Two years ago Logan and I decided to make a 24 hour rule about Halloween candy. The previous year had been an absolute nightmare. Morgan snuck candy at every possible chance. We found wrappers hidden for months. The girl managed to find it anywhere we hid it. She became this little sugar obsessed loony. Which wasn’t very pleasant in a four year old with ADHD. We swore never again.
We invented the 24 hour rule. Its very simple really. For 24 hours after trick or treating, they can have as much candy as they want. True to form, they ate a ton of it and by the end of yesterday, they were over it. Neither of them has looked at the bowl of candy since 6pm yesterday. It looses its appeal after a bit. From here on out, when I say, one piece of candy, neither will argue. Whatever is left in a week or two, I will throw away. Last year, I tossed more than half of their candy. Basically whatever is left by Thanksgiving is trash.
The downfall of course is that last night, we had to peel them off of the ceiling.
At 8pm, which was really 9pm, but isn’t anymore (I hate time changes), they were both still bouncing off the walls. They are normally asleep by 8:15pm. I couldn’t even get Bailey to put a shirt on. She couldn’t stay still long enough.
Logan and I just watched them dance around in circles for like 20 minutes and by then it was getting close to 9pm. Nothing we said, nothing we did was helping. I’d started thinking that the 24 hour rule was not a smart one.
We finally decided to separate them. I took Bailey into our room and he stayed with Morgan.
I climbed into bed, pulled her in with me and turned out all the lights. She fidgeted for a good ten minutes and then finally I felt her start to settle. Her words got slower and quieter. Eventually she fell asleep.
I considered getting up. I had laundry to do, dishes to clean, I needed to call my mother, I’d heard my cell phone beep three times which I knew were texts from Liz, and we had The Amazing Race on DVR to watch. But I didn’t. I stayed there with my baby girl. I stayed with her all cuddled into me. I listened to her breath and I played with her hair. I breathed in her smell: Gain on her clean PJ’s, melon scented shampoo, bubble gum toothpaste, and the smell of her. The smell of little girls, the smell of my little girl.
I stayed there. I fell asleep with my baby girl. Funny enough, Logan stayed with Morgan. Neither of us got up.
At 5 and nearly 8 years old, they always sleep in their own room. They never sleep with us. This was nice, a nice sweet change. Made me think that the 24 hour rule is not such a bad one.
Hey friends, one more thing, can you guys do me a favor? My evil plan worked and Liz started a new blog, called Lacking Super Powers. Would you mind going to visit her? It’s all pretty and shiny and new over there. Heck, she even posted. Give her some blog love for me? Thanks so much.
September 7th, 1994-
First day of my freshman year, third period English is when I first met him. Tall, gangly, wild hair, handsome. When I saw him, I leaned over to my best friend and said, I’ve got dibs on that one. He walked in late so our teacher made him tell the class about himself. Name’s Logan, just moved here from Denver, goal in life is to learn to surf. Oh and today’s my birthday.
She sat him right next to me. He’d not even fully sat down when I handed him a note. I’m Issa, wanna ditch with my friends and I after lunch? I’ll teach you to surf. A big smile and a nod was his response.
I taught him to surf that day. I also gave him shit for the entire afternoon when he told me he’d lied. His birthday was actually the 5th. It was just something to say, she put me on the spot was his response to me.
There was something about him. It was like I’d known him forever, even though we’d just met. He was the nicest, sweetest, funniest guy I’d ever met. We dated from that day forward.
September 5th, 1998 –
At the beach in Santa Monica, sitting on the swings at midnight. We’d spent the day together. We’d had dinner with his family, cake with mine and coffee later on with friends. What else would make this the perfect birthday, I asked him? Not sure anything could top it, he said. Hmm, what if I asked you to marry me, I asked?
Are you serious?
Yes, I am. I am dead serious. Logan, will you marry me?
You know it’s supposed to be the guy who asks the girl to marry him right? I had it all planned.
We’ll that’s fine, you can do that. But answer me first. Will you marry me?
Of course I will. I’ve wanted to marry you from the day we met.
*The rest of this story has been edited, because this is a family blog. Please feel free to think what you’d like. Actually don’t, that’s gross. Forget I said anything. About a month later he proposed to me.
September 5th, 2001 -
Laying in bed, after having a huge birthday dinner with family and friends. He’d spent all day go-carting with our brothers, while I purchased every single baby pink outfit in the world. What do you think she’ll look like, he said as he patted my belly? We’d just found out Morgan would be a girl.
I don’t know. I hope she’s tall and athletic like you, I said. I hope she has the shape of my eyes, but your nose and mouth for sure. And your mother’s ability to cook, I added.
With your sense of humor and kindness, he said. We both laughed at the thought of her coming out a mini chef.
I just want her to be happy, he says to me. I don’t care what she does in life, just promise me we’ll raise her to be happy. We will love, we will. I swear to you. We’ll make sure she has a great life. That’s my birthday promise to you.
Can I ask you for another birthday gift, he asks me, right before I fall asleep. Of course honey, what? I’d like her middle name to be Elise, after my cousin. We can name her Maya* like you want, it’s a beautiful name. But instead of Olivia, as her middle name, I’d like to honor my cousin. Can we do that?
Yes babe. We can. Maya Elise it is.
*Yes, this is Morgan’s real name. Shrug. Elise was Logan’s cousin who died from cancer when she was seven years old. He was nine when she died.
September 5th, 2008 –
September 2nd, 2009 -
Late Wednesday night, in bed.
Me: I’m sorry my plans for your birthday didn’t work out so well.
Him: Meh, it’s okay. You know?
Me: Babe, it’s your 30th freaking birthday, it’s supposed to be HUGE. I’ve kind of failed on the HUGE part.
Him: I’d rather be here with our moms and our babies and celebrate that way. If I’d had the choice, I’d of said that.
Me: Hmm, I guess I didn’t really ask you what you wanted did I?
Him: No, not really. It’s okay. I wouldn’t have minded two days away with you. This is just better. It’s like the universe intervened for me.
Me: I’m sorry.
Him: Don’t be my love. Don’t be. One birthday request?
Me: Of course, anything you want. Within reason, I add…because I saw that evil glint in his eye. LOL.
Him: On my birthday, I’d like us to have a sleepover with the kids. One night only, but all my babies in one room.
Me: Okay. That I can do. And hey, it’s even free. It’ll be crowded you know?
Him: Crowded is good sometimes.
Me: Okay then. Birthday wish granted. Do I still have to make you a cake and buy you a gift?
Him: Only if you want one next year for your birthday.
Me: Point taken. Guess I’ll be buying making a cake tomorrow.
*I got so lucky. I don’t know what I did to deserve this man, but I’m glad I have him. Whose 30th birthday wish is to let the kids sleep in their room? He doesn’t want a party, he didn’t really want to go away for the weekend, he just wants a weekend with his family. There’s nothing better than that.
Happy 30th birthday tomorrow babe. I promise to wait at least a month week day to mention that you are now older than me.
Love, me
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?
THIS IS A NO SPOILER ZONE!
Yesterday I saw the movie, Julie & Julia. I liked it, a lot in fact. Although I will be up front and say that I loved it because I adore Meryl Streep. She was a phenomenal Julia Child. Watching her was just amazing. The chick who played the blogger, eh. She was fine, that story line was fine. However, I so easily could have watched two hours of Meryl Streep playing Julia Child. I also love the guy who played her husband. They had great chemistry.
It’s weird to watch a movie about blogging though, when you have been blogging for years. Its not that they did a bad job of it, not did it seem far off from reality, but it was weird to me. I’ll tell you quite honestly it made me wonder how it will change blogging. If more people will do it now? If more people will be irritated when they start a blog and don’t find that it’s what they think it should be. You know, will people think that starting a blog will suddenly bring them readers and offers of professional writing? That makes me laugh. I don’t know, it just made me think about this blogging thing. Why I do it. Why it matters to me as much as it does.
I have no answers, I’ve just been thinking about it since I saw the movie. I’m an over thinker, what can I say?
I’ll tell you the best thing in the movie for me. I swear this doesn’t ruin it at all. There is a part where Julia Child comes to America and meets a friend, who she’d never met. They’d been pen pals for eight years and had never laid eyes on each other. I adored that part. For some reason that moment where they see each other, made me cry, because it was like reliving that moment when I got to hug certain people at BlogHer on the first day.
When the movie ended and we (Logan, our two friends and I) were all talking about it over a late lunch, Logan asked me what in that moment made me cry. I tried to explain it to him. Blogging is like pen pals was back in the day, in some ways. We all share certain portions of our lives with each other. Only what we want obviously, but generally it’s easier to share when you aren’t looking at people. We write emails, we chat, we tweet and it’s the same thing as writing letters. Just faster. It almost makes some of us closer than the people we know in real life. We know deeper parts of each other than we possible would, even if we saw each other once a week.
I care about you all, just as much as my friends in real life. I worry about you if I don’t see you around for a few days. I notice if I don’t see you around in a few days. If I never met any of you face to face, this wouldn’t change how I feel about you. But it was amazing to put faces to names. To hug people. To laugh and joke and share stories for a few days, without needing to try and remember what we were discussing five hours later, because one or both of us got busy.
It was interesting, because for the first time ever, I think Logan got it. It reminded him of his grandparents. My husbands grandparents were pen pals in a way. They met the summer after high school, on vacation with their families. However, that was in the early 40′s and he ended up drafted. She wrote to him for two years before he came home. When he could he sent letters back to her. Some of the letters got lost, some he got after he’d already gotten the letter she sent after it; but they wrote to each other for two years. When the war was over, he came home and married her.
Seeing blogging in a movie and then that scene with the pen-pals, made my husband finally understand what and why I blog. I’m just talking to my friends. To you.
This doesn’t change anything really. What it did do, is possibly make it where I don’t have to keep explaining why I do this over and over again to him. He doesn’t get it, even now, but at least he gets why I get it. For that, Julie & Julia was one of the best movies I’ve seen all year.
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.
I am not going to apologize for my post yesterday. I don’t regret it. While a tad of the over-dramatic side, I meant every bit of it. Yesterday. It’s been called naked blogging, not because I was nekkid, but because it was real, raw, emotional and a bit embarrassing. I’ve gone back and forth on just taking it down and decided against it. You guys get the real me here. May not be pretty, may not be entertaining, but it’s me. Thank you to all of you for your sweet comments, it meant the world to me.
Today is a different day. A better day. Filled with sunshine and unicorns. Ok, maybe not, but it’s a heck of a lot better than yesterday. I knew I needed to post something today, just so you all know that I’m not taking down this site. So, I looked around and found a meme that I decided to do. The couples meme, is I think what it’s called. I stole it from Mothergoosemoouse who I believe stole it from Dooce.
THE COUPLES MEME:
What are your middle names?
Mine is Ann, or Anne, depending which of my parents you ask. Never let your husband fill out a birth certificate, when he can’t spell a simple name. Was supposed to be Anne, after my great-grandma. Is Ann, because my dad can’t spell. Funnily, he has since that day, spelled it Anne. Logan’s (who remember isn’t Logan really) is Owen.
How long have you been together?
We met in September 1994. Married, March 1999.
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
Like three hours. Seriously.
Who asked whom out?
I asked him out. In fact, I asked him if he’d like to ditch the last half of our first day of Freshman year and go surfing.
How old are each of you?
We are both 29. I turned 29 on Monday and he’ll be 30 in September. I tease him all the time for being so much older than me.
Whose siblings do you see the most?
His brother I guess, but only because he has a love of skiing. My brothers live in San Francisco. His brother and sister both live in Los Angeles.
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Remembering to make time for us. Remembering that everything is temporary, that he won’t be working long hours forever, that I won’t always be sitting around just waiting for someone to talk too.
Did you go to the same school?
Yes. We are big ole nerds like that.
Are you from the same home town?
No. I was born in Los Angeles, him Denver.
Who is smarter?
We are smart in different ways, if that makes sense.
Who is the most sensitive?
Depends on the day. We are both capable of hurting each others feelings without meaning too. On the cry at movies type of sensitive, um me.
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Go out to eat as a couple? Are you freaking kidding me? I have no clue, because we love to try new restaurants. Plus, hai, we are never alone. Three kids, remember? Our stand-by when we can’t decide, or agree, is California Pizza Kitchen.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
Italy. We went for a week after we got married.
Who has the craziest exes?
Neither. We were High School sweethearts. Although if you ask him about me and Nathan and a game of truth or dare under a trampoline, he wants to do bodily harm.
Who has the worst temper?
Me, hands down. I am the screamer, the arguer, the coffee mug thrower. But he has his moments.
Who does the cooking?
Me mostly, although we eat out a lot. He’s a better cook than I am. But his mom is a chef, so he learned how to cook at a very young age.
Who is the neat-freak?
Morgan? Neither one of us are neat freaks. The only neat freak in this house is seven years old. I hope it lasts, when she is a teen. She loves to clean and do dishes. However, she hates doing laundry, folding laundy, putting laundry away…
Who is more stubborn?
I’m a Taurus. Enough said.
Who hogs the bed?
Logan does, completely. But he’s freaking 6’4. I constantly wake up and move his limbs off of me at night.
Who wakes up earlier?
He does, at five am. Have I mentioned the insane amount of hours he has been working lately?
Where was your first date?
I have no freaking idea. Venice Beach Boardwalk probably. Dude we were 14, we considered it all one big date.
Who is more jealous?
Neither one of us has ever been a jealous person.
How long did it take to get serious?
Oh hai, um a day? Ok, not like that. Dirty minded people. But the, he told me after a day, that he knew we’d get married one day.
Who eats more?
He does. Needs a third leg probably. Or has one hidden that I am not seeing.
Who does the laundry?
Me. If I waited for him to do it, I’d walk around nekkid.
Who’s better with the computer?
Me. He’s kind of computer illiterate.
Who drives when you are together?
He does. And I gripe at him the whole way.
It doesn’t seem like 10 years could have gone by since Logan and I said, I do. Don’t get me wrong, some days it seems like it’s been a million years, but mostly it’s gone by pretty fast. Three kids does that to you. You can’t blink, because you’ll miss it all.
My husband is not the man I married 10 years ago. I am not the woman I was back then. We have changed, grown, become different people. (Which hopefully happens when you marry at 19 years old.) We’re lucky in the sense that the people we grew into, grew in the same direction and still get along. At least most days.
Yesterday was not one of those days. Yesterday was hard people. Just plain hard. But see, no one ever said marriage was easy. It isn’t; it’s a constantly challenging thing. Totally worth it, but not easy. As my mom says, if you don’t have the horrible days, you’d never really appreciate the good ones. I’ve never aired my dirty laundry on this blog, not where it concerns my husband. I don’t intend to start now, but lets just say, yesterday wasn’t fun. It doesn’t really matter today, because it was yesterday and now it’s over.
However, yesterday we didn’t act like people who have been married 10 years. We didn’t act like people who love each other. Hell, we didn’t even act like adults. (As Morgan says, we weren’t acting our age or IQ. She loves to say this too the dog, although I’m not sure dogs care one bit.) I am not proud of it, but I’m not upset about it either. Life moves on, love is bigger than irritation and frustration. I have never been good at staying angry. It’s too much dam work.
This morning, I woke up, turned over and was happy to see him. Him, the beautiful man I married. The man who was such a butt munch yesterday. Every morning, I look at him and I love him. No matter how pissed I might be, when he looks at me, I know I will always forgive him. Eventually. Because I love him. I love him more than everything in this world. I know that no matter what happens, he is here for me, and I for him. I’d move the moon for him if he asked.
10 years people. 10 years. I was going to be all sweet and sappy today, but I’m just not in the mood. Mostly because I am too freaking tired to form two thoughts that make sense. Instead I give you this:
Me: Babe, we’ve been married for ten freaking years. Don’t you think it’s about time you started actually hanging up your wet towels?
Logan: Iss, we’ve been married for ten years. Don’t YOU think it’s about time you gave up on me hanging up my towels?
And that my friends is what ten years of marriage looks like.
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.
Last night while watching the Inauguration and eating pizza and those tasty chocolate dunker things.
Morgan: There are more people there on the streets than at Disneyland on a Saturday.
*****
Bailey: Mommy you can’t be president.
Me: Why not?
Bailey: Only little girls can live at the Big White House (The Big White House is what she always calls it) , they don’t let little boys live there, cause they are too dirty and stinky. No Harrison’s allowed.
*****
Logan: Michelle Obama is taller than Bush. There is a joke here, I’m sure of it.
Me: Yeah, but it’s not short people friendly.
Morgan: Mommy, I’m the tallest in my class you know.
Me: Ok, fine then. It’s not child friendly.
Morgan: What’s that mean anyway?
Logan: It means I was going to tell a rude joke, but your mama is mean and won’t let me.
*****
Bailey: Urethra Franklin has a crazy hat. Do you think she bought it at the Halloween store?
*****
Me: Oooohhhh I adore Itzhak Perlman. In my next life, I want to play as well as he does.
*****
Morgan: Why’d he stop saying the words?
Logan: Because the guy messed up and Obama knew it was wrong.
Morgan: He’s a smart guy. He should have just said the right words.
Logan: That would have been rude though.
Bailey: And you are not aposed to be rude on TV.
*****
Logan: Iss, you really need to stop crying; you’re worrying the baby. Look he’s getting those little old man wrinkles on his forehead.
Me: He’s POOPING. Here, you take him.
*****
Seriously, only five minutes later.
Me: Um babe, who’s crying now?
Logan: I have an allergy. Yeah, an allergy to poop.
*****
At around 9pm, after she’d been asleep sitting up on the couch for half an hour.
Bailey: Is My Barack Odbana President now?
Logan: Honey, he has been President all day, remember? We clapped and jumped around for him? Your Mama cried.
Bailey: Okay, then I need to go to bed now.
Pause
Bailey: Daddy, my legs don’t work. You’re gonna have to carry me to bed.
*****
Me: Mariah really needs to find a new career.
Logan: Didn’t you have her CD once.
Me: Yeah, when I was ten. You couldn’t pay me to buy one now. Funny, but I think this song is from that same CD. Of course back then, she could hit half the notes.
*****
Logan: Babe, come here for a second.
Me: Give me a minute…
Logan: No, you’ve got to see this. Beyonce is wearing a whole dress. Girl looks good.
Me: I’ll give her this much, she can sing. That is a nice dress though. Someone besides her mom must have dressed her today.
*****
Logan: Dam, Michelle looks hot. Oh shit, that was a good thing for him to say first. Yes, Mr. President, your wife does look dam fine.
Me: Ok, that’s enough for tonight. No more fine babes for you.
*****
This morning:
Morgan: Mama, it was real, right?
Me: What was real?
Morgan: Barack Obama is our new president, right? It was real, not just a dream?
Me: Nah, it wasn’t a dream, it was real. I promise.
Morgan: That’s good. I’m proud of him.
Mme: Me too. Me too.
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.
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