I'm a woman. Some days more woman than any of us in this family can stand. I'm aware of my hormones and the aftermath of fallen soldiers they leave in its wake. Some days it's just good to write them down so they stay here and not roiling around in our peaceful little abode.April 25, 2012
Tomorrow I get some bloodwork done. Routine stuff. I am fasting tonight. Pretending it's holier than just CBC. Like a cleanse for yogidom or something. I won't even partake of the black coffee in the morning. I am so hard core.
February 3, 2012
I recently read there really is a reason life passes by so quickly once we're adults. It's because we become so routinized when we start a family and/or our career path that it's hard to have any moments that truly stand out from the others. Groundhog Day syndrome.
That's why my new plan is to live multidimensional-y.
I'm going to start by wearing more scarves. And making up more songs with my kids. Seems as good a place to start as any.
October 14, 2011
Fall is here. I'm a lover of autumn. My heart beats deeper when the leaves start to spiral down and skip across the sidewalk. There is electricity in me where the apathy of heat and pool days just lived. Fall breathes its cool breath over the trees, causing all of us to dig out our sweatshirts just to get the mail. Boots are leaning up against the wall again and the promise of roomy tops and soft leggings inspires me to flip through catalogs instead of tossing them into the recycle bin right away. Bring on the fall, let the leaves take us through their gorgeous leaving as I travel closer to my loved ones here and closer still in my thoughts and night time dreams to those waiting so patiently in heaven.
I think I know what's up with my restlesness. I remember getting this way a few months before our last move. It's like my mind is revving up for the changes about to happen. Only this time I'm WAY ahead of the game in that we won't be moving for a year. I suppose I'm getting better at planning in my late thirties than I was in the early thirties. I also suppose I should stave off the desire to "check out" this far ahead of time. It is sweet and all, for my brain to give the rest of me so much notice but no thank you, brain. We have three more seasons to enjoy before turning off the cable. I intend to be there, not 12 months forward planning for a life that will happen regardless of how much I stress about it.
There seems no way to rest my restless mind most days. I have this nagging feeling I should be doing more with my kids while they are so small. (Even though, Heaven knows I try to cram as much in as my body will allow in a day.) Showing them more of the culture here in Washington, D.C. Making more of our time here somehow. You know what helps? Rainy library days. So bring on the thunder clouds, Mother Nature. We will camp out in the children's section on one of those floppy bean bag chairs and call it a day well spent.
That's it. I'm taking prenatal vitamins so my hair will grow faster. Just got second incredibly heinous haircut and now I look like June Cleaver (traditional frame with super unsexy under-curl) instead of Joan Jett (former mullet). At least I'm all set for the hundreds of gray hair popping up full speed ahead. All set.
No matter how much I like the kids or the mom who is the parent of those children, I still hate playdates. My children don't act like themselves. They are sleeve pully (Grayson). They are moody (Abigail - I realize she's two but still.). They don't eat outside of their comfort zones meaning of course chicken nuggets and chocolate milk in their carseats. They shriek loudly for no apparent reason (Oops, make that only Abigail as Grayson becomes mute and without vocal cords around children his age). They demand my attention even more than usual which is BY GOD A LOT I TELL YOU. They beg to go home. They drag their feet when they need to move it and move it when they need to drag their feet. They act like they have never held my hand a day in their lives when we cross the street. Abigail becomes an urchin of the streets and hoppily gallivants into any pedestrian with feet. They chew on my energy like bubblegum and spit me out as though I was born in the crack of the dirty July asphalt. They are children, for heaven sake. People should leave them at home for playdates from now on. I will be the first in this child-free playdate movement.
"Hi OSMA, where are....your....children?"
"Oh them? At home with a sitter. Want some hummus?"
I am learning to deal. So much tragedy has befallen some of my dearest friends lately, leaving me warped and a bit caustic. I have learned that our friends need us but they don't need us to feel it for them or even absorb it for them. They are capable of pushing through their own obstacles and almost always come out the other side stronger and wiser. A few things that have happened, I have talked about on this blog. A few more awful goings on, however, I haven't mentioned because I've been without the right words to pay them due respect. It's hard to watch your friends grieve and hurt. It doesn't help matters if you are too far away to hug them or help them through these unbelievably trying times. One friend of mine had her place of business burn down. She is in the process of building it back up but it's taking an emotional toll on her in many respects. It was the only place she could feel the presence of her late father. He was everywhere in that bar, even I could feel that. Try as I might, I can't make this okay for her. She is grieving the loss of her father all over again.
Another dear old friend of mine just lost her teenage son. He passed away and she has to move on in spite of this for her other children and herself. I can't even imagine the struggle she is faced with and how heavy the hours ahead feel in her lungs. Obviously, I have sent my condolences in every way I can from far away but I am still gutted for her, knowing the mountain of grief and sadness she is up against. Again, nothing I do or say can take this from her, it's her struggle and she'll pull through it somehow.
The last one is still so personal to me for no good damn reason. My friend, Julie, and her family is beginning the process of a bone marrow transplant for her baby girl. Her daughter ended up being a positive match (yay!) but the hurdles are only beginning for them all. Painful testing, chemotherapy, anesthesia, more testing, and side effects of it all are just on the horizon for them. Another family going through unthinkable things in the hopes to again feel better again very soon. And all I can think to do is call her, offer to watch her dogs while they stay in the hospital and bring her goodies when the poop really hits the fan. None of this will take the pain away and that's the hard part for me. I suppose I'm a control freak when it comes to my friends too, wanting to be the one to make them okay...wanting to make things all better for them so we can all get back to the business of loving life. Unfortunately, life doesn't seem to roll like that and I am learning to let go of things so that my own family doesn't suffer from a mommy with melancholia.
A friend invited me over to a CAbi sample sale. It's like Silpada but for clothing instead of jewelry. Typically, I avoid avoid avoid because I can't help but spend spend spend. This time though, I brought my wallet and an exact Number not to be surpassed no matter how cute the buckles on the little bolero jacket looked. Let me tell you how much fun it was trying on real adult women's clothing. The pants I tried on actually fit a woman's curves and even felt soft and snuggly instead of constricting with a sudden urge to amputate my hip bones when I sat down. The shirts were the same and all seemed ready to flatter boobies that no longer look so cute without tricks of subtle gathering here and double layering there so the girls are covered well but not ignored at all. Needless to say, the Number I had in my head kept haunting the more items I draped onto the keep pile. Much to my surprise, many items were much less than expected and I walked out with the start of a woman's wardrobe and a new appreciation for fine clothing designed by a woman who gets that clothes don't make the man but they sure make him wonder if you've been working out.
- Running on a treadmill without music is torture.
- Running on a treadmill with music is almost fun.
- Running on a treadmill with your husband's iPod is somewhere in between both.
- The Beatles, while an excellent band, have not one tune to which you can stomp your Nikes.
- The Doobie Bros. are surprisingly still relevant and current
- Stevie Nicks, while an excellent artist, does not make me want to sweat off my cookies
- Pink, Cee Lo, Eminem, Rihanna, and The Black-Eyed Peas do.
I told myself I will never miss the time spent being a single parent. I'm sure I'm wrong but I can definitely confess to it being the hardest, most challenging time I have encountered yet as an adult. Raising our family, running a household, taking care of finances and every other minutiae involved in family rearing forced me to dig deep, (wo)man up, and find a way when I couldn't see one at all whatsoever. Now that my husband is back from his deployment and we're finding our way to becoming a family unit again, I have a clarity and confidence I'm noticing a lot lately. It's grand. I appreciate what it takes to be a partner who gives more than she takes. I have learned how to not only understand that life isn't fair but it can be more meaningful when it's not. I'm a stronger person from this experience. I'm a better wife. And I'm a hardworking mom who will mud wrestle with anyone who wants to argue that I don't work just because I don't make a paycheck. I won't back down but I will also back you up if you need me. Deployment did change me. For the better.
A couple of days ago my daughter, two year old Abigail, told me she wanted to go shopping for a new mommy. "Oh yeah?" I asked. "What will you do with the old one?"
"Put her with all de udder mommies." I guess there's a line of us rejects.
"So what will your new mommy look like?" Can't wait for this answer.
"She will be yellow, green, and pink!" Obviously.
"What will your new mommy's hair look like?" Again, the suspense is killing me.
"Brown and PINK!" Okay, at least she's brunette. Sort of.
"What if the new mommy doesn't know to put on your Hello Kitty socks for nigh night?" Wheels are turning.
"Grayson will tell her." Damn, didn't think of that angle.
"What if the new mommy doesn't know the songs you like to sing?" HA! Gotya.
"She will not sing to Abby?" Darn skippy she won't. How do you like them apples?
"What if your new mommy forgets to brush your teeth, feed you your favorite foods for lunch, and remember to give you lots of kisses?" I'm laying it on thick now.
~ Silence from the thoughtful and possibly traumatized two-year old ~
"I will keep de old mommy and den buy a new mommy later." Well at least I got myself a few more weeks. Whew. Enough time to highlight some of my brown to PINK!
An old friend is in labor at this very moment. And for the first time in my child-bearing years I can truthfully say I'm reeeeeeeeeaaaaaaallllly glad to be past that phase of life now. I know plenty of women continue having kids up until their forties and far beyond but I'm too daggone tired to even be envious of starting the newborn thing over again. Those blocks have been checked (checked twice) and God Bless the new mamas who are about to experience the beatdown, I mean the blessing of a new baby. I officially feel happy for new moms but thankful to never have to be one again myself.
Yesterday I had was the proud and lucky recipient of a professional massage. My dad and Chris gave me a gift card to Massage Envy and I collected yesterday to rid myself of the small league of golf balls nestled inside my right shoulder blade. I had a male masseuse and he was great. I did, however, have a very hard time relaxing, you know with being mostly naked under a sheet and all. Honestly it wasn't so much the naked as it was the not being in shape. The whole time I'm thinking, "Oh God, don't touch that, it's probably flabby. Oh man, I'm not really quite toned there anymore. Dude, just do my calves, they're not repulsive today." And to top it off, I did not have my talker going so the silence was breaking me down. It was just me, a babbling brook plus pan flute CD on repeat, and the sound of the poor masseuse chronically sniffling and dropping throat lozenges in his mouth like he probably is not quite over the strep and would rather be passed out on his couch instead of working on Miss PearBody McGee's bum shoulder.
"Are you okay?" I asked him at one point because apparently I'm his mother too.
"Yes, fine. Now reeelax," he repeats until I'm about as relaxed as a primed slingshot.
Zoom forward to this morning where I stopped in to the Hair Cuttery for a 20 dollar hairdo. Somewhere between citrus conditioner and the warm hum of her hairdryer, I totally fell asleep. Leave it to a woman to find nirvana in someone else playing with their hair. Does it every time. Every.Time.
Nearing the halfway mark of this deployment and I'm close to allowing myself to picture the end. Almost beginning to daydream if that makes sense. Most of the time the Clydesdale blinders are on and we are routine, routine, and Pizza on Friday routine. Keeping things predictable helps all of us, not just the people under four ft two in this house. Keeping things on schedule helps balance our circadian rhythm and sees to it that my own chemical algorithm doesn't go haywire while I fold socks and throw away underwear with itchy tags. We are a big pile of boring these days but it's my mode of survival and frankly, probably the children's too. Sometimes I ask Grayson if he's bored. He usually sighs a great big long-winded-6o-year-old-man sigh and answers yes. "What would make things better for you?" I can't resist the question.
"I just wish I could..."
"Yes...Yes? What is it, Honey?" I'm all ears.
"I just wish I could..."
"Go on, what do you wish?"
"I just wish I could find Yellow Kitty," he says seriously while holding up Pink Kitty. "We have Pink Kitty and I've been looking aaaallll over for Yellow Kitty and she's NOwhere."
See? We're all a little simple here.
Jan ??? (Monday) 2011 - I know this page is not reserved for pictures but this is an exception b/c c'mon, is there anything girlier? Can't you just taste the attitude and see the prom night dress? My heart is exploding with curiosity, fear and girlish wonder for her. She is my beauty.
Jan 02, 2011
It is midnight. Both kids are fast asleep. I finished balancing checkbook and tying up household loose ends. All three of those are very good reasons for me to now go the heck to bed but I refuse logic. Dog eared tired mooring on the ball of suicidally exhausted and yet here I sit and type because I am alone for the first time today. Maybe even for the first time this week. Grayson has been out of preschool for two weeks for winter break. These "alone" moments others speak of don't happen here much these days and none whatsoever when Grayson is home. I have failed in teaching my children - mostly Grayson- to exist without my input, interaction, and physical global presence in whatever room they are lording over. Alone is a sensual faraway island I pine for and long for and one on which I picture Ed Norton in cute Bermuda shorts. Alone is so elusive to me that I covet and hoard it like an expensive new wrap with delicious flannel lining. I am blanketing myself in this snippet of time where I don't have to "watch this," "lookat," or "help me with..." Yes, I know. Some day I will miss it. But tonight? I'm rockin the late night casbah.
I cannot handle it when my children cry. For completely separate reasons. When Abby cries I go into post traumatic stress mode, begin to tick heavily and squirrel around for pillows to squeeze. Her colic almost killed me and I'm not speaking in hyperbolies. I would've carried her in my belly twice - hyperem and all - to avoid all the incessant screaming. To this day my skin puckers when she starts on one of her crying jags. Can't wait until bribing her with cell phone minutes works.
Then there's my big boy. When he cries it's like watching an angel surrender to a wicked witch. It does not seem right. He cries with such a tough upper lip and quivery chin that you would have to be bereft of humanity to let it go on. And mostly lately? He cries for me. He worries about me when I have an "off" day. Try an "off" week. He is so connected to the vibe of a room that if I so much as frown with my eyebrows he's eying me from the sidelines and begging me to laugh like the "nice Mommy." So kids, I beg right back, please don't cry until May.
Grayson has been grappling between the two worlds of independence and co dependence. To say it's only been his struggle would be a lie. I've been grappling too. One day he is velcroed to my knees. Next day I'm not allowed to kiss him even on his forehead. "Mommy, watch me! Take a picture of me!" to "Mommy, I need some privacy here." "Abby, I want to be alone right now." (yes, verbatim)
Imagine my heart fluttering when he asked me today if he could be my partner.
"Do you mean like a teammate? Like playing a game together?"
"No Mommy. Like I want to drive with you in the front seat like Daddy does."
"Oh Honey, you're not big enough to be in the front seat yet."
"But when I am big enough...can I be your partner and drive with you, Mommy?
"Like to the store for groceries?"
"No. Like the whole uniberse, Mommy. I want to see the whole uniberse with you."
Nothing would make me happier.
November 8 - Skype Hype
While I'm very lucky to have the advent of Skype to help visit with Hubby, it is a double edged sword. It's so good to see him/It's so hard to see him go, There is a delay that makes conversation awkward/You want to listen more than talk, and before you know it you have to say goodbye again because it's midnight there and he still has dark shadows under his eyes that show up pixalated but very much there. It's awesome to see him on the computer but sends a dart to your unguarded parts when the screen goes blank and he's still an entire day ahead of you in a place that has become his home, his routine, his reality. Skype is amazing and I wouldn't trade it for the world but sometimes it's exactly after Skyping that I remember just how much we're all missing.
November 4 -Reality Bites
Today was just one of those days when I wished I could all walk around with a neon resume above my head and a bigass wedding picture gleaming around me like a soft glow of I-didn't-always-wear-Merona.
Some days I'm so proud to be a SAHM. And others? I just want to have polished nails and a nifty little black briefcase.
October 15- New People
Sometimes meeting new people is great. Sometimes it gives me hives. Always it's a waiting game of give and take. In the beginning, there's so much pressure to be together, balanced, and normal. Three things everyone is at times but almost nobody is all the time. We pretend we're naturally awesome. And then we forget to pick up our child when it's early dismissal (haven't done this one yet but only because they haven't had half days to date). It's almost easier to walk to the back of the playground and snarl at new people to avoid the charade and the fitting in altogether. Lately, I've been fortunate enough to meet a lot of new people and I haven't snarled yet. In fact, there are two ladies in particular with whom I've struck up a nice early friendship. We've seen each other in sloppy ponytails and still smiled at one another. We've had coffee breath and toddler slime on our shoulder and nobody walked away. We have complimented each other on eye makeup because each of us knows someone almost died that morning because of it. I'm pretty sure we get each other and it's nice. It's definitely worth every hive.
October 4 - Lately I've been watching lots of foodie shows before going to bed. I'm mostly drawn to the cake decorating ones but more recently I've been giving the greasy spoon diner shows a good run too. It's all beneficial for my family because this morning I woke up with a great desire to shove garlic cloves in a pot roast and actually locate my roasting pan. Sad to thank the Food Network for the dinner on our table but there it is.
September 21 - Turns out One can feel Oneself burgeoning on a nervous breakdown. And One can thwart it (just barely) by baking cookies (pancakes as One forgot flour, yes flour), sitting on the couch doing nothing, and watching her daughter dote and kiss her babies (all 27 of them, poor thing). A nervous breakdown loses fuel if you don't feed it with persevering thoughts, fears and what ifs. A nervous breakdown stalls out entirely when an owl enters the room. : )
September 9 - Was up until 3 am with Grayson last night. He skipped a nap, thus had frightmares and sleepwalking. He also had a weird hour where he couldn't stop hiccuping. I thought maybe he had to throw up so we spent 15 min. in the bathroom with him sitting on the potty while also bending his poor little hiccuping self over the wastebasket. He was green, he was shivering, he was kind of talking crazy. Then suddenly, like flicking on a light switch, it was over. It was like he snapped back to consciousness and wondered how he ended up in the bathroom with his mom asking him to throw up in the wastebasket.
"No thank you, Mommy. I just had a tickle in my throat. Goodnight." Yikes, kid. I'm worried I'm going to need an exorcist or a witch doctor next, yo.
September 1 - This is the year I feel aged. Older. No longer young. I have more silver hairs (even arm hairs, Sweet Jesus) My hands have a soft layer of puckery skin like a soft Amish quilt or a very ripe tangerine. My hips are padded with baby fat and year after year of ignoring my gym pass. My energy plummets as soon as the children awaken from their naps recharged and punchy. I have more coffee in my veins than Gatorade. No more twenty something or early thirties. I am nearing mid life and that's all right with me.
August 20 - Stumble
Stumbled on a blog tonight that I can't shake. She was at the conference. I sat right next to her in the Serenity Suite. We exchanged small talk. She made eye contact and smiled so I liked her right away. I tucked her business card close to mine so I would remember it was hers. Tonight I finally looked her up and learned that not only is she lovely in person but she is crazy talented in other areas (photography, art, writing) but the thing I cannot shake is the one thing I read and almost wish I hadn't.
She experienced a tragedy that is a mother's worst nightmare. She was gutted from the inside out and remains heartbroken for the rest of her days. And yet, when I met her and she looked me right in the eyes to smile, she was totally present and accounted for. She was observant; she was uniquely there, she was different. Meeting her there in that little hotel room designed to let us rest from the madness that is Expo and socializing, I had no idea she had been to a place that most of us pray against every single night before we sleep. There was no neon sign above her had that advertised she has suffered the unthinkable and carries the weight of all that comes with such suffering.
And while I didn't know any of this about this particular woman when we met, I remembered her for her authenticity. And now, after visiting her blog, I cannot shake her friendly face from my mind. I wish beyond all wishes that I could change what happened to her and her family a few years ago. But I cannot and will probably never speak of this directly to her (I'm guessing that's coming on too strong from some stranger across the country).
What I can do is this: in a couple of days, on her baby's angel day, I can think of her all day long and hope that somehow in those thoughts of grieving for her I will remove even one ounce of her burden. I don't know this woman but I feel she and anyone else who has lost a child shouldn't endure that alone.
July 30 - NYC
I get to go there....alone.
I get to meet up with two girlfriends...soon.
I get to window shop...and maybe buy something pretty.
I get to see my brothers on their own turf...and eat a lot.
I get to stay in a fancy hotel, laugh with good friends and not brush anyone else's teeth at night.
I get to miss my kids, my husband, my dog.
(They get to be rid of me for a while too)
I get to text my mom every few hours so she can sleep at night...so there's that.
July 29 - Girlfriends
The past few days I've been lucky to have somehow snuck in two chats on the phone with two very dear friends of mine. Both are girlfriends I've had since high school and younger. Both are now women with children and hard working husbands who don't get home until well after dinner and often times after bed time. These women have several things in common such as their strength, their devotion to their family, their fortitude (sorry, a synonym for strength but it's what comes to mind.) but one thing always strikes me the most when I talk with these women. They are both hilarious. They are both so funny that I laugh the ugly laugh that wakes up sleeping babies and makes husbands raise their eyebrows in that way they do when something is not at all sexy. This always strikes me because I love to laugh. And from what I gather these two love to make me laugh. When I get off the phone I pray to whomever will have me that their husbands laugh with them because that is the best gift a Mommy, a wife, a friend can give. Husbands, laugh with your wives because they are funny. Laugh because they are funny, strong, beautiful and brilliant. Laugh because you have them and cherish them. Laugh because they are little girls, curvy women, high school teachers, city girls and rural mice all rolled into one. If you don't? I'm willing to bet you're the one missing out.
July 28 -Eat, Love, Pray Day 1
Just tore into the first few pages of this fine novel and am licking the fork clean like it's NY cheesecake for my brain. Here's what I'm taking from it today: Self? Ask, "What do you want?" Then wait for an answer. Don't ignore that answer. Write it down if need be. For the love of God, write it down and don't then leave it on the roof of your minivan just like you did the book itself two days ago.
July 26 - In Lieu of a Nice Butt
I asked my husband if I could escape to the book store two nights a week instead of to the gym. He agreed that I am both honest with myself and looking for reasons to be closer to a Starbucks. He knows me, he really knows me.
July 20 - Lovely Surprise
I'm always leaving stuff on the top of my car. Today, as I drove past three teenage kids, I heard the tell-tale thumpityhairclips. "Here you go, ma'am," he said as he flashed a genuine grin.
"Thanks!" I coo'ed back because it was so unexpectedly sweet of them to scrape it from the street and run it over to me. Man, I miss teaching teenagers. They have that ability to knock your socks off with small acts of kindness and a real genuine smile.
July 19 - Bursting at the Seams
Lately, whenever any of my parents (or set of parents) leave from a visit to our house, I cry. Doesn't matter when I get to see them next, my tears still flow like a spring fountain. Today, my in-laws left. They were here from Friday until 2pm today. We all had a fantastic time and remember, I almost always cry when they leave like they are abandoning me stranded on a desert island without phone, toilet paper, water, malted milk balls crying. Today I did not! That is a small victory for me and evidence that maybe just maybe I am getting on top of my emotions and/or becoming a man. Okay, truth? My dad (Pop-Pop) and MiMi will be here this weekend and I'm going to see my in-laws again the following week. Yep, I'm still just a girl.
July 15-Everyday Hero
Today I witnessed a woman save another woman's toddler drowning in the baby pool. This lady is incredible and not just because she saved a little boy's life. She is incredible because she is a nanny from Jamaica who also happened to have five other children under her care at that moment also. While I was playing with my children and listening to two moms chat with each other, one little boy tripped and couldn't find his footing again. He was four or so. His mom was distracted with her younger twins. She had her hands full (to put it mildly) and maybe looked away from him for 20 seconds so believe me, I am not judging. This could've happened to anyone. This could've happened to me.
Before I could process what was going on I see the limber body of this Jamaican woman leaping through the water for the little boy. She lifted him in her arms before she herself had a steady footing. He was obviously her priority, even over herself. Because while leaping through a baby pool might not seem like such a heroic act in and of itself, I must also let you in on a little secret. She is almost 70. And I was less than five feet away from him but she got to him before I did.
Afterward I complimented her on her speed and agility. Said something about how God really must give us wings when he wants us to fly. She smiled brightly and said, "They are all our children, our responsibility. We must look after each other's when we can."
I could tell she was talking about more than just being a lifeguard at the baby pool. And I couldn't agree with her more.
July 14- Target Tears
Grayson has this new thing, this new reaction to not getting his way. It's smooth. It's manipulative. It's genius. To save face he now says things like, "No Mommy, what I meant was that I didn't want a cookie until after I ate three spoonfuls of applesauce," like it was his idea all along. Great. Fine. Eat your three bites and then we'll talk.
Today, however, broke my heart.
We were at the checkout line in Target and he handed over the coveted Bat Cave (complete with Bat Dog, can you stand it?) to the cashier. I reminded him that if it was over a certain number then we'd have to leave it here. I found it on a discount shelf so I was positive this would not be the case and I'd be Mother of the Year for not only finding the one gift he's been talking about for months but also finding it for less than a new kidney! Tragically, this was not the case. The cashier spit out some horrific price and I asked her to please check again. We would have to sell the van in the parking lot to the nearest bidder and cab it home at that price. She checked and said the same exorbitant number. I was crestfallen. Grayson however, looked at me with soft wet eyes and said, "Mommy, don't worry. I didn't want that toy for me. What I meant was to buy that toy for some other little boy's birthday party."
I cried right in front of the cashier and God.
Sometimes I know for a fact, I do not deserve this child. He is so good my heart explodes.
To throw in some levity, Abby pooped her pants and we were off. That child? I totally deserve her.
July 13 - Bachelorette & Kleenex
Last night I dove into a two hour guilty pleasure viewing of The Bachelorette. Ali went on four hometown visits and I simply couldn't deal when she visited Chris's family. I began the weepfest when Chris and Ali chatted like high school buddies on his front porch. I didn't stop the weepfest until after she had the heart-to-heart with his father. Seriously, I had full on silent sobbing happening (hubby fast asleep and snoring next to me) and wasn't sure what the hell my problem was. There is just something so heart wrenching about this man who just lost his mother and the connection he has with his father and siblings. I could see the writing on the walls and wanted to shout to Ali, "CHOOSE HIM! You have the most fundamental things in common and that is what it's all about. Forget the hot latino, he will walk toward greener pastures one day and the Great Divide will happen before you know it. Chris will treat you like a lady and a best friend all at once.
All I know is Chris will make someone a fantastic partner (Ali will undoubtedly choose the slick city boy over familiar Cape Cod) one day and I hope he invites me to the wedding so I can annihilate another box of Kleenex and maybe play with Jenny the black lab.
July 12- Entitled "Yeeee!"
Getting kids ready for bed tonight, Abby runs around with her goose showing. Naked Goose is a favorite pre-bedtime ritual where she gets to run around sans diaper for a few minutes and a few minutes only. Plus, she has been yelling "pooooopie!" so often that I'm starting to familiarize her w/the toilet. Just so happens, Grayson is standing on the toilet to brush his teeth (our bathrooms are tiny, we don't love them) while Abby is dancing next to him delightfully yelling "yeeeeeeeee!" Since I have no prior knowledge of the word 'yee' I don't panic. Then I hear the fortuitous sound that comes only from someone doing something that belongs in a diaper or inside a toilet bowl. She yeeees all over the bathroom floor, next to the tub while almost touching the floor mat.
I grab her with one hand, diaper her with the other, help Grayson rinse with my feet, and clean the bathroom floor with my imaginary tail.
8:01 is when I throw my hands up to the winds, yell for spousal backup, and run to the solace of a hot shower that probably made the water levels in this county recede a little.
I never even kissed anyone's forehead goodnight. And I'm pretty sure we'll all make it through the night.