Keeping me on my game

The other day, I'm buckling Jake into the car seat (seriously, every other kindergartner we know can buckle themselves in) and he holds up his hands in a full shrug:

"So, what's a 'Husband' anyway?"

I can't help feeling like I'm walking into a trap.  I know he knows what a "husband" is, after all.
I think he's pretty much asking me why we don't have one, but I don't want to over-blow it.
I take a deep breath, knowing I have 15 seconds to figure out how to play this and I lead with my inner goof-ball.

"You KNOW what a HUSBAND is?!?" I say in my best, exaggerated, game-show host voice.

"No," he says with a convincing earnestness.

"A husband," I say matter of factly, "Is a man who is married.  If a man is married, he's a husband.  If a woman is married, she's a wife."

Jake contemplates his fingernails, while I continue, "When a man and a women get married, they are a husband and a wife." I employ a sillier voice at this point, "HUSBANDS and wives. Husbands AND wives.  Husbands and WIVES...  But SOMETIMES, there's a..." I pause for dramatic effect "WIFE and a WIFE..."

"Like in our house!" We say it in unison and he smiles.

I let it hang in the air like a "Ta-Da!!!"

"And SOMETIMES," my voice is full of drama and mischief, "There is a HUSBAND and a HUSBAND...  But USUALLY..." I borrow the cadence of that dog food commercial from the 80's.  "Usually... it's husbands and wives, husbands and wives, husbands and wives." (Kibbles and bits, Kibbles and bits, kibbles and bits).

Jake all but yawns.  "Yeah," he says completely unimpressed with the theatrics, "I guess you just have to decide who you love..."

(sigh.)

Yeah...

Crazy talk and non-sensical rage

Milo's language skills have exploded.
Finally the kid can practically get his point across.  He has so many thoughts and ideas but they are generally not recognizable by English speakers.  Lately though, he is spilling over with impressive vocab and compound sentences.  Today at a red light he told me:

"Red means 'stop' and yellow means 'slow' and green means 'go'."
He has known this for a long time, but could only get out a word at a time. 
"YELLOW!" He'd scream as I blew through an intersection.

At some point in July, the kid was in the back seat of the car and he was stammering and stuttering trying to tell me something very important (perhaps that a tow truck had passed us) and finally he slapped his hands on his knees and shouted, "I'm tryin' TALK-TELL YOU SOMETHING-CAN'T!!!" I felt so bad and fed him a few lines to repeat: "Say, 'There's a red truck.'" He repeated it perfectly. "Say, 'There's a blue car'."  Again, flawless. He nodded at me in what I perceived to be a "Thank you" and calmed down.
 
As I've mentioned, he is somewhat strong-headed and wickedly intelligent, but he can be lazy with pronunciation.  He tends to eliminate "s"s completely.  So when he's asking for one of his favorite songs "Stuck like glue" and he insistently implores, "I WANT UCKLIKEGLUE!!!" I spend the next 45 seconds making him repeat, 'cause I still have nofah king idea what he's saying. 

When i finally figure it out, I"m like, "Milo,  stay 'SSSSssssssstuck'..."
"SSSSssssstuck."
So okay, he can say it.  He just frequently opts out.

Last week he asked Katy, "Did you get that out of the cabinet?" As clear as can be- like that was the most normal thing in the world for a 2 year old to say. 

She looked at me and asked, "Did he just say 'cabinet'?"
"Yes.  Yes he did."

In addition to improving his speech, Milo's been teething for what seems like forever, and drooling and sticking fingers and whatever he can find into his mouth.  "Get your fingers out of your mouth," is my most frequently uttered directive.  In our house (despite two Master's prepared nurses running the show) there is astounding ignorance related to germ theory.  No matter how many times I explain about all of the various nastiness that can be on the bottom of our shoes, I can count on both of my boys to absent-mindedly scan their digits over every square milometer of their sneakers and Crocs, just to pass the time.  Then everyone acts shocked when I'm screaming "GET YER DISGUSTINGLY DIRTY FINGERS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!!!"

Today, I guess Milo was a little sick of my badgering, but he showed me- just skipped the middleman entirely and went right to the source:

Mommy: (unsuccessfully trying to hide her disgust) GET YOUR SHOE OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!!!
Milo: NOOOOOOooooooo!!!
Mommy: RIGHT NOW!
Milo: (growling) I'm gonna bite you in the baby room!
Mommy: WHAT?!?
Milo: (mumbling) I'm gonna bite you in the baby room...
Mommy: (softer and in a more serious tone) Milo, we don't threaten to bite people when we are angry...
Milo: YOU ARE DANGEROUS!
Mommy: You have no idea...

The kid is nuts.  But there is nothing I don't love about him.






Comparing how these two watch TV says a lot...

Seething...

I'm at the library.
Seething.
Katy sent me out of the house to write.
Tonight I had a crazy thing happen on the way home from day care.
... Some kind of bullshit...
I'm so upset, I can barely make sense of it.
I am still tachycardic and breathing heavy.
I barely understand what is going on in my body...

I picked up the boys from day care. I was in a pretty good mood. It started pouring when I was about 2 miles away from them, but no big deal. Then JB decided that he didn't want to hold his lunch bag and somewhere in between, "I don't want to hold it," and "I WANNA HOLD IT RIGHT NOW!!!" (He has some "normal" 3-year old mental block(s) when it comes to decision-making) He lost his shit.

I found myself saying, "That's not how we get things, by crying and screaming..." This is our mantra some days and Katy and I try hard to not cave in. Like, these kids have to learn that they can have whatever they want (pretty much) but not if they are screaming and shouting and crying to get it... He wanted to HOLD HIS BAG... Not a big deal, but I didn't want to let him because "screaming and crying is not a way to get what you want". But then I got a "get out of jail free card" because he wanted to "HOLD HIS BAG- THE FIRST TIME".
(That's JB speak for "I changed my mind, and even though I said no when you offered that option, I want to do it. But I don't want to do it NOW, I want to do it THEN, as in- Can you please re-wind the tape and send us back in time so I can do it 'right' the first time?!?")

No, son. I cannot.

Cue hysteria.

These little fuckers don't know anything about quantum physics or the lack of advances in time travel.

So.

Pouring rain. Driving in traffic- headed to the grocery store. JB just screaming and crying in the back seat. I pull over and try to reassure him and reason with him. I try to wait it out a bit- sometimes a change of plan like sitting in a parking lot instead of just driving on, snaps him out of it. While we pulled over, i washed his face with a pre-moistened towelette. I tried to get him to take a sip of water. I am really really frustrated, but I am actually doing the right things, not screaming, not outwardly over-reacting, trying to find some way to distract him.

I start driving again... I'm a little raw and jittery... I almost have him calm- we are at a stop light and I am flipping though iTunes on my phone trying to get the Disney play list on for little mister "losing-my-mind" in the back seat.

This guy in the right lane next to me (but diagonally in front of me) in a big red pick up is trying to say something. I don't know what he is saying, but he is animated. I roll down the window and hear "light". I'm thinking It's something about my tail light... I panic a little in reaction to how he is gesticulating, like maybe my taillight is on fire or something. Then he's like shouting at me about how I have two kids in the car and I'm on my phone....

I'm not on my phone.

He's still shouting.
My blood pressure is rising.
JB who has stopped crying is like, "Why that guy is yelling, Mommy?"

I'm about to flip out on this guy- I don't know what he is talking about, but HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE IS TALKING ABOUT. He has no idea what has just been going on in this car, and he is giving me some "I'm-a-white man-in-a-pick-up-and-you're-a-female-driver" kind of reprimand. The light turns green. I lock eyes with him when i finally realize what is going on and curse him out to the tune of "YOU fucking ASSHOLE!!!"

Oops.
Kids in car.
I have never done that before.
I'm shaking. Trying not to cry. At wit's end. So mad I could spit. He pulls out in front of me and goes straight, even though he's in the right turn only lane. I stall the car. Restart the car. Try to stay focused through the rage. I expressly concern myself with not tailgating him or smashing into him. I am as mad as I can remember being.

Mistake #1: What kind of truck is it? Didn't notice- red, shiny, new-ish looking... that's all i know
Mistake #2: What is the plate number? Fuming... Didn't notice- there are some chains hanging near the plate.

He turns right, into the grocery store parking lot.
That is where I'm going too. I had briefly considered following him where ever he was going- to give him a piece of my unstable mind, but then discarded the notion. I take the right turn as a sign from God that I am suppose to follow this guy and tell him exactly how much or an !$#% *%^&@# he really is...

I park 4 cars away.

I leave my kids in the car and approach him. It is still pouring:
"You are some kind of !$#% &@#!!!"
I don't even know what I said, but he blew up at that point.

Me: You have no idea what was going on in that car!
Him: You ran a red light!!!

(I did not run a red light but I seriously would never say that b/c maybe i did... I have no idea what this guy is talking about. If I ran a red light, when was it? Where was it? Whoa! that's pretty scary... an Hour later I realize he is talking about the stale yellow light that I took a little liberty with when JB was freaking out)

Me: Who do you think you are?!?!?!
(I start to back up away from him, I want this conversation over)

Him: What would your husband think?!? You driving like that!!!

Pause for my brain to explode.

The world goes quiet for a minute. I see plastic bags blowing in the breeze, but hear nothing. There's an echoing whooshing sound in the distance, that i realize is the sound of air moving in and out of my lungs. Somewhere, on the other side of the parking lot, I hear a Qtip fall onto the pavement, and then sound rushes back into the world. My pulse is pounding in my neck. My mouth is dry. I am shaking.

Pause again to consider whether or not something in my brain might have actually exploded...

This guy looks to be about 40 to me (give or take 5 years.) He's got chiseled features, and looks fit. He's wearing hunting pants or army fatigues and either has 2 day's growth of stubble, on his face, or is one of those wolf-men that needs to shave twice a day. Though he gives the general impression of a redneck "fisherman", he does not give off a "psycho" vibe, just a self-congratulatory "asshole" vibe. This is not a grouchy, old man. This is not a plucky, young punk. This is the worst kind of arrogant adult male- who thinks he is in charge of personally reprimanding a total stranger in traffic. Who thinks he's somehow in the right when he decides to berate a women who is carting her two kids to the store in the middle of a rain storm after a 9 hour work day.

So, in my head I'm like, "YOU'RE going to determine some safety violation and create a situation AT A STOP LIGHT that is truly UNSAFE!?! YOU think I was the person that created an UNSAFE SITUATION back there?!? Oh, and this is the best part... YOU THINK THE BEST WAY TO "MAKE ME FEEL BAD" about something that I might have done wrong is to bring up my HUSBAND?!? The supposed man in my life that is in charge of me and makes sure I'm taking good enough care of HIS CHILDREN?!?

Oh Buddy, you are so barking up the wrong tree...

I wished I had said so many things. I wished I had just been calmer and more "ON" my game, I could have been all like:

• My husband died tragically when I threw him from the car while texting in a pizza order and running a red light.
• My husband doesn't care at all about these kids- they look too much like his brother, he encourages me to drive recklessly all the time; just hearing about how upset you are will please him very much!
• My WIFE... (If there is any karmic justice) is in a parking lot somewhere on the other side of town, doing EXACTLY what you are doing: verbally assaulting your gay lover with a barrage of loud, self-righteous, misogynistic, uninvited commentary dripping with contempt and condescension.
  

INSTEAD... I go with the truth:

Me: Yeah, I don't have a husband. I'm married to a woman.
Him: (silence)
Me: You've got a lot of nerve and no right to speak to me about this.

He's close enough for me to smell the smoke on his breath and he doesn't back down a bit. He is completely unapologetic and he suddenly shouts that he is a town police officer.
HA! (that almost sends me into orbit). I swear if this guy is a cop, i might have to move.
Also, if he's an asshole cop, he wouldn't have waited this long to bring his occupation up.
And, if he's a good cop, he wouldn't be doing this in the parking lot.
So he's either in between an asshole cop and a good cop OR, he's NOT a cop at all.

Me: You're a cop?!? Great. What's your name?

Mistake #3: He TELLS me his name (supposedly) and once I hear the name, I immediately forget it. Like, I don't have any clue... Maybe it was Mark... Maybe it was Dan... Maybe it was Janet Jackson... It could have been anything...

I don't even remember the rest of the conversation. But I know when he starts going overboard with the "hand quotes" gesturing, saying something homophobic-sounding about "your partner", I better walk away before I end up in jail.

The rest of the shopping spree is a blur
The rest of the dinner hour is a bust. I am wiped out. Scared. Feel threatened and unsafe. I get home and send the kids in the play room, and cry as I tell Katy the story. She tells me I did not do anything wrong. I seriously consider calling the Police Department in town to report the incident and to tell them that either they have a very inappropriate cop on the force, OR they have a guy IMPERSONATING a town cop... Katy advises against it (see Mistakes 1-3).

I spend the time up until now trying to figure out why this has caused such an emotional reaction from me... It is hard to put my finger on. There are a lot of things- the assholes always seem to win; justice is rarely a possibility; I feel shamed (even though any mistake I made was unintentional); I feel "in trouble"; I feel the weigh of the absolute plausibility that the people that are supposed to be "the good guys" are more than occasionally not actually all that "good"; I feel I was put in a position where my safety and the safety of my children was tampered with; My parenting and intention to keep my kids safe was called into question...

But mostly I realize, I am angry because I am very disappointed in myself.

I consider this whole scenario an epic FAIL:

1. I lost complete control of my emotions
2. I lost my sense of humor completely
3. With my sense of humor gone, my ability to come up with snappy one liners disappeared also; if you are going to lose your cool, at least win the debate...
   
4. I totally forgot to remember the important stuff - as a nurse... as a women who has always been taught how to stay safe and how to report breaches of this safety, I don't remember what he looked like, what his name was, his license plate#, etc, his height, hair or eye color... I"m not sure if i would recognize him if I saw him...
   
5. I forgot the number one rule about being a woman: No matter how much of an asshole another person is being (especially another man), you should just walk away/ turn the other cheek. You should assume he's armed and dangerous; Even going up to this guy in the parking lot was "my mistake". If you are a woman and a man, a stranger, is acting like he owns you (or has a right to berate you), your job is to just quietly let it go, be non-confrontational, and let him go on believing he does
   
6. I was unable to disprove #5
7. This blew my day apart
8. I'm sure this wasn't even a blip on his discomfort radar; his sense of entitlement and certainty in the notion that he was right is just too high.
   

I am seething still. I am actively working on letting it go...

But the audacity and hubris of this guy. The general lack of compassion and the blatant aggression. The pretend concern for my offspring when really you are putting them in danger...
These are just a lot of really sensitive buttons to push on a Tuesday...

The eyes have it

Getting ready to leave the house this AM was a typically hectic dance. The boys were up and down, running around. I put JB's coat on and when I turned to put ML's on, JB had taken his off. The climax of anxiety for me came when we stepped outside and a dump truck driving by commanded both boys' thorough attention. I didn't know if ML was going to run into the road after it, or tear off for the largest puddle in the driveway. Puddle-jumping is one of his favorite past times and after 3 days of rain, this mother-loving puddle would have necessitated a complete costume change.

I ran after them and wrassled them into their car seats; the tiny and unpredictable Senór Destruction always gets restrained before the elder. I strapped in ML, handed him a plush puppy, and moved around to the other side of the car.

While I buckled in JB there was some insistent yapping coming from Senór. I effectively ignored him and buckled myself in before I looked back at him...

ML: EYE! EYE! EYE!

In my defense, it sounded like gibberish. But when I looked at him, he was pointing at his puppy's EYE, and shouting the word with perfect diction: "EYE! EYE! EYE!"

Me: YAY!!! ML!!! GREAT JOB!!! ML said the word 'Eye'!!! Everyone cheer for ML!!!

JB: (Not to be outdone and in a neutral tone that will either make him a lot of friends some day, or get him labeled a teacher's-pet-know-it-all) Mom, does he mean like an "I" like you write with? Or an eye that you see with?!?

I wanted to roll my eyes, but that is pretty smart and pretty funny, right? Except that ML was poking the dog right in the eye... so if you are a "smart" three and 1/2 year old, you shouldn't have to ask this...

Also, it is sneaking up on us, but ML is starting to talk!!!
Hooray!!!

Superbowl VW ad - PREVIEW!

My favorite part except for the tension in the tiny hands, is the perfectly-expressioned parents... with less than 10 seconds of air time, they perfectly capture what it feels like to live with a toddler...

I've watched this 1/2 a dozen times all ready!!!

Bean

This is a re-post from 2 years ago... the time gone by has changed, but not the sentiment.

-------------



Just a shout out to our Bean. We can't believe it will be 5 years this summer since you died. We keep you close every day and try to live up to and honor your zest for life, your love for family, your willingness to jump under a car hood to help a friend.

You would'a loved these kids, Bean. Hope you;re watching them.
I think you are right here with us, the very sparkle in their little eyes.


XXXOOO!!! Happy Birthday, Bean!

From the backseat

JB: ML, what does a dragon say?
ML: RRrrrrrrrarghhhhhaaaaarrr!
JB: Good, ML!!! Hey guys, he knows what a dragon says!!!

(moms are giggling up front)

When will Mommy learn?!?

Today for the 137,682nd time since he was born, JB properly identified some type of construction vehicle that was about to pass us on the road...

JB: FORK LIFT!
Me: You see a fork lift? Where?
JB: (pointing) Right THERE!
M: I only see a flat bed truck... (staring closely to see why he is
calling the on-coming flat bed truck a "fork lift")
JB: (insistent) NO, Fork lift
M: (still looking) Are you being silly? I don't see a fork-lift...

I turn my head as it passes us in the lane of oncoming traffic and then i finally see the small-ish fork lift being transported on the flat bed truck...

M: oh there it is... (eye roll)

I hope this translates to good proof-reading skills someday...
But really, after all the times it has happened- all the times I have been proven wrong, you think i would just stop trying to "teach" him and let him point out the trucks he sees 2 miles down the road in peace...

-----
Sent from my iPhone

8.6 Decades

Today's my gram's birthday.

She's the last living parent of my parents, and I'll deny saying it if ever comes up in the afterlife (I don't think they can read blogs from there) but she's the one I needed to live the longest.

My gram can talk smack (and laugh and joke about people) with the best of us, but generally, she gives people the benefit of the doubt and speaks about shortcomings of others from the perspective of "They are probably trying to do their best..."

I've heard stories that as a parent, my gram wasn't as- should we say "ZEN"- as I know her to be... but my relationship with her has always been one where she loves me in a demonstrative yet quiet way. I notice her giving people a lot of breathing room without cynically lowering her expectations of them.

Lately, I've spent a little too much time thinking about how I'm going to handle it if/when she dies. She has a friend that just turned 99 this year, so this doesn't have to be "around the corner," but I'd be foolish not to consider some of the implications of her 86th birthday. I've realized some things that I tried to convey to her tonight when I was driving her home from dinner.

T: Gram, you know I really love you.
G: I love you too.
T: It's not just a 'gram' thing, you are like, one of my best friends. I've learned so much from you, but also, still now- mostly every day- I'm still learning things from you...

This is true. I call her for recipes, to ask her about plant life and growing or buying food. I ask her about varmints and soil and trees and flowers, and where to buy different things that I can't seem to find. I ask her about remedies and her opinion on politics and how to handle relationships. I talk to her about grief and what works to heal hearts... Which reminds me, I've got to call her about this chirping sound...

My gram has a lot of children and grandchildren and she has different relationships with all of us. Not "closer" to some or any hierarchical system of worth; the relationships simply manifest in different ways. She lets all of us be who we are and doesn't compare us to each other in a judgmental or unhelpful way. She doesn't ask us to be who she wants us to be in her presence. At some point, I learned that my cousins talk to her about subjects that I shy away from. Example: sex, sexuality, their sex lives and even my gram's sex life. That revelation was kind of cool for me because i didn't even realize that there are ways that I edit myself out of polite "respectfulness" and there are things they get to know about her just by asking and dipping their toes (and feet and ankles) into topics I might not.

Tonight in the car, my gram talked about ML and how grateful she is that he is okay after his illness. She told me: "Both your boys are beautiful... They are just like miracles." Then she paused and said, "you did pretty good with your (turkey) baster." Sweet laughter.

She knows the story of the year of unsuccessful infertility doctor attempts and the "last-ditch effort" at home before we planned to buy new donor sperm that resulted in JB. Tonight I filled in more details about our friends L & F and how L mocked our nursing credentials after she knocked up her wife at home using nothing but a frozen swim team, her fingers, supplies and info found on the internet (and, i think, a head lamp.) I also told her about katy's other friends from College who after hearing our story and us tell L & F's story, they went home from reunion last May, stopped a years-long cycle of infertility treatments and procedures, and got pregnant the (almost) old fashioned way. My gram laughed at these tales and said, "Good for you!"

There it is.

If someone would have told me that my gram and I would be giggling about how me and my lesbian friends got ourselves knocked up, as I drove her home on her 86th birthday... well, let's just say I would not have believed that person was dealing from a full deck...

But my gram knows what is important and that is people, relationships, laughter, and love.

I am blessed to be of this line.

When I think of this song (below) I think of my gram, her love of flowers and her life as a gardener and how she has raised, protected and 'tended to' all of us:

i was born a garden rose
it was the only life i'd known.
i felt the touch of tending hands,
got my rain from a watering can.
From the time I was a seed, I have had everything i need
And I grew up and i grew strong,
Till the day I saw past the garden wall
- Kris Delmhorst, "Garden Rose"

Thank you, Gram.
Happy Birthday!

6 Things you may want to know

1) ML turned 6 months this week (and the newsletter is no where near done)

2) My car's "check engine light" mysteriously went OFF this week (after months of being lit, but ignored; I guess it just gave up on trying to get my attention)

3) Today on a walk, JB saw a brown vine that was either growing up or dying around a mailbox, and he said to me, "Why is that so mulch-y". (Mulch is his frenemy since last fall when the new mulch on the playground at school would get stuck in his soft, orange jacket from Aunt Marilyn and we eventually had to stop letting him wear it so that we didn't have to spend 2 hours a night picking pieces of mulch out of it.)

4) We've been sleep training ML- I sent Kt and JB out of the house so I could spend 3 nights alone with my boy- like a warrior in the woods- teaching him not to freak out when he wakes up and cannot comprehend why there is no binki in his mouth; teaching him to soothe himself, unwind, and get to sleep without a long, faceless, parental arm reaching out into the darkness and popping a binki magically back into his mouth.

These are the rules:
a) we can't put the binki in his mouth
b) we CAN put the binki in his hand (though we try to let him find one of the 1/2 dozen we've sprinkled all around his crib)
c) we are trying the Baby Whisperer's "pick up, put down" method (PU/PD)
d) we only use PU/PD if he cries for more than 30 seconds (yes, I do mean use a stopwatch...)
So far, so good. He's a terrific little dude, but his mommies are a little scarred by that night he cried for 8 hours and then needed to be hospitalized for a week. We've been careless about teaching him to self soothe and too quick to run into his room when he makes tiny little noises.

5) Today the outside thermometer on my car read 67 degrees F on my way home from work. (Yummmm-MEeeee)

6) Our 2010 census arrived today. I plan to follow katy's advice and, "Make us as gay as humanly possible." We will fill out the census as a married same sex couple with two kids. "Person 1" is female and married to "person 2" who is also female. "Person 1" has a biological kid and an adopted kid... (so does person 2). This is confusing because even though only one of these kids is "biologically" mine, I conceived OF both of them. I was involved in every decision and every aspect of planning, conception, and birth... So part of me wants to say they are both biologically mine, but fine... we will leave it at the literal answer.
However...
When the federal government gets our census, they will change the answers. They will change the truth to something that is less like the truth and more like what some people want the truth to be. They will say we are not married; even though we are legally able to wed in this state. They will say we are single. We will tell the truth on the US census: That we choose to live in a state where we can legally be married... We will tell the truth and they will change our answers. According to the federal government, there have never been same sex couples. There have never been and still in 2010 ARE NOT ANY gay or lesbian parents. There are no families with two women raising kids. There are no families with two men raising kids. There are no children with 2 moms or 2 dads.

The federal census is a constitutionally mandated count, every 10 years, of the citizens of the united states for the purposes of maintaining an accurate or numerically reasonable representative democracy... Though the primary (constitutional) purpose of the census is to determine congressional representation, the census is used for a lot of other demographic calculations in explaining the make up of the population of the United States.

Only if the census is accurate, do people get the right number of representatives. You must be counted to count... But here we are in the United States of America in 2010, and Katy and I will be counted as 2 separate, unwed mothers who live together. This is the last census (I would bet my life on it) that the government will be allowed to change our truthful answers to fictitious answers just because we are gay. But I will be in my 40s and my children will be 10 and 12 years old before their family is allowed to count; before our descriptions of ourselves are allowed to stand, without the government stepping in and saying, "From our legal standpoint, There is no such thing as you."

Bean

This is a re-post from last year... the time gone by has changed, but not the sentiment.

-------------



Just a shout out to our Bean. We can't believe it will be 5 years this summer since you died. We keep you close every day and try to live up to and honor your zest for life, your love for family, your willingness to jump under a car hood to help a friend.

You would'a loved these kids, Bean. Hope you;re watching them.
I think you are right here with us, the very sparkle in their little eyes.


XXXOOO!!! Happy Birthday, Bean!

blog post - telegram style

So much to write...

Too tired to write.

Been up too late all week.

There's drama at our day care.

JB's getting 2 more molars, but we are still worried about his ears.

He is talking a ton now and has been wearing underwear for 2 days now (except at night) with no accidents today.

ML is Mr. Mellow. We like to rock him to sleep. (we were harder on his brother at this age) but tonight, we wrapped him and let him fall asleep on his own... He did it no problem-o. This kid could win an Olympic award for sleeping thru the night (knock on wood). If he didn't sleep this good, I might be suicidal...

Christmas cards more than 1/2 done.

No Christmas decs up yet.

Snow expected tomorrow.

I stacked a whole bunch of shit miles high to fit our 2 cars into the garage.

It might be worth the extra hundred grand in a mortgage if we don't have to scrape this winter...

I dare you not to smile at this:



:)

nite.night.

What his Mama's been training him for

This morning in the car...

JB: Mommy what's that?
me: What?
JB: That (pointing to something behind me that I can't see.)
me: I don't know, babe... what do you see?
JB: Buckle!
me: the seat belt??? (I realize I don't have mine on)
JB: Yes. Seat belt. Safety first, Mommy.
me: Thanks, JB (I buckle my seat belt, having been reprimanded by a not quite 26 month old.)

At least we are doing ONE thing right!?!

Mr. Relaxed

Typical exchange in the car:

JB: Mommy, Whatcha due-in?
Me: You know what I'm doing... what am I doing?
JB: Drivin'

(a tenth of a mile goes by)
Me: What are you doing?
JB: Just sittin' here.

-------------------
so freakin' cute!

Back from Vacation and ready for some full time nesting

For those of you not friends with us on FB, a lot has happened that you've missed. (Sorry, you know that GSO readers are my real true friends, right?)

Since I got my iphone (let's call her Lil'cutie) I've been able to check all my Internet haunts regularly and my email, but I can't blog from there without buying a $10 app that I'm not sure is fully functional yet. So the blog has suffered a little since Lil'cutie started living in my pocket.

The day before vacation (July 9th), I got a stomach bug, we sold our house, we packed for our trip, we saw 4 houses as potential new homes, and we fled the state to hit the beach.

Two days later, I had a minor sunburn, the inspection was conducted, we all got re-oriented to salt air and sand, Katy and I spent more than a few moments panicking about the "mess" we had gotten ourselves into. It wasn't just that we sold the house at a slight loss (I mean the economy is in the toilet and presumably we will make it up on the other end). It was that we had never fully comprehended the costs on the selling end and also now we would be moving once (IF NOT TWICE) in the 4-8 weeds surrounding the birth of our 2nd child.

We rationalized our way out of the mental anguish, made several financial and logistical contingency plans, plotted alternatives to all of those, figured out how we would make it work at every level, and just when excitement started creeping around the corner, the buyer rescinded his offer. RollerccccccccccoooooOOOOOOOSSSSTTTTTERRRRRRRRRRRR!
CLICK.CLICK.CLICK. WHEEEEeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEE

There was a tiny bit of anger or rather frustration. Thank God we were away, b/c if not I would have had at least 3 rooms in my house packed and stacked in boxes and probably a 1/2 full POD in my driveway. Then instead of being disappointed and disjointed, I would have had to go out and find that guy and it would'a been a mess. I don't mind an amusement ride, but that would have pushed me over the edge.

While we were away, we had perfect weather, got some tans, and I got a concussion. Falling out of the back of my sister's minivan was not my most proud moment. We (adults) were taking turns climbing out of the way-back because 3 car seats were taking up the entire second row and obstructing the fire exits. It was very adorable to see all the "Ruggies" side by side, strapped in in their matching car seats, but evidently, it was also life-threatening.

I'll admit that I'm clumsily stumbly on a good day, but I really do get around okay. I have this weak left ankle that rolls without warning or consequence. I can be walking down the street, roll the ankle, recover in some jerky movement that would knock a gymnast's score down an entire point for her landing, but ambulate away without ankle pain or other damage. This happens on average, 4 times a week. I've come to think of it as part of my gait. So, I stepped down, off the bumper of the minivan, onto my unreliable left foot, and the ankle rolled. One minute I was vertical. The next, I was on my back- head bouncing off the asphalt. I heard Lil'cutie fall out of my pocket in a plastic crash.

The sky was so blue. (I see Blue... He looks glorious.)

I heard footsteps. Katy and Web were immediately by my side to confirmed my my mental status (dazed but alert and oriented X3) and help me wiggle out of the middle of the parking lot. I heard a lot of people offering to call 9-1-1, so it must have looked bad. Katy was not pleased about it. She did not appreciate the site of the bounding cranium or the laying motionless for 90 seconds on my back on the pavement... I think she took those 90 seconds to imagine life with 2 boys and no wife, or a wife that spent most of her days drooling. ("THAT'S NOT FUNNY" She's shouting in the background as she reads this.)

A little nausea for a day, a bad headache for 2-3, some jaw pain, and a tender scalp for a week now, but really it could have been worse.

We're taking the house off the market so that we can have this baby without strangers running in and out getting all into our business; and so we can let our house get messy again, and whatnot. The vacation, the ocean, the time away with family (and maybe the bump on the head) have really seemed to help chill me out a little. The pressure is off; which just goes to show you how much "pressure" has kind of been on (It's practically irrational that someone would say, "The pressure is off" as her wife enters the last 6 weeks of her pregnancy.)

It's becoming apparent that we have been running on fumes and have not been paying much attention to the Bean v2.0 except to know that he is kicking and moving and growing in there (And he's makin' his mama's ankles all swollen.)

Now we can focus on the end of the race (Sept 10th due date) and really stop for a few moments to let the summer sweat sting our wide open, attentive eyes; and let the fear of parenting 2 children combined with Katy's extreme state of pregnancy be the undiluted reasons we can't sleep at night. We're practically peeing our pants in anticipation. (Well, one of us is practically peeing her pants for other reasons too.)

Sweaty sunshine and random musings

Dear peeps and GSO'ians out there reading...

Sorry for all the Internet silence.

I miss you too.

The sun came out yesterday and again today. I think I understand why ancient people might have been afraid of the sun. It is so powerful and when you haven't seen it in like 36 days, it can really freak you out! Just kidding. But I don't think the seasonal depression is just going to silently wash away with the first drops of summer sweat or the faint heat of a minor sunburn.

Since I've written last, I had a birthday. No biggie. I'm still in my mid-30s and believe me, I cannot WAIT for the 1st season of Thirtysomthing to come out on DVD in September. I feel like if I can just watch that show NOW (as opposed to when I was addicted to it in my late teens and early 20s) it will unlock some true secrets of personal success and happiness.

This morning my car's odometer read 171717. And at that exact moment in time, the "trip mileage" (which I had just reset at the beginning of my work commute) read... wait for it...

17.7 miles!!! (I.shit.you.not!)

I don't know what this means, but despite how my desk at work looks, I love symmetry and order, and isn't that it's own reward?!? Not to be too pessimistic, but I'm sure that means the car will die soon.

Katy is pregnant.

For those of you that just fell off your chair, you need to read the GSO more often.

For those of you that are like, "yeah, we know that..." What I mean to imply with uncapturable inflection, is...

No.
For realz.
She. Really. Pregnant now...

She is waddling, belly out-to-here, swollen, all "don't-you-dare-touch-me-and think-that-type of-RELATIONS-is going-down-after the-word-cankle-came-out-your-mouth"...
She is adorable
and...
uncomfortable.

And I just try to walk the yellow line; expressing love and support, but not too much love or too much support, if you know what I mean; cause I don't want to be any more annoying than I have to be. With all my breathing and sleeping (right there in the bed and not even getting a leg cramp) and with my flip flops still fitting me and all... I mean she's got a point, that must get annoying!

IBO and husband and the baby (LABO) are doing really well. It is a relief and I will fully exhale in about 2.5 weeks when he is 36 weeks gestation. As an extra slap in the ass for them, A tornado touched down in their neighborhood and left a trail of destruction. Fortunately, (they are eternal optimists) they just went and slept at the hospital with their baby- since there was no power at their house.

I'm working on a newsletter. For those of you that are counting the missed months, Katy and I agree that JB is old enough for this to become a "quarterly" newsletter and not a "monthly" newsletter. So really, I have not even missed a deadline! He's done some super adorable things in these last few months, so stay tuned!!!

BONUS BELLY SHOT:

"My Morning view" 29 WEEKS:

Our growing bookworm

JB's becoming quite the word-smith (and lover of books)... This is how he fell asleep last night. He wanted the books in the bed with him. And in the morning, resisted the normal "cuddling ritual" to sit in there with his books a while longer. He knows a LOT of words... Katy and i estimate 150: lots of body parts, lots of animals, lots of totally random nouns pictured in all these children's books we own.

On the way home from school today, it was like he couldn't contain all the words inside himself. He was just ooohing and aaahhing and pointing and bubbling over with excitment: truck, bus, green, go, shoe, tree, hoop, car, another one, two, three, more, digger, hair, bird, another one, puppy, nana, mama, chin, foot, thumb, pointer, pinkie, 'Kenzie, Cammy, TT, papa, nana, home, stop, wow, sky, up, trees, two, flower. red. stop, nose...

On and on and on. It brought out in me a speechlessness that I could hardly recognize and an utter lack of creative response. I mainly said, "Yeah" to him and/or repeated the word he just said.

I can't believe how quickly he is learning. His verbal pattern in the car had a lot to do with all that he was seeing out of the windows, but also you could just tell the words- the names we have taught him for things that he sees and wears and recognizes just kept "popping" into his head. As if he saw his shoe and then he saw a bird and then he saw his thumb, and with every twitch of his eye, his vocal chords could not contain the impulse his mind was sending to them. He was not performing, he was discussing, conversing, communicating to me all that he was observing.

It was wild and filled me with light.

At the womb whisperer's request...

A lot of f%&#ing batshittery has happened in the last 7 days...

We have not posted b/c we have been trying to keep our heads above water. It's nothing earth shattering or devastating- if you sprint back 30 yards and look at it from a slight distance.

I have a lot to say about some of it, but here's the bulleted quick-notes version:

Monday: just another manic monday

Tuesday: IBO has her baby, 2 days shy of 26 weeks

Wednesday: I fly to St. Louis, spend 5 hours in airports and planes and 4+ hours in a minivan on Missouri highways accompanied by a quorum of geeks and rednecks; meanwhile at home, Katy gets a call from day care that JB is projectile vomiting

Thursday: I work a 14 hour day, including a 4 hour drive on MO highways, and lose my cell phone somewhere in St. Louis... JB has stopped puking.

Friday: I take a "nonstop" flight home that has me breathing air in 4 cities, and experiencing 3 take offs and 3 landings in 5 hours... (Feeling naked without my cell and wondering the entire time if I will ever see that totally-unimpressive-to-begin-with cell phone again.) Katy is called by day care in the late morning b/c even though JB spent all of Thursday without any vomiting and seemingly healthy, he is now squirting liquid out the other end. Katy is told that she needs to pick him up before his dysentery-esque symptoms spread to any of the other rug rats and a diarrhea-thon commences. I get home at about 3pm and experience the glorious surprise of having my family home waiting for me. Katy is sweet and JB is asleep. It might have been a kinky lazy afternoon if I didn't have to do a few hours of cell phone recon. Oh well...

Today, I got a new cell phone... oh, it's an iphone... And IBO's baby is hanging tough, impressing his medical team and so far, beating all odds!

Life is a highway

I took the kid to school today on my way to work.

About 10 minutes into the journey, in addition to shouting "truck" and "bus" every time he sees one, he starts bidding farewell to vehicles on exit ramps.

"Bye-bye" with a wave every time we pass an exit ramp.

Somehow, he gets that we are staying on the road, but those folks are getting off and going somewhere we are not going.

"Bye-Bye"... drive safe... stay well... (other) cars... as you get off the highway...
"Bye-Bye."

Life at 13 weeks 6 days

Life is good.
Work is nuts.
We turned the clocks an hour forward this week.
(Is that DST? or are we out of DST? I'm not sure how it works)
Katy is still nauseous. (getting better we think)
The baby is the size of a lemon.
JB is throwing a few fits here and there.
We are tired.
The blog is suffering.
I haven't written a newsletter in 2.5 months.

Monday, I witnessed our son's very first full-blown tantrum. It was a little like a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon and included him meandering through several rooms crying, screeching, sobbing, sweating, head-banging, kicking, throwing himself on the floor, putting his head in his hands and crying on the closed toilet seat, banging his head on the wall, spinning and rolling around in little break-dancing moves... It ended in child's pose with a head butt or two thrown in for good measure before he finally calmed down enough for maternal intervention.

It was dramatic, and irritating in the moment, but still (I'm not going to lie) cute. JB is a sweetie 90% of the time. The fact that he is starting to have opinions is "interesting," but it is new enough that it is still a source of pride to me.

He struggles and suffers through the eye drops every morning and at night; crying and fighting with all of his limbs flailing and no amount of calm words or pleading on our part can get him to understand what we are doing. He seals his eyelids closed against the antimicrobial medication, as if we were pouring liquid mercury into them. Katy found a way to make us feel better about torturing him: When the drops are in at the end of all the fussing, we say, "Say 'thank you'." And through the sniffles, he loyally gives us a slightly hesitant "tth-hank-cue."

And we quiver in silent laughter that he's so pliable.

Here are some pics from a birthday party this weekend
(right before the pink eye attacked.)

Oh, a car... Excellent! I think I'll play "in and out of the car" for 25 minutes!


"beep beep"



"HEY BUDDY, GET OUT OF THE WAY OF MY CAR!!!"


"Vrrrrrummmmmm...."