decaffeinated insanity
I have recently found myself in a series of situations that I was neither prepared for or ever expected in any way. The factor that weighs heaviest on my mind and heart is the one concerning Richie's health. We finally made the trip to San Antonio to meet with the pediatric gastroenterologist. It's been a few days since I meeting with the doctor. I can't make sense of the appointment enough to say anything much about it. Stemming from ignorance, it wasn't until after the appointment that I realized the severity of it all. I toss and turn in bed, drowning beneath the crashing waves of all the things I won't admit to in the daylight. Even when I talk to my family and best friend, I can't confront the reality that comes into focus with each passing day. I find myself forcing the muscles of my heart, as though if I contort myself enough the minutes will move faster. Knowing the answer means less to me than what the answer actually is, but both cause me a fair deal of stress.
deposit coin here
Richie has been to the doctor and back a few times already in the week and a half. Next appointment is Tuesday in San Antonio. What time, where, and with whom? This is information I should have, but I do not. I get to retrieve a piece of paper with all the aforementioned vitals on Monday morning. Yes, perhaps not even 24 hours before Richie's appointment. Although I am glad that Richie's pediatrician was able to get him in with a pediatric gastroenterologist so soon, it frustrates me that they scheduled the appointment without asking my input. What if I was not able to make the appointment on Tuesday? Come what may, I would have made it to that appointment, but I am surprised that I wasn't consulted. Especially seeing as how we have to drive to San Antonio.
I am very curious (and more than a little nervous) to meet with this specialist.
I am very curious (and more than a little nervous) to meet with this specialist.
just old light
Richie and I have been back in Texas for nearly a week. It was a nightmare getting home, but I'm over it. Not over it enough to share the experience. It's a new week with it's own set of problems.
Richie had his appointment with his pediatrician this morning. First thing, bright and early. 20 minutes after our scheduled time, he was taken in and stripped to be weighed and measured. Verdict? My kids got a big (BIG) head. Not freakishly big, but beyond the average silly looking toddler-sized head. Not a problem. No growth otherwise. I'm not surprised, just disappointed. Not in Richie, or myself, but if you are a mom you know the disappointment I'm talking about. In early morning hours, like now, I can sit here with my lap top and blame myself for lacking the ability to alter Richie's piece of universe to make him a normal, healthy toddler. Thankfully they didn't give me too much to dwell on numbers before the nurse shoved me into another room to wait for the pediatrician to show up.
This part of my day is called waiting.
I thought Richie was going to bounce off a wall and through the window of the tiny room we were confined to. Just as I braced myself for lift-off, in walked Dr. Never-on-time. He entered the room with Richie's chart in hand and open, reading it. Before he even sat down he started asking me questions about Richie's delivery and premature birth. When he is done asking his questions, we discuss Richie's size. He's been teasing us, like he might stay in the fifth percentile, but now he's back in the third. I have always thought that there is a connection between his GI problems, yet undiagnosed, and his compact packaging. I brought up this concern to the pediatrician and got Richie a referral to a pediatric gastroenterologist. I won't be satisfied until there is an answer, and treatment, if necessary. I'm hopeful but guarded.
The day got off to a strange and uncomfortable beginning since Richie's appointment was so early. By the time I finished Rocky Balboa tonight, I was ready to get in bed. I always check in on Richie. Consequently, after dragging my feet up the stairs, I opened the baby gate and walked in to sneak a peek of my sleeping angel. I stepped lightly over some closet organizing accessories that I had left on the floor, to get to Richie's crib. I can't see him, so I assume he cuddled up in a different corner of the crib than usual. Nope.
The baby is not in the crib.
Richie is sprawled on the floor on his back. Just sleeping soundly, on the floor. This is strange considering that I laid him to sleep in his crib. Somehow my little climber got out. The list for tomorrow starts already with (1) checking Richie for bumps, bruises and the kind, and (2) calling Babies R Us to order the Wendy Bellissimo toddler bed guard rail for Richie's toddler bed. It will take 3 to 4 months for the special order item to actually arrive, so until then I will be duct taping my child to his crib mattress. It's a good thing I always close the baby gate at Richie's bedroom doorway since his room is at the top of the stairs. Oh my gosh, I can't even think of if I hadn't. Thankfully he was somewhat safe...ish. I had the baby monitor on and didn't hear a peep out of him, nor a thud. Therefore, I conclude that he didn't actually hit the floor but scaled the walls to bring himself soundly to the floor. Then, being worn out, sprawled out on his back and took to dreaming. I may also be making a journey to the emergency room tomorrow morning if I notice any bruising, swelling, or other injuries. But, I'm sure he's fine. Like I said, my little monkey must have scaled the walls to a soft landing on the floor. I'm going to lay in bed and repeat that for a while.
Richie had his appointment with his pediatrician this morning. First thing, bright and early. 20 minutes after our scheduled time, he was taken in and stripped to be weighed and measured. Verdict? My kids got a big (BIG) head. Not freakishly big, but beyond the average silly looking toddler-sized head. Not a problem. No growth otherwise. I'm not surprised, just disappointed. Not in Richie, or myself, but if you are a mom you know the disappointment I'm talking about. In early morning hours, like now, I can sit here with my lap top and blame myself for lacking the ability to alter Richie's piece of universe to make him a normal, healthy toddler. Thankfully they didn't give me too much to dwell on numbers before the nurse shoved me into another room to wait for the pediatrician to show up.
This part of my day is called waiting.
I thought Richie was going to bounce off a wall and through the window of the tiny room we were confined to. Just as I braced myself for lift-off, in walked Dr. Never-on-time. He entered the room with Richie's chart in hand and open, reading it. Before he even sat down he started asking me questions about Richie's delivery and premature birth. When he is done asking his questions, we discuss Richie's size. He's been teasing us, like he might stay in the fifth percentile, but now he's back in the third. I have always thought that there is a connection between his GI problems, yet undiagnosed, and his compact packaging. I brought up this concern to the pediatrician and got Richie a referral to a pediatric gastroenterologist. I won't be satisfied until there is an answer, and treatment, if necessary. I'm hopeful but guarded.
The day got off to a strange and uncomfortable beginning since Richie's appointment was so early. By the time I finished Rocky Balboa tonight, I was ready to get in bed. I always check in on Richie. Consequently, after dragging my feet up the stairs, I opened the baby gate and walked in to sneak a peek of my sleeping angel. I stepped lightly over some closet organizing accessories that I had left on the floor, to get to Richie's crib. I can't see him, so I assume he cuddled up in a different corner of the crib than usual. Nope.
The baby is not in the crib.
Richie is sprawled on the floor on his back. Just sleeping soundly, on the floor. This is strange considering that I laid him to sleep in his crib. Somehow my little climber got out. The list for tomorrow starts already with (1) checking Richie for bumps, bruises and the kind, and (2) calling Babies R Us to order the Wendy Bellissimo toddler bed guard rail for Richie's toddler bed. It will take 3 to 4 months for the special order item to actually arrive, so until then I will be duct taping my child to his crib mattress. It's a good thing I always close the baby gate at Richie's bedroom doorway since his room is at the top of the stairs. Oh my gosh, I can't even think of if I hadn't. Thankfully he was somewhat safe...ish. I had the baby monitor on and didn't hear a peep out of him, nor a thud. Therefore, I conclude that he didn't actually hit the floor but scaled the walls to bring himself soundly to the floor. Then, being worn out, sprawled out on his back and took to dreaming. I may also be making a journey to the emergency room tomorrow morning if I notice any bruising, swelling, or other injuries. But, I'm sure he's fine. Like I said, my little monkey must have scaled the walls to a soft landing on the floor. I'm going to lay in bed and repeat that for a while.
beach bound - almost
I woke up this morning so excited! Why? Well, Jennie and I were supposed to be taking the kids to the beach. I got out of bed and could hardly keep myself from waking up Richie. I waited for him to wake up on his own. Then I rushed like a mad person to get him dressed and the diaper bag packed so I would be ready by the time Jennie and I set, 10:00. I was calling Jennie all morning with no answer. I figured she was trying to get her and Alaina ready. She finally picked up at 10 minutes to 10. She sounded like sand paper. You know, the painful and scratchy sound two pieces of sand paper make when you rub them together. Yeah, that is the sound that came through the phone masquerading as Jennie's voice.
Jennie has gotten sick from Amara now too. First Richie got sick, then Alaina, and now Jennie. I refuse to get sick! In order to secure my immunity, I spent all day with Jennie. And we ate ice cream from Cold Stone. It's good for what ails ya! I wish we could have gone to the beach but I would have hated for Jennie to have a horrible time. Alaina is still pretty sick too, and the beach is breezy on the warmest day.
I was hoping my dad would be able to get time off work tomorrow because I haven't really gotten to spend any time with him since I've been here. We were going to make a trip into San Francisco. However, it's looking like he will only get half a day off, at the most. What a way to end my vacation!
I am looking forward to being home. It's comfortable, familiar, and affordable. California is so gosh darn expensive it's hard to comprehend moving back. Texas is a nice place to settle down and raise a family. I don't need the hustle, the bustle or the smog. It is nice having places to shop besides your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart, but nothing beats a breath of fresh air. And reasonable gas prices. There are so many reasons to stay far from this evil money devouring pit. And so many things that keep bringing me back.
Jennie has gotten sick from Amara now too. First Richie got sick, then Alaina, and now Jennie. I refuse to get sick! In order to secure my immunity, I spent all day with Jennie. And we ate ice cream from Cold Stone. It's good for what ails ya! I wish we could have gone to the beach but I would have hated for Jennie to have a horrible time. Alaina is still pretty sick too, and the beach is breezy on the warmest day.
I was hoping my dad would be able to get time off work tomorrow because I haven't really gotten to spend any time with him since I've been here. We were going to make a trip into San Francisco. However, it's looking like he will only get half a day off, at the most. What a way to end my vacation!
I am looking forward to being home. It's comfortable, familiar, and affordable. California is so gosh darn expensive it's hard to comprehend moving back. Texas is a nice place to settle down and raise a family. I don't need the hustle, the bustle or the smog. It is nice having places to shop besides your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart, but nothing beats a breath of fresh air. And reasonable gas prices. There are so many reasons to stay far from this evil money devouring pit. And so many things that keep bringing me back.
turn down upside
Yesterday was the barbecue with my grandmother and other family members. I had told my grandma on Saturday that we would show up Sunday at about 12:30. After a heart attack at the first church service, attending the second service, and a couple hours for portraits of Richie and my little sister Ryann, we finally made at 4:00 p.m. Everyone was already there. I couldn't even get in the door to greet everyone before I was hit with a crowd of hugs and strange hands reach out to touch Richie. Richie was really good about being passed around.
I can't, honestly, say that it wasn't strange seeing all my family members like that. What they lack in normalcy they make up for generously with dysfunction. Since my papa passed away, we've been stuck. The whole lot of us, stuck. I didn't realize his extraordinary staying power until we all fell apart without him. When he got cancer, we two steps behind but protected him all the same. Before the cancer could kill him, we submerged him in love. He couldn't take a full breath, but he breathed love onto all of us. I think he would cry if he saw the ash we are. I am. I am ash. Every time I hum my favorite song, photograph a moment, share a bit of time with the ones I love, I wonder what stories they'll tell at my funeral. Will anyone remember my favorite song? Will I die before my dad? Will I bury my son? Will he bury me? With a disturbing detachment, I associate everything with death. How long can tragedy attack this family before we all fall victim to perpetual funeral planning?
All these thoughts were running through my mind as I visited with my family. Since we can't function without him, we are always telling stories about him or talking about what he would do if he were still here. We all kept so much of him alive, and maybe that makes it harder to move on. It's like he is still with us everyday. I look at my grandma, now great grandmother to my son, and wonder how burying two lovers could leave her with a life worth waking up to. I see the mark of misfortune on each of us, and I wonder why do any of us get out of bed in the morning.
Then I look at my son and I remember what a blessing life is.
I can't, honestly, say that it wasn't strange seeing all my family members like that. What they lack in normalcy they make up for generously with dysfunction. Since my papa passed away, we've been stuck. The whole lot of us, stuck. I didn't realize his extraordinary staying power until we all fell apart without him. When he got cancer, we two steps behind but protected him all the same. Before the cancer could kill him, we submerged him in love. He couldn't take a full breath, but he breathed love onto all of us. I think he would cry if he saw the ash we are. I am. I am ash. Every time I hum my favorite song, photograph a moment, share a bit of time with the ones I love, I wonder what stories they'll tell at my funeral. Will anyone remember my favorite song? Will I die before my dad? Will I bury my son? Will he bury me? With a disturbing detachment, I associate everything with death. How long can tragedy attack this family before we all fall victim to perpetual funeral planning?
All these thoughts were running through my mind as I visited with my family. Since we can't function without him, we are always telling stories about him or talking about what he would do if he were still here. We all kept so much of him alive, and maybe that makes it harder to move on. It's like he is still with us everyday. I look at my grandma, now great grandmother to my son, and wonder how burying two lovers could leave her with a life worth waking up to. I see the mark of misfortune on each of us, and I wonder why do any of us get out of bed in the morning.
Then I look at my son and I remember what a blessing life is.
moving on
I just got home from Jennie's new house. It is so nice. They've got four bedrooms (all on the second floor) and three bathrooms. They've also got a massive garage, a great kitchen, living room, and patio! It's perfect for their growing family. Jennie's little sister Stephanie is moving in with them soon. Should be interesting. I wish them all the best in their newest endeavor.
I had stopped by Jennie's after a visit with my Aunt Jen, Aunt Julie, Uncle Chuck, and cousins Maddie and Landon. We went to this horrid little Chinese buffet. I brought food for Richie, which he threw up quite hastily and continuously. I ate nothing. Not until I ordered pizza at Jennie's house (which I ate a disgusting amount of, for shame!). It was nice, however, to see those members of my family. My cousin Landon is four months older than Richie and he is growing into such a cute little man! Maddie is four years old now and loves playing dolls with Ryann. Ryann is finally getting to the age where she likes playing with children in Richie's age group and Maddie's.
Richie is at such an odd age right now. Sometimes he wants to play, sometimes he wants to be left alone. Tonight he did everything he could while at Jennie's house to destroy himself, as well as the house. He was going face forward off the couch like he thinks he's bigger than he is. He dumped a full mug of Sprite down the front of himself and onto the table and floor, trying to get a drink. He threw up on Jennie's floor. He nearly broke his nose by smashing his face on the floor after wrapping himself in a blanket and doing a royal stroll around the house. Up until that point I had been happy for Jennie's hard wood floors to protect the non-existent carpet from my messy child. Then he slammed his face on it. The way he hit putt quite the red crease in his noise. I coddled him, of course, and he got over it. I didn't, but I will.
Tomorrow we are having a barbecue at my grandma's house and I can't wait to see what injuries he can inflict on himself in a new setting with new weapons.
Oh god. Please, no. I take it back.
Did I just curse myself? We'll find out tomorrow.
I had stopped by Jennie's after a visit with my Aunt Jen, Aunt Julie, Uncle Chuck, and cousins Maddie and Landon. We went to this horrid little Chinese buffet. I brought food for Richie, which he threw up quite hastily and continuously. I ate nothing. Not until I ordered pizza at Jennie's house (which I ate a disgusting amount of, for shame!). It was nice, however, to see those members of my family. My cousin Landon is four months older than Richie and he is growing into such a cute little man! Maddie is four years old now and loves playing dolls with Ryann. Ryann is finally getting to the age where she likes playing with children in Richie's age group and Maddie's.
Richie is at such an odd age right now. Sometimes he wants to play, sometimes he wants to be left alone. Tonight he did everything he could while at Jennie's house to destroy himself, as well as the house. He was going face forward off the couch like he thinks he's bigger than he is. He dumped a full mug of Sprite down the front of himself and onto the table and floor, trying to get a drink. He threw up on Jennie's floor. He nearly broke his nose by smashing his face on the floor after wrapping himself in a blanket and doing a royal stroll around the house. Up until that point I had been happy for Jennie's hard wood floors to protect the non-existent carpet from my messy child. Then he slammed his face on it. The way he hit putt quite the red crease in his noise. I coddled him, of course, and he got over it. I didn't, but I will.
Tomorrow we are having a barbecue at my grandma's house and I can't wait to see what injuries he can inflict on himself in a new setting with new weapons.
Oh god. Please, no. I take it back.
Did I just curse myself? We'll find out tomorrow.
disconnect
I got up this morning to talk to my mom after she left the ER. Yesterday she was in a car accident and had some subsequent back problems. While I was on the phone with her I received a beep from my call-waiting. Every time I see "Unknown ID" on my caller ID, I always think of Nathan. I don't ever expect it to be him, and generally it is a telemarketer. As the phone beeped again, I asked my mom to hold for a moment.
"Hello?"
"Hi.
pause
Brittany, it's Nathan."
Usually hearing his voice sends my heart into a twitterpated frenzy. In moments, I find hope where a starving man couldn't find a crumb. I can't imagine what it would be like to be stranded on an overgrown island with oceans, land between you and everything you ever cared about or ever could. This time, all I heard was the voice of a weak man searching for a connection.
The conversation that followed was surreal. He called to check in on Richie's health and apologize for his part in the negativity we created. I avoided saying "it's ok". I don't want to assume anything about Nathan. I know by tomorrow (when he said he would call again) everything he said today could be completely changed. I believe everything he said was true, but that is my own downfall.
"Hello?"
"Hi.
pause
Brittany, it's Nathan."
Usually hearing his voice sends my heart into a twitterpated frenzy. In moments, I find hope where a starving man couldn't find a crumb. I can't imagine what it would be like to be stranded on an overgrown island with oceans, land between you and everything you ever cared about or ever could. This time, all I heard was the voice of a weak man searching for a connection.
The conversation that followed was surreal. He called to check in on Richie's health and apologize for his part in the negativity we created. I avoided saying "it's ok". I don't want to assume anything about Nathan. I know by tomorrow (when he said he would call again) everything he said today could be completely changed. I believe everything he said was true, but that is my own downfall.
mac book pro-blogging; it even smells better!
Today was one of those days. One of those days when all the evil in the world works against you. One of those days when you want to smash your own skull in with a hammer. One of the days when hearing "I love you" makes the whole awful day tolerable enough to blog about, and maybe even wonderful.
I can't even hash over the negative stuff. Like my dad (as my mother would sigh, frustrated) I am easy like Sunday morning. The only time I take the energy to stress is when it comes to be son. Period. Just the other day, I was riding in the car with Jennie and telling her about the recent happenings of my interesting little life. We're like peas and carrots; complimentary, and not necessarily opposites, but very different. She handles her business - and it can be a scary thing to watch. You do not want to be on the wrong end of her anger. She's the nicest person you could want to know, until you do something stupid. Stupidity is a no-no is her book. Me, I let it all slide. I wish I could be more like Jennie. I would have a lot less heart ache and a dramatic decrease in head aches. But, I still just let it all slide. I can't (and yes, I mean can't) get worked up over damn near anything. I just can't care. I'm one of those easy going people you hate. It hasn't always been like this, but especially since I became a mom, I just don't care about anything that doesn't have to do with Richie. Now, I hope to one day be as laid back as my dad (not quite there yet) but for now I'll just let it slide.
I did nothing and saw no one today. I did talk to my brother on the phone. We are going to try to get together before I leave in less-than-six days. This trip has just vanished! Tomorrow I am going to try to see my Aunt Jen and help Jennie move into her house. It's my only opportunity to see my Aunt Jen and the only day Jennie is moving into her house. Yes, I am screaming profanities in my head right now. I was supposed to be seeing her on Sunday but plans changed and my dad just told me. Maybe I'll just stay in bed tomorrow.
I keep trying to focus on the good and/or humorous parts of my day but I guess I am pretty determined to stay stressed. Richie is sick again and today was not a good day for crayon (or dog food) eating, so I got nothing but a head ache that can't decided if it's coming or going.
I, however, am going.
I can't even hash over the negative stuff. Like my dad (as my mother would sigh, frustrated) I am easy like Sunday morning. The only time I take the energy to stress is when it comes to be son. Period. Just the other day, I was riding in the car with Jennie and telling her about the recent happenings of my interesting little life. We're like peas and carrots; complimentary, and not necessarily opposites, but very different. She handles her business - and it can be a scary thing to watch. You do not want to be on the wrong end of her anger. She's the nicest person you could want to know, until you do something stupid. Stupidity is a no-no is her book. Me, I let it all slide. I wish I could be more like Jennie. I would have a lot less heart ache and a dramatic decrease in head aches. But, I still just let it all slide. I can't (and yes, I mean can't) get worked up over damn near anything. I just can't care. I'm one of those easy going people you hate. It hasn't always been like this, but especially since I became a mom, I just don't care about anything that doesn't have to do with Richie. Now, I hope to one day be as laid back as my dad (not quite there yet) but for now I'll just let it slide.
I did nothing and saw no one today. I did talk to my brother on the phone. We are going to try to get together before I leave in less-than-six days. This trip has just vanished! Tomorrow I am going to try to see my Aunt Jen and help Jennie move into her house. It's my only opportunity to see my Aunt Jen and the only day Jennie is moving into her house. Yes, I am screaming profanities in my head right now. I was supposed to be seeing her on Sunday but plans changed and my dad just told me. Maybe I'll just stay in bed tomorrow.
I keep trying to focus on the good and/or humorous parts of my day but I guess I am pretty determined to stay stressed. Richie is sick again and today was not a good day for crayon (or dog food) eating, so I got nothing but a head ache that can't decided if it's coming or going.
I, however, am going.
we're still on the payroll
Last night I decided to hop online to send my mom some pictures before bed and discovered I had a message from Chrissy! I had told her of my brief return to the sunshine state and she remembered. So, she says we should get together. Seeing as how I have missed her and her little one (August), I harassed her into braving public transit to come hang out with me. And she accepted! She called this morning and will be here in about an hour! I am so excited to see her (and August!). Last time I saw her little August was in August, when she was born. She was so tiny and made meager little noises that were some excuse for crying (she was two weeks old, Richie was 8 months I knew real crying). She's seven months old now and has changed so much. For that fact, so has Richie. I wish I had more time to spend with her. Last time they stayed for a couple hours and the poor lot of them were so exhausted. I don't want to just stand in the kitchen staring at the microwave clock for an hour, as I am sure that would only cause time to slow to halt, and Richie is taking a nap before they come so I decided to blog about my already-interesting morning.
Yesterday I was spoiled by Richie sleeping in. This morning I was jarred awake at a quarter to seven by one persistent little screecher. Sometimes I wonder if he considers the lack of playmate I am at such early hours. Mostly though, I doubt he cares. The whole house was already stirring with my dad running late for work, Ryann eating breakfast before school and Rocky looking after Sugar while making sure Ryann kept to her schedule. I sat on the couch, put Richie down, and let the world spin it's craziness around me. I even contemplated hiding in the bathroom. It's quiet there and the door locks.
Everyone left and I got Richie and I dressed. I realized Chrissy and I hadn't outlined a real plan except to say that today was okay. I decided that 8:00 a.m. was too early to call her and whimper about her coming over now. Rocky returned from dropping Ryann off at school. Richie played in the kitchen and Rocky was getting ready to take Sugar for a walk. Rocky and I got to commiserating about "rap music," pop culture icons, and "little Richmond". While we agreed on the negative juvenile influences in California, Richie ever so sneakily began shoving his face with handfuls of puppy food. Venison and rice dog food didn't sit well with his refined palatte and he began gagging and spitting. We laughed as I scoop food pellets from his gritty mouth. I decided he could have some cookies to chase down the nasty taste of dog good. With mommy laughing at him, he hesistantly shoved cookie after cookie in his mouth and drank lots of water. Much diarrhea followed.
Nearly 10:00 and already Richie has made my day, well, rich!
Yesterday I was spoiled by Richie sleeping in. This morning I was jarred awake at a quarter to seven by one persistent little screecher. Sometimes I wonder if he considers the lack of playmate I am at such early hours. Mostly though, I doubt he cares. The whole house was already stirring with my dad running late for work, Ryann eating breakfast before school and Rocky looking after Sugar while making sure Ryann kept to her schedule. I sat on the couch, put Richie down, and let the world spin it's craziness around me. I even contemplated hiding in the bathroom. It's quiet there and the door locks.
Everyone left and I got Richie and I dressed. I realized Chrissy and I hadn't outlined a real plan except to say that today was okay. I decided that 8:00 a.m. was too early to call her and whimper about her coming over now. Rocky returned from dropping Ryann off at school. Richie played in the kitchen and Rocky was getting ready to take Sugar for a walk. Rocky and I got to commiserating about "rap music," pop culture icons, and "little Richmond". While we agreed on the negative juvenile influences in California, Richie ever so sneakily began shoving his face with handfuls of puppy food. Venison and rice dog food didn't sit well with his refined palatte and he began gagging and spitting. We laughed as I scoop food pellets from his gritty mouth. I decided he could have some cookies to chase down the nasty taste of dog good. With mommy laughing at him, he hesistantly shoved cookie after cookie in his mouth and drank lots of water. Much diarrhea followed.
Nearly 10:00 and already Richie has made my day, well, rich!
deflowered
Monday, Jennie made a dangerous drive in a dangerous storm just to come see me. After peeking at blue skies that morning I surprised when 10:00 rolled around bringing clouds and sheets of rain. Jennie loves me so much she packed her and Alaina into her little red Jetta and jetted along the freeway. She got a good start, too. That is, until her tire blew. Thank goodness for her nearby handy hubby. After sitting in the rain for a while she was on her way again.
We stopped at Babies R Us. I bought organic cheese crackers, a snack trap, and the newest of new Wendy Bellissimo diaper bags. I hardly new love before this diaper bag! Ever on the quest for more pockets, Wendy Bellissimo fulfills my desires! It's denim with gold stitching (a la Levis) and has a studded star on the front. I will forever sing the praises of Wendy Bellissimo! I am blown-away by the quality of her products again and again.
After discovering the most wonderful diaper bag ever created, we took the kids to Mimi's to eat and then on to apartment to meet up with Shannon. Shannon, the slave driver, whipped Jennie and I until we started cleaning and packing. You see, Jennie is moving into her shiny new house on Saturday. We were having fun (as the three of us always do), until I noticed the time. I was not happy. We were packing at 2:00 in the morning, then 3:00 in the morning. Finally Jennie called it quits. What happens next? Richie woke up. I will say nothing more than that my child stayed awake for over an hour before passing out with me in Jennie's bed. I can't go into it. Don't ask. I've let it go...maybe. Although, Andrew was nice enough to let me invade his spot on the bed. So, all morning it was Jennie, Alaina, Richie and myself. Did I mention Jennie and I are close?
Richie woke up a few hours later. I felt over joyed and well rested (a few afters thinking he was not going back to sleep was a freaking blessing!). Jennie squinted as Richie laughed at her sleeping and gave Richie the evil-finger. Richie responded with more laughter. My dramatic little one had to laugh so hard his head just so happened to continually smack into my chest. After we were up and dressed, Shannon and I made a Starbucks run. Jennie stayed at the apartment waiting for Bree to drop off Amara (the baby she watches).
While we all waited and ate breakfast, the babies made a huge mess; Richie scarfed his first (two) donuts while Alaina smeared cheese on her face from my bagel. Unfortunately Alaina turned out to be allergic to the treat from good ol' Auntie Brittany. Her poor little face got all puffy and red. Jennie gave her some allergy medicine and we tossed messy and messier in the tub together. Alaina kept trying to wash Richie's hair and cuddle on him while Richie made angry goose noises.
One might think that my son would exit the bath clean, but he decided one bath wasn't enough and pooped in the water. I blame Jennie's tub; this is the second time that happened.
After waiting. and waiting. and we waiting. Bree finally showed up with Amara. We decided to strap the kids in the car and go shopping. Shannon came along for the first half, but then sadly had to go to work (with Alaina's cream cheese mess on her pants from the day before). Jennie and I went on to more shopping! I found the most adorable cell phone toy. It's similar enough to my phone that Richie no longer insists on prank calling through my speed dial. After shopping we waited for Bree to pick up Amara so we could finally eat! Somehow leaving at 6:00 turned into leaving at 7:30 and became eating dinner a (very expensive) dinner at Claim Jumpers. Fortunately, in all that time I did purchase an adorable frame to go in my son's bedroom!
Today was boring so I thought I'd write about the interesting times I had the past days before. Tomorrow my grandmother is coming to see me, which is way exciting since I haven't seen her yet. Early tomorrow though I am really hoping to see my friend Chrissy and her baby, August. I haven't seen them since August (the month, not the baby) and I can't wait!
Wish me fun filled hours!
Goodnight!
(!)
We stopped at Babies R Us. I bought organic cheese crackers, a snack trap, and the newest of new Wendy Bellissimo diaper bags. I hardly new love before this diaper bag! Ever on the quest for more pockets, Wendy Bellissimo fulfills my desires! It's denim with gold stitching (a la Levis) and has a studded star on the front. I will forever sing the praises of Wendy Bellissimo! I am blown-away by the quality of her products again and again.
After discovering the most wonderful diaper bag ever created, we took the kids to Mimi's to eat and then on to apartment to meet up with Shannon. Shannon, the slave driver, whipped Jennie and I until we started cleaning and packing. You see, Jennie is moving into her shiny new house on Saturday. We were having fun (as the three of us always do), until I noticed the time. I was not happy. We were packing at 2:00 in the morning, then 3:00 in the morning. Finally Jennie called it quits. What happens next? Richie woke up. I will say nothing more than that my child stayed awake for over an hour before passing out with me in Jennie's bed. I can't go into it. Don't ask. I've let it go...maybe. Although, Andrew was nice enough to let me invade his spot on the bed. So, all morning it was Jennie, Alaina, Richie and myself. Did I mention Jennie and I are close?
Richie woke up a few hours later. I felt over joyed and well rested (a few afters thinking he was not going back to sleep was a freaking blessing!). Jennie squinted as Richie laughed at her sleeping and gave Richie the evil-finger. Richie responded with more laughter. My dramatic little one had to laugh so hard his head just so happened to continually smack into my chest. After we were up and dressed, Shannon and I made a Starbucks run. Jennie stayed at the apartment waiting for Bree to drop off Amara (the baby she watches).
While we all waited and ate breakfast, the babies made a huge mess; Richie scarfed his first (two) donuts while Alaina smeared cheese on her face from my bagel. Unfortunately Alaina turned out to be allergic to the treat from good ol' Auntie Brittany. Her poor little face got all puffy and red. Jennie gave her some allergy medicine and we tossed messy and messier in the tub together. Alaina kept trying to wash Richie's hair and cuddle on him while Richie made angry goose noises.
One might think that my son would exit the bath clean, but he decided one bath wasn't enough and pooped in the water. I blame Jennie's tub; this is the second time that happened.
After waiting. and waiting. and we waiting. Bree finally showed up with Amara. We decided to strap the kids in the car and go shopping. Shannon came along for the first half, but then sadly had to go to work (with Alaina's cream cheese mess on her pants from the day before). Jennie and I went on to more shopping! I found the most adorable cell phone toy. It's similar enough to my phone that Richie no longer insists on prank calling through my speed dial. After shopping we waited for Bree to pick up Amara so we could finally eat! Somehow leaving at 6:00 turned into leaving at 7:30 and became eating dinner a (very expensive) dinner at Claim Jumpers. Fortunately, in all that time I did purchase an adorable frame to go in my son's bedroom!
Today was boring so I thought I'd write about the interesting times I had the past days before. Tomorrow my grandmother is coming to see me, which is way exciting since I haven't seen her yet. Early tomorrow though I am really hoping to see my friend Chrissy and her baby, August. I haven't seen them since August (the month, not the baby) and I can't wait!
Wish me fun filled hours!
Goodnight!
(!)
the sun, the sand, and the wind in my hair
Yesterday my dad, my baby sister, Richie and I took off to visit my other sister and her boyfriend in Belmont (near Half Moon Bay). It took us about an hour and a half to get there from Antioch. Richie didn't mind the drive. I thought it was very pretty but it's hard to believe that there is so much stuff in California.
We went to the restaurant where my sister and her boyfriend (Alex) both work. It's called Lil Biscuit House. If you ever venture to Belmont/Half Moon Bay/Santa Cruz it's worth going a little out of your way to eat there. The owner, Marty, is also the chef. He attended culinary school in California and now makes HUGE, delicious plates at the restaurant he owns. His mom does catering out of his restaurant, as well. I can't tell you how good the food is! They have a smoker in the back where they smoke meat daily. I didn't try them, but my dad and sisters gushed over the ribs. I had shrimp scampi and it was very, very good! And there was so much! Usually they don't put much shrimp on your plate but Marty piled it on! I left stuffed (carrying an equally stuffed baby). I could go on and on; it was that good!
After a wonderful dining experience we headed over to the beach. It was Richie's first time at the beach and he loved it! Unfortunately it was too late to play in the tide pools but we still had fun. Richie was fascinated with the water until I put his feet in it. He enjoyed playing in the sand - even when he fell face first into it after trying to run on the beach. We stayed until it got so cold Richie was shivering in my lap.
We went to the restaurant where my sister and her boyfriend (Alex) both work. It's called Lil Biscuit House. If you ever venture to Belmont/Half Moon Bay/Santa Cruz it's worth going a little out of your way to eat there. The owner, Marty, is also the chef. He attended culinary school in California and now makes HUGE, delicious plates at the restaurant he owns. His mom does catering out of his restaurant, as well. I can't tell you how good the food is! They have a smoker in the back where they smoke meat daily. I didn't try them, but my dad and sisters gushed over the ribs. I had shrimp scampi and it was very, very good! And there was so much! Usually they don't put much shrimp on your plate but Marty piled it on! I left stuffed (carrying an equally stuffed baby). I could go on and on; it was that good!
After a wonderful dining experience we headed over to the beach. It was Richie's first time at the beach and he loved it! Unfortunately it was too late to play in the tide pools but we still had fun. Richie was fascinated with the water until I put his feet in it. He enjoyed playing in the sand - even when he fell face first into it after trying to run on the beach. We stayed until it got so cold Richie was shivering in my lap.
blue-da-ba-dee
I am nearly four days deep into my California trip. Yesterday was the best of it, so far.
Jennie brought Alaina out to Antioch yesterday to pick me up. I am closer to Jennie than anyone else and I have missed her! On the phone with her while she was making the long drive to see me I could hardly stay in my skin. The last I saw her was in August when she married her high school sweetie-turned-hubby. Our babies are only a month different in age. We were actually due the same week, but Richie came early and Alaina came late. Wouldn't it be too much if the next babies were that close? It could happen...
Anyway, Jennie finally pulled up to the house. I ran to the car, after waving wildly. (I didn't want her to forget where I was...) I grabbed Alaina out of the car, probably scaring the poor child who obviously had no recognition of who I was. I squeezed Jennie and dragged my huddle to the house. Richie was sitting inside, confused. I held onto Alaina as she watched Richie refuse to be held by Jennie, freak out and run around the kitchen. Richie and Alaina didn't play much together; Alaina was not impressed by Richie boy-babyness.
We headed to lunch at Applebees then on to Babies R Us where I influenced (in a very bad way) Jennie; she left with the Wendy Bellissimo bedding I was supposed to dissuade her from. I fully believe Jennie would have got the slightly less expensive one if they had it in stock...anywhere. Or if I hadn't been there. Alas! The fates were against her and she left with gorgeous, wonderful super-bedding. The colors are so rich! Once Jennie gets Alaina's new room in their new house painted, it's going to be a baby utopia! It's a good thing I am leaving to return to Texas because I would definitely try to talk her into the Wendy Bellissimo furniture!
After my evil doings, we went on to Jennie's place as she sadly warned me of the empty walls and stacked boxes. Jennie got ready and all of a sudden it was four in the afternoon! Jennie called The Picture People about getting the babies pictures done and we ran to the mall. Well, we drove...but doesn't "run" sound so much more dramatic?
Once at the mall we spent who knows how long in Gymboree. Determined to spend as much money as humanly possible, and find coordinating boy-girl outfits in the process, we dove head first into baby couture. It was a blast! We opted for rainbow colored summer outfits for the babies; Alaina in a cute off-the-shoulder summer dress and Richie in a polo shirt and brown shorts. After our splurge at Gymboree, we went to the photo place where they were ready for us. Looking back, I wonder why we thought it was a good idea to put two kids who didn't remember, or like, one another in a small space to cheese for the camera. Somehow, it just didn't work out. Of hundreds of clicks, we got two good pictures. Alaina was determined to be away from Richie while he was smiling big (as always) for the camera and running off. Most of the pictures were funny, but in a sarcastic-not-very-cute sort of way. Still, we did like two of the poses and ordered prints.
After Jennie driving out first thing in the morning all of a sudden it was past 8:00 p.m. Where did the time go? We still needed to eat dinner and drive home. So, we hit Mimi's Cafe and then straight home for me and poor Jennie still had to drive all the way back to San Ramon!
Jennie, I found another positive for you; no more hours of driving just to hang out for the day! Not that we still won't, but at least we won't have to!
A special note to end on:
My son ate his first crayon at Applebees. Yes, baby Richie took a bite out of a blue wax crayon. It only took him a few hours to leave me a little blue present in his diaper. Bring on the toddler years!
Jennie brought Alaina out to Antioch yesterday to pick me up. I am closer to Jennie than anyone else and I have missed her! On the phone with her while she was making the long drive to see me I could hardly stay in my skin. The last I saw her was in August when she married her high school sweetie-turned-hubby. Our babies are only a month different in age. We were actually due the same week, but Richie came early and Alaina came late. Wouldn't it be too much if the next babies were that close? It could happen...
Anyway, Jennie finally pulled up to the house. I ran to the car, after waving wildly. (I didn't want her to forget where I was...) I grabbed Alaina out of the car, probably scaring the poor child who obviously had no recognition of who I was. I squeezed Jennie and dragged my huddle to the house. Richie was sitting inside, confused. I held onto Alaina as she watched Richie refuse to be held by Jennie, freak out and run around the kitchen. Richie and Alaina didn't play much together; Alaina was not impressed by Richie boy-babyness.
We headed to lunch at Applebees then on to Babies R Us where I influenced (in a very bad way) Jennie; she left with the Wendy Bellissimo bedding I was supposed to dissuade her from. I fully believe Jennie would have got the slightly less expensive one if they had it in stock...anywhere. Or if I hadn't been there. Alas! The fates were against her and she left with gorgeous, wonderful super-bedding. The colors are so rich! Once Jennie gets Alaina's new room in their new house painted, it's going to be a baby utopia! It's a good thing I am leaving to return to Texas because I would definitely try to talk her into the Wendy Bellissimo furniture!
After my evil doings, we went on to Jennie's place as she sadly warned me of the empty walls and stacked boxes. Jennie got ready and all of a sudden it was four in the afternoon! Jennie called The Picture People about getting the babies pictures done and we ran to the mall. Well, we drove...but doesn't "run" sound so much more dramatic?
Once at the mall we spent who knows how long in Gymboree. Determined to spend as much money as humanly possible, and find coordinating boy-girl outfits in the process, we dove head first into baby couture. It was a blast! We opted for rainbow colored summer outfits for the babies; Alaina in a cute off-the-shoulder summer dress and Richie in a polo shirt and brown shorts. After our splurge at Gymboree, we went to the photo place where they were ready for us. Looking back, I wonder why we thought it was a good idea to put two kids who didn't remember, or like, one another in a small space to cheese for the camera. Somehow, it just didn't work out. Of hundreds of clicks, we got two good pictures. Alaina was determined to be away from Richie while he was smiling big (as always) for the camera and running off. Most of the pictures were funny, but in a sarcastic-not-very-cute sort of way. Still, we did like two of the poses and ordered prints.
After Jennie driving out first thing in the morning all of a sudden it was past 8:00 p.m. Where did the time go? We still needed to eat dinner and drive home. So, we hit Mimi's Cafe and then straight home for me and poor Jennie still had to drive all the way back to San Ramon!
Jennie, I found another positive for you; no more hours of driving just to hang out for the day! Not that we still won't, but at least we won't have to!
A special note to end on:
My son ate his first crayon at Applebees. Yes, baby Richie took a bite out of a blue wax crayon. It only took him a few hours to leave me a little blue present in his diaper. Bring on the toddler years!
jiggity jig
No, I did not fall off the blog-obsessed face of the earth.
I should have spent all of the week before today indulging in neurotic travel-related behaviors. However, my chaotic splendor was interrupted by a torrent of loud visitors; aunt, uncle, and cousins. I won't go into the complicated reasons that brought them to my door step, but their visit was both unexpected and unappreciated. I spent the few days of their invasion following after them to clean up the trail of dirt they left. I have never cleaned so many dirty dishes in such a short time! The visit started off poorly as I selfishly pouted in response to the theft of my time to panic! It was mine and they stole it!
Regardless, I am now sitting in my dad's house typing on an unfamiliar keyboard. Richie went to bed two hours late (by Texas time). I fought him to the minute to keep him up as close to 8:00 (California time) as I could. We ate delcious chicken at Applewood Barbecue.
I know my thoughts are random. The day is catching up with me.
We had a long flight. A long, long flight.
I woke up at 5:00 this morning to get ready to leave by 6:00. I woke Richie up at 5:45. We were on the road by 6:15. Richie in his organic cotton pants, shirt, and adorable hoodie. Me, I was not so smart. I should have been wearing organic cotton loungy clothes. Instead, I had straightened hair, made-up face, and wore a dress. A dress with high heeled sandle wedges. I greatly questioned this decision as I ran out of the house juggling baby and diaper bag.
I chose to sit in the backseat to keep Richie awake, since I was hoping he would sleep for a solid chunk of our six hour flight time. He was not keen to staying awake. I handed him a stray color swatch from Home Depot that I found hiding in the pocket behind the front seat. I was desperate. It was a very long drive. With Richie farting and my mom expressing need for a bathroom, we drove straight through to San Antonio from Del Rio. Three hours and then some. Not a good start to the day.
When we pulled into San Antonio we decided to stop at Babies R Us to get Richie some new swim trunks for the trip, and to make use of their bathroom. We pulled into the parking lot at 9:09. The store opens at 9:30.
Great.
Then, it started raining. Further proof that their is no god.
We made it in and out of the store in record time. Like, world record time. I don't know of any baby-toting mama who has made it out of that store spending less than 20 minutes and 50 dollars. Somehow we pulled it off and made it to the airport in time for an iced chai tea latte.
Oh. yeah.
Airport security is insane. I had to remove Richie from my beloved Maya Wrap and I had to remove to his little leather Nikes. What could I possibly be hiding in his little size 2 shoes? I'm glad I don't know. And yet, we survived the security checkpoint. Really, they were all very nice. One of the security ladies carried mine and Richie's belongings over to a table and chair. That was probably the best part of the whole flight experience.
We boarded first. Keeping things consistent, I decided to regret getting on the plane so soon. Sure, we got to pick whatever seat we wanted. BUT, do you realize how slow everyone else was boarding? Waiting with Richie in my lap on a clammy plane was less than enjoyable. He was angry and I was counting down the moments until I could nurse him into Maya-wrapped slumber.
Ha!
He screamed for four hours. You know those times when your child is behaving so wildly you offer up a weak smile that screams endless apologies? I couldn't even bring myself to look at anyone. I felt bad for Richie. I felt bad for the other passengers. I was helpless. Helpless and trapped next to the window by a very fat man.
Then we landed in San Diego. On descent, Richie decided that maybe flying wasn't so bad. Everyone walked by and said how good he was. I offered up a certain smile. This one said, "If you only knew."
Richie was good while passengers departed and reloaded. You see, in my pre-travel brilliance, I booked a flight with no lay-over. We had one stop in San Diego, but we weren't allowed to get off. I think I am losing my common sense. I have made one bad choice after another.
Richie spent the little more than an hour to Oakland acting like an angel. He fooled all the new passengers into thinking he was a blue-eyed flirt and nothing more. How could eyes so blue ever squeeze out tears? Just ask the two guys who were sitting next to us, but moved for the second part of the flight. Yes, that's right; I scared two large Mexican men into giving up their seats. I owe it all to my little screamer.
Richie decided that since he was such a trooper on part two of the flight that he could poop all over us. It's a California-bound ritual. Not one that I particularly like.
Poop covered and exhausted, we made it.
I forgot how many buildings there were...
I should have spent all of the week before today indulging in neurotic travel-related behaviors. However, my chaotic splendor was interrupted by a torrent of loud visitors; aunt, uncle, and cousins. I won't go into the complicated reasons that brought them to my door step, but their visit was both unexpected and unappreciated. I spent the few days of their invasion following after them to clean up the trail of dirt they left. I have never cleaned so many dirty dishes in such a short time! The visit started off poorly as I selfishly pouted in response to the theft of my time to panic! It was mine and they stole it!
Regardless, I am now sitting in my dad's house typing on an unfamiliar keyboard. Richie went to bed two hours late (by Texas time). I fought him to the minute to keep him up as close to 8:00 (California time) as I could. We ate delcious chicken at Applewood Barbecue.
I know my thoughts are random. The day is catching up with me.
We had a long flight. A long, long flight.
I woke up at 5:00 this morning to get ready to leave by 6:00. I woke Richie up at 5:45. We were on the road by 6:15. Richie in his organic cotton pants, shirt, and adorable hoodie. Me, I was not so smart. I should have been wearing organic cotton loungy clothes. Instead, I had straightened hair, made-up face, and wore a dress. A dress with high heeled sandle wedges. I greatly questioned this decision as I ran out of the house juggling baby and diaper bag.
I chose to sit in the backseat to keep Richie awake, since I was hoping he would sleep for a solid chunk of our six hour flight time. He was not keen to staying awake. I handed him a stray color swatch from Home Depot that I found hiding in the pocket behind the front seat. I was desperate. It was a very long drive. With Richie farting and my mom expressing need for a bathroom, we drove straight through to San Antonio from Del Rio. Three hours and then some. Not a good start to the day.
When we pulled into San Antonio we decided to stop at Babies R Us to get Richie some new swim trunks for the trip, and to make use of their bathroom. We pulled into the parking lot at 9:09. The store opens at 9:30.
Great.
Then, it started raining. Further proof that their is no god.
We made it in and out of the store in record time. Like, world record time. I don't know of any baby-toting mama who has made it out of that store spending less than 20 minutes and 50 dollars. Somehow we pulled it off and made it to the airport in time for an iced chai tea latte.
Oh. yeah.
Airport security is insane. I had to remove Richie from my beloved Maya Wrap and I had to remove to his little leather Nikes. What could I possibly be hiding in his little size 2 shoes? I'm glad I don't know. And yet, we survived the security checkpoint. Really, they were all very nice. One of the security ladies carried mine and Richie's belongings over to a table and chair. That was probably the best part of the whole flight experience.
We boarded first. Keeping things consistent, I decided to regret getting on the plane so soon. Sure, we got to pick whatever seat we wanted. BUT, do you realize how slow everyone else was boarding? Waiting with Richie in my lap on a clammy plane was less than enjoyable. He was angry and I was counting down the moments until I could nurse him into Maya-wrapped slumber.
Ha!
He screamed for four hours. You know those times when your child is behaving so wildly you offer up a weak smile that screams endless apologies? I couldn't even bring myself to look at anyone. I felt bad for Richie. I felt bad for the other passengers. I was helpless. Helpless and trapped next to the window by a very fat man.
Then we landed in San Diego. On descent, Richie decided that maybe flying wasn't so bad. Everyone walked by and said how good he was. I offered up a certain smile. This one said, "If you only knew."
Richie was good while passengers departed and reloaded. You see, in my pre-travel brilliance, I booked a flight with no lay-over. We had one stop in San Diego, but we weren't allowed to get off. I think I am losing my common sense. I have made one bad choice after another.
Richie spent the little more than an hour to Oakland acting like an angel. He fooled all the new passengers into thinking he was a blue-eyed flirt and nothing more. How could eyes so blue ever squeeze out tears? Just ask the two guys who were sitting next to us, but moved for the second part of the flight. Yes, that's right; I scared two large Mexican men into giving up their seats. I owe it all to my little screamer.
Richie decided that since he was such a trooper on part two of the flight that he could poop all over us. It's a California-bound ritual. Not one that I particularly like.
Poop covered and exhausted, we made it.
I forgot how many buildings there were...
Mister bluebird on my shoulder
I have two weeks until I am leaving for California. The packing process has begun! Yes, I am one of those people. You know, the people that start packing two weeks before they leave on a trip. I hate coming home to any sort of disarray, so I have been cleaning and rearranging like someone with OCD. Combine my pre-vacation insanity with an attack of the spring-cleaning-bug and you get one very clean house! Richie doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he even helps...in his own way.
helping
The two weeks I will be gone to the Bay Area will be my short break before I have to commit to a full-time schedule of classes. April 16th marks the first day of early registration and I will be there. Hopefully being the first person to register I will be able to get the class load I want. I start school the last week of May. I am not looking forward to giving up the blessed time I have with Richie. Who would? My single mommy solution to the whole problem is to enroll him in a "private" pre-school type day care place. Right now he is on the waiting list. Hopefully I will have him enrolled and surviving his first away-from-mommy experience before I have to be sitting in a classroom wondering how long he has been screaming for and if my instructor would understand if I ran out of the room to give Richie "the boob". I know it will be good for him; he enjoys playing with others kids so much. His personality has blossomed, and this will encourage his emotional development even more.
I will cry. I will cry like a...baby.
The two weeks I will be gone to the Bay Area will be my short break before I have to commit to a full-time schedule of classes. April 16th marks the first day of early registration and I will be there. Hopefully being the first person to register I will be able to get the class load I want. I start school the last week of May. I am not looking forward to giving up the blessed time I have with Richie. Who would? My single mommy solution to the whole problem is to enroll him in a "private" pre-school type day care place. Right now he is on the waiting list. Hopefully I will have him enrolled and surviving his first away-from-mommy experience before I have to be sitting in a classroom wondering how long he has been screaming for and if my instructor would understand if I ran out of the room to give Richie "the boob". I know it will be good for him; he enjoys playing with others kids so much. His personality has blossomed, and this will encourage his emotional development even more.
I will cry. I will cry like a...baby.
epocsodiela.kaleidoscope.pocsodielak
It's debilitating to know that after years of pretending you do, you find out that you do not, in fact, have the killer instinct.
I could hear static-filtered Richie babble from the baby monitor as the DVD player spit Tyler Perry's Daddy's Little Girls onto the TV screen. Before I could say out loud, "Every time I see something to do with dad's, I feel like crying," the tears came. Even though the muscles of my faces contracted tightly, even though I couldn't breathe at all, the tears came. I couldn't even think about how ridiculous I must have seemed crying through the preview to a movie I have never seen. For the seconds before I could actually stop crying, my mind was bludgeoned by emotions. It isn't about loving Nathan or not, being loved or rejected. It's about Richie. When did the psychological composition of humanity change so much that any one person could find it acceptable, even if just within themselves, to abandon a child? His own child.
In all our terse correspondance, Nathan never asked after Richie. His final excuse was that he simply did not know "the baby". Am I odd to find it disheartening that Nathan referred to Richie as "the baby"? Or naive in my ignorance of his paternal detachment?
To the day, it has been three weeks. I am like an addict, or an obsessive compulsive. What's the difference? What matters is that I have not responded to Nathan since his nasty message on Valen-effing-tine's Day. Actually, I have not sent him anything since the message I wrote him the week before that. So, technically it's four weeks.
Four weeks.
Poetic Injustice
Wading navel-deep in liberal feminism, it's difficult at times to remember the male portion of the gender pool has emotional depth and, sometimes more so than it's female counterpart. I plead guilty on at least 9 previous counts of judging-a-book-by-its-cover, as well as 3 1/2 counts of over-dramatizing a situation as a means of ignoring the feelings of a man. It's hard to raise yourself to be a compassionate soul, especially when bred from bra-burners. Though young, the experiences of my love life (from married at 17 to solo mom in a single bound!) have taught me many things. One thing I know is that a good man (I mean a good man) is hard to find; they are out there, just not in great number. Unfortunately, too many women think that since there did exist a day when the fairer sex could not vote that men should suffer, without complaint. Apparently, I missed the part of my history class where the teacher discussed the unjust oppression of women. I will probably get kicked out of the ol' maids club for this. They might even take away my Bedazzler.
I'll deal.
I'll deal.
Three-hundred and Fifty-five Million Dollars
After a weird night of tossing and turning, I woke up yesterday prepared for a battle with any and every "associate" at Babies "R" Us. It was the day we were finally going to pick up the new crib, and Richie was no longer going to have to sleep in his small, though safe, pack'n'play. My whole body was tense and cold during the drive to San Antonio. My heart was already beating hallow in the icy cavity of my chest at the mere thought of confrontation. Unfortunately, yes, the closest and only baby store is in San Antonio. That's a three hour long drive, complete with aggravated toddler. In mommy time, when you factor in screaming and snacks, the trip is actually an eternity. Trust me, I did the math. Point is this, I had a very long time to think about how much I was going to hate the entire day. I wouldn't usually get all huffy over, well, anything. But! This is my son's leg, so I figure this was one battle I would choose to fight.
Thankfully, Richie was well-behaved. It was almost scary. Also, we made good time in getting there. Once we arrived, we left the crib in the car and headed up to the customer service desk. About four women listened to my sob story and complaints against Jardine. A big ol' macho man helped bring the crib in as one nice lady pointed us in the direction of the furniture. I had already called earlier in the week to have the Wendy Bellissimo crib put on hold until we could make it out to pick it up. The helpful girl who had talked to me on the phone was working that day and assisted us in retrieving the new crib. We were also purchasing the Summer custom fit gate for wide openings. (We have a, you guessed it, wide opening that goes into the great room and no standard gate would do.) When we realized that the giant wonder-crib would block back seat passengers from exiting the car until it removed, we decided to grab a bite to eat and pick up the crib after. We paid for everything and left, on the hunt for sustenance.
Enter Mr. Mysterious-So-and-So. Stage left.
I was terrified that, since the day had already gone so well, we were going to return to find that the baby store had probably been blown up. Nope. Smooth sailing. The crib was packaged so well that, after taking it out of the box, it was still protected so as not to receive a single scratch on the drive home. Hopefully.
Fast forward; we survived the drive home. Barely. Richie was less than impressed with being stuck in back with only a view of his new bed. Fortunately, we arrive home with time to spare before bedtime for the little one. Time to assemble! The crib price was decidedly in direct correlation to how many pieces and parts were included. Even so, the process began easily enough. Richie was determined to test my skills as a crib-assembler, and attempted to destroy all progress. I ought to recommend his methods as a way of insuring the absolute safety of nursery furniture. It wasn't until the mattress support that any problem became apparent. The problem turned out to be human error. My son probably could have figured out to match each "a" sticker to the other. I, on the other hand, had to stare at the crooked mattress support for who-knows-how-long, before realization occurred. Ok, so I'm no master crib-assembler. There go my hopes and dreams. Still, I think I'll live.
Due to my mattress support fiasco, Richie's bedtime passed by while he amused himself by sitting in the tray that fits in the track of his toy box. A quick diaper change, shimmy into pjs, and Richie is ready for bed. As per our usual routine, I turn out the lights, turn on the lullabies, cradle my angel, kiss his forehead then his nose and lips. I tell him "Sweet dreams. Mommy loves you." and I lay him down. I'm pretty sure that Wendy Bellissimo designed baby heaven, and Richie seems to think so too. He's thrilled with his new crib! He sleeps through the night, no problem. He even wakes up in a chipper mood!
So, I've decided I am going to win the lottery and buy Wendy Bellissimo cribs for everyone!
Wendy Bellissimo Honey Crib and Antique Firetruck Bedding
Thankfully, Richie was well-behaved. It was almost scary. Also, we made good time in getting there. Once we arrived, we left the crib in the car and headed up to the customer service desk. About four women listened to my sob story and complaints against Jardine. A big ol' macho man helped bring the crib in as one nice lady pointed us in the direction of the furniture. I had already called earlier in the week to have the Wendy Bellissimo crib put on hold until we could make it out to pick it up. The helpful girl who had talked to me on the phone was working that day and assisted us in retrieving the new crib. We were also purchasing the Summer custom fit gate for wide openings. (We have a, you guessed it, wide opening that goes into the great room and no standard gate would do.) When we realized that the giant wonder-crib would block back seat passengers from exiting the car until it removed, we decided to grab a bite to eat and pick up the crib after. We paid for everything and left, on the hunt for sustenance.
Enter Mr. Mysterious-So-and-So. Stage left.
I was terrified that, since the day had already gone so well, we were going to return to find that the baby store had probably been blown up. Nope. Smooth sailing. The crib was packaged so well that, after taking it out of the box, it was still protected so as not to receive a single scratch on the drive home. Hopefully.
Fast forward; we survived the drive home. Barely. Richie was less than impressed with being stuck in back with only a view of his new bed. Fortunately, we arrive home with time to spare before bedtime for the little one. Time to assemble! The crib price was decidedly in direct correlation to how many pieces and parts were included. Even so, the process began easily enough. Richie was determined to test my skills as a crib-assembler, and attempted to destroy all progress. I ought to recommend his methods as a way of insuring the absolute safety of nursery furniture. It wasn't until the mattress support that any problem became apparent. The problem turned out to be human error. My son probably could have figured out to match each "a" sticker to the other. I, on the other hand, had to stare at the crooked mattress support for who-knows-how-long, before realization occurred. Ok, so I'm no master crib-assembler. There go my hopes and dreams. Still, I think I'll live.
Due to my mattress support fiasco, Richie's bedtime passed by while he amused himself by sitting in the tray that fits in the track of his toy box. A quick diaper change, shimmy into pjs, and Richie is ready for bed. As per our usual routine, I turn out the lights, turn on the lullabies, cradle my angel, kiss his forehead then his nose and lips. I tell him "Sweet dreams. Mommy loves you." and I lay him down. I'm pretty sure that Wendy Bellissimo designed baby heaven, and Richie seems to think so too. He's thrilled with his new crib! He sleeps through the night, no problem. He even wakes up in a chipper mood!
So, I've decided I am going to win the lottery and buy Wendy Bellissimo cribs for everyone!
I murdered Vera Rivkin
When one meets a man worth blogging about, I suppose there's nothing else to do. Seeing as how I can't stop repeating the fateful story of Mr. Mysterious-So-and-So, I might as well get it out.
It's really not as interesting as it may seem. Except, of course, for the fact that I can't forget him. Attractive, young, and more interested in my son than me. My twitterpated little heart could contain itself all but for an embarassingly silly, and painfully wide, grin. My expression screamed with all blood that ran to my face, "Please ask me for my phone number!" He just kept talking to Richie, furthering my interest. Richie babbled back, an unusual act. If it hadn't seemed strange, even borderline crazy, I might have pinched myself. Instead I made a much smarter choice, I stared. I fully believe in the intuition of children. Absolute innocence lends itself, if to nothing else, than to alert of the slightest bit of evil. I know, evil is such a strong word; in times such as these is it that inappropriate? Richie's detection system sounded no alarm.
I did nothing to perpetuate any sort of future contact. I welcome this blissful memory into oblivion. I do not want to end up feeling so cold that I refuse the warm presence of another person. Yet, I am not willing to begin something I'm not ready to even think of. It is simply refreshing to know the possibility survives, when Nathan can not find the daddy desire for his own son. It's not that I believe the whole fate gimmick to be "real", but what more fitting name to such coincidence? You see, I met Mr. Mysterious-So-and-So while in San Antonio picking up Richie's new crib from Babies "R" Us. Richie needed a new crib because of the previously owned Jardine crib spraining his leg.
Like I said, fate.
It's a pretty idea anyway. Except that when you consider the true nature of "fate" it actually resembles more of a twisted conspiracy. Was Richie doomed to hurt his leg? Even before that, did I maintain the injury by purchasing a defective crib? Or was all this already set in motion the day I got pregnant? After all, babies need cribs. Although, Richie spent months in his crib with no injury at all. Is fate powerful enough to cause physical changes to a piece of wooden furniture? Maybe this began even before that.
Paranoia disguised as such a pretty conspiracy.
I take a peek, now and then, at a snapshot of this life. I look back at the carelessness and the ease with which I offered my heart, to find it twice broken. Everyone I know has a different story. No shock value there. I don't see the big picture as much as moments. They all have their moments. Of course, when the commodity is love and the price is forever, I find my scrutiny falling upon the married. Which happens to be all of my friends; married with children. I could have been like them. I could have married Nathan. I still can't blame him. All my expectations dissolved when I refused his proposal. I assumed so much when I made my choice. Am I smarter since the divorce or just sad? Sadder. It's impossible to say if I made the right choice. All it takes is a kind stranger and I sit alone at night to question a past I can not change.
It's really not as interesting as it may seem. Except, of course, for the fact that I can't forget him. Attractive, young, and more interested in my son than me. My twitterpated little heart could contain itself all but for an embarassingly silly, and painfully wide, grin. My expression screamed with all blood that ran to my face, "Please ask me for my phone number!" He just kept talking to Richie, furthering my interest. Richie babbled back, an unusual act. If it hadn't seemed strange, even borderline crazy, I might have pinched myself. Instead I made a much smarter choice, I stared. I fully believe in the intuition of children. Absolute innocence lends itself, if to nothing else, than to alert of the slightest bit of evil. I know, evil is such a strong word; in times such as these is it that inappropriate? Richie's detection system sounded no alarm.
I did nothing to perpetuate any sort of future contact. I welcome this blissful memory into oblivion. I do not want to end up feeling so cold that I refuse the warm presence of another person. Yet, I am not willing to begin something I'm not ready to even think of. It is simply refreshing to know the possibility survives, when Nathan can not find the daddy desire for his own son. It's not that I believe the whole fate gimmick to be "real", but what more fitting name to such coincidence? You see, I met Mr. Mysterious-So-and-So while in San Antonio picking up Richie's new crib from Babies "R" Us. Richie needed a new crib because of the previously owned Jardine crib spraining his leg.
Like I said, fate.
It's a pretty idea anyway. Except that when you consider the true nature of "fate" it actually resembles more of a twisted conspiracy. Was Richie doomed to hurt his leg? Even before that, did I maintain the injury by purchasing a defective crib? Or was all this already set in motion the day I got pregnant? After all, babies need cribs. Although, Richie spent months in his crib with no injury at all. Is fate powerful enough to cause physical changes to a piece of wooden furniture? Maybe this began even before that.
Paranoia disguised as such a pretty conspiracy.
I take a peek, now and then, at a snapshot of this life. I look back at the carelessness and the ease with which I offered my heart, to find it twice broken. Everyone I know has a different story. No shock value there. I don't see the big picture as much as moments. They all have their moments. Of course, when the commodity is love and the price is forever, I find my scrutiny falling upon the married. Which happens to be all of my friends; married with children. I could have been like them. I could have married Nathan. I still can't blame him. All my expectations dissolved when I refused his proposal. I assumed so much when I made my choice. Am I smarter since the divorce or just sad? Sadder. It's impossible to say if I made the right choice. All it takes is a kind stranger and I sit alone at night to question a past I can not change.
Oh! Lolli! Lollipop!
Richie had his first ever lollipop yesterday. When I handed it to him (unwrapped and ready to be devoured) he looked at it with excitement and started waving it in the air. Apparently, I needed to point out that it was not a toy. I pretended to take a nibble, as he instantaneously gained comprehension. What followed was more adorable than I can say! He cupped the base of the sugary treat itself, and began gnawing. It was no time at all before he was all sticky with grape flavored drool. It took him ten minutes to leave absolutely no indication that he had tried so hard to get even the tiniest bite. He was fed up and finished. I had plenty of pictures.
"I'm not so sure I am supposed to eat this..."
"Eat it? How?"
"Ok, mom, you can tell me how this works now..."
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Is that sugar I taste? ... Just remember; you gave it to me, mom!"
I refrain from sugar and caffeine 99.9% of the time. Maybe one of Richie's grape-flavored kisses gave me a sugar rush.
Either that or I am spiraling into California-loving-madness.
That's right. You heard me.
I have decided to ignore the fact that two weeks is simply not enough time. I will be spread thin as I hurry to spend adequate time with everyone on my growing list. I have changed my mind a dozen times already as to how I will ration all the hours in a day. As the day nears when Richie and I will fly out of San Antonio, I am releasing my choke hold of control. Everything will work out. I am going to purchase hundreds of those little sugar-free lollipops; as long as I can keep Richie happy on the plane, everyone should be happy.
As I resolve the issues that led to previous concern, I develop all kinds of new, though equally neurotic, concerns. I had hoped that Richie would have grown by now. It is true that I have no influence over his current lack of growth, but I wish I had more to say than "Well, we are meeting with specialists..."
I do tend to dwell upon my son's small size; add the flourish of a mother's overly-attentive anxiety and subtract the comfort of a partner. Can you comprehend the way I worry after him? I try to trust the doctors to make the right diagnosis and suggest fitting treatment. At best, I am resolved to a feeling of apprehension. There are too many questions, and never enough answers.
"I'm not so sure I am supposed to eat this..."
"Eat it? How?"
"Ok, mom, you can tell me how this works now..."
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Is that sugar I taste? ... Just remember; you gave it to me, mom!"
I refrain from sugar and caffeine 99.9% of the time. Maybe one of Richie's grape-flavored kisses gave me a sugar rush.
Either that or I am spiraling into California-loving-madness.
That's right. You heard me.
I have decided to ignore the fact that two weeks is simply not enough time. I will be spread thin as I hurry to spend adequate time with everyone on my growing list. I have changed my mind a dozen times already as to how I will ration all the hours in a day. As the day nears when Richie and I will fly out of San Antonio, I am releasing my choke hold of control. Everything will work out. I am going to purchase hundreds of those little sugar-free lollipops; as long as I can keep Richie happy on the plane, everyone should be happy.
As I resolve the issues that led to previous concern, I develop all kinds of new, though equally neurotic, concerns. I had hoped that Richie would have grown by now. It is true that I have no influence over his current lack of growth, but I wish I had more to say than "Well, we are meeting with specialists..."
I do tend to dwell upon my son's small size; add the flourish of a mother's overly-attentive anxiety and subtract the comfort of a partner. Can you comprehend the way I worry after him? I try to trust the doctors to make the right diagnosis and suggest fitting treatment. At best, I am resolved to a feeling of apprehension. There are too many questions, and never enough answers.
Three Minutes Later
I have a new theory on reincarnation. By "new", I mean new-to-no-one-else-but-me. I present a brief, and ambiguously misdirecting, introduction to my idea on life after life.
Birth.
Death.
Life.
I know I was alive before I became who I am now. I am detached from those memories though. The best way I know to describe the feelings I have about my life, before my son was born, is to say that it's like hearing so many stories about who I was that I feel familiar with that person, but so completely detached that it may as well have been someone else. I felt the same way about the first eighteen years of my life, during my pregnancy. After my son was delivered at the hospital, even those significant eight months faded away. I was the first in a series of myself and my childhood friends to have a baby (only because my son was born prematurely and a mere few weeks prior to Jennie's little girl). Due, partially, to the fact that my friends and I were all having babies within less than a year, I recounted my pregnancy, labor and delivery countless times. I feel a connection to that period in my life, but less vividly than even the day after my son was born.
The day my son was born I lost all selfishness. With that burden lifted from my soul, I became the person I am today. My thoughts and concerns centralize themselves strictly around Richie. Every part of my life is devoted to him. As, I feel, it should be. In no obligatory way, I feel blessed and very honored to be a mother. The one trait I have acquired, which may not be so desirable as the others, can only be described as judgemental. At least, I feel that I am judging those that do not necessarily give wee ones proper care. When I examine the animosity I feel towards neglectful care-withhold-ers, it comes down to a protectiveness over all innocence. I have always been maternal and nurturing, by nature. I might be making excuses for behavior I don't care to admit I indulge in. Either way, I find it despicable when those who should be protecting their young, do not. Since I have become a mother my standards for myself, as well as anyone with children, are progressively strict. She said I would one day, and I now understand what my mother meant when said she loved me too much.
Birth.
Death.
Life.
I know I was alive before I became who I am now. I am detached from those memories though. The best way I know to describe the feelings I have about my life, before my son was born, is to say that it's like hearing so many stories about who I was that I feel familiar with that person, but so completely detached that it may as well have been someone else. I felt the same way about the first eighteen years of my life, during my pregnancy. After my son was delivered at the hospital, even those significant eight months faded away. I was the first in a series of myself and my childhood friends to have a baby (only because my son was born prematurely and a mere few weeks prior to Jennie's little girl). Due, partially, to the fact that my friends and I were all having babies within less than a year, I recounted my pregnancy, labor and delivery countless times. I feel a connection to that period in my life, but less vividly than even the day after my son was born.
The day my son was born I lost all selfishness. With that burden lifted from my soul, I became the person I am today. My thoughts and concerns centralize themselves strictly around Richie. Every part of my life is devoted to him. As, I feel, it should be. In no obligatory way, I feel blessed and very honored to be a mother. The one trait I have acquired, which may not be so desirable as the others, can only be described as judgemental. At least, I feel that I am judging those that do not necessarily give wee ones proper care. When I examine the animosity I feel towards neglectful care-withhold-ers, it comes down to a protectiveness over all innocence. I have always been maternal and nurturing, by nature. I might be making excuses for behavior I don't care to admit I indulge in. Either way, I find it despicable when those who should be protecting their young, do not. Since I have become a mother my standards for myself, as well as anyone with children, are progressively strict. She said I would one day, and I now understand what my mother meant when said she loved me too much.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
