, whoever they are. I was pregnant within a month.
We planned and organized as we got ready for our baby. Our baby girl who we were so thrilled to be pregnant with. We painted our second bedroom, bought little onesies and sockies, baby proofed our entire condo and went through a name book, name by name. We dreamed big dreams. For her and for us. For our family, the little family we were creating. Huge dreams about what she’d be like. I don’t think this is so out there, I bet there are tons of first time mothers who dream about what their children will be like. We hope for the best and pray for the amazing. We envision perfect lives for them. Lives without fear, hatred, uncertainty or loss. Lives that are full of sunshine and flowers.
I had an idea about what kind of a mom I’d be. That, I’d be spontaneous, fun and never impatient. I didn’t believe being a parent would be all sunshine and roses, but I had a bit of a skewed idea of motherhood. I wouldn’t be big on bedtimes, schedules could be made up as we went along and I’d never force my kid to eat when they didn’t want too. If the food of choice was hot dogs, I’d go with it. The things Logan and I would do with said child, danced in my head. We wanted to travel the world, take our baby with us. Travel the US, see everything and anything. Just get in the car and go. I had great plans for the way my child would be, as well.
Then I was handed this teeny baby. And she was teeny, having been born a month early. She was also nothing like what we’d imagined. Not at all. Don’t get me wrong, she was ours and she was perfect in our eyes. Our beautiful baby girl. God we adored her from the second she came into the world.
She was also great birth control, for tons of other people. Morgan is the kid that makes people go, maybe we’ll start with a fish. She was a screamer, from pretty much birth on. She had colic so bad that we literally had to massage her stomach after every time she ate. She wouldn’t breast feed, so I gave up within a week. It was okay, because I was open to whatever, but also because I needed to be able to give her to other people to feed. She had to be held at all times, non-stop. But only a certain way, which changed often. She wanted her way, all the time, from a very young age. She was a good sleeper at night, I will give her that. She started sleeping though the night at six weeks. She wasn’t a good napper. She was not an easy baby, nor an easy toddler. In fact, nothing about her was or is easy.
My grandiose plans went right out the window. Our ideas of traveling the world with her as a baby, were dashed by the second day of her life. Morgan, even now at, seven and a half years old, is a child that needs a strict schedule. Bedtimes are a must, meals need to be at the same times, changes from the schedule must be explained over and over, for it to go off okay. Even then, it doesn’t always work out for her. She has trouble with transitions, change, deviations from the way she knows it to be. Or wants it to be. We talk about what will happen in her day tomorrow at dinner every night. Over the past few years it has shrunk to: this is the basic plan type of a thing. It used to include great detail: you will wake up, you will eat breakfast, you will get dressed; a full timeline of her day. It wasn’t for us, it was for her. We did it because she needed it.
This is just how my daughter is. It’s a part of her, a part of her that frustrates me to no end some days. I also love it about her. She has changed my views of the world. She has shaped the mother I became. If Bailey had been born first, or even Harrison; I’d be a different mother than I am today. I might be that mother that I thought I’d become. The care free mom.
I am not that mother. I am not the mother I thought I’d be. I am a better mother than I would have been. I know this to be true. I have the rest of my life to travel the world, to see the sites, to live moment to moment. I may not be the mother that I wanted to be. However, I am the mother they need me to be. A mother with rules, who enforces bedtimes, a mother who makes them read half an hour out loud a night, one who makes them eat vegetables and brush their teeth. I don’t make up elaborate art projects, nor do I cook from scratch. But I’ve found people who will do that stuff with them. I am not as patient as I thought I’d be….but I’m more patient than my mom was with us, so that’s an improvement.
I can be spontaneous; the fun mom, who can let rules go for a night. I can run around and play at the park with them, pretending to be a fairy princess; build complex mazes out of pillows on my floor, to avoid the hot lava monster. I can let them go wild in a candy store every now and again. But the next day, I become mom again. Their mom. Morgan, Bailey and Harrison’s mom.
I may not be the mom I thought I’d be, but I’d not give up the mom I am to them in a heart beat. It’s the thing I’m most proud of in this world.
Poop. Lots and lots of poop. I don’t normally discuss poop, at least not on the Internet. Not because I couldn’t, but because there are so many other things for me to discuss. Like trips to the ER, with four year olds, who go in with a 105 fever and come out with Pneumonia again. Or my obsession with one sappy country song, that I haven’t managed to buy yet, so I have the guys MySpace page open and I just keep listening to it over and over again.
Today though, I need to ask a question about poop. I’ve never quiet had to deal with so much at the one time. Boy poop? Is much worse than girl poop.
So here’s my question: Have any of you ever, after you’ve trashed a set of sheets, a blankie, an outfit and a teeny bear, after a poop explosion, ever looked at your baby, the baby you cherish and would move the moon for, and wonder if you might could trash him and get a new one? A clean, non-pooping one? Just for a second?
My lovely son, these words were said to me last night by your older sister Bailey. I’m going to write this down for you, so you’ll always remember. Because you may never have a real baby book, but you’ll have these little things that I’ve written down on this blog. Dude, don’t worry, I have a baby book, it’s not all that interesting anyway.
One day, in February 2009, your sis said something semi-nice in your direction. Please remember it, because I doubt it will ever happen again. She loves you, she really does, she’s just not that overly fond of you. Hopefully that will go away one day, but I can’t promise anything.
No worries though, the rest of us adore you.
Yeah, that’s what I said. It worked out too, because we never once let the girls sleep with us. Never. You think I’m kidding, I’m sure. Oh what about when they are sick, you’re thinking. Nope. When they are sick, they sleep in their own beds. If they are scared or very, very sick, they sleep on our floor in a sleeping bag. What? I need my space at night. This is what I always said and I went with it. My girls slept in their cribs from night one.
I’ve never judged co-sleepers, I’d just never understood it.
Then Harrison was born. I can’t tell you how it started exactly, because it wasn’t the plan. He does have a very lovely crib in his room. The first night we brought him home, it was kinda cold outside and the wind was coming through the windows, making his room a big chilly. So we brought him to sleep with us. That’s pretty much the best I can come up with. He’s not spent a single night in his crib. Not one single night. He naps in there though. When he naps that is, as he’s not really big on daytime naps. he prefers cat naps. Which in reality is okay, since he sleeps about eleven hours at night. I know, I know. Don’t ask me how I managed to do this, because I didn’t. I’ve not put that out there before, for fear of him suddenly not sleeping so long at night. He’s been doing it since he was about ten weeks old, except for last week when he was sick and Monday night when he woke up twice for no reason. He doesn’t move much, he just sleeps in between us, happy as a clam. Are clams happy? I’ve never understood that statement, but whatever. He just lightly snores and that is actually a really comforting sound. He’s a perfect angel bed buddy.
But we’re thinking it’s time for him to sleep in the crib, before he gets old enough to fight us about it forever. I don’t want a toddler sleeping with me. An infant is one thing, but a moving baby and toddler is another. Also, we’ve made the decision to go to Hawaii alone, as a couple. To you know, get naked and make more babies….or something like that. So, we have to get him to sleep by himself, in a crib, or my mother will shoot me and then I’ll be dead. Which really, I’m not that into. I rather like life.
Tonight is the night. I’m hoping I just put him in his crib and he falls asleep and he stays asleep all night. No idea on the chances of that, but hey, he’s pretty freaking easy so far, so it might just work. If not, I have no ideas on how to stop this trend we started. Because I never had this problem before. Any ideas would be welcome. Wish me luck though, because I think I’m going to need it.
Last night, at say two thirty-four ish am (tentatively) Logan and I found ourselves with three sleeping kids, on the bathroom floor. Croup. Oh it’s such a lovely sound. I knew they all had coughs, I’d been listening to it all day, but I didn’t know how bad it was. At 1am, I found out. Bailey and I spent about 45 minutes on the bathroom floor with the shower on at full blast. Then the baby started the seal cough and Logan brought him in the bathroom with us. After another half hour Morgan woke up, came to find us, saw us all on the floor and went and got her blanket and pillow and came in and laid down in between us. All of this without a word. It was almost like she thought it was a slumber party and she was somehow missing out on it. Withing minutes she was asleep. Bailey was asleep in Logan’s arms and Harrison fitfully sleeping in mine. Everyonce in awhile, they’d all start coughing. It was like being in a TB ward or something.
We sat there watching them sleep, listening to them cough for a while without talking. At some point, Logan asked me when it happened? When did what happen, I asked? When did we become the adults?
You know, I just don’t know. I’m not sure when exactly it happened. When Morgan was a toddler and got sick in the middle of the night, I’d still look around for who this mommy of hers was. Why was she looking at me when she said it. I’m not sure when it happened, but I no longer look for her real mommy anymore. I am a grown-up. Logan and I are grown-ups. We have three children, a dog, a mortgage and car payments. In a month, we will have been married for ten years. We save for retirement and our kids colleges. We pay our bills on time and we get our carpets cleaned every now and again. We drink more coffee than alcohol and we enjoy going to bed at a reasonable hour. At some point, we became adults. We’re just not sure when exactly.
I’ll tell you a little secret though. I don’t mind this life. The life of an adult with a family. In fact, I rather enjoy it.
I am not a big fan of New Years. I never really have been. One year I went to a rockin party and had an absolute blast. That was my favorite New Years ever!
I was eight years old though.
Truly, I’m not a fan of going out with the crazies, getting sloshed or the oh so lovely: see how many women are sobbing in the bathroom because they have no one to kiss at midnight.
The thing I like least about New Years is the resolutions. The lists that people make of things they intend to be better about in the New Year. The reason I despise this practice is simple: People never stick to their resolutions and then about mid-February everyone feels bad about themselves and gives up. Basically making resolutions is just another excuse for us all to fell bad about ourselves. I am good enough at feeling guilty, I don’t need to make a resolution to do so in a month or two.
Instead, I’m going to make my best of 2008 list. My favorite post, one (or three, whatever) for each month I’ve been blogging.
ISSA’S Favorites of 2008:
July: Things not to say to a pregnant woman. That’s a decaf latte, right? Actually bitch it’s not. I just heard this in Starbucks. Literally half an hour ago. Like it’s any ones business. Today I decided that I can’t do decaf anymore. I’m just not sleeping and I needs me some caffeine. So real coffee here I am, I’ve missed you.
August: The cracked ceiling. My babies are six and a half and four years old. One wants to be a Supreme Court Judge and the other a Transformer. Funny, yes, but dream big is what I tell them.
Last night Hillary Clinton made history; she changed history for the better and I thank her for it. I want a better world for my children, a world that is safe and free, a world where there is no limit to what they can be.
September: Happy birthday Babe. On this day, every year, for as long as we’ve been together, I send my mother in law a gift. I call her and thank her for giving me the greatest gift in the world, for giving me her son. Because she raised one of the best men I know and she deserves to be told what an amazing job she did.
Small Harrison update. And plus, I had to stare at my son. My son, so strange to say, but so awesome.
October: Harrison Thomas. Harrison Thomas was born at 8:08pm, September 25th, 2008. He weighed 8 pounds, 6.4 ounces, was 20 inches long.
November: Ha, November was a good month for me, so I had to pick three.
We were playing doctor, really we were. What you didn’t think I’d post all sweet and sappy ones did you?
Bittersweet Victory. Today is a happy day for the US. I am happy, I truly am. But there’s a bitterness there too. An angry piece of me, that has no outlet. I just want to shake the world right now and say, these two belong together, how can you not see that?
Long lost parenting tips. I did the only thing I could think of, I pulled her into the bathroom and made her open her mouth and I shoved a small stick of soap in there.
December:
For my favorite posts of this month, I’m going to pick two of mine and one of someone else’s. One of mine is from this month and one from August I believe. They are both about ADHD and how it affects our family. I think more people need to see the face of ADHD. To know the realities and see the truth behind some of the behaviors.
I have this feeling that Aaron and Morgan would get along really well.
Reality. The reality is that the world sees my child as a pain in the ass. Not all people, not people who know her, not even people who have been around a child with ADHD and know the signs. But to the majority of people.
Medicate or not, this is the question You know that saying, when she’s good she’s very, very good? Well that was Morgan. On her good moments, she was a doll; sweet, caring, loving and creative. On her bad moments, the Tasmanian devil on crack. Trouble was, we never knew what we were going to get. Unpredictable to the core. You could look at her wrong and she’d melt into a puddle of tears; tell her to put her shoe on and she’d throw a two hour tantrum; she was out of control. This was the first time we considered medicating her.
This month has been a hard month for me. I lost my grandmother, which only made me realize that I’ve not really grieved for my grandfather. The reality of these losses is just beginning to sink in. 2008 has been a long year. There have been great things, the most notable in my family being Harrison. I can not even begin to tell you how thankful I am for this little boy. My little boy. I could say it all day, every day, but it wouldn’t be enough. I adore every single piece of his rolly polly little self.
But there’s been a lot of grief as well. This year we lost three people in our family, my grandparents and Logan’s grandma. We also have family that is struggling to make it. One with liver cancer, one with breast cancer and one with a bum heart. We’re trying to think positively, but there may be some losses next year as well.
One of the things that I am thankful for the most for this year, is all of you. You have supported me and helped me, more than you could ever know. I appreciate each and every one of you.
I hope you all have a great New Years Eve. I’ll talk to you next year.
Remember me? I was the one singing Van Morrison (quietly I might add) to my newborn son in the airport on Sunday. You must remember me. I was the one you were looking at like I was insane. Oh you remember now. Yeah that figures. You said to your friend/relative and I quote “That’s not appropriate to sing to a baby.” Really? Because lullabies are so f’ing great? Let’s ignore your rudeness and bitchiness for just a second and talk about lullabies. The oh so appropriate lullabies people should, in your mind, be singing to their newborns.
Bah Bah Black Sheep….lets just sing about stealing from an innocent sheep. Plus, this is 2008. I live in a major metropolitan city. Sheep are something my son is likely to see three times in his childhood and always in a zoo. I doubt any of them will be black sheep. Plus, my son has no master and the boy in the song gets no wool. Why in the hell would I want to sing my son this screwed up song?
Ring around the rosie: Pocket full of posies, ashes ashes we all fall down. Oh yes, lets sing about the freaking plague. This is what I want Harrison to know about. Sweet dreams son.
Rock-a-bye Baby: Do we even need to discuss the baby in a tree song? Baby in a tree? Falling down, baby and all? Why don’t we just call CPS and get it over with?
Babies don’t care what we sing to them. They don’t care if our voice creaks. They don’t care if we make up words. Do you know that my daughter Morgan sings to Harrison all the time and he coos at her? When he’s cranky and I’m trying to finish dinner or something, I send her to sing too him. She sings whatever song she has stuck in her head, the ABC’s, or some silly made up song about Mama eating his cheeks. Last night she was singing her multiplication table to him. He just loved it. He could care less what it is, he just loves the way we sing to him.
Van Morrison, Days Like This? Is hands down a better song for my son to hear. I’d rather sing him anything besides kid music. You know why? Because my kids don’t own that crap. They have never in their life owned a Raffi CD, or the Wiggles or even a Barney-Dora-Issa is poking her eyes out type of CD. Everyone who knows me, knows not to buy this stuff for my kids. I won’t give it too them. I’d rather them sing the songs on the radio. I love that they know which Satellite radio station they want to listen too each time we get in the car. I’m rather proud of the variety of music my girls like. They request songs by artist and title. You haven’t really lived until you’ve witnessed Bailey singing and dancing to Hey There Delilah by the Plain White T’s. You should watch my kids when Pink’s, So What, comes on in the car. They go nuts, they love it. They are not being harmed in any way by not having a Raffi CD.
There are so many things I could say too you. So many horribly mean things I could put out for the world to know about you. I am very observant. I’ve thought about it for three long days. However, I’m a nicer person than you. I may judge people I see, but it’s always in my own head. I don’t judge people out loud in a crowed airport for the whole world to hear. If this had happened last year, I’d have likely snapped your head off and fed it to a shark. Just count yourself warned. Not everyone would have continued singing to their son and then walked away.
My son, is not being harmed by me singing whatever song I have in my head too him as a lullaby. In fact, I think he is perfectly content with anything I sing to him.
So eat that, Biotch in the airport.
Hugs and stuff,
Issa
I have about five posts swimming around in my head right now: a post about being thankful; a post about my tiny boy being two months old; a post about my love of pie and a post about how I nearly killed a Best Buy employee today. None of which will probably get written. The problem is time. This is Thanksgiving weekend people. I have a houseful of people. My house is full of laughter, games, Wii competitiveness, shrieking little girls and food. Loads of food. We are a bit overstocked on food. We made an extra turkey, because my husband won one. It’s Friday though and I’m already tired of turkey. Next weekend my baby girl is going to be seven years old and I’ve only half planned her party. We won’t even discuss Christmas, because I’m likely to cry if I think of how much I have to do.
Moving on…
I used to have a blog before this blog. A lot of you knew me then, some of you didn’t. Maybe you know that I used to blog and maybe you don’t. For those who had no idea, I blogged for about a year and a half. Then I disappeared for about eighteen months and now I’m at my 100th post. Again. I sort of wish I’d saved that post, but I didn’t keep much. Mostly the things I kept were letters written to my girls.
I know it’s tradition to write 100 things about yourself for your 100th post. Everyone does it, it’s the new black or whatever. But I’m not sure I can come up with 100 choice items about myself. Unless I start talking about my love of sour jelly beans, which I doubt you want to hear about.
Basically I’m going to be a thief. Insta-Mom stole an idea from AnyMommy. The 10 x 10 post; 10 lists of 10 things. Really it’s a great idea. I’m glad I read these lovely women, so I can steal all of their great ideas. So, here I go….10×10, 100 things about me.
10 things I am grateful for this Thanksgiving:
1. My son. I knew I’d love him as much as his sisters, I learned this the second time around. I knew he’d change our family forever in amazing ways. But I didn’t know that I’d adore him as much as I do. That I’d want to stay home with him. For him.
2. My girls. They are amazing and creative and the sweetest little people.
3. My husband.
4. My family being able to come together and have a great time.
5. A drama free Thanksgiving.
6. That we had a table full of tasty ass food.
7. Our new president.
8. That we didn’t have a blizzard this weekend, which would have made it hard for people to get here. (Of course I started writing this about four hours ago. We now have at least 6 inches already.)
9. My warm toasty house and my warm toasty sheets on my bed. (did I mention the snow?)
10. For all of you. For those of you who comment, those of you who don’t and those of you who I consider true friends.
10 things about my children:
1. Harrison is a talker. He talks to us all day long. He also smiles and giggles. I’ve enclosed proof at the bottom of this post.
2. Harrison is in 3-6 month clothes already. There is a poll on how much he weighs. My guess is 14 pounds, 2 ounces. He is only two months and is heavier than either of the girls were at six months. He’s a chunky Buddha baby.
3. Morgan steals my cell phone, goes in the closet and calls family. Just to talk.
4. She too is a talker. If she’d ask, I’d gladly give it to her to do this. But I find it funny that she steals it, calls and then returns it. I hear about it later.
5. Morgan loves complete darkness when she sleeps. Bailey loves three night lights when she sleeps.
6. They share a room.
7. Morgan’s bed has sheets around it, like a tent in the jungle.
8. Bailey is the best Wii bowler in this house. That is sad, considering she is only four.
9. All three of my kids are the loves of my life.
10. Although all three of them seriously could be replaced with those sleeping in kids that you hear about and I’d be thrilled.
10 things you might not have known about me:
1. I have Strabismis, which is lazy eye, in both eyes. The docs are not sure why my eyes focus together at all. Right now, because I am so tired, I am only using the left one. I cannot wear contacts, they make me want to gouge my eyes out with chopsticks or sporks.
2. I hate shoes and socks, but I love to buy both shoes and socks.
3. I am a speed reader. Which is good, considering my attention span these days, is 2.5 posts.
4. I say I am a horrible cook, but I’m really not. I can follow any direction. My thing though, is I want to be able to cook by memory and just throw ingredients in. That too me is a true cook.
5. I am named after two great-grandmas.
6. I have a love of names. I would love to write a book about names. If I cold figure out how to do it, I’d come up with a way to name babies for people. Some people seriously could use help with this.
7. I love to people watch and make up stories about the people I see.
8. I spend hours of my day trying to eat the cheeks of my babies.
9. I am scared to fly, although I will do it. But I’d rather drive two days, with my children, than get on a plane.
10. I cheat at Monopoly, but I’ve never cheated on anything else in my life.
My 10, all time favorite movies: (These are not in order. I’d be hard pressed to do that.)
1. Mary Poppins
2. While You Were Sleeping
3. The Grinch (Not the Jim Carey one.)
4. Willy Wonka
5. Beetle Juice
6. Michael
7. Indian Summer
8. Ocean’s Eleven
9. 13 Going on 30
10. Empire Records
10 things that occupy my time, besides my chillins and my man:
1. Um hai, blogging
2. Twitter
3. Checking my email
4. Chatting with Kim
5. Reading
6. Photographing my children
7. Sudoku
8. Watching NCIS
9. Going through, sorting, scanning old photos
10. Trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life
10 things that made me fall for said man:
1. His smile
2. His ass (he made me say that)
3. His love and sweetness with his baby sister
4. The way he could crack the whole room up with a well timed joke
5. The fact that he thought before he spoke, so he was generally very thoughtful
6. His kindness and giving nature
7. The care and time he spent on his mother, grandmother and family
8. The fact that I could beat him at air hockey
9. That he was better than me at everything except air hockey and surfing
10. That he never cared that I was better than him at air hockey and surfing
10 places I want to see/do before I die:
1. Sydney, Australia
2. Walk the Golden Gate Bridge
3. Spend two weeks on a house boat in Lake Mead
4. Spend a month in a Tuscan Villa
5. Go to Greece with my mom
6. Spend a month on an island with just my husband
7. Go to the Summer Olympics
8. China
9. Ski in Switzerland
10. Find out where my dad’s family was from in Poland and travel there.
The 10 songs that I am currently playing over and over again:
1. Days Like This by Van Morrison
2. Have a Little Faith in Me by John Hiatt
3. Where I’m From by John Michael Carroll
4. Lost by Michael Buble
5. Already Gone by Sugarland
6. It Won’t be Like This For Long by Darius Rucker
7. Roll With Me by Montgomery Gentry
8. Piano Man by Billy Joel
9. Stay Down by Mary J. Blige
10. Here by Derek Sholl
My 10 favorite books off all time:
1. A Wrinkle in Time
2. All Harry Potter books
3. Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
4. Fried Green Tomatoes
5. In the Time of the Butterflies
6. Their Eyes Were Watching God
7. Twelfth Night
8. To Kill a Mockingbird
9. The Lorax
10. The Giver
10 ways that I am probably a parenting oxymoron:
1. All three of my children were (are) only bottle fed. But I find breastfeeding to be a beautiful thing.
2. I swore no child of mine would ever sleep in my bed. Neither of the girls ever did. Harrison has since day one.
3. In LA I was prepared (and was) to spend a butt load of money on a fabulous private school. I thought it was so important. Here, my girls go to the “Hippie” public choice school. The programs? Not so different really.
4. I buy organic meat, dairy and veggies. But we have Oreo’s, Cheetos and Fruit Roll-Ups in the panrty and my kids know the menu at way too many restaurants.
5. I want the kids to understand the meaning behind Christmas. We donate time, money and food. We pick kids off the Target tree and shop for them; we give to homeless people and we give our old clothes. However, there will be a ton of gifts for the kids.
6. I encourage them believing in the tooth fairy, magic and Santa Clause; but Santa only brings one or two small gifts. Mostly because I don’t want that fat man too take away my glory.
7. I think education is a key. I am saving for college for each of my kids. But I went to college and I know the skills I’ve used in my career did not come from my education. They came from the college of life. If my kids choose not to go to college, I will support them in this choice. They will have to support themselves…but I’ll be okay with their choice.
8. We use homeopathy, relaxation techniques and therapy with Morgan for her ADHD. I will medicate her, when and if it seems like the right thing too do, without a second thought.
9. I won’t buy toys very often. In a bookstore, all bets are off. We have bookshelves throughout this house. They know I’m a sucker when it comes to books.
10. We limit sugar, TV, Wii time and encourage playing outside and sports. When they are being pains though, I hand them some candy and send them to watch some TV.
But hey, I think they’ll be okay anyway.
See, my baby smiles: Harrison Thomas, two months and a couple of days old.
I hope you guys had a great Thanksgiving.
My baby boy is two months old today. I can’t tell you how amazing that is too say. Let me say it again, my son is two month old. My son. If you’d told me a year ago, that this is where I’d be today, holding my serious little baby boy while writing this post, I’d have laughed at you and asked you to pass over, whatever it was you were smoking. A year ago, I was a different person. Not in every way, but I was. I was miserable and sad and nuts and a pretty big downer. I never would have thought that I’d get another chance at having a baby.
Today, I’m different. My husband is different, my daughters are different. This boy, he’s changed our lives for the better. He brought me hope again. He has helped my heart to grow back to almost the size it was before. Heck, he may have made it bigger than it was before. He is an absolute joy.
I have a long post for and about him. Unfortunately, it’s in my head. I’m having trouble writing this week. (Literally it’s taken me almost two hours to write this post.) Mostly due to the details that are swarming around in my head as well. You know, the multiple trips to the airport I get to make, the grocery lists, the piles of laundry that need to be done and the holy crap, why did I think this was going to work out, types of thoughts.
So, here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to announce the winner of the photo contest and then wish you all a happy Thanksgiving. If I get the chance to think, I’ll post, but if not, I’ll be back next week.
And the winner is: “I am SO telling my therapist about this when I can talk“, which the lovely PsychMamma submitted. Truly it was a hard choice. I cracked up at all of the captions. You all are very funny.
Can’t you just see him thinking that, with his little wrikled brow? He does smile, I promise. He laughs and grins and gives baby kisses. But he’s a bit camera shy, so I get a lot of this:
I hope you all have a great Thanksgiving. Enjoy your family, friends and time off work.
Love, Issa, Logan, Morgan, Bailey and Harrison
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