To bring you a terrorist attack...
Two bombs were detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon today...
But I want to tell you a couple of better stories...
- Last week, Katy's parents were here and ran the boys around like thoroughbred animals. Sometimes they were so tired that at dinner their eyes would drift to one side and their heads drift to another and they would almost fall over (I'm speaking of the boys, but the grannies were also similarly, joyfully worn out).
- Saturday was Gram'ma Bella's 89th birthday party (at the local Italian place we've nicknamed: 'Spooch"). We dressed our boys up in their cute, cute, cute 4 piece suits and had such a wonderful meal with the extended family. During that time, my great aunt approached both Katy and me separately to let us know that friends of hers were complaining that "no one dresses their kids up any more" and then she added: "But I tell them, my nieces- they dress their boys up so nice!" Katy and I were tickled. I love it so much when older relatives get it... "my nieces" (sigh).
- After Gram's party, Jake went to a Karate-themed birthday party and was so Thrilled when he broke a board in half with his bare hand. He said to Katy: "Maybe there was some kind of little line in it that I can't see that made it easier to break". She replied: "I think you just aimed right through it and broke it all yourself." And then he kind of beamed.
- Later that night, my sister and I took all our kids to see the Croods. It was Milo's first time in a movie theater and when he walked into the lobby he gasped like he was little orphan Annie seeing the Warbuck's mansion for the first time, and told us, "I've never been HERE before." We sat all through the long, loud, cute movie and about 5 minutes before the end a VERY TIRED Milo turned to me and whispered/whined: "When do we get to pick out a movie?"
Me: Sweetie, this is the Movie... we are AT the movie.
Milo: NO, the REAL movie
Me: (laughing with love and empathy) no. really... this is LITERALLY a "real" movie
- Sunday, we hiked up sleeping Giant park Tower Trail (3.2 miles round trip). Both boys did AWESOME. Jake did the entire hike- up and down all on his own two feet (it's probably his 6th time on the trail- first time that he walked all on his own without being carried even ONE INCH!). Milo did ALL THE WAY UP and MORE than HALF the way down only getting carried on my shoulders for about 10 minutes. I was seriously, so proud.
Showing posts with label Exercise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Exercise. Show all posts
Monday, April 15, 2013
Sunday, March 18, 2012
The Weight and Wait of Parenthood
[Author's note: This post is a little more raw (and long) than most that I put up... I've just had a lot on my mind and I'm trying to "Shake some things out". To all our peeps out there who are going through crazy shit. We love you. The greatest gifts include friends that will not only support you, but turn to you and lean, rely, and/or involve you in their sorrow. The friends that wade around in the muck with you are treasures, but the ones that ask you to be in the muck with them are truly a gift. To all of you who are willing (and even eager) to read the multitude of words below- and read this blog on a regular basis, I hope you know that supporting my writing this way is a gift that I can't really repay except to say, "Thank you for hanging out with me in the muck that my mind creates. I really appreciate it." This post has taken me about 2 weeks to write and another week to "clean up". It's still a disaster and probably not fit for public consumption. HAHA! Enter the Blogosphere... especially after that really sweet thank you that I wrote up there, you're practically emotionally blackmailed into reading the snivel below :)!!!]
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I'm in one of those "things" right now. It's a warm, sunny 65 degrees out. The mild winter has given over to an early Spring. Our bellies are full. Our money is sufficient. Our careers are fulfilling and still full of promise. Our children are healthy and beautiful, talented and delightful. Our family and friends abundantly generous and loving. But...
"Waiting for the other shoe to drop" used to be something I did with intense vigilance. But for most of the last 10 years, I've gotten better about it. Be present, be zen, consider the lilies in the field... yada, yada.
I think I've mentioned it here before, I come from people that tend NOT to be superstitious; but sometimes one or two living ancestors will admit that within the core values subtly passed down (especially to and from the women) is embedded a belief that you can somehow ward off tragedy if you put enough effort into preventative forms of worry.
Due to the size of the institution that I currently work at, earning trust, making a good first impression, and doing lot of homework to understand history and context has become the most important aspect of my daily professional life for the past 3 1/2 months. Learning a bunch of new names, systems, and the rules of an odd new game is the kind of roller-coaster excitement my brain thrives on, but the kind of "why am I stuck to the side of this centrifuge?!?" nausea that my intestines just can't wait to be over.
Concurrently, longer work hours mean that the family dynamic has shifted slightly. The boys (who were theoretically equally reliant on both Mommy and Mama) have grown to expect more time with Mama during the work week. The job is going well, Katy has been amazing, but I have to admit all of this has left me to feel a bit vulnerable and somewhat insecure in my roles both at home and in the office.
Frankly this is an unsettling side-effect of what should be a win-win scenario. By all accounts, I am doing well in the new job- getting great feedback about my performance and feeling at least an intermittent sense of accomplishment. Additionally, our family structure is a might bit stronger now owing to the increased money and stability, that accompanies the new job.
It's confusing to just not feel "happy-happy-happy" when all indicators (seasonal, economic, social, professional) indicate that conditions are more than ripe for contentment and bliss...
At this very moment in time, we have friends that are sick, dying, have cancer, have children with cancer, are on the brink of divorce, trying to forgive a spouse for cheating, are losing their parents, are losing their jobs, are reeling from the suicide of a friend, are trying to recover from depression, illness, injury, addiction, are picking up their lives and moving across the country to follow their dreams... I'm not generalizing here, like, "We mostly likely know people who are going through these types of things..." I mean there are individuals that we care about very much that all of those things are happening to.
I had this private moment of pure contentment and gratitude and then a few days later, C texted me from CA.
"How's it going?" I inquired which has recently become shorthand for "How's life in the strange, stressful land of baby-making?" (Or Turkey-baster-ville as we're inclined to refer to it with our lesbian friends).
She texted that they had decided to take a break from "trying".
"oh..." I replied.
"It was just a little too sad."
Yup. That wasn't just a text to me. Ugh. The memory of that place is not so far away. It came flushing back like a big wave. Reading that message on my iPhone, I FELT that sadness. It brought all my (current, unfocused, and practically unexplainable) sadness to a sharp point and in solidarity, I wanted to jab that point into my forearm.
Oh, that place of ache- Where you finally put out into the universe what you really WANT and it is not something small or material, but something tremendous and life altering. And you do it in humility with an understanding that you don't always get what you want; but you do it intentionally and you try to be patient in that place of uncertainty and vulnerability... And when it doesn't work, when the pee stick comes up negative month after month, at first it catches like a hangnail on your psyche, and then it starts to feel like something life-threatening. And you don't know why it hurts that much because you look around and your life is pretty damn good. It's confusing to feel such gratitude and such grief at the same time.
The very same hour I received the text from C, I heard this story on NPR. And I just couldn't believe the timing. I had a little epiphany, and got a little closer to understanding it.
I think the reason it hurts so much is because your kids are out there, and you're worried about them even if you haven't met them yet... You can feel these little spirits out there- the ones that are to be your children. You feel their breath on your neck sometimes, even before they exist. You feel it so real it cannot be mere imagination. And you want to trust what you've been told (what you generally believe) that everything happens for a reason... all in good time, etc... but still, ask any parent... being away from your kids is really quite devastating.
The physical, psychological, and societal separation from her full-grown (but-still-her-baby) son has been shocking. Yet, as she walks around, people can't even perceive the sadness she has endured. She's one of the strongest, most loving, generous, resourceful, lacking in self-pity, and rational people I've ever known. In the mean time, her 18 year old (second) son has told her she will become a grandmother in a few months. Not a tragedy by any stretch- but still- could we just possibly have dealt with one thing at a time. Speaking to her on the phone, I'm all like, "Don't buy one, single baby thing without checking with me first b/c we are about to unload everything you need from crib to boppy and I even have a whole bunch of stuff you'll probably wish you never heard of..."
I try to talk to her about what she needs, if there is anything I can do. But mostly what I want to ask her is, "How is your heart? Is there anything I can do "mother-to-mother" to help plug up any of the holes in your armor that might leave you exposed and vulnerable?" She tells me nonchalantly that this has taken it's toll on her relationship with her husband. And more pressing, he is finally working on treating his addictions. My heart sinks. Not really surprised at this news, that this has been happening in the background too. I just want to shake a fist at the furies and say, "GIVE HER A BREAK"!!!
"I don't know how you're holding it all together," I tell her.
"As if I have a choice" she says. And then she puts it out there and wraps the truth around both of us: There is nothing that matters as much as these things. This year of razor sharp heartbreak somehow brings with it validity and redemption. Sorrow to better enjoy the sweetness of life. There is no choice but to experience sorrow in life, but if there were, it might not be the best idea to opt out of it.
I do understands what she means. If you've never spent a day clawing out of a cave, or stroking a hand in a hospital room, or anxiously waiting outside of an ICU or a courtroom, it's hard not to pity your innocence. Blessedly rare are those individuals that are able to look upon and recognize actual happiness without the focusing lens of sorrow and heartbreak.
All I can say, to our friends C and L (struggling in Turkey-baster-ville) is, "I know. I'm sorry. Hang in there." I want to leave it at that because in my experience, when you are trying to get pregnant, people offer way too-fucking-much in the way of opinions and advice. But since no one has ever accused me of talking too little (why use 5 words when you can write 2500?) I'll add an encouraging, empathetic, tender-hearted:
"Get used to it".
Barely relying on metaphor, this is the start of parenthood. That negative pee stick, and all the things that will happen before and after you and your children are reunited it's like boot camp for your hearts; for the endurance marathon that follows. Stretch and pull and run, and use ice and heat intermittently to soothe your aches, and start to believe that you can do it, because you can... (but believing that you can is really half the battle).
It's already started, you don't even really have a choice in the matter.
It's both a long wait and a heavy weight.
But you can do it.
---------------------
I'm in one of those "things" right now. It's a warm, sunny 65 degrees out. The mild winter has given over to an early Spring. Our bellies are full. Our money is sufficient. Our careers are fulfilling and still full of promise. Our children are healthy and beautiful, talented and delightful. Our family and friends abundantly generous and loving. But...
Regrets collect like old friendsI'm in a tender spot. When I just carried a sleeping Milo from the car to his bed to finish his mid-day nap, I nearly broke apart into tears- tears of happiness, tears of sorrow, tears of worry, tears of heaven only knows what. Carrying him, I couldn't help note the weight of him- symbolic of so much contradiction: He's so big and so tiny at the same time. He's everything we needed to complete our little family, everything we wanted and dreamed of... he's so needy and so independent. At 2 1/2 years, he has already changed me, taught me things I didn't know I didn't know. I went to put him in his bed and stopped and held on. I cradled him close for a few more moments. I thought of our friends and family members who have lost children and pushed that terrible terror back down into my gut and summonsed the happiness and clarity of this perfect moment. His weight and beauty so tangible. This is parenthood, the weight of holding on, the weight of letting go. The joy and grief of holding on to something that you are simultaneously preparing to let go of... Like the very breath in your lungs.
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play
And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn
"Waiting for the other shoe to drop" used to be something I did with intense vigilance. But for most of the last 10 years, I've gotten better about it. Be present, be zen, consider the lilies in the field... yada, yada.
I think I've mentioned it here before, I come from people that tend NOT to be superstitious; but sometimes one or two living ancestors will admit that within the core values subtly passed down (especially to and from the women) is embedded a belief that you can somehow ward off tragedy if you put enough effort into preventative forms of worry.
And I've been a fool and I've been blindThe last several months, life for me personally has changed considerably- almost entirely related to changing jobs. I had to say "I'll see you around" to some very fun, lovable, trustworthy friends that I worked with every day. And then I started to spend my days as a stranger on foreign turf with people I don't know well, if at all. I left a position where a lot of decision making authority was in my hands, to take a position where there are several more layers of managers above me, weighing in on decisions that would have been mine at the other shop.
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I'm always dragging that horse around
All of these questions, such a mournful sound
Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues drawn
But it's always darkest before the dawn
Due to the size of the institution that I currently work at, earning trust, making a good first impression, and doing lot of homework to understand history and context has become the most important aspect of my daily professional life for the past 3 1/2 months. Learning a bunch of new names, systems, and the rules of an odd new game is the kind of roller-coaster excitement my brain thrives on, but the kind of "why am I stuck to the side of this centrifuge?!?" nausea that my intestines just can't wait to be over.
Concurrently, longer work hours mean that the family dynamic has shifted slightly. The boys (who were theoretically equally reliant on both Mommy and Mama) have grown to expect more time with Mama during the work week. The job is going well, Katy has been amazing, but I have to admit all of this has left me to feel a bit vulnerable and somewhat insecure in my roles both at home and in the office.
Frankly this is an unsettling side-effect of what should be a win-win scenario. By all accounts, I am doing well in the new job- getting great feedback about my performance and feeling at least an intermittent sense of accomplishment. Additionally, our family structure is a might bit stronger now owing to the increased money and stability, that accompanies the new job.
It's confusing to just not feel "happy-happy-happy" when all indicators (seasonal, economic, social, professional) indicate that conditions are more than ripe for contentment and bliss...
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoaFor whatever reason, my reaction to the stress of these "life-changes" includes a heightened awareness of all that can (and does) go wrong in life. And an empathetic desire to run to people that I love who are in heavy-hearted times and wrap them in some magic blanket... Maybe as a way to deflect my own fears and insecurities.
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa
At this very moment in time, we have friends that are sick, dying, have cancer, have children with cancer, are on the brink of divorce, trying to forgive a spouse for cheating, are losing their parents, are losing their jobs, are reeling from the suicide of a friend, are trying to recover from depression, illness, injury, addiction, are picking up their lives and moving across the country to follow their dreams... I'm not generalizing here, like, "We mostly likely know people who are going through these types of things..." I mean there are individuals that we care about very much that all of those things are happening to.
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your backOne of the mornings in the last several weeks, both boys were in bed with us- a surprisingly rare occurrence- and Jake, recovering from his 2nd bout of pneumonia in as many months, hacked a junky hack without waking; and Milo put his hand on my face and sighed a sleep-drenched sigh. I reached over and touched Katy with my palm, the underside of my arm resting on the two small heads in the middle. In that moment, I felt so light. Yes, our days were slightly too filled with mucus, yes we are a bit over-tired, and yes, I was awake at the unGodly 3:44 AM... but this was the exact type of moment I yearned for all those years ago when we were ready to have a child, and it wasn't working.
And given half the chance would I take any of it back
It's a fine romance but it's left me so undone
It's always darkest before the dawn
Oh whoa, oh whoa...
I had this private moment of pure contentment and gratitude and then a few days later, C texted me from CA.
"How's it going?" I inquired which has recently become shorthand for "How's life in the strange, stressful land of baby-making?" (Or Turkey-baster-ville as we're inclined to refer to it with our lesbian friends).
She texted that they had decided to take a break from "trying".
"oh..." I replied.
"It was just a little too sad."
Yup. That wasn't just a text to me. Ugh. The memory of that place is not so far away. It came flushing back like a big wave. Reading that message on my iPhone, I FELT that sadness. It brought all my (current, unfocused, and practically unexplainable) sadness to a sharp point and in solidarity, I wanted to jab that point into my forearm.
Oh, that place of ache- Where you finally put out into the universe what you really WANT and it is not something small or material, but something tremendous and life altering. And you do it in humility with an understanding that you don't always get what you want; but you do it intentionally and you try to be patient in that place of uncertainty and vulnerability... And when it doesn't work, when the pee stick comes up negative month after month, at first it catches like a hangnail on your psyche, and then it starts to feel like something life-threatening. And you don't know why it hurts that much because you look around and your life is pretty damn good. It's confusing to feel such gratitude and such grief at the same time.
The very same hour I received the text from C, I heard this story on NPR. And I just couldn't believe the timing. I had a little epiphany, and got a little closer to understanding it.
I think the reason it hurts so much is because your kids are out there, and you're worried about them even if you haven't met them yet... You can feel these little spirits out there- the ones that are to be your children. You feel their breath on your neck sometimes, even before they exist. You feel it so real it cannot be mere imagination. And you want to trust what you've been told (what you generally believe) that everything happens for a reason... all in good time, etc... but still, ask any parent... being away from your kids is really quite devastating.
And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don'tOne of my best friends from childhood, A, is in the last heat of the parenting Olympic trials. The event is a new one called: "You think you've had a bad year? You should see the shit I've been dealing with for the last 12 months!!!" If you turn on the news on any particular day you realize that she's probably not even in medal contention, because there is no limit to the amount of heartbreak in the world. But last May, her oldest son was convicted of a serious crime. After sitting through a trial during which the police involved contradicted their own testimony and perjured themselves, and the "victim" denied the original accusation on the witness stand, she started to believe that everything was going to be okay. And then had to listen to the jury return a guilty verdict that was beyond the understanding of most of the legal experts in the room. Her son has been in a maximum security state prison since he was sentenced and though it's been nearly a year, there is no word on when the appeal will be scheduled.
So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my rope
And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope
It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat
Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me
The physical, psychological, and societal separation from her full-grown (but-still-her-baby) son has been shocking. Yet, as she walks around, people can't even perceive the sadness she has endured. She's one of the strongest, most loving, generous, resourceful, lacking in self-pity, and rational people I've ever known. In the mean time, her 18 year old (second) son has told her she will become a grandmother in a few months. Not a tragedy by any stretch- but still- could we just possibly have dealt with one thing at a time. Speaking to her on the phone, I'm all like, "Don't buy one, single baby thing without checking with me first b/c we are about to unload everything you need from crib to boppy and I even have a whole bunch of stuff you'll probably wish you never heard of..."
I try to talk to her about what she needs, if there is anything I can do. But mostly what I want to ask her is, "How is your heart? Is there anything I can do "mother-to-mother" to help plug up any of the holes in your armor that might leave you exposed and vulnerable?" She tells me nonchalantly that this has taken it's toll on her relationship with her husband. And more pressing, he is finally working on treating his addictions. My heart sinks. Not really surprised at this news, that this has been happening in the background too. I just want to shake a fist at the furies and say, "GIVE HER A BREAK"!!!
"I don't know how you're holding it all together," I tell her.
"As if I have a choice" she says. And then she puts it out there and wraps the truth around both of us: There is nothing that matters as much as these things. This year of razor sharp heartbreak somehow brings with it validity and redemption. Sorrow to better enjoy the sweetness of life. There is no choice but to experience sorrow in life, but if there were, it might not be the best idea to opt out of it.
I do understands what she means. If you've never spent a day clawing out of a cave, or stroking a hand in a hospital room, or anxiously waiting outside of an ICU or a courtroom, it's hard not to pity your innocence. Blessedly rare are those individuals that are able to look upon and recognize actual happiness without the focusing lens of sorrow and heartbreak.
All I can say, to our friends C and L (struggling in Turkey-baster-ville) is, "I know. I'm sorry. Hang in there." I want to leave it at that because in my experience, when you are trying to get pregnant, people offer way too-fucking-much in the way of opinions and advice. But since no one has ever accused me of talking too little (why use 5 words when you can write 2500?) I'll add an encouraging, empathetic, tender-hearted:
"Get used to it".
Barely relying on metaphor, this is the start of parenthood. That negative pee stick, and all the things that will happen before and after you and your children are reunited it's like boot camp for your hearts; for the endurance marathon that follows. Stretch and pull and run, and use ice and heat intermittently to soothe your aches, and start to believe that you can do it, because you can... (but believing that you can is really half the battle).
It's already started, you don't even really have a choice in the matter.
It's both a long wait and a heavy weight.
But you can do it.
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa
Saturday, August 06, 2011
Brothers at play
Katy took this video of the boys at the park last night.
I just love it!
I love the way it is shot at their level...
I love that it is just them...
This is exactly how they are right now-
JB is at his best when he is running with, entertaining, and/or coaching his brother.
ML (as he has since he first learned to laugh) reserves his most genuine, heartfelt laugh for his brother.
I have this joke that I tell when people ask what the boys are like:
"In the worst case scenario," I say, "JB will grow up jealous and sullen that his brother doesn't follow the rules, and gets to have so much fun... And ML," there I pause for dramatic effect, "Will end in prison... But, if all goes well, they will keep each other in balance."
I love ML's sheer joy.
And I love the part where JB says, "Get up here, Mi..."
I think this video clearly shows how well the balancing act works so far.
(sigh)
I just love it!
I love the way it is shot at their level...
I love that it is just them...
This is exactly how they are right now-
JB is at his best when he is running with, entertaining, and/or coaching his brother.
ML (as he has since he first learned to laugh) reserves his most genuine, heartfelt laugh for his brother.
I have this joke that I tell when people ask what the boys are like:
"In the worst case scenario," I say, "JB will grow up jealous and sullen that his brother doesn't follow the rules, and gets to have so much fun... And ML," there I pause for dramatic effect, "Will end in prison... But, if all goes well, they will keep each other in balance."
I love ML's sheer joy.
And I love the part where JB says, "Get up here, Mi..."
I think this video clearly shows how well the balancing act works so far.
(sigh)
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Every day is Mothers' Day
It's been a rough couple of weeks for me.By "rough" I mean nothing-really-that-bad, but flat out exhausting...
You know that saying, you can have something "fast", you can have it "good", you can have it "cheap" or... you can have any combination of TWO of those, but you cannot have all three?
That little riddle has been popping into my mind in the last few weeks as I have consider
ed my lot in life... And this started scrambling around in my head...The housework has fallen behind a bit. The house is just- well- not.clean. (I guess that is really the best way to put it.)
I've been trying to keep up with exercise, and I have a huge project underway at work that will span about six weeks (we are 3 weeks in).
I've been doing my best to be a good mom and wife and not knowing the "laws" of this particular species of Venn diagram, I am not sure if more than 3 areas can be sufficiently covered at one time. All I know is I can see the teetering- I feel wobbly. On the days/weeks I feel I am keeping up with my duties at work, exercise habits are hard to maintain... the blog (as you know) is long suffering. The highest priority is of course the family, and you'll have to poll my wife, but I'm not sure how well I'm holding up my end. The madness of parenting a rounding-the-corner-towards-2 year old and a rounding-the-corner-toward-4 year old is as pervasive as mold.
Katy and I marvel every day at the paradoxes inherent the chemical reactions that occur in our brains: The degree to which I adore these ruggies and the simultaneous tension I feel as my time with them stretches the seams of the fibers of my being... At some point in every day, i want to melt from the awesomeness that pours out of their minds and mouths. And invariably, at some point in every day, I want to run screaming from their nonsense...
JB, for example, does a lot of TALKING right now. When he has had the perfect amount of sleep (the formula that determines this magical amount of sleep has not been revealed to me) he is funny, sweet, and adorable. But a lot of the time, he thinks he knows what's what and, he doesn't. And he thinks he's in charge of stuff that he can't possibly control. The most amazing thing about a 3 1/2 year old is how they learn the "tone" that accompanies adult conversation, but the tone is usually empty. Knowing the lingo is only half the game... Kids have no understanding of snark, no comprehension of the multitude of ways that humans intentionally and unintentionally mess with each other. They have learned the words and they mimic the tone, but they have no knowledge of the rules of engagement.
Picture this: A cloudy day. I work 8 or 9 hours and race to the day care to get the ruggies. JB, who at times has difficulty with "transition" tells me he's not ready to leave and he stalls so much that he nearly gets a time out. ML bounds towards me, we walk out the door and before we get to the car he has splashed his way into a large puddle. Soaked, I buckle him in and then buckle in JB. The entire way home, there's a lot of loud yapping and screeching. I have not yet been with my beautiful children for 20 minutes, but I'm already not sure how I will make it through the next 3 hours.
We pull into the driveway and JB sighs loudly: "I hate our house."
Srsly?
I am white-knucking the steering wheel. I can't believe the potency of the feelings I am experiencing. I know logically that I can not take this joker at his word, that I need to have more patience, but pure disgust is like a warm, white fire slowly consuming me. If a fully formed human had said this, I would have been all like:
"WTF is wrong with you?!? WHO says that?!? That is rude and you have a lot of nerve!!! If you dont' like this house, you don't have to live in it!!! Do you have any idea how hard we work to provide you with a shelter this amazing?!?"
Mind you the entire time I am mentally speach-ifying, ML is screeching: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-OOOOOOOHHHHHHH-ooOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAA!
I take a deep breath and ask JB in the most neutral tone I can muster: "Honey, why would you say that?" (inhale, exhale, heart beat, heart beat)
JB: "I don't know, I guess I just wish we could paint the whole thing orange."
[sigh] I'm glad I didn't just go with my first reaction.
ML, on the other hand is an entirely different beast. He is all action for JB's pensiveness. He is determined where JB is unsure. He is reckless and goofy where JB is cautious and serious. ML, for example, understands every mother-humping word we say, he can identify 68 different varieties of truck from a mile away, but he can not will his lips or vocal chords to pronounce the word: TRUCK.
I mean even though I know it is developmental, it really seem like stubbornness.
It's always:
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA!"
or
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
or, inexplicably:
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"
His insistence and persistence is mind-boggling.
"Yes!" I shout back, "I know!!! a TRUCK!!! It IS AWESOME!!! Just like it was 5 seconds ago!!! LOok there!!! Another one!!! AMAZING. THANK YOU FOR POINTING THAT NEW ONE OUT!!!"
ML is the type of kid that the first time he plunged his entire arm into the toilet bowl, it was all about the science of discovery, but now it is a Marks Brothers skit: He knows the specific "toilet bowl look" that he has to produce before he gives chase to the bathroom. And even though he has a healthy head start, he will wait for us- perched, contemplative, like a diver on a block- his arm readied at his ear, until i get within 2 lunges of him. We lock eyes. He waits for me to plead, "NO...." and then submerges to the clavicle, smiling... never breaking eye contact...
That kid tries to climb in the oven, sits in the refrigerator, turns on the dishwasher, surfs down the stairs into the garage, tries to feed peanut butter to the iMac. He smear blueberries in his hair to signal the completion of the meal and if you don't dive to remove the plate from his tray, he flips it like a flapjack at the world's fair. He has a power over me. I forget myself. I have thrown food BACK at him- in a desperate attempt to instill some manners, I act like a sociopath.
Still the boy will look at you and tilt his curly-haired head with a smile that says, "You know you're my girl" and at that point it's a wash.
This year, Mother's day was spent with friends and family and no gifts were exchanged in our house. We just enjoyed the air and the craziness.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Two minute update
I have two minutes to post b/c we are hosting Easter tomorrow and the kids are out of the house for 2 hours so that we can "clean" without having to reprimand ML for sticking his arm straight into the toilet every 3 minutes or so (the hook and eye lock I installed on the door is completely useless, because he has calculated the exact rhythm-pressure-code of wiggle, pulsing, banging, and pausing required to get the hook to magically "jump" out of the eye... the only way it even slowed him down is the one time I left it UNLocked and he spent 90 seconds reaching above the knob toward the lock to try to reach and fiddle with it.)
Life is good. It is cold and rainy today, but tomorrow is supposed to be nicer. We went to a Seder last night- my first... familiar with the stories and some of the words, not familiar at all with the food - so strange that I could be so unfamiliar with an entire meal of "traditional" food. It was yummy, though.
The boys are very sweet and smart and very whiny and needy and actually starting to fight a little - want the same toys, vie for affection. Not too much, but definitely both of them playing various things up for attention and starting to show signs of, "Whatever he has I want"... I'm not sure if it is the Irish/Italian/Catholic genes/ socialization in me that I find myself believing the corrective action for this issue is to add another sibling to the mix... It's as if I want to say, you think you don't get enough attention now, wait until the new baby comes shooting into town; I'll give you something to whine about!!!" Horror at the thought of adding more chaos to this dirty home! But there's so much love in these walls, something inside of me thinks we should divide it up and share it more.
(Katy is somewhere whimpering that I have put this out into the universe- she's just not interested in that "solution".)
Katy and I have been working hard at trying to be healthier. We joined the Y and have a work out strategy that includes going there a few times a week and using the treadmill in our basement more and playing along with a Jillian Michaels tape now and then. It is working. I feel better. I've lost 13 lbs. I can do 20 (full) push-ups. She's been run/walking 4-5 miles at a clip and I've been doing 3-4 (a larger and larger percentage of the time has been running over walking) I have another 25-35lbs that I'd like to lose. I've never been fixated on my weight, but I'm 2 years and 2 months away from my 40th birthday, and I think I'd like to start that decade super fit...
I feel torn about doing all the things I want to do- excel at work, work out, eat right, write more, have fun with these kids- doing them all well... It seems so POSSIBLE every morning and when we are "falling-apart-tired" at night, it seems so implausible. But mostly, I feel lucky and grateful (that's redundant, right?) for my wife and friends and family.
Okay, that was 12 minutes... time to go clean the house!!!
Life is good. It is cold and rainy today, but tomorrow is supposed to be nicer. We went to a Seder last night- my first... familiar with the stories and some of the words, not familiar at all with the food - so strange that I could be so unfamiliar with an entire meal of "traditional" food. It was yummy, though.
The boys are very sweet and smart and very whiny and needy and actually starting to fight a little - want the same toys, vie for affection. Not too much, but definitely both of them playing various things up for attention and starting to show signs of, "Whatever he has I want"... I'm not sure if it is the Irish/Italian/Catholic genes/ socialization in me that I find myself believing the corrective action for this issue is to add another sibling to the mix... It's as if I want to say, you think you don't get enough attention now, wait until the new baby comes shooting into town; I'll give you something to whine about!!!" Horror at the thought of adding more chaos to this dirty home! But there's so much love in these walls, something inside of me thinks we should divide it up and share it more.
(Katy is somewhere whimpering that I have put this out into the universe- she's just not interested in that "solution".)
Katy and I have been working hard at trying to be healthier. We joined the Y and have a work out strategy that includes going there a few times a week and using the treadmill in our basement more and playing along with a Jillian Michaels tape now and then. It is working. I feel better. I've lost 13 lbs. I can do 20 (full) push-ups. She's been run/walking 4-5 miles at a clip and I've been doing 3-4 (a larger and larger percentage of the time has been running over walking) I have another 25-35lbs that I'd like to lose. I've never been fixated on my weight, but I'm 2 years and 2 months away from my 40th birthday, and I think I'd like to start that decade super fit...
I feel torn about doing all the things I want to do- excel at work, work out, eat right, write more, have fun with these kids- doing them all well... It seems so POSSIBLE every morning and when we are "falling-apart-tired" at night, it seems so implausible. But mostly, I feel lucky and grateful (that's redundant, right?) for my wife and friends and family.
Okay, that was 12 minutes... time to go clean the house!!!
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Coming home tonight
Almost a week since my last post, but a lot has been happening...
I've been away.
I came home from Texas last Friday night (3/18). Spent Sat with the family: did some running around, playing with the kids, grocery shopping, etc. Went to a baby shower for my cousin's wife, spent a few hours with my CT cousin-friends (That's a word I just made up... It's like "sister-wife" in Mormon country, and is used to describe people that you are related to by birth, but more and more as you grow older, they are your friends. While we're here, I think I'll also coin the flip side: "friend-cousins": These are people like the Tabors/Menzies/Priors and the Vuolos... people who fate has so kindly intertwined your families' lives that you are friends with them, but you think of them as cousins...)
Then Katy's parents arrived (Granny and Granna) and we had dinner and I got to the business of packing a fresh suitcase, and bathing, smelling, and snuggling my kids enough to carry me though this week that I have also been away. Katy and I woke up at 3:30 in the AM (last Saturday) to get me to the airport for my 6am flight to Sunny and Warm LA county. The trip with layovers and waiting times on the tarmac to "replace computers on the plane", and flying around in circles to avoid weather patterns, and the harrowing shuttle journey to the hotel took over 15 hours.
It has been neither warm, nor particularly sunny.
But, I have been working my tail off (so to speak).
Only as this week has wound down (Thursday night, Friday, and now) have I truly started to feel the weight of my- not "homesickness" exactly- but yearning to have my babies near me. I think I just compartmentalized it fairly well at the beginning. Also, I knew that (between Katy and my in-laws) the boys were not only in good hands, but they would be distracted and having fun in my absence.
Still, attending these two conferences back to back, I have been away from my family for 11 out of the last 12 days. Even Katy and I have not spent this much time apart since we started dating.
And it has been weird to miss a week that my in-laws took to spend with our family. I've been wondering what I have missed in terms of "bonding opportunities" with them, and while I was out here in CA, my God-daughter and sweet Mac-a-doodle turned 5 years old!!! So, I felt a little sad that night that we weren't all together celebrating.
I've done my best to put the time to good use. I've met a lot of interesting and fun people. I've networked and bonded. I've gotten to spend this last week rooming with (and joking and laughing and theorizing and scheming with) Tara. Tara has been a BFF of ours since Katy's and my grad school days. This week only confirmed why: she is good people. She is real and full of brain and heart power, and loyal and honorable, and not only hilarious- but appreciates (and plays off of) my particular brand of wit. She is funny, without being trivial, and carefully measures the weight of her words and actions like only a soul-sister of mine could.
It is absurd that we ended up here this week together, and I can't help but thank God (The Tiny Baby Jesus, or whatever older version of him you prefer) for the way this trip took T and I out of our other lives and put us here, together for a week.
I also tried to use the time well- to appreciate the things a mom of small children loses out on: Sleep, "Quiet time", complex and extended adult conversation, "me time", I've done some list making and sorting through of things in my head, a kind of spring cleaning of my brain. I've also hit the gym whenever possible and done some sweating- and yesterday got myself onto some of the beaches of Malibu for a little hike.
At the end of this, I am eager to get home. But I think I am going back a little bit of a healthier person. Maybe more focused, more grateful for what I have, more (possibly?) full of energy (though taking a red-eye tonight might put a damper on that).
I can't wait to see my sweetie and our kids!
I've been away.
I came home from Texas last Friday night (3/18). Spent Sat with the family: did some running around, playing with the kids, grocery shopping, etc. Went to a baby shower for my cousin's wife, spent a few hours with my CT cousin-friends (That's a word I just made up... It's like "sister-wife" in Mormon country, and is used to describe people that you are related to by birth, but more and more as you grow older, they are your friends. While we're here, I think I'll also coin the flip side: "friend-cousins": These are people like the Tabors/Menzies/Priors and the Vuolos... people who fate has so kindly intertwined your families' lives that you are friends with them, but you think of them as cousins...)
Then Katy's parents arrived (Granny and Granna) and we had dinner and I got to the business of packing a fresh suitcase, and bathing, smelling, and snuggling my kids enough to carry me though this week that I have also been away. Katy and I woke up at 3:30 in the AM (last Saturday) to get me to the airport for my 6am flight to Sunny and Warm LA county. The trip with layovers and waiting times on the tarmac to "replace computers on the plane", and flying around in circles to avoid weather patterns, and the harrowing shuttle journey to the hotel took over 15 hours.
It has been neither warm, nor particularly sunny.
But, I have been working my tail off (so to speak).
Only as this week has wound down (Thursday night, Friday, and now) have I truly started to feel the weight of my- not "homesickness" exactly- but yearning to have my babies near me. I think I just compartmentalized it fairly well at the beginning. Also, I knew that (between Katy and my in-laws) the boys were not only in good hands, but they would be distracted and having fun in my absence.
Still, attending these two conferences back to back, I have been away from my family for 11 out of the last 12 days. Even Katy and I have not spent this much time apart since we started dating.
And it has been weird to miss a week that my in-laws took to spend with our family. I've been wondering what I have missed in terms of "bonding opportunities" with them, and while I was out here in CA, my God-daughter and sweet Mac-a-doodle turned 5 years old!!! So, I felt a little sad that night that we weren't all together celebrating.
I've done my best to put the time to good use. I've met a lot of interesting and fun people. I've networked and bonded. I've gotten to spend this last week rooming with (and joking and laughing and theorizing and scheming with) Tara. Tara has been a BFF of ours since Katy's and my grad school days. This week only confirmed why: she is good people. She is real and full of brain and heart power, and loyal and honorable, and not only hilarious- but appreciates (and plays off of) my particular brand of wit. She is funny, without being trivial, and carefully measures the weight of her words and actions like only a soul-sister of mine could.
It is absurd that we ended up here this week together, and I can't help but thank God (The Tiny Baby Jesus, or whatever older version of him you prefer) for the way this trip took T and I out of our other lives and put us here, together for a week.
I also tried to use the time well- to appreciate the things a mom of small children loses out on: Sleep, "Quiet time", complex and extended adult conversation, "me time", I've done some list making and sorting through of things in my head, a kind of spring cleaning of my brain. I've also hit the gym whenever possible and done some sweating- and yesterday got myself onto some of the beaches of Malibu for a little hike.
At the end of this, I am eager to get home. But I think I am going back a little bit of a healthier person. Maybe more focused, more grateful for what I have, more (possibly?) full of energy (though taking a red-eye tonight might put a damper on that).
I can't wait to see my sweetie and our kids!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Your snowblower CAN'T HELP YOU NOW!!!
We have soooooooooo much snow here right now.
The week after Christmas, we got 10-12" of a powdery mix. A snowman was built and several days later, some of the snow melted, the snowman broke into three separate balls, but certainly, we never saw the grass again. Friday the 7th, we got about a foot more. That snow was so fluffy and powdery that you could not even put a snowball together. I tried and tried, but could not make a snowball- SO FLUFFY!!!
(See the snow behind him on the deck?)
(JB is in front and ML is bringing up the rear)
Then last Wednesday, we got another TWENTY inches of the same pure, dry powdery snow. We have been shoveling our asses off, but it has been a pleasure- I mean, you could go through several New England winters and not have a snow anywhere as near as awesome as the last 3 we have gotten in the last 3 weeks. Also, the temp has only been getting up to about 32 during the day, so it is not melting and getting wet and then refreezing. It has been fluffy and puffy and dry, cold snow for about 3 weeks.
Today, we got about 3 inches of snow followed by 6 hours of slushy, frozen rain. This is more like it... This is more like the weather I am used to expecting and enjoying. This is the stuff that really hurts to shovel. This is the stuff that God invented to mock you for running out and impulse-buying that shiny snowblower (we did not do that, btw). This is the stuff that leaves the trees full of sharp ice-bullets and your back yard shiny like a Zamboni'd hockey rink.
For the last 3 weeks, when the snowplow came by to barf up that extra foot of junk onto the edge of my newly dug out driveway, I could barely complain- it was so fluffy... Deep, but still not icy, you know? But tonight, this is the stuff that pulls groins, and spasms lower backs, and leaves grown people weeping icicles. THIS is what I'm talking about, THIS is New England!!!
BUT this ice is on 22-36 inches of snow, SRSLY. So THAT is not normal at all.
The middle of our front yard has over 2 feet of snow on it. The snow banks that line our driveway are at least as high as my waist. Many sections of them are higher than my shoulders. The mailbox is buried. It is insane! Shoveling icy, slushy, sleety snow over your head is a work out. You get dressed in your winter clothes and they get wet from the inside out.
Thing is, it is exhausting. And I'm starting to get all worried about the roof holding up and the gutters not falling down, and the basement not flooding...
Still, I'm enjoying it. It is extreme and fun and awe-inspiring.
And look what it is doing to the boys:
(Young boys, obsessed with plows)
NOTE:
all of this pics are from 1 or 2 storms ago... I did not yet include any pics of today's additionally precipitation. Also, I am going to try and get some footage of downhill sledding up on the blog asap... So adorable!
The week after Christmas, we got 10-12" of a powdery mix. A snowman was built and several days later, some of the snow melted, the snowman broke into three separate balls, but certainly, we never saw the grass again. Friday the 7th, we got about a foot more. That snow was so fluffy and powdery that you could not even put a snowball together. I tried and tried, but could not make a snowball- SO FLUFFY!!!
(See the snow behind him on the deck?)
(JB is in front and ML is bringing up the rear)
Then last Wednesday, we got another TWENTY inches of the same pure, dry powdery snow. We have been shoveling our asses off, but it has been a pleasure- I mean, you could go through several New England winters and not have a snow anywhere as near as awesome as the last 3 we have gotten in the last 3 weeks. Also, the temp has only been getting up to about 32 during the day, so it is not melting and getting wet and then refreezing. It has been fluffy and puffy and dry, cold snow for about 3 weeks.
Today, we got about 3 inches of snow followed by 6 hours of slushy, frozen rain. This is more like it... This is more like the weather I am used to expecting and enjoying. This is the stuff that really hurts to shovel. This is the stuff that God invented to mock you for running out and impulse-buying that shiny snowblower (we did not do that, btw). This is the stuff that leaves the trees full of sharp ice-bullets and your back yard shiny like a Zamboni'd hockey rink.
For the last 3 weeks, when the snowplow came by to barf up that extra foot of junk onto the edge of my newly dug out driveway, I could barely complain- it was so fluffy... Deep, but still not icy, you know? But tonight, this is the stuff that pulls groins, and spasms lower backs, and leaves grown people weeping icicles. THIS is what I'm talking about, THIS is New England!!!
BUT this ice is on 22-36 inches of snow, SRSLY. So THAT is not normal at all.
The middle of our front yard has over 2 feet of snow on it. The snow banks that line our driveway are at least as high as my waist. Many sections of them are higher than my shoulders. The mailbox is buried. It is insane! Shoveling icy, slushy, sleety snow over your head is a work out. You get dressed in your winter clothes and they get wet from the inside out.
Thing is, it is exhausting. And I'm starting to get all worried about the roof holding up and the gutters not falling down, and the basement not flooding...
Still, I'm enjoying it. It is extreme and fun and awe-inspiring.
And look what it is doing to the boys:
(Young boys, obsessed with plows)
NOTE:
all of this pics are from 1 or 2 storms ago... I did not yet include any pics of today's additionally precipitation. Also, I am going to try and get some footage of downhill sledding up on the blog asap... So adorable!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Season opener
Hey sports fans, it is that time of year again...
We won the first game of the season last night in a crusher 10-3.
If you have ever followed this bloggy-here thing in the summer-ish months, you know how much I love this team. You also know that winning our first game... this is a big JOE$#&%BIDEN deal! Well, not really a big deal as in "we care so much about winning", but a big "it doesn't usually happen this way" kind of thing.
Last night there were a lot of unusual events aside from throwing one in the "W" column...
1) We fielded a team of 10 plus a designated hitter (without a problem)
2) Did I mention we won
3) It was the first time in about 10 years that there were more than 5 infant/toddler tykes running around (thanks to the birth of ML and the concurrent attendance of Jess, Web and Katy and me.)
When I started playing on this team, there were swarms of offspring out there every night. Back then, I was 30 (okay 60) lbs lighter and was the "next generation"...
I sat on the curb after games for 2 seasons before I took a beer out of the cooler caddy to avoid a "10-9" (that's the town ordnance for underage drinking.) Sadly, that's not even a lie... some of my teammates were friends of my parents and I didn't want any trouble for me or anyone else.
At that time it was all we could do to keep our heads in the game:
Nancy: Robert, keep your sister away from the dumpster.
Deb: WHERE'S FRANKIE?!?
Nancy2: Are the twins okay on this blanket?
Kim: They're fine, my kids will watch them.
Nancy: COURTNEY!!! GET OUT OF THE ROAD!
Me: (Trying to warn about the approaching line-drives to these mommies who were trying to play ball and keep their kids out of traffic.) TWO OUT, PEOPLE... THE PLAY IS AT FIRST OR SECOND BASE...
Oh yeah, i was all business. But only because I didn't want anyone to get hurt.
I distinctly remember one ice cream truck arrival in the middle of the 4th inning, bases loaded, 2 outs, the insane music vamps in a slow crescendo from somewhere in the distance and the kids start to revolt. one mom and then another and then a few more until we had no defense for a few minutes because everyone was scraping coins together for treats...
So here I am all these years later, and I just didn't see this coming. I remember thinking, "this is the way to do it" as I saw sisters and cousins and neighbors playing and raising their kids together... and I can't honestly say, "the years have flown by"; I mean, these have been long fought and hard won years of falling in love and working and family making...
But somehow, I am now one of the elders.
The original moms are the team "aunties", sisters and wives and cousins have joined and we have brought forth on this field a new generation of Play-yas... Between Jess's boys and our boys and my sister's girls, and Amber's daughter and am I missing anyone??? We have an entire gaggle of babies, all over again.
I hope the new girls (and by "new girls" I mean the young women who were kind enough to merge with our team a few years back to give us a shot at avoiding a 2 times-a-week ass-whooping with accompanying trips to the ER every other week) I hope they don't tire of our kids running around, swinging wiffle bats too close to the on deck circle; children whining when their moms have to go into the field; our little Boos- sometimes listening and playing the part of adorable bat-boy/girl, and sometimes, throwing a tantrum for no apparent reason.
I assure my younger teammates that if they stick with it, it will come back to them ten-fold b/c when they take their turns at child rearing, we will be here to pay it forward... or backward... or however it goes.
But until then, I hope they don't mind that I am sometimes going to shout, silly things from the field like, "YOUR COUSIN'S NOSE IS NOT FOR YOU TO PICK!!!" and they might sometimes here things like:
"DO NOT TAKE YOUR UNDERWEAR OFF!!! JUST SIT ON THE POTTY CHAIR AND PULL THEM BACK UP WHEN YOU ARE DONE." When I should instead be quietly backing up the shortstop at 2nd base...
I hope the "retired" but dedicated former members of the team don't hold it against us that they are not done chasing toddlers around this field... 2 decades later they are still scooping kids up out of the way and digging through their bags to pay the ice cream man.
I hope last night was not my mom's last visit to the field, because really, Nana is not afraid to tether herself to her grand kids... to the great benefit of both me AND my children .
And most importantly, I hope that I keep up this batting percentage (so far = 1.000; 4 times up; 3 hits; one walk) to compensate for my not-so-"lightening"-speed, for the fact that i seem to have "forgotten how to throw", and for the havoc that our "lifestyle choices" have reeked on my ability to concentrate on the team, the game, and the cooler caddy afterward.
Today, I am sore. But as usually happens the day after a game... I am feeling incredibly grateful for this group of women that I am lucky enough to call my friends.
PLAY BALL!
We won the first game of the season last night in a crusher 10-3.
If you have ever followed this bloggy-here thing in the summer-ish months, you know how much I love this team. You also know that winning our first game... this is a big JOE$#&%BIDEN deal! Well, not really a big deal as in "we care so much about winning", but a big "it doesn't usually happen this way" kind of thing.
Last night there were a lot of unusual events aside from throwing one in the "W" column...
1) We fielded a team of 10 plus a designated hitter (without a problem)
2) Did I mention we won
3) It was the first time in about 10 years that there were more than 5 infant/toddler tykes running around (thanks to the birth of ML and the concurrent attendance of Jess, Web and Katy and me.)
When I started playing on this team, there were swarms of offspring out there every night. Back then, I was 30 (okay 60) lbs lighter and was the "next generation"...
I sat on the curb after games for 2 seasons before I took a beer out of the cooler caddy to avoid a "10-9" (that's the town ordnance for underage drinking.) Sadly, that's not even a lie... some of my teammates were friends of my parents and I didn't want any trouble for me or anyone else.
At that time it was all we could do to keep our heads in the game:
Nancy: Robert, keep your sister away from the dumpster.
Deb: WHERE'S FRANKIE?!?
Nancy2: Are the twins okay on this blanket?
Kim: They're fine, my kids will watch them.
Nancy: COURTNEY!!! GET OUT OF THE ROAD!
Me: (Trying to warn about the approaching line-drives to these mommies who were trying to play ball and keep their kids out of traffic.) TWO OUT, PEOPLE... THE PLAY IS AT FIRST OR SECOND BASE...
Oh yeah, i was all business. But only because I didn't want anyone to get hurt.
I distinctly remember one ice cream truck arrival in the middle of the 4th inning, bases loaded, 2 outs, the insane music vamps in a slow crescendo from somewhere in the distance and the kids start to revolt. one mom and then another and then a few more until we had no defense for a few minutes because everyone was scraping coins together for treats...
So here I am all these years later, and I just didn't see this coming. I remember thinking, "this is the way to do it" as I saw sisters and cousins and neighbors playing and raising their kids together... and I can't honestly say, "the years have flown by"; I mean, these have been long fought and hard won years of falling in love and working and family making...
But somehow, I am now one of the elders.
The original moms are the team "aunties", sisters and wives and cousins have joined and we have brought forth on this field a new generation of Play-yas... Between Jess's boys and our boys and my sister's girls, and Amber's daughter and am I missing anyone??? We have an entire gaggle of babies, all over again.
I hope the new girls (and by "new girls" I mean the young women who were kind enough to merge with our team a few years back to give us a shot at avoiding a 2 times-a-week ass-whooping with accompanying trips to the ER every other week) I hope they don't tire of our kids running around, swinging wiffle bats too close to the on deck circle; children whining when their moms have to go into the field; our little Boos- sometimes listening and playing the part of adorable bat-boy/girl, and sometimes, throwing a tantrum for no apparent reason.
I assure my younger teammates that if they stick with it, it will come back to them ten-fold b/c when they take their turns at child rearing, we will be here to pay it forward... or backward... or however it goes.
But until then, I hope they don't mind that I am sometimes going to shout, silly things from the field like, "YOUR COUSIN'S NOSE IS NOT FOR YOU TO PICK!!!" and they might sometimes here things like:
"DO NOT TAKE YOUR UNDERWEAR OFF!!! JUST SIT ON THE POTTY CHAIR AND PULL THEM BACK UP WHEN YOU ARE DONE." When I should instead be quietly backing up the shortstop at 2nd base...
I hope the "retired" but dedicated former members of the team don't hold it against us that they are not done chasing toddlers around this field... 2 decades later they are still scooping kids up out of the way and digging through their bags to pay the ice cream man.
I hope last night was not my mom's last visit to the field, because really, Nana is not afraid to tether herself to her grand kids... to the great benefit of both me AND my children .
And most importantly, I hope that I keep up this batting percentage (so far = 1.000; 4 times up; 3 hits; one walk) to compensate for my not-so-"lightening"-speed, for the fact that i seem to have "forgotten how to throw", and for the havoc that our "lifestyle choices" have reeked on my ability to concentrate on the team, the game, and the cooler caddy afterward.
Today, I am sore. But as usually happens the day after a game... I am feeling incredibly grateful for this group of women that I am lucky enough to call my friends.
PLAY BALL!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The crawl
There is so much going on that the desire to blog consumes me and the actualization of that desire is delusional.
Work is aclusterfuck horror-show right now. We've been experiencing chaotic institutional change and threats that are imagined, perceived, and alarmingly real. Obviously, the details are too ripe to post here, but take my word for it: SNAFU of the highest order. "Fight-flight" and the power-charge you get from an emergent challenge take you far for about 5 weeks. I've been working all day, coming home and powering up the laptop until well after bedtime.
At the beginning, I was even in good spirits about it - it's been like a slow code and I do miss the old days of hanging blood, cracking ribs, and pushing epinephrine. But now, my brain is turning to mush and my psyche is pretty badly dinged up. I keep my wits about me, literally. Keeping my team laughing is probably my central purpose at this point, but every day brings another detail that is essentially no laughing matter. If you had told me a few months ago what would be going on right now, I would have laughed, slapped your ass, and told you to shove off. Needless to say, I have needed to put a lot more time and energy into work. But more than hours, the shit there is practically always on my mind. It's a veil over my head and I'm distracted by it all the time. Entire 8 or 10 hour work days go by without me having the mental where-with-all to call home. (Not the literal, physical "home" we live in [no one is there during the work day], but the day care or the cell phone that katy carries around when she takes my "home/heart" out into the world.)
Katy is holding down the fort of sanity right now. Trouble is, she is physically compromised due to the fig-sized fetus that we planted inside of her several weeks ago. We have been trying to keep it a little mum, but now that Mackenzie knows about it, the cat is pretty much out of the bag. Always in the form of a question, she knows all and tells the world as much:
Mac 7 weeks ago: "Why are you toasting? Why are you saying congratulations to katy? Why? what's going on?"
Mac 4 weeks ago: "Where is Katy? Why is katy home? Why is katy sleeping? Why does Katy's belly hurt her?"
Mac 1 week ago: "You have a baby in there?" "You're having a baby?" "The baby makes you sick?" "You are having a baby grow in your belly?" "Katy has a baby?" "What's the baby's name?"
We will hopefully hear the baby's heartbeat on Tuesday. And then we will welcome the unadulterated sigh of celebratory planning.
As eluded to above, Katy has been feeling craptastic. Puking, dry heaves, queasy and everything like that. She is falling asleep on the couch at about 7 or 8pm daily. Then she wakes up, and heads to bed between 9 and 10pm beckoning me to accompany her.
Aside from being puky, she is physically warm- a veritable incubator. When i crawl into bed next to her, the temperature is shocking. It is so unusual for her to be throwing this much heat, that I sometimes imagine a hatted, southpaw fetus, spitting fluid and getting ready for the big show.
Today, after a wicked work week capped off by a very fun but kind of crazed-paced Saturday, it rained. It rained the kind of cold rain that should be snow. The kind of cold rain you expect in February. Rain that is 2 or 3 degrees too warm to ice over busy highways. Two years ago, rain like that on a Sunday would have put my wife and me under covers watching movies in bed all day.
Today we had the 1.5 year old to entertain. We putzed and played and grew a tiny bit bored and at some point threw our swimsuits on under our sweats and headed out to the pool. That's right, we belong to a pool. I know what you're thinking, "but we've never heard you speak of 'the pool' before???" When I was pregnant with JB (and even before that) we swam quite a bit- we went to the pool a few times a week to swim laps. And then the pregnancy progressed, and then the c-section, and then all the breastfeeding, and then the baby was too little, and then katy went back to work, and then I went back to work, and then all the ear infections, and don't forget about the laziness... you get the picture.
For some people this is a no brainer - "Quit the pool!!! JUST STOP SENDING YOUR 40 BUCKS EVERY MONTH!!!" But for us this gets all wrapped up in why we're not more active, and not wanting to give up on fitness and being "ready" to work out if the opportunity presents itself. It's hard to stop spending money on the gamble that you might wake up one day and want to suddenly be a better, healthier person.
So we take JB for the first time to the pool that there is no way for him to know he is a member of. It's not the first time he's been in water or a pool, but there is a unique feature of our pool. The kiddie-pool shallow part is a ramp. You walk into it like you are walking into the ocean. Allow me to explain with a visual image that is not really drawn to scale:
The Dark Blue is the regular, larger part of one of the pools (it is longer and wider than it appears here). That pool is 4 to 7 feet deep and the red lines indicate swim lanes. The Yellow is the beginning of the ramp and has water only barely covering your toes. The Green part is 5-7 feet of water that is less than a foot deep, and the Aqua area gradually goes to 2-ish feet as you round the corner and head into the bigger pool. The point of all of this is that JB gets to walk into and around in water that is waist and chest high and doesn't have to be carried all around to explore pool/swimming options.
He started hesitant, but quickly grew to enjoy himself. At first, he wouldn't walk into the water but wanted to be carried. After he realized that he could safely navigate the shallow water, he wanted to explore. Several times he walked right into water that was higher than his mouth or fell completely into water that was a foot deep. We were right there to buoy him up and he came out of the drink every time coughing and sputtering a little, but also laughing.
Watching him in this environment might have been my favorite hour of parenting so far. It was relaxing and simplistic; exciting and mellow. It doesn't hurt that I like the water so much myself. Just being in shallow water with my wife and son made me so happy. For a split second, I wished we had the camera to take photos or video, but I quickly tossed that notion aside. "Be.here.now." I told myself. There was no way to really document these feelings anyway.
JB was beside himself with what can only be described as excited joy. When he ventured out a little bit alone with me, I would point out katy to him. From a distance, he would flail about ecstatic when he caught a glimpse of her. When she had him and his eyes re-located me, he would excitedly slap his chest like a gorilla. But mostly we were all three together. We passed him back and forth, log-tossed him a little. Put him on a kick-board, let him hang on to our floating toes... He put his face in the water, tried to imitate me blowing bubbles, he got on his belly to "swim", he got on his back and "kicked", he held onto my neck and rode on my back as I took him into the bigger pool. By the end, he was walking in an out pretty independently. Then, he was jumping from a seated position and then standing position into my arms off the side of the pool. I couldn't have been prouder if he suddenly counted to 100. It was nothing but fun. And I guess if we needed to quantify it, totally worth the year and 1/2 of membership dues that we obligingly paid despite not using the facilities.
Work is a
At the beginning, I was even in good spirits about it - it's been like a slow code and I do miss the old days of hanging blood, cracking ribs, and pushing epinephrine. But now, my brain is turning to mush and my psyche is pretty badly dinged up. I keep my wits about me, literally. Keeping my team laughing is probably my central purpose at this point, but every day brings another detail that is essentially no laughing matter. If you had told me a few months ago what would be going on right now, I would have laughed, slapped your ass, and told you to shove off. Needless to say, I have needed to put a lot more time and energy into work. But more than hours, the shit there is practically always on my mind. It's a veil over my head and I'm distracted by it all the time. Entire 8 or 10 hour work days go by without me having the mental where-with-all to call home. (Not the literal, physical "home" we live in [no one is there during the work day], but the day care or the cell phone that katy carries around when she takes my "home/heart" out into the world.)
Katy is holding down the fort of sanity right now. Trouble is, she is physically compromised due to the fig-sized fetus that we planted inside of her several weeks ago. We have been trying to keep it a little mum, but now that Mackenzie knows about it, the cat is pretty much out of the bag. Always in the form of a question, she knows all and tells the world as much:
Mac 7 weeks ago: "Why are you toasting? Why are you saying congratulations to katy? Why? what's going on?"
Mac 4 weeks ago: "Where is Katy? Why is katy home? Why is katy sleeping? Why does Katy's belly hurt her?"
Mac 1 week ago: "You have a baby in there?" "You're having a baby?" "The baby makes you sick?" "You are having a baby grow in your belly?" "Katy has a baby?" "What's the baby's name?"
We will hopefully hear the baby's heartbeat on Tuesday. And then we will welcome the unadulterated sigh of celebratory planning.
As eluded to above, Katy has been feeling craptastic. Puking, dry heaves, queasy and everything like that. She is falling asleep on the couch at about 7 or 8pm daily. Then she wakes up, and heads to bed between 9 and 10pm beckoning me to accompany her.
Aside from being puky, she is physically warm- a veritable incubator. When i crawl into bed next to her, the temperature is shocking. It is so unusual for her to be throwing this much heat, that I sometimes imagine a hatted, southpaw fetus, spitting fluid and getting ready for the big show.
Today, after a wicked work week capped off by a very fun but kind of crazed-paced Saturday, it rained. It rained the kind of cold rain that should be snow. The kind of cold rain you expect in February. Rain that is 2 or 3 degrees too warm to ice over busy highways. Two years ago, rain like that on a Sunday would have put my wife and me under covers watching movies in bed all day.
Today we had the 1.5 year old to entertain. We putzed and played and grew a tiny bit bored and at some point threw our swimsuits on under our sweats and headed out to the pool. That's right, we belong to a pool. I know what you're thinking, "but we've never heard you speak of 'the pool' before???" When I was pregnant with JB (and even before that) we swam quite a bit- we went to the pool a few times a week to swim laps. And then the pregnancy progressed, and then the c-section, and then all the breastfeeding, and then the baby was too little, and then katy went back to work, and then I went back to work, and then all the ear infections, and don't forget about the laziness... you get the picture.
For some people this is a no brainer - "Quit the pool!!! JUST STOP SENDING YOUR 40 BUCKS EVERY MONTH!!!" But for us this gets all wrapped up in why we're not more active, and not wanting to give up on fitness and being "ready" to work out if the opportunity presents itself. It's hard to stop spending money on the gamble that you might wake up one day and want to suddenly be a better, healthier person.
So we take JB for the first time to the pool that there is no way for him to know he is a member of. It's not the first time he's been in water or a pool, but there is a unique feature of our pool. The kiddie-pool shallow part is a ramp. You walk into it like you are walking into the ocean. Allow me to explain with a visual image that is not really drawn to scale:
The Dark Blue is the regular, larger part of one of the pools (it is longer and wider than it appears here). That pool is 4 to 7 feet deep and the red lines indicate swim lanes. The Yellow is the beginning of the ramp and has water only barely covering your toes. The Green part is 5-7 feet of water that is less than a foot deep, and the Aqua area gradually goes to 2-ish feet as you round the corner and head into the bigger pool. The point of all of this is that JB gets to walk into and around in water that is waist and chest high and doesn't have to be carried all around to explore pool/swimming options.
He started hesitant, but quickly grew to enjoy himself. At first, he wouldn't walk into the water but wanted to be carried. After he realized that he could safely navigate the shallow water, he wanted to explore. Several times he walked right into water that was higher than his mouth or fell completely into water that was a foot deep. We were right there to buoy him up and he came out of the drink every time coughing and sputtering a little, but also laughing.
Watching him in this environment might have been my favorite hour of parenting so far. It was relaxing and simplistic; exciting and mellow. It doesn't hurt that I like the water so much myself. Just being in shallow water with my wife and son made me so happy. For a split second, I wished we had the camera to take photos or video, but I quickly tossed that notion aside. "Be.here.now." I told myself. There was no way to really document these feelings anyway.
JB was beside himself with what can only be described as excited joy. When he ventured out a little bit alone with me, I would point out katy to him. From a distance, he would flail about ecstatic when he caught a glimpse of her. When she had him and his eyes re-located me, he would excitedly slap his chest like a gorilla. But mostly we were all three together. We passed him back and forth, log-tossed him a little. Put him on a kick-board, let him hang on to our floating toes... He put his face in the water, tried to imitate me blowing bubbles, he got on his belly to "swim", he got on his back and "kicked", he held onto my neck and rode on my back as I took him into the bigger pool. By the end, he was walking in an out pretty independently. Then, he was jumping from a seated position and then standing position into my arms off the side of the pool. I couldn't have been prouder if he suddenly counted to 100. It was nothing but fun. And I guess if we needed to quantify it, totally worth the year and 1/2 of membership dues that we obligingly paid despite not using the facilities.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Healthy living
I'm up way too late.
The house ain't clean, straightened, or ready for what the next 8 days is about to bring upon us.
I spent about an hour talking to my ICU comrade/best bud/roommate. She got some crazy-assed news at the cardiologist today. Life is strange. When did we get old enough to face all this "reality" K's mom in Chemo, L's FIL gravely ill, Adam learning how to scratch his nose again...
I am seriously in love with Facebook b/c even though it is ridiculous and a total time suck, if it didn't' exist there are about 25 people who I would have had zero contact with in the last 30 days that I have had important, meaningful exchanges with and/or have been privy to significant details in their lives that they likely would have not called or emailed to update me on.
Modern day conundrum: I don't want to be the type of mom and wife who is a slave to the computer and social technology, but I don't also want to be the type of friend that is totally out of the loop when major shit is slapping into the fan.
There was a story on the news tonight about a 14 year old girl who sent 14,000 text messages in a month. She's a self-reported "texting addict. " I saw this story from the treadmill where i spent over an hour tonight. Occasionally I watch "the biggest loser" while eating ice cream. But this week I drank water and wondered if I could handle a bunch of sprints like they do.
I've put 8 miles on our treadmill so far this week; which is more than any other week since we've owned the monster. The worst part about exercising for me is the time spent away from my lady and my baby. Lame as it might sound to a more "driven" individual, I'd rather be on the couch next to her than just about anywhere else in the world. I always walk away (or limp away) feeling better about myself and I am always a much more productive member of the family after a little (or a long) workout. But in this crazy-busy life wrought with hardship and illness and problems, it does seem like a self-indulgent use of time.
Did i tell you we're going to the inauguration?
Well there will definitely be more on that later...
The house ain't clean, straightened, or ready for what the next 8 days is about to bring upon us.
I spent about an hour talking to my ICU comrade/best bud/roommate. She got some crazy-assed news at the cardiologist today. Life is strange. When did we get old enough to face all this "reality" K's mom in Chemo, L's FIL gravely ill, Adam learning how to scratch his nose again...
I am seriously in love with Facebook b/c even though it is ridiculous and a total time suck, if it didn't' exist there are about 25 people who I would have had zero contact with in the last 30 days that I have had important, meaningful exchanges with and/or have been privy to significant details in their lives that they likely would have not called or emailed to update me on.
Modern day conundrum: I don't want to be the type of mom and wife who is a slave to the computer and social technology, but I don't also want to be the type of friend that is totally out of the loop when major shit is slapping into the fan.
There was a story on the news tonight about a 14 year old girl who sent 14,000 text messages in a month. She's a self-reported "texting addict. " I saw this story from the treadmill where i spent over an hour tonight. Occasionally I watch "the biggest loser" while eating ice cream. But this week I drank water and wondered if I could handle a bunch of sprints like they do.
I've put 8 miles on our treadmill so far this week; which is more than any other week since we've owned the monster. The worst part about exercising for me is the time spent away from my lady and my baby. Lame as it might sound to a more "driven" individual, I'd rather be on the couch next to her than just about anywhere else in the world. I always walk away (or limp away) feeling better about myself and I am always a much more productive member of the family after a little (or a long) workout. But in this crazy-busy life wrought with hardship and illness and problems, it does seem like a self-indulgent use of time.
Did i tell you we're going to the inauguration?
Well there will definitely be more on that later...
Monday, January 05, 2009
New Year's Resolution check-in
1) Brush JB's teeth everyday (1 for 5)
2) Work out more (3 for 5)
3) Eat dinner at the table and not in front of TV more (I think we are 5 for 5 on this one)
4) Do more "getting ready for morning" at night (2 for 2)
5) Drink more water (neither of us are doing very well on this one)
2) Work out more (3 for 5)
3) Eat dinner at the table and not in front of TV more (I think we are 5 for 5 on this one)
4) Do more "getting ready for morning" at night (2 for 2)
5) Drink more water (neither of us are doing very well on this one)
Friday, July 11, 2008
Where do you find the time?
We watched a DVR'd episode of wipeout yesterday.
I know 99.99% of you have not seen this show, but when I set the DVR I just felt like, "I have got to see this insanity at least once." It is on A.B.C. and is followed by a show called, "I survived a Japanese game show."
Summer tv is a freaking horror show.
I didn't expect wipeout to be anything other than what it was. (Honestly, though, I wasn't expecting the 30,000 times an announcer found a way to work the word "balls" into the commentary.)
So even though, I couldn't look away from the travesty, that's about 33 minutes of my life (ff'ing through commercials and other lame parts) that I'll never get back...
So what. After watching that show, my brain is mushier, my body is flabbier. But it reminds me of one of the reasons I blog. Namely, because I have the time.
My parents are 2 of the people that (though they have always encouraged me to write more) whenever the blog is mentioned say, "I don't know where you find the time..." It's ironic coming from my mother who last week alone, made several homemade bibs out of hand towels, while caring for 2-3 infants and toddlers around the clock.
Then there's my dad who will spend 45 minutes picking dandelion fuzz off the blades of grass on a certain section of his lawn; even after I've driven an adorable grand-baby 30 minutes to see him. Also, he's been known to play the fife for 7 to 22 hours on any given week in the summer. But he's baffled by my ability to find 20 to 60 minutes every few days to write about myself (or about them.)
To be fair, my parents haven't said this in a while, but a lot of people who spend a little time at the GSO are apt to remark: "I don't know where you find the time..."
I'm gonna say this: it doesn't take that much time.
I blog AND I still have time to watch an occasional episode of wipeout. That's just how I roll.
I have friends that do all kinds of things I don't do: exercise, clean house, apply makeup, blow-dry their hair...
I myself have list of items that go un-checked-off:
Returning the phone calls of people i care about and haven't seen, writing thank you notes for gifts given several months ago, getting my car to pass emissions, returning baby clothes that don't fit, laundering piles of underwear stored on the bedroom floor, dusting the treadmill that never gets used, etc.
My sister and i have a pet peeve about people who say, "I'm sorry I didn't XXX, I have just been so busy." I hate this statement b/c frankly it feels like pressure to be more wound up; an invitation into some kind of nauseating contest called, "I'm busier than you..." I think Web hates it because it would be a joke for someone to try to compete with her in this insane contest. She's been known to fly over 10,000 miles a week for work, put in the hours of a DA prosecuting OJ Simpson, host a pampered chef party, take my mother and grandmother out for pedicures, bake a batch of lollipop chocolate chip cookies for an ailing co-worker and still have the time to tease her older sister for showing up late to watch papa pick the dandelion fuzz off his lawn.
It's not that I am not busy. I assure you, we are as over-booked as the next group of lunatics. It is that no matter how "busy" someone is, there are always decisions involved about how an individual will use his/her time. Everyone gets the same number of hours in the day, right? Some people sleep more than others. Some people cope better than others. We all set our priorities, and the blog is a little gift I give myself; my way to produce media and not merely consume some trash that someone else produces. (wipeout.)
This guy, Clay Shirky plucks all the right notes in this tune if you ask me. (hat tip, Adam)
I know 99.99% of you have not seen this show, but when I set the DVR I just felt like, "I have got to see this insanity at least once." It is on A.B.C. and is followed by a show called, "I survived a Japanese game show."
Summer tv is a freaking horror show.
I didn't expect wipeout to be anything other than what it was. (Honestly, though, I wasn't expecting the 30,000 times an announcer found a way to work the word "balls" into the commentary.)
So even though, I couldn't look away from the travesty, that's about 33 minutes of my life (ff'ing through commercials and other lame parts) that I'll never get back...
So what. After watching that show, my brain is mushier, my body is flabbier. But it reminds me of one of the reasons I blog. Namely, because I have the time.
My parents are 2 of the people that (though they have always encouraged me to write more) whenever the blog is mentioned say, "I don't know where you find the time..." It's ironic coming from my mother who last week alone, made several homemade bibs out of hand towels, while caring for 2-3 infants and toddlers around the clock.
Then there's my dad who will spend 45 minutes picking dandelion fuzz off the blades of grass on a certain section of his lawn; even after I've driven an adorable grand-baby 30 minutes to see him. Also, he's been known to play the fife for 7 to 22 hours on any given week in the summer. But he's baffled by my ability to find 20 to 60 minutes every few days to write about myself (or about them.)
To be fair, my parents haven't said this in a while, but a lot of people who spend a little time at the GSO are apt to remark: "I don't know where you find the time..."
I'm gonna say this: it doesn't take that much time.
I blog AND I still have time to watch an occasional episode of wipeout. That's just how I roll.
I have friends that do all kinds of things I don't do: exercise, clean house, apply makeup, blow-dry their hair...
I myself have list of items that go un-checked-off:
Returning the phone calls of people i care about and haven't seen, writing thank you notes for gifts given several months ago, getting my car to pass emissions, returning baby clothes that don't fit, laundering piles of underwear stored on the bedroom floor, dusting the treadmill that never gets used, etc.
My sister and i have a pet peeve about people who say, "I'm sorry I didn't XXX, I have just been so busy." I hate this statement b/c frankly it feels like pressure to be more wound up; an invitation into some kind of nauseating contest called, "I'm busier than you..." I think Web hates it because it would be a joke for someone to try to compete with her in this insane contest. She's been known to fly over 10,000 miles a week for work, put in the hours of a DA prosecuting OJ Simpson, host a pampered chef party, take my mother and grandmother out for pedicures, bake a batch of lollipop chocolate chip cookies for an ailing co-worker and still have the time to tease her older sister for showing up late to watch papa pick the dandelion fuzz off his lawn.
It's not that I am not busy. I assure you, we are as over-booked as the next group of lunatics. It is that no matter how "busy" someone is, there are always decisions involved about how an individual will use his/her time. Everyone gets the same number of hours in the day, right? Some people sleep more than others. Some people cope better than others. We all set our priorities, and the blog is a little gift I give myself; my way to produce media and not merely consume some trash that someone else produces. (wipeout.)
This guy, Clay Shirky plucks all the right notes in this tune if you ask me. (hat tip, Adam)
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Things are looking up in the gayborhood
Katy nearly made me crap my pants by screaming:
"OHHHH MY GOD...
OHMYGOD...HE'S...HE'S..."
Let me set the stage: I'm blogging in a procrastinatory effort to avoid leaving for work. JB is in the crib a room away, zoning out for his substitute "commute nap" (he normally falls asleep for the 1/2 hr ride on his way to school, but when he stays home or it is a non-school day, we still call it a 'commute nap'.) Katy is also a room away when the panicked shouting begins...
My heart stops and then starts pounding fast. I jump up to see what the WHAT is... for some reason, I've heard her say "HE IS ON THE ROOF!" I don't know who I think she might be referring to, but I don't want anyone on the roof at all right now...
"WHAT IS IT..." i shout, running towards her...
She is looking out the window of our guest room out the street: "HE'S RUNNING. HE'S RUNNING OUTSIDE." At this point, I pray to god she doesn't mean the baby or some stranger that has taken the baby...
"WHO IS RUNNING?!?"
"THE NEIGHBOR! HE'S RUNNING. OUTSIDE. FOR EXERCISE!!!"
Once I understand this is unrelated to our child- which took a few respiratory cycles of time,
I accept all the shouting as appropriate and WNL. For 3 years we never saw our neighbor move at all around the outdoors without a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He is slender and active: he's the dude with the fairytale-like lawn and yard, but he is a big time smoker and by "active" i mean push a mower with a butt in your mouth. A few months back, he had a heart attack and was hospitalized for a week. He didn't feel good on the cardiac and cholesterol meds and he made some "changes". They told us that between the 2 of them, our neighbors were spending $500 a month- wholesale, buying cigarettes online. This spring they both quit. Last month, when kt was jogging, he said, "I gotta get out there too."
We never thought we'd see the day, but this morning, the day arrived. In all the excitement, I think i need a stress test now.
"OHHHH MY GOD...
OHMYGOD...HE'S...HE'S..."
Let me set the stage: I'm blogging in a procrastinatory effort to avoid leaving for work. JB is in the crib a room away, zoning out for his substitute "commute nap" (he normally falls asleep for the 1/2 hr ride on his way to school, but when he stays home or it is a non-school day, we still call it a 'commute nap'.) Katy is also a room away when the panicked shouting begins...
My heart stops and then starts pounding fast. I jump up to see what the WHAT is... for some reason, I've heard her say "HE IS ON THE ROOF!" I don't know who I think she might be referring to, but I don't want anyone on the roof at all right now...
"WHAT IS IT..." i shout, running towards her...
She is looking out the window of our guest room out the street: "HE'S RUNNING. HE'S RUNNING OUTSIDE." At this point, I pray to god she doesn't mean the baby or some stranger that has taken the baby...
"WHO IS RUNNING?!?"
"THE NEIGHBOR! HE'S RUNNING. OUTSIDE. FOR EXERCISE!!!"
Once I understand this is unrelated to our child- which took a few respiratory cycles of time,
I accept all the shouting as appropriate and WNL. For 3 years we never saw our neighbor move at all around the outdoors without a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He is slender and active: he's the dude with the fairytale-like lawn and yard, but he is a big time smoker and by "active" i mean push a mower with a butt in your mouth. A few months back, he had a heart attack and was hospitalized for a week. He didn't feel good on the cardiac and cholesterol meds and he made some "changes". They told us that between the 2 of them, our neighbors were spending $500 a month- wholesale, buying cigarettes online. This spring they both quit. Last month, when kt was jogging, he said, "I gotta get out there too."
We never thought we'd see the day, but this morning, the day arrived. In all the excitement, I think i need a stress test now.
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