I sat this morning, as I do every other morning, feeding Beau his bottle and flipping through the news channels. This morning is different. Most mornings there are partisan conversations about current events, punctuated by short clips of kittens or cute babies doing silly things. This morning's coverage is the same on every channel. It is of the events twelve years ago that forever changed America.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I woke up to Matt Lauer and Katie Couric reporting that an airplane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. I woke up my boyfriend and roommate, the three of us stood slack jawed, staring at the horror unfolding before us. They went to work at the radio station, I had the day off. I went to a friend's house, we pulled a TV onto the front porch and watched all day, sometimes joined by people from the neighborhood. I remember the silence not only in the air but in the streets as well.
So, here I am, twelve years later. I found myself explaing to our ten month old son why today is so important. I realized that as I spoke, I was crying. Telling him that though he doesn't understand now, it is something he will learn about in school. It's something Mom and Dad will talk to him about. I told him that it's okay to ask questions and to not understand how people could do that to so many innocent human beings.
I hope, with all of my heart, that he will never have to witness anything so senless and horrible. The pain of loss is still so palpable, I hope he never knows how that feels.
Together, my husband and I teach Beau that America is a great country. We teach him that there are bad people in the world, but there are many more good. We teach him that bad things happen but you have to learn to pick yourself up and move on with your life. I know he will grow up to be a good man who accepts people for who they are and does not judge unjustly. A few bad people do not define an entire culture.
As I stepped outside this morning I noticed what a beautiful day it is. Warm and sunny with a brilliant blue sky. Much like it was twelve years ago, on the day America stood still.
America will forever remember the brave men and women who lost their lives that day, as well as my Brothers and Sisters in Arms who have given their lives since. All to help, defend and protect the great people of the greatest country in the world.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
9/11/2013
Sunday, July 21, 2013
I'm such a meanie sometimes!
My husband is stressed. He is stressed over the new house, about the apartment, about work. He is currently napping, I think, not only because he is tired, but because it's the only way he can turn off the stress sometimes. He is a good man. No, he is a great man. He supports us, he loves us, and he is good to us. So why do I give him such a hard time about the dumbest things???
I realized the other day that I can be kind of harsh to my husband. I don't do it intentionally, I adore him, and have no desire to make him unhappy. Every couple has their 'things'. Each person does things that makes the other momentarily insane. Brian will leave plastic food wrappers in the sink when he trash can is only two feet away. He leaves his socks all over the house. He uses my favorite towel and leaves it wet, slung over the shower curtain bar. And I, in turn, get angry.
I can't remember exactly what I was doing when I realized that there are of course things that I do that make him shake his head, but he never says a word about them. The most prominent would be me scolding him about the things that bug me. Over. And over. And over again. And when I had this realization, that I am sometimes a real brat to my husband, I instantly felt horrible. He doesn't deserve it. He is a really good guy.
This whole thing with the house has been a long, dragged out process. It is making us both go grey, we are exhausted and just want a place to call ours. But Brian sees more. He sees it as his job to give his family a home, a place for Beau to grow up and our dogs to run around. He is worried that he won't be able to make all of that happen, and all I can say is 'it will all work out'. I really do think it will, but I don't know how else to get that across to him.
And so, I am going to stop haranguing him about dirty socks and zip lock bags in the sink. We have more towels than we know what to do with, I don't need to claim a favorite (it's huge, blue and has a hole in the corner). I do need to stop and think more often, try to put myself in his shoes. For someone I seem to pick on he never snaps, he never tells me that my constant need to hold the remote irritates him, he steps over my (15) pairs of shoes on the floor. He is a good man, and I am so happy that he will be a role model for our son.
My point is, we get so busy, so wound up in our own little universes that it's easy to pick out the negatives. We-I- need to stop and pay attention to all of the positives, because, lets be honest. I am pretty damn lucky!
I realized the other day that I can be kind of harsh to my husband. I don't do it intentionally, I adore him, and have no desire to make him unhappy. Every couple has their 'things'. Each person does things that makes the other momentarily insane. Brian will leave plastic food wrappers in the sink when he trash can is only two feet away. He leaves his socks all over the house. He uses my favorite towel and leaves it wet, slung over the shower curtain bar. And I, in turn, get angry.
I can't remember exactly what I was doing when I realized that there are of course things that I do that make him shake his head, but he never says a word about them. The most prominent would be me scolding him about the things that bug me. Over. And over. And over again. And when I had this realization, that I am sometimes a real brat to my husband, I instantly felt horrible. He doesn't deserve it. He is a really good guy.
This whole thing with the house has been a long, dragged out process. It is making us both go grey, we are exhausted and just want a place to call ours. But Brian sees more. He sees it as his job to give his family a home, a place for Beau to grow up and our dogs to run around. He is worried that he won't be able to make all of that happen, and all I can say is 'it will all work out'. I really do think it will, but I don't know how else to get that across to him.
And so, I am going to stop haranguing him about dirty socks and zip lock bags in the sink. We have more towels than we know what to do with, I don't need to claim a favorite (it's huge, blue and has a hole in the corner). I do need to stop and think more often, try to put myself in his shoes. For someone I seem to pick on he never snaps, he never tells me that my constant need to hold the remote irritates him, he steps over my (15) pairs of shoes on the floor. He is a good man, and I am so happy that he will be a role model for our son.
My point is, we get so busy, so wound up in our own little universes that it's easy to pick out the negatives. We-I- need to stop and pay attention to all of the positives, because, lets be honest. I am pretty damn lucky!
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Home
We have less than three weeks until closing on our house. I can't wait to move in and make it ours. And to start working on my favorite part, the backyard.
The backyard was a major selling point for us, knowing that we will be able to open the door and let our dogs out without the struggle of leashes and distractions that we have now. And for me, the backyard offers a little slice of heaven. It has a few big trees, Oaks, I think, they cast lots of shade and create the perfect place for me to sit and write and think and relax. I am never more relaxed than I am outside. When I a surrounded by trees and grass and the smell of earth, ahhhh, I can already feel myself unwinding. Nature really is my religion, I gain a great sense of calm when I'm outdoors. I think it's being in contact with all things living, feeling the earth pulse, the wind blow and the sun shine.
We have plans for a vegetable garden, flower beds, a swing set for Beau and lots of time spent just enjoying life. I can't wait to dig and plant, watch our son grow and our dogs play. There's a clothesline that needs to be restrung, I can already see myself out there in the mornings, hanging laundry while Beau gets some fresh air. I see us grilling and enjoying the warm fall evenings, sitting and talking, just enjoying each others company.
I've always been sort of anti-social, not really caring to get to know my neighbors, preferring my solitude. But I am actually looking forward to meeting our neighbors. Our neighborhood is small, cozy, and I'm hoping it's the kind of place where people look out for one another. I saw a family about our age the last time we stopped to look at the house, it would be great to have people to hang out with on the weekends. It would almost feel wasteful to have a garden and not share it with people.
I sat down to write this morning, not really knowing what I was going to write about. I've been so consumed with packing and planning and all that goes with moving that I really thought I'd end up with a list. I guess in a way it is, it's a list of my dreams.
The backyard was a major selling point for us, knowing that we will be able to open the door and let our dogs out without the struggle of leashes and distractions that we have now. And for me, the backyard offers a little slice of heaven. It has a few big trees, Oaks, I think, they cast lots of shade and create the perfect place for me to sit and write and think and relax. I am never more relaxed than I am outside. When I a surrounded by trees and grass and the smell of earth, ahhhh, I can already feel myself unwinding. Nature really is my religion, I gain a great sense of calm when I'm outdoors. I think it's being in contact with all things living, feeling the earth pulse, the wind blow and the sun shine.
 |
| The view from our patio, it may not look like much now but it is ours and I love it. |
We have plans for a vegetable garden, flower beds, a swing set for Beau and lots of time spent just enjoying life. I can't wait to dig and plant, watch our son grow and our dogs play. There's a clothesline that needs to be restrung, I can already see myself out there in the mornings, hanging laundry while Beau gets some fresh air. I see us grilling and enjoying the warm fall evenings, sitting and talking, just enjoying each others company.
I've always been sort of anti-social, not really caring to get to know my neighbors, preferring my solitude. But I am actually looking forward to meeting our neighbors. Our neighborhood is small, cozy, and I'm hoping it's the kind of place where people look out for one another. I saw a family about our age the last time we stopped to look at the house, it would be great to have people to hang out with on the weekends. It would almost feel wasteful to have a garden and not share it with people.
I sat down to write this morning, not really knowing what I was going to write about. I've been so consumed with packing and planning and all that goes with moving that I really thought I'd end up with a list. I guess in a way it is, it's a list of my dreams.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Independence Day
Good morning, America., it's Independence Day. The day most look forward to as a mid-summer chance to relax, have a party, watch some fireworks and BBQ. Often just called the 4th, it's important to remember all of those who keep this country free and independent.
I have never been deployed, and I am eternally thankful for that. Everyday I see images of Service Men and Women saying their goodbyes to their kids, significant others, family members, only to board a plane and land in place where they are unwanted. You don't have to agree with the war or decisions of the President, or anything political. But we all need to support the Troops. It is because of people who are willing to lay down their lives, to say that last goodbye, that we have the freedoms we do today. These Soldiers, Sailors Marines, Airmen don't do it for the paycheck, they don't do it because they are bored, it certainly isn't as glamorous as what you see in movies and video games. They do it because they feel a sense of pride in their Country. Because they feel it is their obligation to the people of this Nation to keep us safe. Because they are brave, putting themselves on line so that their loved ones can remain free.
This country was founded by people who fled persecution, they came to America and they fought for their freedom. People with far less training and equipment than what is available today. They fought because they believed in something, they wanted to protect their families, their rights and all they had worked for.
Scrolling through the news today I saw several stories that make me more than thankful to live in America. Three people beheaded in Syria, the Egyptian Coup, horrible living conditions in North Korea, in Africa, in the Middle East. Places where women must cover themselves from head to toe, places where a difference of opinion could mean public death. Constant bombings, constant war, not knowing if your home will be blown up while you sleep.
And I sit here, writing this, with the freedom to express myself. The United States may not be what everyone wants it to be right at this moment, but it is still a free country. Big Brother may be reading what I write but I still have the freedom to write it.
During my Military career I came in contact everyday with Soldiers who had served on multiple deployments. These Men and Women often carry not only physical scars, but emotional scars as well. They have nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety, depression, you name, I've seen it. I've seen Soldiers fight to stay in the Army just because their friends are going on another deployment and they can't bear to not be with them. Each and every Soldier and Service Man and Woman feels total responsibility for the person next them, their Brothers and Sisters in Arms. Because they have built these relationships while fighting for our Country. While they sleep in the dirt, take fire in the middle of the night, watch their friends die, we are safe in our homes with our loved ones.
The American Spirit runs deep, we value our freedom and our ability to live as we like. It is because of everyone Man and Woman who has fought for this Country that we have those rights. Please remember that today is not just the 4th of July, it is a symbol of our Country, a reminder of all those great people who laid down their lives to ensure that we could be happy.
I have never been deployed, and I am eternally thankful for that. Everyday I see images of Service Men and Women saying their goodbyes to their kids, significant others, family members, only to board a plane and land in place where they are unwanted. You don't have to agree with the war or decisions of the President, or anything political. But we all need to support the Troops. It is because of people who are willing to lay down their lives, to say that last goodbye, that we have the freedoms we do today. These Soldiers, Sailors Marines, Airmen don't do it for the paycheck, they don't do it because they are bored, it certainly isn't as glamorous as what you see in movies and video games. They do it because they feel a sense of pride in their Country. Because they feel it is their obligation to the people of this Nation to keep us safe. Because they are brave, putting themselves on line so that their loved ones can remain free.
This country was founded by people who fled persecution, they came to America and they fought for their freedom. People with far less training and equipment than what is available today. They fought because they believed in something, they wanted to protect their families, their rights and all they had worked for.
Scrolling through the news today I saw several stories that make me more than thankful to live in America. Three people beheaded in Syria, the Egyptian Coup, horrible living conditions in North Korea, in Africa, in the Middle East. Places where women must cover themselves from head to toe, places where a difference of opinion could mean public death. Constant bombings, constant war, not knowing if your home will be blown up while you sleep.
And I sit here, writing this, with the freedom to express myself. The United States may not be what everyone wants it to be right at this moment, but it is still a free country. Big Brother may be reading what I write but I still have the freedom to write it.
During my Military career I came in contact everyday with Soldiers who had served on multiple deployments. These Men and Women often carry not only physical scars, but emotional scars as well. They have nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety, depression, you name, I've seen it. I've seen Soldiers fight to stay in the Army just because their friends are going on another deployment and they can't bear to not be with them. Each and every Soldier and Service Man and Woman feels total responsibility for the person next them, their Brothers and Sisters in Arms. Because they have built these relationships while fighting for our Country. While they sleep in the dirt, take fire in the middle of the night, watch their friends die, we are safe in our homes with our loved ones.
The American Spirit runs deep, we value our freedom and our ability to live as we like. It is because of everyone Man and Woman who has fought for this Country that we have those rights. Please remember that today is not just the 4th of July, it is a symbol of our Country, a reminder of all those great people who laid down their lives to ensure that we could be happy.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Happiness
I have thought for a long time about writing this post, it's about sensitive subjects. My mission is not to offend anyone but to simply state my opinions and feelings and to hopefully open people's eyes, minds and hearts.
I have long believed that everyone deserves the right to be happy. I have many gay and lesbian friends and could never understand what was quite so offensive about them. What is offensive to me is the ability of some to judge an entire group of people based solely on the fact that they love someone of the same gender. What two consenting people chose to do with their lives is their decision, and their decision alone. It should never have been put up for debate in the first place. There's that whole right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness thing, isn't there?
Here's where it gets really messy. Religion is so often brought into this debate. The Bible says that homosexuality is a sin. Well, guess what, so is smoking, drinking, cursing, having bad thoughts, not wearing modest clothing, having sex out of wedlock, divorce, jealousy and JUDGMENT. That's right, I said it. God states in the Bible that He alone is to cast judgement. That we, as people, are to strive to love and accept our fellow man. The whole practice of Christianity is about accepting people, about forgiveness and about trying to be the best person you can be. I believe it is John 8:7 that states 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone'.
I personally do not believe in God. I am an Evolutionist. But, I was raised in the Lutheran Church, attended a Lutheran school for many years, have read the Bible and have a pretty good working knowledge on the subject of religion. I have faced criticism based on my beliefs, and have turned the other cheek. I have never judged others based on their beliefs and don't intend to start. I have never judged someone based on their faults, barring abuse, murder, rape, you know, the things that really are awful. I would never judge someone based on the fact that they curse too much, that they drink too much, that their religious beliefs differ from mine, that they love someone of the same gender or that they disagree with me. Live and let live.
My husband is Baptist. We have talked many times about religion and how we will bring up our son. I have agreed to attend church if that is something Brian would like to do, I have no problem with Brian reading the Bible to Beau. Brian has asked me if I would be bothered by him praying with Beau, and I would be fine with it, I would even encourage it. We decided that we will raise Beau with both of our beliefs and when he is older we will let him decide for himself. I will have no objections if my son chooses to believe in God, or Evolution for that matter. We will bring him up with love and acceptance, teach him that hate is wrong and that respect is a necessity. As long as he is a good person and is good to other people then we have done our job.
And now to discuss the matter of gays and lesbians raising children. We all know how reproduction works, so I'm not even going to discuss that aspect of it. What I will discuss is the fact that there are so many unwanted children, so many babies that need loving homes, stable upbringings and parents that care. There are good people everywhere, there are also bad people everywhere. People who will abuse children, abuse the system by having more children just to get more money to spend on themselves, people who would rather do anything than care for the child they created. So how can we say that two people of the same gender wanting to love and care for a child is wrong when two people of opposite genders can't get it right? If we take that route than we could say that, for example, an aunt and grandmother raising a child together is wrong. Or that a single father seeking help from his father/brother/friend in raising a child is wrong.There is all together too much focus on what people deem right and wrong, and not enough focus on what really matters in these situations, that a child is loved and cared for.
I have seen friends personally affected by hate, seen the look in their eyes when someone suggests that they are less of a person because of who they love. It breaks my heart that it has taken so long for them to gain equal rights, and we're not even there yet. My friends, people who have supported me, given me a place to stay, loved me without question are some of the best people I have ever known. To anyone who says that gays and lesbians are sinners and bad people, I say does it make you a good person to cast that judgement?
Everyone has the right to their own beliefs, they have the right to love who they want to love. I want more than anything for this whole issue to open people's eyes to the fact that everyone is different. Just because someone does not share your beliefs or have the same family structure as you or loves someone who is the same gender or a different color or a different race does not give you the right to judge them. You never know what you will learn by simply listening to another person.
What a boring world it would be if we were all the same!
I have long believed that everyone deserves the right to be happy. I have many gay and lesbian friends and could never understand what was quite so offensive about them. What is offensive to me is the ability of some to judge an entire group of people based solely on the fact that they love someone of the same gender. What two consenting people chose to do with their lives is their decision, and their decision alone. It should never have been put up for debate in the first place. There's that whole right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness thing, isn't there?
Here's where it gets really messy. Religion is so often brought into this debate. The Bible says that homosexuality is a sin. Well, guess what, so is smoking, drinking, cursing, having bad thoughts, not wearing modest clothing, having sex out of wedlock, divorce, jealousy and JUDGMENT. That's right, I said it. God states in the Bible that He alone is to cast judgement. That we, as people, are to strive to love and accept our fellow man. The whole practice of Christianity is about accepting people, about forgiveness and about trying to be the best person you can be. I believe it is John 8:7 that states 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone'.
I personally do not believe in God. I am an Evolutionist. But, I was raised in the Lutheran Church, attended a Lutheran school for many years, have read the Bible and have a pretty good working knowledge on the subject of religion. I have faced criticism based on my beliefs, and have turned the other cheek. I have never judged others based on their beliefs and don't intend to start. I have never judged someone based on their faults, barring abuse, murder, rape, you know, the things that really are awful. I would never judge someone based on the fact that they curse too much, that they drink too much, that their religious beliefs differ from mine, that they love someone of the same gender or that they disagree with me. Live and let live.
My husband is Baptist. We have talked many times about religion and how we will bring up our son. I have agreed to attend church if that is something Brian would like to do, I have no problem with Brian reading the Bible to Beau. Brian has asked me if I would be bothered by him praying with Beau, and I would be fine with it, I would even encourage it. We decided that we will raise Beau with both of our beliefs and when he is older we will let him decide for himself. I will have no objections if my son chooses to believe in God, or Evolution for that matter. We will bring him up with love and acceptance, teach him that hate is wrong and that respect is a necessity. As long as he is a good person and is good to other people then we have done our job.
And now to discuss the matter of gays and lesbians raising children. We all know how reproduction works, so I'm not even going to discuss that aspect of it. What I will discuss is the fact that there are so many unwanted children, so many babies that need loving homes, stable upbringings and parents that care. There are good people everywhere, there are also bad people everywhere. People who will abuse children, abuse the system by having more children just to get more money to spend on themselves, people who would rather do anything than care for the child they created. So how can we say that two people of the same gender wanting to love and care for a child is wrong when two people of opposite genders can't get it right? If we take that route than we could say that, for example, an aunt and grandmother raising a child together is wrong. Or that a single father seeking help from his father/brother/friend in raising a child is wrong.There is all together too much focus on what people deem right and wrong, and not enough focus on what really matters in these situations, that a child is loved and cared for.
I have seen friends personally affected by hate, seen the look in their eyes when someone suggests that they are less of a person because of who they love. It breaks my heart that it has taken so long for them to gain equal rights, and we're not even there yet. My friends, people who have supported me, given me a place to stay, loved me without question are some of the best people I have ever known. To anyone who says that gays and lesbians are sinners and bad people, I say does it make you a good person to cast that judgement?
Everyone has the right to their own beliefs, they have the right to love who they want to love. I want more than anything for this whole issue to open people's eyes to the fact that everyone is different. Just because someone does not share your beliefs or have the same family structure as you or loves someone who is the same gender or a different color or a different race does not give you the right to judge them. You never know what you will learn by simply listening to another person.
What a boring world it would be if we were all the same!
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Rainy Days
I love rainy days. The grey sky and muted sounds set my mind at ease and take me back to when I was a kid. The best are the days when it's just constant drizzle, the air, though humid is still slightly cool. The only thing better than being curled up with a good book and a cup of coffee on a day like this would be to throw on my rain coat and go for a hike.
Rain is transformative, not always for the better, but it is. In the woods the grey skies somehow make things dream like, I can imagine scenes form "Where the Wild Things Are', strange, giant monsters loping out of the gloom. It's as if the mist makes everything mysterious. Maybe I've read too many Stephen King books, or maybe I just refuse to let go of that last bit of wild imagination from my childhood.
When it rains I am instantly transported back to New England. In Massachusetts, playing in the puddles in the driveway. In Maine, to the coast, watching the grey ocean collide with the grey, rocky shores on one end and the grey horizon on the other. In Vermont, standing on the shore of Lake Champlain, imagining all of the ships that had sunk to the bottom, and the ever elusive lake monster, Champ. I can see, in my mind, the brilliant colors of the Fall foliage against a dreary sky, the trees seeming like fireworks bursting from the mountains. The smells of the woods, damp earth, pine, that ever present green smell that I adore surrounds me and I am instantly at peace.
Here in Richmond some of my favorite times have been on rainy days. Exploring Hollywood Cemetery with all of its history, the James River and the old, Southern architecture seem to come alive. Standing under a giant Magnolia while rain drips around me off the leaves and flowers, smelling like heaven on earth.
In South Carolina, marching in formation with what seemed like two hundred pounds of gear on my back, rain trickling into my eyes. My cap and hair plastered to my head, feeling completely exhausted, completely liberated, doing what felt most natural at that time.
In San Antonio, Texas, where it rarely rained, I can remember a day spent walking around post with my best Battle Buddy, just talking and laughing. We got lost, turned around and around until we finally got our bearings, drenched and happy. We were wearing our ACUs, it was family day. Neither of us had family visiting, so we were each others family for the day.
In Blackstone, hiding out in the back of our ambulance, telling jokes, waiting for the rain to stop and the exercise to continue. Using some poor, unsuspecting new Private as our personal guinea pig to practice on. Knowing that the people I was with would be friends for life.
And now the rain has stopped, returning me to present day, the reality of daily life. I hope that as Beau grows up he inherits a love of rainy days from both Brian and I. And I hope that he holds on to his imagination forever.
Rain is transformative, not always for the better, but it is. In the woods the grey skies somehow make things dream like, I can imagine scenes form "Where the Wild Things Are', strange, giant monsters loping out of the gloom. It's as if the mist makes everything mysterious. Maybe I've read too many Stephen King books, or maybe I just refuse to let go of that last bit of wild imagination from my childhood.
When it rains I am instantly transported back to New England. In Massachusetts, playing in the puddles in the driveway. In Maine, to the coast, watching the grey ocean collide with the grey, rocky shores on one end and the grey horizon on the other. In Vermont, standing on the shore of Lake Champlain, imagining all of the ships that had sunk to the bottom, and the ever elusive lake monster, Champ. I can see, in my mind, the brilliant colors of the Fall foliage against a dreary sky, the trees seeming like fireworks bursting from the mountains. The smells of the woods, damp earth, pine, that ever present green smell that I adore surrounds me and I am instantly at peace.
Here in Richmond some of my favorite times have been on rainy days. Exploring Hollywood Cemetery with all of its history, the James River and the old, Southern architecture seem to come alive. Standing under a giant Magnolia while rain drips around me off the leaves and flowers, smelling like heaven on earth.
In South Carolina, marching in formation with what seemed like two hundred pounds of gear on my back, rain trickling into my eyes. My cap and hair plastered to my head, feeling completely exhausted, completely liberated, doing what felt most natural at that time.
In San Antonio, Texas, where it rarely rained, I can remember a day spent walking around post with my best Battle Buddy, just talking and laughing. We got lost, turned around and around until we finally got our bearings, drenched and happy. We were wearing our ACUs, it was family day. Neither of us had family visiting, so we were each others family for the day.
In Blackstone, hiding out in the back of our ambulance, telling jokes, waiting for the rain to stop and the exercise to continue. Using some poor, unsuspecting new Private as our personal guinea pig to practice on. Knowing that the people I was with would be friends for life.
And now the rain has stopped, returning me to present day, the reality of daily life. I hope that as Beau grows up he inherits a love of rainy days from both Brian and I. And I hope that he holds on to his imagination forever.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Strangers and Babies
Beau has not been napping well at all lately. My solution is to put him in the car and go to the park/library/home improvement stores/garden center. Being in his stroller or being pushed in a cart puts him to sleep like a charm. Being the handsome little boy that he is, he garners attention from almost everyone we encounter. And everyone has advice about parenting. Some is helpful, some I ignore, some people are just plain rude about it.
The other day Beau and I were at Home Depot, I was pushing him around the store and stopped to look at paint colors for the new house. An older couple passed and the woman immediately paused to talk to Beau. Beau stared at her husband in awe, which I contribute to the fact that he was wearing a Red Sox hat. Good boy, Beau. Anyway, this couple was very nice, chatted for a moment and walked on. A few minutes later she reappeared next to me with a paper paint sample in hand. She gave it to Beau and he promptly stuck it in his mouth. I learned the hard way a few days before that when these paint things get wet they disintegrate and Beau ends up with ink all over his face. I looked at the woman, smiled and said, 'oh, uh, thanks, but no, he is just going to eat it.' At this point I was reaching to remove said paper from my child's mouth. the woman looked at me and said, "well, now he has another one, doesn't he?" Why do people think it's okay to do this stuff? I looked at her, said 'No. Thank you.' and put the chewed paper in the diaper bag. The look she gave me said "do you really think you know better than me?" To which, in my mind, I said yes. He is my child and whether you agree with my parenting or not I know what my baby needs.
Then there was the trip to Target. I made it through the store with probably a bit more than I needed, but who doesn't at Target? At the check out the cashier at the register next to us started to ogle Beau. Then she noticed that he wasn't wearing any shoes or socks. This was about a month ago, so he wasn't even crawling yet. Not to mention that it was roughly ninety-five degrees out with what seemed like 1000% humidity. 'Why don't you have any shoes little one?' the questioning began. I don't really ever put socks on Beau unless it's chilly out, and I refuse to buy him $30 shoes before he is old enough to walk. And so I told her. She glared at me like I was the most unfit mother she had ever encountered. 'Not even socks? His little feet must be cold.' and that same disapproving look. I just sighed and said "Nope". What I really wanted to say goes something like this: 'It is ninety five degrees outside, he is crammed into a car seat that does not breath at all. I am lucky I got clothes on him at all, have you ever tried to dress a six month old that despises wearing clothing? For that matter, I'm lucky I even got a diaper on him, considering he turns into a Flying Wallenda when it's time to change him. Any other questions Lady???' When I told Brian later that day about the encounter he shook his head and said "Why is it any business of hers?"
Being in public with a baby means lots of unsolicited advice. Everything from 'He's too cold/he's too hot to why are you feeding him formula? You're already giving him baby food? He's teething; he looks small/big for his age'...the list goes on. I have learned to deal with most of it, a simple acknowledgement and smile usually does the trick.
I can deal with the advice, what I can't deal with are people who think it's okay to touch him. Why are people so obsessed with baby toes? At least once a day a stranger will reach over and touch his feet before I can maneuver him away.
1. I do not know you, I do not know where your hands have been. Did you wash them after you used the bathroom? Did you just pick up a thing of yucky, dripping raw chicken in the meat section and then touch my baby's foot which he will promptly put in his mouth the second he has a chance???
2. What is it about pregnant women and babies that just screams "please touch me, because I have never met you and am therefore fine with you patting my belly/rubbing my toes/touching my head, etc.? I have never had the impulse to reach out and touch a stranger just for the heck of it. Someone please explain this to me.
3. While I'm at it, why do people stare at extremely pregnant women like they are aliens? I thought I was alone on this one until a friend of mine brought it up to me. We were due within a month of each other and frequently compared stories about this. In particular it seems to be elderly men and young women. Maybe one is thinking "If only you knew what you're in store for", and the other is thinking "Is that what I'M going to look like??!!"
4. Strangers who ask if they can hold my baby. Seriously. Refer to number one.
I have no problem with friends and family holding Beau, I know them, I trust them, I'm not worried that they have been making anthrax in their basement and just touched my kid (yes, it is irrational, that's what motherhood does to a person).
The lady who works at the local grocery store comments passive-aggressively every time we're in there that she wishes she could hold Beau. My thoughts on this: "Please, let me just get him out of the car seat it took me ten minutes to buckle him into, all while he is throwing a fit because he hates the stupid thing, then there is about an 80% chance he is going to take one look at you, realize that you're not me and throw another fit. Then you will promptly hand him back to me and I will have to begin the whole car seat thing AGAIN. Dare I even ask if you have washed your hands since you touched the money?"
On that note, I have a completely unrelated story to share. I took Beau to PetSmart yesterday to look at the animals. While we were walking around I started talking with a young woman who had a Pit Bull pup with her. We were talking, Beau was giggling at the puppy and suddenly the puppy began to poop right in the middle of the aisle. Beau thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen and was laughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath. Oh, the joys of babies and puppies. The woman and I could not help but laugh at Beau, laughing at the pooping dog.
The other day Beau and I were at Home Depot, I was pushing him around the store and stopped to look at paint colors for the new house. An older couple passed and the woman immediately paused to talk to Beau. Beau stared at her husband in awe, which I contribute to the fact that he was wearing a Red Sox hat. Good boy, Beau. Anyway, this couple was very nice, chatted for a moment and walked on. A few minutes later she reappeared next to me with a paper paint sample in hand. She gave it to Beau and he promptly stuck it in his mouth. I learned the hard way a few days before that when these paint things get wet they disintegrate and Beau ends up with ink all over his face. I looked at the woman, smiled and said, 'oh, uh, thanks, but no, he is just going to eat it.' At this point I was reaching to remove said paper from my child's mouth. the woman looked at me and said, "well, now he has another one, doesn't he?" Why do people think it's okay to do this stuff? I looked at her, said 'No. Thank you.' and put the chewed paper in the diaper bag. The look she gave me said "do you really think you know better than me?" To which, in my mind, I said yes. He is my child and whether you agree with my parenting or not I know what my baby needs.
Then there was the trip to Target. I made it through the store with probably a bit more than I needed, but who doesn't at Target? At the check out the cashier at the register next to us started to ogle Beau. Then she noticed that he wasn't wearing any shoes or socks. This was about a month ago, so he wasn't even crawling yet. Not to mention that it was roughly ninety-five degrees out with what seemed like 1000% humidity. 'Why don't you have any shoes little one?' the questioning began. I don't really ever put socks on Beau unless it's chilly out, and I refuse to buy him $30 shoes before he is old enough to walk. And so I told her. She glared at me like I was the most unfit mother she had ever encountered. 'Not even socks? His little feet must be cold.' and that same disapproving look. I just sighed and said "Nope". What I really wanted to say goes something like this: 'It is ninety five degrees outside, he is crammed into a car seat that does not breath at all. I am lucky I got clothes on him at all, have you ever tried to dress a six month old that despises wearing clothing? For that matter, I'm lucky I even got a diaper on him, considering he turns into a Flying Wallenda when it's time to change him. Any other questions Lady???' When I told Brian later that day about the encounter he shook his head and said "Why is it any business of hers?"
Being in public with a baby means lots of unsolicited advice. Everything from 'He's too cold/he's too hot to why are you feeding him formula? You're already giving him baby food? He's teething; he looks small/big for his age'...the list goes on. I have learned to deal with most of it, a simple acknowledgement and smile usually does the trick.
I can deal with the advice, what I can't deal with are people who think it's okay to touch him. Why are people so obsessed with baby toes? At least once a day a stranger will reach over and touch his feet before I can maneuver him away.
1. I do not know you, I do not know where your hands have been. Did you wash them after you used the bathroom? Did you just pick up a thing of yucky, dripping raw chicken in the meat section and then touch my baby's foot which he will promptly put in his mouth the second he has a chance???
2. What is it about pregnant women and babies that just screams "please touch me, because I have never met you and am therefore fine with you patting my belly/rubbing my toes/touching my head, etc.? I have never had the impulse to reach out and touch a stranger just for the heck of it. Someone please explain this to me.
3. While I'm at it, why do people stare at extremely pregnant women like they are aliens? I thought I was alone on this one until a friend of mine brought it up to me. We were due within a month of each other and frequently compared stories about this. In particular it seems to be elderly men and young women. Maybe one is thinking "If only you knew what you're in store for", and the other is thinking "Is that what I'M going to look like??!!"
4. Strangers who ask if they can hold my baby. Seriously. Refer to number one.
I have no problem with friends and family holding Beau, I know them, I trust them, I'm not worried that they have been making anthrax in their basement and just touched my kid (yes, it is irrational, that's what motherhood does to a person).
The lady who works at the local grocery store comments passive-aggressively every time we're in there that she wishes she could hold Beau. My thoughts on this: "Please, let me just get him out of the car seat it took me ten minutes to buckle him into, all while he is throwing a fit because he hates the stupid thing, then there is about an 80% chance he is going to take one look at you, realize that you're not me and throw another fit. Then you will promptly hand him back to me and I will have to begin the whole car seat thing AGAIN. Dare I even ask if you have washed your hands since you touched the money?"
On that note, I have a completely unrelated story to share. I took Beau to PetSmart yesterday to look at the animals. While we were walking around I started talking with a young woman who had a Pit Bull pup with her. We were talking, Beau was giggling at the puppy and suddenly the puppy began to poop right in the middle of the aisle. Beau thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen and was laughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath. Oh, the joys of babies and puppies. The woman and I could not help but laugh at Beau, laughing at the pooping dog.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Father's Day
I have an amazing Dad. My husband is an amazing Dad. I give them both credit, because it's not an easy job.
When I was a teenager I was miserable. By that I mean I know I was not easy to deal with. I hated school, I didn't like to do my homework, I never wanted to be home by curfew and I definitely got into my fair share of trouble. Through all of it my Dad was there. Always telling me, "This is for your own good". Now that I am older I know what he meant. My Dad made me strong, taught me life lessons, gave me the gift of storytelling and opened my eyes to many things. He is truly an inspiration to me, his strength through all he has dealt with is, to say the least, admirable.
When I was sixteen my parents took on the daunting task of teaching me to drive. I had been in a pretty nasty car accident months before, and remarkably escaped unscathed. I was not happy about driving, I was convinced that I would be relying on public transportation and my bicycle for the rest of my life. Nope. I can't remember what car we were using, but one day Dad decided we were going to drive around the block. I did pretty good for three quarters of it, then, pulling back onto our street it happened. I must have hit the gas a bit too hard, freaked out and over steered because the car ended up in the bushes of the house at the end of the street. Without thinking Dad told me to switch, got into the drivers seat and zipped down the road to our driveway. The bushes were fine, and the look on Dad's face is one I will never forget! I cannot help but smile every time I go home and drive past those bushes. I wonder if the neighbors ever noticed?
My Dad worked as a machinist for many years, first in the family business, then a few other places. When he was forty-nine (I hope I got that right!) he quit his job at a plastics manufacturing company and joined the Fire Department. I was amazed. I don't know many people who would do that, especially at that age. I attended Dad's graduation from the Fire Academy and I realized just how happy he looked. He was finally doing something that made him happy.
My Dad was the real reason I joined the military at twenty-nine, he's also the reason I wanted to be an EMT. So, to you Dad, I say Thank You! Not just for the inspiration, but for helping to make me who I am.
When I was a teenager I was miserable. By that I mean I know I was not easy to deal with. I hated school, I didn't like to do my homework, I never wanted to be home by curfew and I definitely got into my fair share of trouble. Through all of it my Dad was there. Always telling me, "This is for your own good". Now that I am older I know what he meant. My Dad made me strong, taught me life lessons, gave me the gift of storytelling and opened my eyes to many things. He is truly an inspiration to me, his strength through all he has dealt with is, to say the least, admirable.
When I was sixteen my parents took on the daunting task of teaching me to drive. I had been in a pretty nasty car accident months before, and remarkably escaped unscathed. I was not happy about driving, I was convinced that I would be relying on public transportation and my bicycle for the rest of my life. Nope. I can't remember what car we were using, but one day Dad decided we were going to drive around the block. I did pretty good for three quarters of it, then, pulling back onto our street it happened. I must have hit the gas a bit too hard, freaked out and over steered because the car ended up in the bushes of the house at the end of the street. Without thinking Dad told me to switch, got into the drivers seat and zipped down the road to our driveway. The bushes were fine, and the look on Dad's face is one I will never forget! I cannot help but smile every time I go home and drive past those bushes. I wonder if the neighbors ever noticed?
My Dad worked as a machinist for many years, first in the family business, then a few other places. When he was forty-nine (I hope I got that right!) he quit his job at a plastics manufacturing company and joined the Fire Department. I was amazed. I don't know many people who would do that, especially at that age. I attended Dad's graduation from the Fire Academy and I realized just how happy he looked. He was finally doing something that made him happy.
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| Dad, in the middle with his hand on his hip and the biggest smile ever. |
I met my husband at a bar on September 11, 2010. My ex had moved out about a month before and while I did not miss him, I was lonely. I had spent the morning at the botanical gardens and could not stand to go home to an empty house for the rest of the day. I headed to the local bar, deciding that I would have a 'couple' beers and watch baseball. At that point in my life there really was no such thing as only having a couple beers. So I sat, enjoying my heady buzz, watching baseball, then football, talking to whoever happened to sit next to me. After a few hours I was pretty drunk, and this guy came over to talk to me. His pick up line went like this "I just watched you put down like three of those big beers and I'm still working on one." Gotta give the guy credit for creativity. We spent the rest of the afternoon sharing drinks and talking, even with my insistence that I wasn't looking to date anyone, he stayed right there, on the bar stool next to me. It was a long night, completely innocent as far as I was concerned. Just too many beers and some bar food with a nice guy. We exchanged numbers and I reminded him that I wasn't interested in dating. He texted me the next day and asked if I wanted to hang out, I was way too hung over and told him no thanks.
Over the course of the week we continued to text back and forth, talking about random things, what movies we liked, our favorite foods, etc. I had drill that weekend, and was stuck on post out of town. The guy texted me that Saturday and asked if I wanted to go out. He used the same exact wording he had the day after our initial meeting. It must have been his persistence and charm, because I said yes. Sunday afternoon, once drill was over, I got dolled up and headed to meet him at (of course) the bar. I remember being worried because I almost couldn't remember what he looked like. When I walked in and saw him my first thought was 'Thank God, he really is cute'.
Looking back I never would have thought that we would be where we are now. We were together for about six months when he proposed. We got married the a few months later, the day after a beach vacation, on the back deck at his house. The only people there were us, the officiant, Brian's mom and a friend who took our pictures. By late October I was pregnant. We were ecstatic. Then I had a miscarriage. We were devastated. We had some terrible arguments in the couple months that followed, fueled by alcohol and hurt emotions. But never once did I think that we wouldn't work.
We moved into a new apartment together in December of 2011, by the end of February I was pregnant again. The drinking had stopped, the arguing had let up and we had started to dream about our baby.
Flash forward to today, Father's Day 2013. Brian is currently sleeping late, with Beau curled up in bed right next to him. Brian worked yesterday, just to make extra money for our new house. He works as many hours as he can so we can have the things we need. He comes home exhausted and still helps me with the house, he cooks dinner most nights, and he plays with Beau. He talks to Beau about how they will build things together in the future, how he is going to make Beau the best tree house ever and take him fishing and play baseball with him.
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| Brian and Beau. |
He is an amazing father, an amazing husband and the love of my life. Brian is truly my best friend, my soul mate and my confidant. I don't think I really knew what it is to be in love with someone before I met Brian. He makes my world go round and I can't imagine my life without him.
To my Dad and my husband, I say thank you, again. I don't think I say it enough and I don't think they know how much they mean to me. Happy Father's Day.
To my Dad and my husband, I say thank you, again. I don't think I say it enough and I don't think they know how much they mean to me. Happy Father's Day.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Life Changes
It's been a little over a week since I last sat down to write and I'm struggling a bit this morning. So many things have changed over the past two weeks, it all makes my head spin a little. The weekend before vacation we were visiting with Brian's parents, chatting and someone brought up his grandmother's house. She passed away about a month ago and left a house that my father in-law and his siblings were planning to sell. Hmmm...Brian and I are desperately looking to get out of our apartment. So the talk turned to us possibly buying the house. We gathered up Beau and all of us headed over to take a look at the place. I had only been there once, and had only seen one room. Well, we got there and to my surprise there is a big fenced-in backyard. And four bedrooms, and a sun room...and my head instantly filled with ideas. The sun room would be a breakfast nook/green house. Beau would have his own bedroom, I could have a craft room and Brian would have the obligatory 'man cave'.
Things moved fast from there. Two days later Brian was putting together paperwork for a mortgage pre-approval. Two days after that we got pre-approved. This past Saturday we went and signed the preliminary contract. And BAM, we are getting a house!!!
Holy cow, I thought it would be years before I would be saying that. The house needs a lot of work but it has tons of potential. We have to get the inspection, appraisal and termite inspection done, and if all goes well we will be closing on July 28th. I can't wipe the smile off my face right now. Thinking about the dogs running in the backyard, seeing Beau chase after them, hopefully having another baby, it is perfection. And the fact that I get to share it all with my wonderful husband, that he made it all happen is like a dream.
I haven't posted anything on Facebook yet, which has been hard for me to do, I think because it does still seem like a dream. I don't think I will fully believe it until the day we move in. We've been over there a few times to look at it now, I've already picked out paint for most of the rooms and have planned my flower gardens. Brian already has plans for his man cave and his garage. The dogs have not been over there yet, but I'm sure they will have some plans of their own for the backyard, Ruby likes to dig.
So, obviously, the house is the biggest change for all of us, but Beau has made some pretty big changes, too. We spent last week at the beach with some friends and their baby girl. Watching the two little ones play was adorable. Their baby is about a month older than Beau, so naturally she is doing things he hadn't yet. Beau is very observant and apparently watching his little friend crawl around the floor was the motivation he needed. I was sitting on the floor playing with him lat night and watched as he scooted right across the floor to get my cell phone. Now he doesn't want to do anything but practice, and each time he gets a little higher off his belly and a little farther in distance. Too cute! He is also babbling more and saying Mama and Dada, which any parenting book will tell you is just him working on his speech. Brian and I, of course, are in agreement that he is directing it towards us. Our little boy never ceases to amaze me. He is in my opinion the best thing that has ever happened. I'm pretty sure he will be walking next week.
With all of the changes over the past (almost) seven months, I have been overwhelmed, dealt with depression and anxiety, but all of a sudden things seem to falling into place. Like life is saying, 'here, you guys deserve this', and putting all of the pieces together.
With that said, I think I will end my writing for today. I have to go play with my beautiful little boy and pack for our new house!
*If there are words missing an M please ignore it. I try to spell check everything but the M button on my keyboard sticks and for some reason spell check doesn't always catch it.
Things moved fast from there. Two days later Brian was putting together paperwork for a mortgage pre-approval. Two days after that we got pre-approved. This past Saturday we went and signed the preliminary contract. And BAM, we are getting a house!!!
Holy cow, I thought it would be years before I would be saying that. The house needs a lot of work but it has tons of potential. We have to get the inspection, appraisal and termite inspection done, and if all goes well we will be closing on July 28th. I can't wipe the smile off my face right now. Thinking about the dogs running in the backyard, seeing Beau chase after them, hopefully having another baby, it is perfection. And the fact that I get to share it all with my wonderful husband, that he made it all happen is like a dream.
I haven't posted anything on Facebook yet, which has been hard for me to do, I think because it does still seem like a dream. I don't think I will fully believe it until the day we move in. We've been over there a few times to look at it now, I've already picked out paint for most of the rooms and have planned my flower gardens. Brian already has plans for his man cave and his garage. The dogs have not been over there yet, but I'm sure they will have some plans of their own for the backyard, Ruby likes to dig.
So, obviously, the house is the biggest change for all of us, but Beau has made some pretty big changes, too. We spent last week at the beach with some friends and their baby girl. Watching the two little ones play was adorable. Their baby is about a month older than Beau, so naturally she is doing things he hadn't yet. Beau is very observant and apparently watching his little friend crawl around the floor was the motivation he needed. I was sitting on the floor playing with him lat night and watched as he scooted right across the floor to get my cell phone. Now he doesn't want to do anything but practice, and each time he gets a little higher off his belly and a little farther in distance. Too cute! He is also babbling more and saying Mama and Dada, which any parenting book will tell you is just him working on his speech. Brian and I, of course, are in agreement that he is directing it towards us. Our little boy never ceases to amaze me. He is in my opinion the best thing that has ever happened. I'm pretty sure he will be walking next week.
With all of the changes over the past (almost) seven months, I have been overwhelmed, dealt with depression and anxiety, but all of a sudden things seem to falling into place. Like life is saying, 'here, you guys deserve this', and putting all of the pieces together.
With that said, I think I will end my writing for today. I have to go play with my beautiful little boy and pack for our new house!
*If there are words missing an M please ignore it. I try to spell check everything but the M button on my keyboard sticks and for some reason spell check doesn't always catch it.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Vacation
To All of My Readers,
Thank you! I haven't been able to sit and write much this week, we are leaving for the beach on Sunday and planning to do anything these days is a major undertaking. How do I feed Beau in his high chair and keep it clean so I can pack it in the car? Hmmm, not possible. Oh well, life is messy when you have kids!
I'm hoping the sound of the waves and smell of the salt will inspire me, and I will have lots of pictures to post and I'm sure lots of good stories. I will be bringing my laptop so I can do some writing in the mornings while I'm there.
I really hope that everyone enjoys reading my posts. Writing is not just something I like to do, it is therapeutic for me. It helps to relieve some of the anxiety I feel in my daily life. Putting words on paper (or the computer screen) kind of brings back to me a little piece that seemed to be missing for a long time. It's easier for me to express myself in writing than it is through actual conversation.
Thank you all again for taking the time to read my posts. More soon, Liz
Thank you! I haven't been able to sit and write much this week, we are leaving for the beach on Sunday and planning to do anything these days is a major undertaking. How do I feed Beau in his high chair and keep it clean so I can pack it in the car? Hmmm, not possible. Oh well, life is messy when you have kids!
I'm hoping the sound of the waves and smell of the salt will inspire me, and I will have lots of pictures to post and I'm sure lots of good stories. I will be bringing my laptop so I can do some writing in the mornings while I'm there.
I really hope that everyone enjoys reading my posts. Writing is not just something I like to do, it is therapeutic for me. It helps to relieve some of the anxiety I feel in my daily life. Putting words on paper (or the computer screen) kind of brings back to me a little piece that seemed to be missing for a long time. It's easier for me to express myself in writing than it is through actual conversation.
Thank you all again for taking the time to read my posts. More soon, Liz
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
I Miss My Truck
My first car was a 1994 sky blue Toyota Tercel. It was a two door with black vinyl interior and a black rubbery steering wheel. It didn't have AC, the radiator was a piece of junk and the car constantly overheated, so I had to run the heat year round. It was like sitting inside a black trash bag on blacktop in August. But it was a good first car. I had that thing for ten years and would have kept it longer had it not been for all the repairs it needed.
In 2007 I traded the Tercel in for a 2001 Oldsmobile Alero, beige with tan leather interior. Judging by the hand written notes in the car's manual it was previously owned by an elderly man in Florida. Yup, it was an old man car. It did have AC and at first I didn't have a single problem with it. One day on my way to work I got stuck in traffic and the car started to overheat. It was warm out and I was just idling so I opened all the windows, turned on the heat just a little and figured it wouldn't be an issue. I was wrong. I had that car for three years and everyday it seemed like there was a new issue. The headlights would stop working so I replaced fuse after fuse. The radiator would over heat so I started carrying a jug of water in the trunk. I think at one point the interior lights stopped working, too.
The week before I was leaving for Basic the front calipers exploded and the car seized completely in the middle of a Walmart parking lot. Seriously?? To this day I regret buying that stupid car. I got the car fixed and left it in the parking lot at our apartment building. I had the parking pass, my tags and registration were up to date. While I was away at Basic the towing company that works for the apartment building ripped off the registration tags and towed it. We got it back when I came home for Christmas.
When I got home from Basic and AIT I officially left my first husband (we shall call him Buttface) and moved in with friends. My car got towed from the street they live on a couple times. It started to severely overheat every time I drove it and eventually it got to the point that it wasn't worth keeping. Late in 2009 I went back to my Buttface. We ended up trading in the Alero for a 2003 Nissan XTerra. I fell in love with my with that truck.
The XTerra had it's issues, once again the AC didn't work, but it didn't overheat. I'm not sure why I flipped over that truck the way I did. I was working full time for the Guard and my truck was moss green, it matched my uniform. I called it my Tank. It wasn't four wheel drive, it got stuck in the snow, I think one of the windows stopped working for a while, too. Didn't care, loved my truck!
When Buttface and I finally divorced in 2010 it was decided that though the truck was in his name I would keep it, continue to make the payments and refinance it into my name. The problem was the truck was too old and too high mileage and no one would refinance it for me. Buttface (the name I really call him is slightly more offensive and contains another part of the anatomy) really was a butt face. I explained to him that I was having a hard time with the refinancing, blah blah blah. No Go. He threw a fit about it, one of the reasons I divorced him, and refused to negotiate. By that point I was remarried to Brian and we decided to give up and just trade in the truck. I got a brand new 2011 Mitsubishi Galant. It's a good car, no issues at all, but it's just a car. I honestly cried a little when I had to say goodbye to my truck.
I think the truck symbolized freedom to me. Even though it was in Buttface's name I maintained it. I was on my own for the first time and I had a bad ass truck. I used to load Ruby Dog into it and we would go explore the city. I had that truck when I got MY first apartment that was solely MINE. I was the only person on the lease. I had a bad ass truck, a cute little apartment, a great dog and I had started seeing an amazing guy. And, to be honest, I just felt cool when I drove it.
Now we have the Galant, my little red, dependable car. the stroller doesn't fit in it so I don't drive it much. It doesn't even have 20,000 miles on it yet. The AC works, so do the windows, the radiator and the interior lights. It's got grey cloth interior and wood finish for the control panel. It's just not my XTerra.
In 2007 I traded the Tercel in for a 2001 Oldsmobile Alero, beige with tan leather interior. Judging by the hand written notes in the car's manual it was previously owned by an elderly man in Florida. Yup, it was an old man car. It did have AC and at first I didn't have a single problem with it. One day on my way to work I got stuck in traffic and the car started to overheat. It was warm out and I was just idling so I opened all the windows, turned on the heat just a little and figured it wouldn't be an issue. I was wrong. I had that car for three years and everyday it seemed like there was a new issue. The headlights would stop working so I replaced fuse after fuse. The radiator would over heat so I started carrying a jug of water in the trunk. I think at one point the interior lights stopped working, too.
The week before I was leaving for Basic the front calipers exploded and the car seized completely in the middle of a Walmart parking lot. Seriously?? To this day I regret buying that stupid car. I got the car fixed and left it in the parking lot at our apartment building. I had the parking pass, my tags and registration were up to date. While I was away at Basic the towing company that works for the apartment building ripped off the registration tags and towed it. We got it back when I came home for Christmas.
When I got home from Basic and AIT I officially left my first husband (we shall call him Buttface) and moved in with friends. My car got towed from the street they live on a couple times. It started to severely overheat every time I drove it and eventually it got to the point that it wasn't worth keeping. Late in 2009 I went back to my Buttface. We ended up trading in the Alero for a 2003 Nissan XTerra. I fell in love with my with that truck.
The XTerra had it's issues, once again the AC didn't work, but it didn't overheat. I'm not sure why I flipped over that truck the way I did. I was working full time for the Guard and my truck was moss green, it matched my uniform. I called it my Tank. It wasn't four wheel drive, it got stuck in the snow, I think one of the windows stopped working for a while, too. Didn't care, loved my truck!
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| A moss green 2003 Nissan XTerra. Mine had a Combat Medic sticker on the back window. |
When Buttface and I finally divorced in 2010 it was decided that though the truck was in his name I would keep it, continue to make the payments and refinance it into my name. The problem was the truck was too old and too high mileage and no one would refinance it for me. Buttface (the name I really call him is slightly more offensive and contains another part of the anatomy) really was a butt face. I explained to him that I was having a hard time with the refinancing, blah blah blah. No Go. He threw a fit about it, one of the reasons I divorced him, and refused to negotiate. By that point I was remarried to Brian and we decided to give up and just trade in the truck. I got a brand new 2011 Mitsubishi Galant. It's a good car, no issues at all, but it's just a car. I honestly cried a little when I had to say goodbye to my truck.
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| This is what I've got now. It's a really good car, it's just not as cool as my truck. |
I think the truck symbolized freedom to me. Even though it was in Buttface's name I maintained it. I was on my own for the first time and I had a bad ass truck. I used to load Ruby Dog into it and we would go explore the city. I had that truck when I got MY first apartment that was solely MINE. I was the only person on the lease. I had a bad ass truck, a cute little apartment, a great dog and I had started seeing an amazing guy. And, to be honest, I just felt cool when I drove it.
Now we have the Galant, my little red, dependable car. the stroller doesn't fit in it so I don't drive it much. It doesn't even have 20,000 miles on it yet. The AC works, so do the windows, the radiator and the interior lights. It's got grey cloth interior and wood finish for the control panel. It's just not my XTerra.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
What do you mean the diaper genie is full?
I have had many moments when I have been so exhausted I swear I am delusional. Sometimes the things that come out of my mouth make me sigh and just shake my head. Everyone tells you that once the baby arrives you will be more tired than you ever knew possible. Yes. You will leave the house accidentally wearing Crocs and not realize until you are in the middle of Target. You will find binkies (pacifiers) in your pockets at the end of the day and will come home only to realize that you have spit up all the way down the back of your shirt. When did that happen? Here are just a few giggles from the past six months, I hope you get a chuckle out of them.
1. When Beau was a week or two old I was changing his diaper, no big deal. When I stepped on the pedal to open the diaper genie it seemed stuck. The damn thing wouldn't open so the diaper went in the trash can. I told Brian that the diaper genie was broken, could he please take a look at it? Brian is a carpenter and I'm pretty sure he can fix just about anything. A few minutes later he came out with a long bag full of dirty diapers. "It was just full." Now, I still have no idea what was wrong with me at that exact moment, and I will blame it on exhausted mommy brain. "What do you mean it was full?" I asked, completely confused. Brian just stared at me like I had nine heads and repeated that the diaper genie was simply full and needed to be emptied. Dumbfounded, I looked at him and said "you have to empty it??"
For whatever ridiculous reason I was under the impression that when a diaper went into the contraption it simply disappeared. Like, maybe there really was a genie inside that ate all the dirty diapers? I'm laughing even as I sit and write this because it's possibly the dumbest thought I have ever had. I consider myself an intelligent person, how was I outsmarted by a diaper pail?
2. Brian has been a hands on dad from the beginning, taking Beau when I need a minute to myself, helping with bottles, and of course diaper changes. One night Brian was changing Beau's diaper and I wandered into Beau's room, just to coo at our beautiful little boy. I watched as Brian put the new diaper on and something about it looked funny but I couldn't figure out what. Until Brian went to fasten the little Velcro tabs, to the back of the diaper? Yup, it was on backwards. I told Brian and he just gave me a funny look, and went on with it. I had to point out that 'Honey, you put it on him backwards'. "Oh." Poor Brian, I think this was when Beau was a very new addition to our home and he was still a newbie at the whole diaper thing. To this day I can't help but wonder how many backwards diapers our little guy wore in those first few weeks.
3. I've come to learn that babies are creatures of habit, they like their schedules (give or take 2 hours) and as such I should expect certain things. I picked up one of those little baby chairs that vibrates before Beau was born and he loved it immediately. I could sit him in the chair and he would be asleep in a few minutes, YAY! As Beau got a little older the schedule became eat, poop, sleep in the chair, until one day he pooped while he was in the chair. I couldn't figure out why he was so upset and unbuckled him. I picked him up and snuggled him, rubbed his back and discovered...that he had pooped right up the back of his diaper. Into his jammies, all over the chair and now all over my hand. Yeah, that was fun to clean up. I managed to prevent a repeat performance for the most part until my in laws bought him a little exersaucer thingy with wheels on it. It looks like a little red car and has some little do-dads on the front for him to play with. Beau loved this immediately, too. One day I picked him up and discovered that his back was covered in poo and so was the seat in his car. I'm shaking my head as I write this because it still occurs on a fairly regular basis. I have become much better at cleaning it, though. That's that two hour window...never know when it's going to happen now. Oh well.
4. I have a pretty good routine in the morning, I get up around 5:00 am, turn on the coffee maker and make Beau's first bottle. A few days ago I was going about this, just like every other day. I turned on the Keurig, warmed the water for the bottle and filled it, put the formula powder in the bottle, and then I opened the fridge and took out the half and half. I had the cap off the carton and was ready to pour it when, like a bolt of lightning to the brain, I realized I was about to put half and half into Beau's bottle, not my coffee. Have I actually done this? I hate to admit it, but I can't say no for sure. Maybe I'm not as good at multitasking as I thought.
5. Beau was holding his head up at about one month, he was sitting at five months, he has, so far been ahead of the curve. Because he could hold his head up and his back was good and strong around three months I decided to play airplane with him, picking him up in the air, over my head and flying him like an airplane. Pretty self explanatory. Beau was having a blast, giggling and smiling, and my arms were getting tired so I rested him tummy first on top of my head (holing onto him, of course) and he loved that, too. He loved it so much that he grabbed two fistfuls of my hair and started to screech like a little banshee. I was in pain but could not stop laughing, I laughed so hard that I was crying and the little booger would not let go! Brian was sitting on the balcony so I walked over to the door and kicked it to get his attention, trying to tell him that I needed help. I was laughing so hard I could barely breath and that "WTH?" look appeared on my husbands face. Finally Brian came in and untangled Beau from my scalp, looking at me like I was a lunatic because I was still in hysterics. I cut my hair a few days later.
6. Another game of airplane ended badly, because I'm stubborn and it makes Beau laugh so I continue to do it. I was sitting on the couch, had Beau up in the air and I was flying him around, Beau was giggling, got the hiccups and then 'spit up' (slimed) all over me. My hair, face, clothes, the couch. Lovely. And of course he thought it was hilarious. A few days later Brian was doing the same thing and I told him to be careful because Beau would puke all over him. No sooner had the words come out of my mouth than the spit up (slime) went into Brian's. I couldn't help it, I had to laugh, the look on Brian's face was sheer disgust and Beau was still giggling.
7. Last, but not least, Crockett, our Boxer/Lab mix will find binkies all over the house. He picks them up, like a baby, with the sucker end in his mouth and brings them to me. Imagine a seventy pound dog walking over to you with a binkie in his mouth that says "Chicks dig me".
This is my life now and I wouldn't change it for anything in the world!
1. When Beau was a week or two old I was changing his diaper, no big deal. When I stepped on the pedal to open the diaper genie it seemed stuck. The damn thing wouldn't open so the diaper went in the trash can. I told Brian that the diaper genie was broken, could he please take a look at it? Brian is a carpenter and I'm pretty sure he can fix just about anything. A few minutes later he came out with a long bag full of dirty diapers. "It was just full." Now, I still have no idea what was wrong with me at that exact moment, and I will blame it on exhausted mommy brain. "What do you mean it was full?" I asked, completely confused. Brian just stared at me like I had nine heads and repeated that the diaper genie was simply full and needed to be emptied. Dumbfounded, I looked at him and said "you have to empty it??"
For whatever ridiculous reason I was under the impression that when a diaper went into the contraption it simply disappeared. Like, maybe there really was a genie inside that ate all the dirty diapers? I'm laughing even as I sit and write this because it's possibly the dumbest thought I have ever had. I consider myself an intelligent person, how was I outsmarted by a diaper pail?
2. Brian has been a hands on dad from the beginning, taking Beau when I need a minute to myself, helping with bottles, and of course diaper changes. One night Brian was changing Beau's diaper and I wandered into Beau's room, just to coo at our beautiful little boy. I watched as Brian put the new diaper on and something about it looked funny but I couldn't figure out what. Until Brian went to fasten the little Velcro tabs, to the back of the diaper? Yup, it was on backwards. I told Brian and he just gave me a funny look, and went on with it. I had to point out that 'Honey, you put it on him backwards'. "Oh." Poor Brian, I think this was when Beau was a very new addition to our home and he was still a newbie at the whole diaper thing. To this day I can't help but wonder how many backwards diapers our little guy wore in those first few weeks.
3. I've come to learn that babies are creatures of habit, they like their schedules (give or take 2 hours) and as such I should expect certain things. I picked up one of those little baby chairs that vibrates before Beau was born and he loved it immediately. I could sit him in the chair and he would be asleep in a few minutes, YAY! As Beau got a little older the schedule became eat, poop, sleep in the chair, until one day he pooped while he was in the chair. I couldn't figure out why he was so upset and unbuckled him. I picked him up and snuggled him, rubbed his back and discovered...that he had pooped right up the back of his diaper. Into his jammies, all over the chair and now all over my hand. Yeah, that was fun to clean up. I managed to prevent a repeat performance for the most part until my in laws bought him a little exersaucer thingy with wheels on it. It looks like a little red car and has some little do-dads on the front for him to play with. Beau loved this immediately, too. One day I picked him up and discovered that his back was covered in poo and so was the seat in his car. I'm shaking my head as I write this because it still occurs on a fairly regular basis. I have become much better at cleaning it, though. That's that two hour window...never know when it's going to happen now. Oh well.
4. I have a pretty good routine in the morning, I get up around 5:00 am, turn on the coffee maker and make Beau's first bottle. A few days ago I was going about this, just like every other day. I turned on the Keurig, warmed the water for the bottle and filled it, put the formula powder in the bottle, and then I opened the fridge and took out the half and half. I had the cap off the carton and was ready to pour it when, like a bolt of lightning to the brain, I realized I was about to put half and half into Beau's bottle, not my coffee. Have I actually done this? I hate to admit it, but I can't say no for sure. Maybe I'm not as good at multitasking as I thought.
5. Beau was holding his head up at about one month, he was sitting at five months, he has, so far been ahead of the curve. Because he could hold his head up and his back was good and strong around three months I decided to play airplane with him, picking him up in the air, over my head and flying him like an airplane. Pretty self explanatory. Beau was having a blast, giggling and smiling, and my arms were getting tired so I rested him tummy first on top of my head (holing onto him, of course) and he loved that, too. He loved it so much that he grabbed two fistfuls of my hair and started to screech like a little banshee. I was in pain but could not stop laughing, I laughed so hard that I was crying and the little booger would not let go! Brian was sitting on the balcony so I walked over to the door and kicked it to get his attention, trying to tell him that I needed help. I was laughing so hard I could barely breath and that "WTH?" look appeared on my husbands face. Finally Brian came in and untangled Beau from my scalp, looking at me like I was a lunatic because I was still in hysterics. I cut my hair a few days later.
6. Another game of airplane ended badly, because I'm stubborn and it makes Beau laugh so I continue to do it. I was sitting on the couch, had Beau up in the air and I was flying him around, Beau was giggling, got the hiccups and then 'spit up' (slimed) all over me. My hair, face, clothes, the couch. Lovely. And of course he thought it was hilarious. A few days later Brian was doing the same thing and I told him to be careful because Beau would puke all over him. No sooner had the words come out of my mouth than the spit up (slime) went into Brian's. I couldn't help it, I had to laugh, the look on Brian's face was sheer disgust and Beau was still giggling.
7. Last, but not least, Crockett, our Boxer/Lab mix will find binkies all over the house. He picks them up, like a baby, with the sucker end in his mouth and brings them to me. Imagine a seventy pound dog walking over to you with a binkie in his mouth that says "Chicks dig me".
This is my life now and I wouldn't change it for anything in the world!
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
The Taboo of Formula Feeding
Years ago most doctors recommended that mothers feed their babies formula because breast milk was bad for them. Oh, how the times have changed! These days any baby or mommy blog/forum/article, etc. pushes for breast feeding as do doctors and midwives. We know now that it is, of course, the best thing for baby. Mom passes antibodies to baby through her breast milk, provides (supposedly) just the right amount of nutrition and it is important for bonding. I agree with all of that.
When I was pregnant I did tons of research, I already knew that I wanted to breastfeed and the more I read the more determined I became. I was excited to share this amazing, special thing with my son and the feeling that through breastfeeding I would make him stronger was empowering. I was also nervous, as any first time mom is, thinking 'what if I can't do it? what if he doesn't latch...' I am a worrier, so it was only natural for me to obsess over it. When Beau was born I nursed him almost immediately and everything was great. I also had to supplement with formula due to a high Bilirubin count. The nurses said formula helps to pass all the toxins out of their system faster. No problem, he was still nursing well and it continued when we got home.
At Beau's first visit with the pediatrician I was told I could stop the formula and nurse exclusively. Now lots of people will tell you that breastfeeding is natural and comes easily. After a week or so I was ready to pull my hair out. This kid would NOT stay awake during feedings. I tried stripping him down to his diaper, putting a cool cloth on the back of his neck, tickling his feet and nothing worked. He would fall asleep within minutes and it would all be for naught. Feeding sessions started to last longer and longer as I struggled to keep him awake. Then he decided he only wanted one side at a time which meant even more time doing this. Despite all of the difficulties I was still determined to continue breastfeeding. I wanted my son to have the best and if that meant sitting on the couch trying to keep him awake for hours on end that's what I would do. I did give in and feed him formula from time to time, and he would gobble it down. My mom kept telling me that there is no shame in switching to formula, he would still be healthy and get everything he needed.
A couple weeks before his two month appointment Beau seemed to go through a faze that included screaming if anyone but me held him. I was convinced it was just a baby thing and he would outgrow it in a week or two. Brian kept urging me to give Beau formula because he was still hungry but I insisted that he was fine just breastfeeding. When I took Beau in for his two month checkup, as I have discussed previously, the doctor diagnosed him with 'Failure to Thrive' and told me that I needed to supplement with formula immediately. Beau was underweight and his little legs were too skinny for his first round of immunizations. I felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on my heart. I cried in the doctor's office (he was working with a med student that day, which only made it worse), I cried when I got home, I cried when I called my mom. I cried when I told Brian, who basically said 'I told you so, but it's not your fault.' Brian tried as best he could to make me feel better and after a couple of days I did.
Feeding sessions went from what seemed like hours to twenty minutes when we started supplementing. Beau gained all the weight he needed to in no time and was much happier. I continued to nurse and pump and supplement and it was terrific. I was less stressed, Brian could hold Beau without the baby screaming and they were bonding.
Soon Beau began to want formula more and breast milk less and less, nursing became more difficult, Beau was again getting uncooperative with it but he was doing great with the formula. I had read about nursing strikes and again figured he would outgrow this faze, too. I should mention that I am incredibly stubborn, but I was getting more and more frustrated. I contemplated feeding him strictly formula and then I would read an article about how some women just don't try hard enough to continue nursing. I started drinking more water, I think I was going through a gallon a day, I took supplements that made me smell like maple syrup, I tried everything I could think of. Beau was weaning himself and I was left feeling like a failure. It was gradual, first he stopped wanting to nurse in the afternoons. Then he stopped at night, and finally one morning he decided he was done nursing all together.
I was ready to feel crushed when he didn't want to nurse, but what I actually felt was happy. I didn't have to fight him to get him to eat, he wasn't grumpy, I wasn't grumpy and best of all, Brian could really take over more of the feedings! I was still slightly ashamed, though, to walk in to the grocery store and buy a container of formula. I felt like other mothers were looking at me and judging my abilities, and I do occasionally get a look of disapproval. You know what? They can stick it. My son is happy and healthy. He has only had two small colds in six months and has grown significantly in the past few months. He's ahead of the curve with his milestones and is getting smarter by the day. I swear he never blinks those big blue eyes, he is constantly taking everything in.
While breastfeeding is best for both baby and mom it's just not for everyone (more wisdom from my mom). The struggles and frustration can create more of a divide than a bonding experience. I'm not saying don't try, just don't beat yourself up over it. I plan to try with our next baby but this time I know that if it doesn't work it's not my fault and I won't beat myself up over it.
When I was pregnant I did tons of research, I already knew that I wanted to breastfeed and the more I read the more determined I became. I was excited to share this amazing, special thing with my son and the feeling that through breastfeeding I would make him stronger was empowering. I was also nervous, as any first time mom is, thinking 'what if I can't do it? what if he doesn't latch...' I am a worrier, so it was only natural for me to obsess over it. When Beau was born I nursed him almost immediately and everything was great. I also had to supplement with formula due to a high Bilirubin count. The nurses said formula helps to pass all the toxins out of their system faster. No problem, he was still nursing well and it continued when we got home.
At Beau's first visit with the pediatrician I was told I could stop the formula and nurse exclusively. Now lots of people will tell you that breastfeeding is natural and comes easily. After a week or so I was ready to pull my hair out. This kid would NOT stay awake during feedings. I tried stripping him down to his diaper, putting a cool cloth on the back of his neck, tickling his feet and nothing worked. He would fall asleep within minutes and it would all be for naught. Feeding sessions started to last longer and longer as I struggled to keep him awake. Then he decided he only wanted one side at a time which meant even more time doing this. Despite all of the difficulties I was still determined to continue breastfeeding. I wanted my son to have the best and if that meant sitting on the couch trying to keep him awake for hours on end that's what I would do. I did give in and feed him formula from time to time, and he would gobble it down. My mom kept telling me that there is no shame in switching to formula, he would still be healthy and get everything he needed.
A couple weeks before his two month appointment Beau seemed to go through a faze that included screaming if anyone but me held him. I was convinced it was just a baby thing and he would outgrow it in a week or two. Brian kept urging me to give Beau formula because he was still hungry but I insisted that he was fine just breastfeeding. When I took Beau in for his two month checkup, as I have discussed previously, the doctor diagnosed him with 'Failure to Thrive' and told me that I needed to supplement with formula immediately. Beau was underweight and his little legs were too skinny for his first round of immunizations. I felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on my heart. I cried in the doctor's office (he was working with a med student that day, which only made it worse), I cried when I got home, I cried when I called my mom. I cried when I told Brian, who basically said 'I told you so, but it's not your fault.' Brian tried as best he could to make me feel better and after a couple of days I did.
Feeding sessions went from what seemed like hours to twenty minutes when we started supplementing. Beau gained all the weight he needed to in no time and was much happier. I continued to nurse and pump and supplement and it was terrific. I was less stressed, Brian could hold Beau without the baby screaming and they were bonding.
Soon Beau began to want formula more and breast milk less and less, nursing became more difficult, Beau was again getting uncooperative with it but he was doing great with the formula. I had read about nursing strikes and again figured he would outgrow this faze, too. I should mention that I am incredibly stubborn, but I was getting more and more frustrated. I contemplated feeding him strictly formula and then I would read an article about how some women just don't try hard enough to continue nursing. I started drinking more water, I think I was going through a gallon a day, I took supplements that made me smell like maple syrup, I tried everything I could think of. Beau was weaning himself and I was left feeling like a failure. It was gradual, first he stopped wanting to nurse in the afternoons. Then he stopped at night, and finally one morning he decided he was done nursing all together.
I was ready to feel crushed when he didn't want to nurse, but what I actually felt was happy. I didn't have to fight him to get him to eat, he wasn't grumpy, I wasn't grumpy and best of all, Brian could really take over more of the feedings! I was still slightly ashamed, though, to walk in to the grocery store and buy a container of formula. I felt like other mothers were looking at me and judging my abilities, and I do occasionally get a look of disapproval. You know what? They can stick it. My son is happy and healthy. He has only had two small colds in six months and has grown significantly in the past few months. He's ahead of the curve with his milestones and is getting smarter by the day. I swear he never blinks those big blue eyes, he is constantly taking everything in.
While breastfeeding is best for both baby and mom it's just not for everyone (more wisdom from my mom). The struggles and frustration can create more of a divide than a bonding experience. I'm not saying don't try, just don't beat yourself up over it. I plan to try with our next baby but this time I know that if it doesn't work it's not my fault and I won't beat myself up over it.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
It's okay to admit that we have bad days.
I have had some bad days in my so far short career as a mom. And I'm okay with that. I'm also okay with discussing it. No, I'm not looking for attention, not looking for sympathy. I'm simply taking a moment to vent and say "I am having a horrible day. The baby won't sleep, the dogs won't stop barking, the kitchen is a mess, and I just can't do it all."
This is the focus of my writing today because I recently had someone ask me if I'm doing alright. She said that some of my posts on Facebook make it seem like I'm having a hard time. My answer was that everyday is a brand new experience. With any new experience there will be ups and downs, good days and bad days. And days when you just want to throw up the white flag and surrender.As moms it seems we feel the need to project an 'I can do it all and be happy' attitude. Why? Admitting that you are having a bad day does not make you less of a woman. It does not mean that you love your child any less. Hiding the fact that you are having a rough time does nothing more than make you feel worse. Why is it so taboo to admit your feelings?
Women's magazines and the media would have us believe that as a modern woman, you CAN do it all and be happy. The thing is, us normal moms do not have a nanny for each child, personal trainers and chefs and assistants to manage our lives. It is up to us to get it all done and nine times out of ten that is impossible. We need to be the care giver, dog walker, chef, housekeeper, shopper...the list goes on. In my personal experience it rarely works that way. My son will be cranky and refuse to take a nap, which in turn, limits the amount of time I have to do anything else. It's okay if the dishes don't get done right now, and the grocery shopping can wait.
Beau was one week old on Thanksgiving Day 2012. We were supposed to attend a large family dinner at my brother in-law's house. Well, Beau did not agree with that and had kept me up for all but three hours the night before. I couldn't figure out what he needed, I fed him, changed his diapers, swaddled him and still he wouldn't sleep. I remember so clearly being in tears and looking at the clock to see that it was 2:30 in the morning. I spent the night on the couch with Beau so that Brian could sleep and by the time he got up in the morning I was done. I was exhausted, my eyes were puffy from crying all night and there was no way I was ready to interact with a large group of people. I explained to Brian, and he still wanted to go. We had previously let everyone know we would be there and Brian wanted to introduce Beau. I was even more upset about the fact that Brian didn't understand why I wanted to stay home. Finally I said no. I just couldn't do it, and I didn't want to expose Beau to all of that so early on.
I would like to say that my decision went over well, but as with some family matters it did not. A few months later everyone got to meet Beau and I was deemed less anti-social than they originally thought. Eh, I have a thick skin and did what I thought was best for our son and myself.
The day after Thanksgiving my mom took the train from MA to VA to help us out. Seeing her meet her first grandchild was a moment I will never forget. I will also never forget her telling me that it is okay to ask for help. I learned so much from her in the few days she was here, her knowledge is invaluable. After all, she did raise four of us. She let me know that it's not always easy and that things will get better. Now when I need help with Beau she is the first person I turn to.
Me: Beau is all congested and I can't get him to sit still so I can suck the boogers out of his nose with the booger sucker bulb thingy.
Mom: Wrap him up like a burrito. It probably bothers you more than it bothers him.
When I took Beau for his two month checkup the doctor looked him over quickly, gently pinching at his arms and legs. He told me to get Beau dressed and meet him next door in his office, these were not the words I wanted to hear. Beau was under weight, and looking back I can see that he really was very thin. The doctor used the term "failure to thrive" which immediately brought tears to my eyes. I was starving my child, unintentionally, but he still wasn't getting enough to eat. The doctor told me to supplement with formula after every nursing session and report back in a week. I cried all the way home, feeling a kind of guilt I never knew possible. How could I have not seen what was happening??? The doctor assured me that as a first time mom it happens, it was not my fault, I had never dealt with anything like this before, so how could I know? He also explained that the term Failure to Thrive is simply what the medical community says when a baby is underweight. I called my mom in tears, she reassured me just as the doctor had. She also said 'don't let this get you down, you are doing a good job'. So we started the formula, a week later Beau had gained a full pound. A week after that another full pound. He is perfectly healthy now and has chubby cheeks and fat little baby thighs. And I learned that it's okay to have bad days, to get knocked down, but you have to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. Drive on.
Being a mom is scary. Simple as that. Yes, it's wonderful, beautiful, challenging and an adventure, but it is scary. My Dad said "the flood gates of worry have opened and will never close again." Truer words I have never heard.
I have veered slightly of course, but my point is that we all do have bad days. I'm not going to brush it under the rug. I'm going to address it head on, and I will post it on Facebook if Beau just spit up ALL OVER me and the dog puked on the carpet. It feels good to say it, to put it out there and let it go. It's not admitting defeat but rather a declaration of my humanness.I can't say I don't care that the dishes need to be done or that the laundry is piling up, because I do. I would just rather spend my days playing peek-a-boo and watching Beau try to crawl because these days are slipping by too fast .
The good days now out number the bad and the bad days aren't so bad. Even on the worst of days a smile from my little man lights up my world.
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| Taken sometime around 3 AM Thanksgiving morning, a self portrait of sheer exhaustion. |
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| Beau, happy and healthy, showing off those big blue eyes |
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| Exersaucer scooty car thingy time! |
Beau had his 6 month checkup yesterday and the doctor said he is doing great. He is ahead of the curve with his developmental mile stones and has grown from the 5th percentile to the 15th. I watched as he finally figured out how to scoot himself along in his little car excersaucer (a word invented by parents to describe the little seat with wheels that keeps babies content for 45 minutes :)) and then he crashed into my potted plants in the process. Later in the day he cried because his legs were sore from the shots he had received at his appointment. A few months ago I would have been completely undone by his tears and seeing the pain he was in. This time I gave him a little baby Tylenol as soon as we got home from his appointment and plunked him in a warm bath when he started fussing. It's amazing how much a rubber duck in a bathtub can distract him. He was still a little fussy at bedtime so I snuggled up with him on the couch and he was asleep in minutes.
I still have bad days, days when I'm stressed and in tears by the time Brian gets home from work, but I also know how to turn most bad days into good ones. I let myself be upset for a few minutes and then I adapt and overcome. A little glass of wine at night never hurts. Bad days are a part of life, embrace them, learn from them and then just relax because things will always get better.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
All about a girl named Liz
Hi. My name is Liz. Elizabeth, actually. I love Elizabeth, but truth be told, I've never been crazy about my nickname. I've also never told anyone that, so there it is. For 33 years I have been going by a nickname I've never really been sure about. It stuck so I have always just gone with it. Honestly, after all these years I wouldn't respond to anything else anyway. And if it was up to my Mom I would have been Augusta. Hmmm, Gusty?
Anyway, here's the introduction. I am (as stated) thirty three years old, I am married to a wonderful man, Brian and we have an absolutely amazing son named Beau. I hope he likes his name. I am a stay at home mom, care taker of two insanely lovable mutts and one crotchety old cat.
I did not intend to be a stay at home mom. I got my first job at 14 and have worked ever since. I enlisted in the Army National Guard in 2008, graduated AIT in 2009 and reported to my unit in July of that year. In August 2009 my Master Sergeant dubbed me the unit's Medical Readiness NCO. Mind you, I was a measly E-2 Private with no idea what the job entailed. By April 2010 I had been promoted to E-4 Specialist, still not an NCO, but I made it work. I built the position from the ground up, with the help of senior NCO's in the unit and the Office of the State Surgeon. I am extremely proud of the work I did. I was the only Medical Readiness NCO in the state who was not actually an NCO. But, through hard work and perseverance I gained the respect and cooperation of my fellow MRNCOs. The job was what the National Guard calls an ADOS position. In short it was a temporary position on full time orders that were extended again and again as long as there was funding. And then there was no funding. In March 2012, due to budget cuts, my orders stopped and I was out of a job, one month after finding out that I was pregnant.
After applying for job after job with not so much as a phone call in return I applied for and received unemployment. I continued to apply for numerous jobs but to no avail. When the unemployment ran out in January 2013, two months after Beau was born we decided that while I would continue to look for work I would be the primary care giver for our son. And now, here I am.
I was naive about being a Mom, as are most first time moms. There are so many things no one tells you, like how much your body truly hurts after you give birth. And the fact that while you are dealing with a squirmy, screeching bundle of baby your hormones-and then by default-your emotions go haywire. Your hair will fall out, you will bleed for weeks, and unless you're one of the lucky few, the baby weight DOES NOT just 'fall off'. Feedings do not occur on the neatly laid out 2-3 hour schedule the nurses told you about. My son's ability to poop up the back of his diaper and all over his clothes when placed in any type of baby chair was also surprising. Trying to dress a small person who does not want to wear clothes is, of itself, deserving of an Olympic medal.
When Beau was born he had a high Bilirubin count so the two of us were in the hospital for an extra day. Meanwhile, Brian was moving all of our earthly possessions from one apartment to another. I can't remember another time when I was so stressed out. We were released late in the afternoon, after stopping to get my prescriptions we got home. I was walking into a brand new apartment with a brand new baby, and despite Brian's best efforts our stuff was everywhere. We were all exhausted and scared and excited. And then I had the next most stressful day when Brian went to work the next morning. It was just me and this little, bitty baby. But it all worked out. I will say that everything came naturally, with the exception of nursing, which is another story all together. The fear and stress melted away by the end of the day and I was comfortable with our little boy.
It has been six months almost to the day since Beau was born, and every day has been an adventure. Good or bad, laughter or tears, I would not trade any of it. It is amazing to watch Brian with Beau, he is an amazing father and Beau adores him. Being home to see Beau grow and develop is wonderful. The first time he rolled over, the first time he sat up, and now he's trying to crawl! Beau loves the dogs and they love him. Crockett, our lab-boxer mix is Beau's constant companion and guardian. Ruby, a true mutt, is right next to Beau when he cries, looking at me, saying 'you're not moving fast enough, he's crying!'.
This is not what I pictured for myself five years ago. It is better and more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. It is my family, my love, my life.
Anyway, here's the introduction. I am (as stated) thirty three years old, I am married to a wonderful man, Brian and we have an absolutely amazing son named Beau. I hope he likes his name. I am a stay at home mom, care taker of two insanely lovable mutts and one crotchety old cat.
I did not intend to be a stay at home mom. I got my first job at 14 and have worked ever since. I enlisted in the Army National Guard in 2008, graduated AIT in 2009 and reported to my unit in July of that year. In August 2009 my Master Sergeant dubbed me the unit's Medical Readiness NCO. Mind you, I was a measly E-2 Private with no idea what the job entailed. By April 2010 I had been promoted to E-4 Specialist, still not an NCO, but I made it work. I built the position from the ground up, with the help of senior NCO's in the unit and the Office of the State Surgeon. I am extremely proud of the work I did. I was the only Medical Readiness NCO in the state who was not actually an NCO. But, through hard work and perseverance I gained the respect and cooperation of my fellow MRNCOs. The job was what the National Guard calls an ADOS position. In short it was a temporary position on full time orders that were extended again and again as long as there was funding. And then there was no funding. In March 2012, due to budget cuts, my orders stopped and I was out of a job, one month after finding out that I was pregnant.
After applying for job after job with not so much as a phone call in return I applied for and received unemployment. I continued to apply for numerous jobs but to no avail. When the unemployment ran out in January 2013, two months after Beau was born we decided that while I would continue to look for work I would be the primary care giver for our son. And now, here I am.
I was naive about being a Mom, as are most first time moms. There are so many things no one tells you, like how much your body truly hurts after you give birth. And the fact that while you are dealing with a squirmy, screeching bundle of baby your hormones-and then by default-your emotions go haywire. Your hair will fall out, you will bleed for weeks, and unless you're one of the lucky few, the baby weight DOES NOT just 'fall off'. Feedings do not occur on the neatly laid out 2-3 hour schedule the nurses told you about. My son's ability to poop up the back of his diaper and all over his clothes when placed in any type of baby chair was also surprising. Trying to dress a small person who does not want to wear clothes is, of itself, deserving of an Olympic medal.
When Beau was born he had a high Bilirubin count so the two of us were in the hospital for an extra day. Meanwhile, Brian was moving all of our earthly possessions from one apartment to another. I can't remember another time when I was so stressed out. We were released late in the afternoon, after stopping to get my prescriptions we got home. I was walking into a brand new apartment with a brand new baby, and despite Brian's best efforts our stuff was everywhere. We were all exhausted and scared and excited. And then I had the next most stressful day when Brian went to work the next morning. It was just me and this little, bitty baby. But it all worked out. I will say that everything came naturally, with the exception of nursing, which is another story all together. The fear and stress melted away by the end of the day and I was comfortable with our little boy.
It has been six months almost to the day since Beau was born, and every day has been an adventure. Good or bad, laughter or tears, I would not trade any of it. It is amazing to watch Brian with Beau, he is an amazing father and Beau adores him. Being home to see Beau grow and develop is wonderful. The first time he rolled over, the first time he sat up, and now he's trying to crawl! Beau loves the dogs and they love him. Crockett, our lab-boxer mix is Beau's constant companion and guardian. Ruby, a true mutt, is right next to Beau when he cries, looking at me, saying 'you're not moving fast enough, he's crying!'.
This is not what I pictured for myself five years ago. It is better and more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. It is my family, my love, my life.
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| I've never been so excited to meet someone! |
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| Beau and I having some play time on the floor |
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| Brian and Beau. I wonder where Beau got those eyes... |
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| My dear, amazing husband sleeping in the hospital chair after a day of moving |
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| Crockett (front), Brian and Beau and Ruby (in the middle of it all). |
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