Turning 30 turned out to be a lot better than I expected. My girls pulled through and arranged a lovely dinner to celebrate my bday. Just a few good friends, good conversation and good food. Dave pulled through big time. I spent my actual birthday lunching and being pedicured and massaged. He arranged everything and left nothing up to me - which was fantastic. I'm the organizer, the planner and to not have to do that for a day was wonderful.
All in all it was a great day.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Invisible
Lately I feel completely and totally invisible. Like if I disappeared tomorrow, no one would really notice.
It seems what I want is always out of reach and what I desire is being yanked away and the end result is feeling like I don't matter at all and am invisible.
In 10 days I turn 30. I have no problem with turning 30. Don't really care. What I do care about, and what's leading to feeling so invisible, is that no one else seems to care either. I have planned countless parties for friends. 30th birthday parties, 29th birthday parties, etc. With the exception of 1 bridal shower and 1 baby shower, no one has ever planned anything for me or even offered. And now, it hurts. When my husband turned 30 I planned his gifts from me, his parents and my parents to all fit together. I planned a surprise party 2 months in advance. When 2 of my girlfriends were turning 30 I planned their parties too. Over a month in advance to make sure everyone could make it. Well, not it's my turn and not a word has been mentioned by anyone. Don't even have dinner reservations. Happy fucking birthday to me.
I will give credit where credit is due. My mother is having a dinner for me Saturday with our family and my brother and his girlfriend are coming here for the weekend. But even that is not without some hurt feelings. Dinner is a week early because brother dear is going on vacation.
So much of my life seems to be devoted to making other people happy. To finding all the little things to help them out and make their lives a little sunnier. So much of my life is spent without sunlight or happiness and it's a side of my world I keep pretty well hidden. Over the last 15 years or so I have become really good at faking it.
There are moments of happiness here and there. Most of them involve Dylan.
There are times when I think I simply expect too much. That no one can possibly live up to this mystical set of standards I have for people. That if I just lower my expectations, I won't be disappointed. And then, when the phone never rings and the emails never ding, I won't feel quite as invisible.
It seems what I want is always out of reach and what I desire is being yanked away and the end result is feeling like I don't matter at all and am invisible.
In 10 days I turn 30. I have no problem with turning 30. Don't really care. What I do care about, and what's leading to feeling so invisible, is that no one else seems to care either. I have planned countless parties for friends. 30th birthday parties, 29th birthday parties, etc. With the exception of 1 bridal shower and 1 baby shower, no one has ever planned anything for me or even offered. And now, it hurts. When my husband turned 30 I planned his gifts from me, his parents and my parents to all fit together. I planned a surprise party 2 months in advance. When 2 of my girlfriends were turning 30 I planned their parties too. Over a month in advance to make sure everyone could make it. Well, not it's my turn and not a word has been mentioned by anyone. Don't even have dinner reservations. Happy fucking birthday to me.
I will give credit where credit is due. My mother is having a dinner for me Saturday with our family and my brother and his girlfriend are coming here for the weekend. But even that is not without some hurt feelings. Dinner is a week early because brother dear is going on vacation.
So much of my life seems to be devoted to making other people happy. To finding all the little things to help them out and make their lives a little sunnier. So much of my life is spent without sunlight or happiness and it's a side of my world I keep pretty well hidden. Over the last 15 years or so I have become really good at faking it.
There are moments of happiness here and there. Most of them involve Dylan.
There are times when I think I simply expect too much. That no one can possibly live up to this mystical set of standards I have for people. That if I just lower my expectations, I won't be disappointed. And then, when the phone never rings and the emails never ding, I won't feel quite as invisible.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Scared...
When I was 7 months pregnant with Dylan I wasn't the least bit scared of what I would do when I brought my little bundle home. It seemed easy. It was easy, once the first couple of weeks of baby blues subsided.
This time I am terrified. What am I going to do with two needy kids? How am I going to give the amazing child sitting next to me the least amount of proper attention when I have a newborn who needs it all? How am I going to kiss the owie while I nurse? How am I going to give as much as I have been giving?
We're fortunate in that D is an incredibly easy going kid, but he's still a 4-year-old. A 4-year-old who loves his parents almost as fiercely as we love him. How is he going to handle there being another little person who gets our attention? My guess is he'll handle it beautifully and won't be able to get enough of the little person in my belly.
I was thinking last night of how he's going to react when I have to send him home from the hospital but the baby will get to stay. It's not really something I should be thinking of. It doesn't conjure up pretty images in my head - AT ALL. But again, somehow, I think my amazing little 4-year-old will understand perfectly. He seems to always pull through when we need him to.
I'm scared of more than just how I'll properly care for 2 children. I'm scared of what this baby will be like. I have been spoiled beyond reason with a child who hasn't been difficult in any way, shape or form. NOTHING, thus far, has been a struggle with D. What if this little person cries? What if he or she is colicky? What if s/he doesn't latch? What if I can't nurse as long? What if, what if, what if?
There are so many what ifs in the world and I wasn't really scared of any of them when I was pregnant with D. (Except of getting a c-section. That's one of my biggest fears. I know people have them all the time, but I don't want one and will do everything in my power to avoid it.) I don't know why the what ifs are getting to me this time around. I don't why I'm so scared this time around.
I know, however, I will get through it. No matter what the future brings, I know I am strong enough to make it. More than ever before, I know this to be true.
This time I am terrified. What am I going to do with two needy kids? How am I going to give the amazing child sitting next to me the least amount of proper attention when I have a newborn who needs it all? How am I going to kiss the owie while I nurse? How am I going to give as much as I have been giving?
We're fortunate in that D is an incredibly easy going kid, but he's still a 4-year-old. A 4-year-old who loves his parents almost as fiercely as we love him. How is he going to handle there being another little person who gets our attention? My guess is he'll handle it beautifully and won't be able to get enough of the little person in my belly.
I was thinking last night of how he's going to react when I have to send him home from the hospital but the baby will get to stay. It's not really something I should be thinking of. It doesn't conjure up pretty images in my head - AT ALL. But again, somehow, I think my amazing little 4-year-old will understand perfectly. He seems to always pull through when we need him to.
I'm scared of more than just how I'll properly care for 2 children. I'm scared of what this baby will be like. I have been spoiled beyond reason with a child who hasn't been difficult in any way, shape or form. NOTHING, thus far, has been a struggle with D. What if this little person cries? What if he or she is colicky? What if s/he doesn't latch? What if I can't nurse as long? What if, what if, what if?
There are so many what ifs in the world and I wasn't really scared of any of them when I was pregnant with D. (Except of getting a c-section. That's one of my biggest fears. I know people have them all the time, but I don't want one and will do everything in my power to avoid it.) I don't know why the what ifs are getting to me this time around. I don't why I'm so scared this time around.
I know, however, I will get through it. No matter what the future brings, I know I am strong enough to make it. More than ever before, I know this to be true.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
4 years...
Dylan recently turned 4. This is quite a milestone for him and me. I can't believe my baby is 4. I can't believe the little boy who kicked around aimlessly is now a fully functioning, almost, human being. He's my heart on the outside and my soul wrapped up in a little package.
Some quick stats:
He measured in at 44.25 inches and weighs almost 50 pounds. Off the charts for both.
He's doing great, developmentally, with the exception of his lack of interest in writing/drawing. We already knew that and are working hard on it.
Beyond that, he's still the wonderful little boy he's always been. He makes me laugh, makes me cry and makes me feel every emotion in between almost daily.
Some quick stats:
He measured in at 44.25 inches and weighs almost 50 pounds. Off the charts for both.
He's doing great, developmentally, with the exception of his lack of interest in writing/drawing. We already knew that and are working hard on it.
Beyond that, he's still the wonderful little boy he's always been. He makes me laugh, makes me cry and makes me feel every emotion in between almost daily.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
On blogging...Revisited
I have been absent from the blogging sphere for many months and there are a few very specific reasons why:
1. I'm pregnant and felt like crap the first 3-4 months and am now experiencing 1st trimester exhaustion in the 2nd trimester
2. A few events occurred in my life that were making it impossible for me to write about anything but those things and they weren't things I wanted to share with the world or anyone, really (don't ask because I won't tell)
3. Work has been really busy and occupying both nights and days
With that said, I think it's time I return to the blogging world and to my writing ways.
The past few months have been a jumble of craziness, emotional highs and lows and lots of physical changes for me. As I mentioned, I'm preggers which means my body is rapidly changing. Funny thing is, I'm having a much tougher time dealing with it this time than I did with Dylan. I'm showing earlier, which I know is normal, but I'm also having to deal with the transitional phase longer. With D I went from not showing at all to having an adorable little bump in a blink of an eye around 6 months. This time I have been in maternity clothes since about 4 months and it's taking a long time for the bump to look like I've swallowed a basketball rather than like I've been tipping the Budweiser bottle back too often. I'll live.
However, this time around everyone and their uncle feels it's their right to comment on my bump. From, "you're so tiny!" (love this one) to "if I didn't know you were pregnant I'd think you were just getting fat" (no I'm not kidding) to "oh, you're putting it on on the sides, too" to everything in between. Why oh why do people say stupid shit like this? I'll never figure it out. I say the only thing you are allowed to say to a pregnant woman is "you look fantastic!" 'Nough said.
Dylan is growing at an exponential rate, as usual, and is developing his language skills faster than I can really notice. It's such a continuous stream of expansion and learning that it's almost lost on us. It's the people who don't see him as often who notice how clear his speech is getting and how much more he communicates. His current skills include counting to 30 (while skipping 16 EVERY single time, we don't know why), knows all his letters and the sounds they make, is reading simple 3 letter words and can spell and recognize his name.
We are also amazed at the sense of empathy he has developed and his silliness. He's such a goofball with a sense of humor, an already developing sense of sarcasm and a heart of gold. If I'm sad he gives me hugs, if I bump my leg he gives it kisses, if he doesn't like the tone Dave and I are using with one another he tells us to stop. He just wants everyone to be happy and goofy like he is.
The baby is doing really well. We had an ultrasound about 2 weeks ago and everything looked perfect. NO, we did not find out the sex and we're not going to. It's much better for me not to know. This little one is kicking the crap out of me on a daily basis and Dave has been able to feel it on several occasions. Dylan is still a bit unsure about the whole baby deal but finally seems to accept that mommy has a baby in her belly.
That's the update, brain dump, whatever you want to call it.
1. I'm pregnant and felt like crap the first 3-4 months and am now experiencing 1st trimester exhaustion in the 2nd trimester
2. A few events occurred in my life that were making it impossible for me to write about anything but those things and they weren't things I wanted to share with the world or anyone, really (don't ask because I won't tell)
3. Work has been really busy and occupying both nights and days
With that said, I think it's time I return to the blogging world and to my writing ways.
The past few months have been a jumble of craziness, emotional highs and lows and lots of physical changes for me. As I mentioned, I'm preggers which means my body is rapidly changing. Funny thing is, I'm having a much tougher time dealing with it this time than I did with Dylan. I'm showing earlier, which I know is normal, but I'm also having to deal with the transitional phase longer. With D I went from not showing at all to having an adorable little bump in a blink of an eye around 6 months. This time I have been in maternity clothes since about 4 months and it's taking a long time for the bump to look like I've swallowed a basketball rather than like I've been tipping the Budweiser bottle back too often. I'll live.
However, this time around everyone and their uncle feels it's their right to comment on my bump. From, "you're so tiny!" (love this one) to "if I didn't know you were pregnant I'd think you were just getting fat" (no I'm not kidding) to "oh, you're putting it on on the sides, too" to everything in between. Why oh why do people say stupid shit like this? I'll never figure it out. I say the only thing you are allowed to say to a pregnant woman is "you look fantastic!" 'Nough said.
Dylan is growing at an exponential rate, as usual, and is developing his language skills faster than I can really notice. It's such a continuous stream of expansion and learning that it's almost lost on us. It's the people who don't see him as often who notice how clear his speech is getting and how much more he communicates. His current skills include counting to 30 (while skipping 16 EVERY single time, we don't know why), knows all his letters and the sounds they make, is reading simple 3 letter words and can spell and recognize his name.
We are also amazed at the sense of empathy he has developed and his silliness. He's such a goofball with a sense of humor, an already developing sense of sarcasm and a heart of gold. If I'm sad he gives me hugs, if I bump my leg he gives it kisses, if he doesn't like the tone Dave and I are using with one another he tells us to stop. He just wants everyone to be happy and goofy like he is.
The baby is doing really well. We had an ultrasound about 2 weeks ago and everything looked perfect. NO, we did not find out the sex and we're not going to. It's much better for me not to know. This little one is kicking the crap out of me on a daily basis and Dave has been able to feel it on several occasions. Dylan is still a bit unsure about the whole baby deal but finally seems to accept that mommy has a baby in her belly.
That's the update, brain dump, whatever you want to call it.
Friday, September 22, 2006
I got it!
Monday was the happiest day I've had in a while. Like I have many times in the last several months, I peed on a stick when I woke up. Only this time, rather than the damn line not showing up it showed it's happy little face. But it was barely visible. So I proceeded to pee on a stick Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and now I am certain the line is there to stay.
I'm happy to announce that I am pregnant. After 5 months of trying, we finally got there. Of course I'm only about 5 weeks along and there is a long way to go until we are considered to be "in the clear," but I have no reason to think everything won't go as smoothly as it did with D.
Symptoms are already kicking my ass but I can deal. I'm nauseous, A LOT, and I'm so tired I can't see straight. As we all say, though, it's all worth it in the end.
I'm happy to announce that I am pregnant. After 5 months of trying, we finally got there. Of course I'm only about 5 weeks along and there is a long way to go until we are considered to be "in the clear," but I have no reason to think everything won't go as smoothly as it did with D.
Symptoms are already kicking my ass but I can deal. I'm nauseous, A LOT, and I'm so tired I can't see straight. As we all say, though, it's all worth it in the end.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
I want it
Ever want something so badly that just thinking about it brings you to tears? Fun, isn't it?
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
On blogging...
After reading my last post, one of my dear friends complimented my writing. It has been so long since I have shared my writing that the thought of someone actually enjoying it caught me off guard.
This blog started out as a place to let family/friends we don't speak to on a daily basis know what's going on with the boy. It has moved beyond that. The intended audience doesn't read the blog (grandparents, D's only uncle) but a few of my friends do. The blog is no longer a place for me to write about the boy's latest accomplishment, but an outlet for me to get the words flowing again.
Writing is really my first love. It was my favorite thing to do for school, my favorite thing to do in my spare time, my favorite thing. Since I'm done with school and have little to no spare time, the numbers of words I have put on paper in recent history are limited. (Emails to clients and friends do not count.) Another problem, I'm not a journaler. I love the idea of a journal, and this seems to be becoming one, but haven't actually kept one since I called it a diary. The biggest thing that prohibits me from having a journal these days is, thanks to 4 years of journalism school and the last 7 years spent sitting at my desk on my computer all day, the words no longer seem to flow when I put pen to paper. These days, I have to put fingertips to keys.
The words are starting to flow again, through my fingertips and the keys, and the thoughts in my head are automatically forming themselves into sentences, paragraphs, entries. I am reading blogs (it's so addictive when there are some supremely talented writers out there) which inspire me to write more and rediscovering my first love. I feel compelled to write about everything these days. From work (yes, I know better than to write about work on my blog) to the little boy to the big boy to still not being pregnant to frustrations with friends to anything and everything that pops into my little head.
So, once again, it seems because of the boy, I have found an old joy which was lost for a long time. Thank you D.
This blog started out as a place to let family/friends we don't speak to on a daily basis know what's going on with the boy. It has moved beyond that. The intended audience doesn't read the blog (grandparents, D's only uncle) but a few of my friends do. The blog is no longer a place for me to write about the boy's latest accomplishment, but an outlet for me to get the words flowing again.
Writing is really my first love. It was my favorite thing to do for school, my favorite thing to do in my spare time, my favorite thing. Since I'm done with school and have little to no spare time, the numbers of words I have put on paper in recent history are limited. (Emails to clients and friends do not count.) Another problem, I'm not a journaler. I love the idea of a journal, and this seems to be becoming one, but haven't actually kept one since I called it a diary. The biggest thing that prohibits me from having a journal these days is, thanks to 4 years of journalism school and the last 7 years spent sitting at my desk on my computer all day, the words no longer seem to flow when I put pen to paper. These days, I have to put fingertips to keys.
The words are starting to flow again, through my fingertips and the keys, and the thoughts in my head are automatically forming themselves into sentences, paragraphs, entries. I am reading blogs (it's so addictive when there are some supremely talented writers out there) which inspire me to write more and rediscovering my first love. I feel compelled to write about everything these days. From work (yes, I know better than to write about work on my blog) to the little boy to the big boy to still not being pregnant to frustrations with friends to anything and everything that pops into my little head.
So, once again, it seems because of the boy, I have found an old joy which was lost for a long time. Thank you D.
Monday, September 11, 2006
9.11
I will always remember where I was on 9.11.01. I think we all will.
Dave and I were on the 3rd day of our honeymoon. Our oasis after the chaos of our wedding. It was our time to enjoy each other and not have to think about anything.
We woke up on Tuesday morning and went downstairs to breakfast in our hotel. As we walked by the lobby, we noticed there were quite a few people gathered in the lobby watching TV. Seemed a little odd so we poked our heads around the corner to see what was on. The TV was tuned to CNN and we saw an image of the WTC with smoke coming out of it. I remember thinking, "Oh, wow, the WTC is on fire. That's sad." I had no idea. We went on to eat breakfast. After breakfast we popped over to nurse's office on the resort to get me some medicine. While in there, she also had a TV on and asked if we were Americans. We replied yes and she said, "They just announced it's terrorists." We thought we must have misunderstood the nice lady with the very thick Jamaican accent. As we walked back to our room, we decided to stop in the lobby and figure out what was really going on. As soon as we sat down, we figured it out. They named off the cities the planes were going to/from. Boston - Wendy had flown in for the wedding from Boston, LA - cousins had flown in from LA, PA - cousins had flown in from Pittsburgh, NY - about 15-20 had flown in from NY/NJ, DC - my oldest childhood friend was in grad school at GW, one of our ushers worked for the Department of Defense, and Manhattan itself - one of my closest friend's brother and sister-in-law lived and worked in Manhattan.
I remember the first thing I said when I realized what was happening. "What day is it?" Dave looked at me and said, "It's Tuesday." I was overwhelmed with the feeling of relief that comes when you realize one of your biggest fears was not just realized. He asked me why and I told him, "The last people who came in for the wedding were flying on Monday." We spent the next several hours sitting in the lobby of our hotel, crying, watching, learning, talking, listening. We spoke to the people around us. Some from NYC many from other areas. I remember speaking to one woman who had left her 7-month-old son with her mother so she and her husband could have a little getaway. How fiercely this woman wanted to hold her child at that moment. I thought I understood then, I REALLY understand now.
I wanted to call home as soon as I heard but we waited. We wanted to at least leave phone lines open for those people who needed to check on loved ones who were in NYC. When I called home that night, I was once again relieved to find out that we didn't personally know anyone who had died.
In the coming days we talked about how we would be stuck. We talked about how worried we were about anyone and everyone who may have come in contact with this tragedy. We talked about how we had to put things aside, at least for a few days, and try to enjoy the trip we took to celebrate our marriage. We were also able to get online at the hotel which felt like a lifeline to home. I sent some emails - to my boss letting her know I might not be back when I had planned. I got on AIM and was able to find out my friend's brother and sister-in-law were ok. I was able to connect with a few other people from home and know that everyone was ok - as much as they could be.
We were lucky, we got home on time and without incident. There were others who were stuck for an extra 2 weeks. And while being stuck in Jamaica may sound wonderful, you're still stuck. And being so out of control is completely frightening and enraging.
In the 5 years since 9.11 many things have happened in my life. Dylan was born. My grandfather died. I've switched jobs, twice. Dave and I spent the last weekend away to celebrate our 5th anniversary. It was wonderful. A chance to reconnect we really needed. But, as with every year, when I think about our anniversary, I think of the anniversary of 9.11 and how the two will forever be connected.
Dave and I were on the 3rd day of our honeymoon. Our oasis after the chaos of our wedding. It was our time to enjoy each other and not have to think about anything.
We woke up on Tuesday morning and went downstairs to breakfast in our hotel. As we walked by the lobby, we noticed there were quite a few people gathered in the lobby watching TV. Seemed a little odd so we poked our heads around the corner to see what was on. The TV was tuned to CNN and we saw an image of the WTC with smoke coming out of it. I remember thinking, "Oh, wow, the WTC is on fire. That's sad." I had no idea. We went on to eat breakfast. After breakfast we popped over to nurse's office on the resort to get me some medicine. While in there, she also had a TV on and asked if we were Americans. We replied yes and she said, "They just announced it's terrorists." We thought we must have misunderstood the nice lady with the very thick Jamaican accent. As we walked back to our room, we decided to stop in the lobby and figure out what was really going on. As soon as we sat down, we figured it out. They named off the cities the planes were going to/from. Boston - Wendy had flown in for the wedding from Boston, LA - cousins had flown in from LA, PA - cousins had flown in from Pittsburgh, NY - about 15-20 had flown in from NY/NJ, DC - my oldest childhood friend was in grad school at GW, one of our ushers worked for the Department of Defense, and Manhattan itself - one of my closest friend's brother and sister-in-law lived and worked in Manhattan.
I remember the first thing I said when I realized what was happening. "What day is it?" Dave looked at me and said, "It's Tuesday." I was overwhelmed with the feeling of relief that comes when you realize one of your biggest fears was not just realized. He asked me why and I told him, "The last people who came in for the wedding were flying on Monday." We spent the next several hours sitting in the lobby of our hotel, crying, watching, learning, talking, listening. We spoke to the people around us. Some from NYC many from other areas. I remember speaking to one woman who had left her 7-month-old son with her mother so she and her husband could have a little getaway. How fiercely this woman wanted to hold her child at that moment. I thought I understood then, I REALLY understand now.
I wanted to call home as soon as I heard but we waited. We wanted to at least leave phone lines open for those people who needed to check on loved ones who were in NYC. When I called home that night, I was once again relieved to find out that we didn't personally know anyone who had died.
In the coming days we talked about how we would be stuck. We talked about how worried we were about anyone and everyone who may have come in contact with this tragedy. We talked about how we had to put things aside, at least for a few days, and try to enjoy the trip we took to celebrate our marriage. We were also able to get online at the hotel which felt like a lifeline to home. I sent some emails - to my boss letting her know I might not be back when I had planned. I got on AIM and was able to find out my friend's brother and sister-in-law were ok. I was able to connect with a few other people from home and know that everyone was ok - as much as they could be.
We were lucky, we got home on time and without incident. There were others who were stuck for an extra 2 weeks. And while being stuck in Jamaica may sound wonderful, you're still stuck. And being so out of control is completely frightening and enraging.
In the 5 years since 9.11 many things have happened in my life. Dylan was born. My grandfather died. I've switched jobs, twice. Dave and I spent the last weekend away to celebrate our 5th anniversary. It was wonderful. A chance to reconnect we really needed. But, as with every year, when I think about our anniversary, I think of the anniversary of 9.11 and how the two will forever be connected.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Plagued
I'm sick. Not just a sniffle, not just a little cough but full blown someone kill me now sick.
# of days feeling like hell: 4
# of hours spent in the office: almost 4
number of hours spent working on the couch when I should be resting: about 30
# of times my amazing husband has done something to keep this little family afloat while the mommy is out of commission: 87298732948273498273
I seriously don't know what I would do without this wonderful man by my side. Without a peep he has gotten the D meister up, dressed and to daycare everyday. Without a peep he has kept the child entertained without video intervention at night, bathed him, dressed him and made sure he stays in bed after the 15th time the boy asks to get up to go poopy.
He has also made me soup and tried to get me to eat other things even though I don't want much of anything. Flus are really the best diet, aren't they?
Thank you, my love, for keeping our little house running. I promise you, there will be a day of sleeping in, indulgent cooking by the wife and some R&R with a horrid sci-fi flick of your choice. That day will come soon.
# of days feeling like hell: 4
# of hours spent in the office: almost 4
number of hours spent working on the couch when I should be resting: about 30
# of times my amazing husband has done something to keep this little family afloat while the mommy is out of commission: 87298732948273498273
I seriously don't know what I would do without this wonderful man by my side. Without a peep he has gotten the D meister up, dressed and to daycare everyday. Without a peep he has kept the child entertained without video intervention at night, bathed him, dressed him and made sure he stays in bed after the 15th time the boy asks to get up to go poopy.
He has also made me soup and tried to get me to eat other things even though I don't want much of anything. Flus are really the best diet, aren't they?
Thank you, my love, for keeping our little house running. I promise you, there will be a day of sleeping in, indulgent cooking by the wife and some R&R with a horrid sci-fi flick of your choice. That day will come soon.
A weekend away
D-
This last weekend your daddy and I left you with your babulya and deda for 3 nights. I must tell you child, I missed you terribly. I miss you differently than I missed you before. It used to be that I would worry and wonder if you were ok. I used to wonder if you were accepting the things I normally do for you from someone else, even though that someone else raised me and loves you to pieces.
I don't so much worry about that anymore. Now I miss my hugs, I miss my snuggles, I miss singing together, I miss talking to you. Having a conversation with the most interesting, hilarrious, little person on earth. You aren't just a babe anymore, my little Mr. D. You are a real person now. One with opinions, a lot of them, and thoughts and imagination and intellect and emotion and wonder and curiousity and and and. There are not enough words in the English language for me to possibly express how I feel about you and all the wonderful aspects of your personality.
You, child, are my heart, my soul, my everything. I sometimes wonder how I will possibly love another little soul like I love you. Then I think back to a time when I didn't have you. A time that is almost impossible to remember. I never knew I could love someone that way I love your daddy. Wholy, unconditionally. Then you were born and I found out what love really means. I know I will have the same wonderful wave of emotion someday when we have another little person to love. (before I get emails from friends, I am NOT pregnant)
So know, baby, that everytime we leave we will be back. I love you to pieces and without you I am no longer whole.
Also know, that as much as your daddy and I love being your parents, every now and then we need to get away. It's makes us better partners, better people and better parents.
I love you D!
This last weekend your daddy and I left you with your babulya and deda for 3 nights. I must tell you child, I missed you terribly. I miss you differently than I missed you before. It used to be that I would worry and wonder if you were ok. I used to wonder if you were accepting the things I normally do for you from someone else, even though that someone else raised me and loves you to pieces.
I don't so much worry about that anymore. Now I miss my hugs, I miss my snuggles, I miss singing together, I miss talking to you. Having a conversation with the most interesting, hilarrious, little person on earth. You aren't just a babe anymore, my little Mr. D. You are a real person now. One with opinions, a lot of them, and thoughts and imagination and intellect and emotion and wonder and curiousity and and and. There are not enough words in the English language for me to possibly express how I feel about you and all the wonderful aspects of your personality.
You, child, are my heart, my soul, my everything. I sometimes wonder how I will possibly love another little soul like I love you. Then I think back to a time when I didn't have you. A time that is almost impossible to remember. I never knew I could love someone that way I love your daddy. Wholy, unconditionally. Then you were born and I found out what love really means. I know I will have the same wonderful wave of emotion someday when we have another little person to love. (before I get emails from friends, I am NOT pregnant)
So know, baby, that everytime we leave we will be back. I love you to pieces and without you I am no longer whole.
Also know, that as much as your daddy and I love being your parents, every now and then we need to get away. It's makes us better partners, better people and better parents.
I love you D!
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Head Strong and Beautiful
Last night my child showed me just how stubborn he really is. I had the audacity to try to get him to eat one teeny, tiny piece of cauliflower smothered in cheese. The following is a list of things D chose to do because he would not have a bite of cauliflower:
Not finish watching the Story Book Factory (the 3rd installment of the Letter Factory series)
Not have a chocolate chip cookie
Not watch anything
Have a time out - the child actually said, No, I don't want cauliflower, I want a time out.
Seriously, there was hardly enough food on the fork to even taste it. He did put it in his mouth once only to spit it out on contact. I don't know how to get through to him to get him to taste things. Nothing works. The couple of times he has chosen to give something a shot, he has liked it. Doesn't matter who eats it, doesn't matter how many times we make exaggerated "mmmm this is so good" sounds. He just won't. And when he decides he won't do something, the kid sticks to his guns.
I'm so proud I could burst.
Rather than looking at how infuriating his behavior was, I look at the strength it takes to behave in such a manner. Most kids would give in and have a bite of the food since it's their ticket to what they want. Not mine. He's strong, beautiful, smart, kind, sassy, loving, polite, silly, considerate and the most fun child I could ever imagine. What could possibly be better?
Not finish watching the Story Book Factory (the 3rd installment of the Letter Factory series)
Not have a chocolate chip cookie
Not watch anything
Have a time out - the child actually said, No, I don't want cauliflower, I want a time out.
Seriously, there was hardly enough food on the fork to even taste it. He did put it in his mouth once only to spit it out on contact. I don't know how to get through to him to get him to taste things. Nothing works. The couple of times he has chosen to give something a shot, he has liked it. Doesn't matter who eats it, doesn't matter how many times we make exaggerated "mmmm this is so good" sounds. He just won't. And when he decides he won't do something, the kid sticks to his guns.
I'm so proud I could burst.
Rather than looking at how infuriating his behavior was, I look at the strength it takes to behave in such a manner. Most kids would give in and have a bite of the food since it's their ticket to what they want. Not mine. He's strong, beautiful, smart, kind, sassy, loving, polite, silly, considerate and the most fun child I could ever imagine. What could possibly be better?
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Heat wave
Things have been pretty uneventful in our little house lately. We've continued the hell that is home improvement with the project that has no end. For the sake of our sanity, and marriage, Big D has chosen (maybe he was nudged just a little) to do a lot of the work on his own. I have some control issues, you're all shocked, I know, and he gets quite annoyed with me when I try to control.
Other than the house, we have been relatively peaceful and without incident. No stitches, no hospital stays, no vomiting. All in all, it's been nice.
What hasn't been nice is this damn heat. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate the heat. I hate have to strip down to nothing to finally feel cool. I hate having to shave everything all the time to be able to dress appropriately. Most of all I hate sweating. I'm a sweater. I actually pay almost 30 bucks a pop for deodorant to avoid sweating. It's the reason I absolutely hate working out. I hate to sweat. Thankfully, it seems like the heat wave has broken and we can once again step foot outside without instantly breaking into a sweat.
Other than the house, we have been relatively peaceful and without incident. No stitches, no hospital stays, no vomiting. All in all, it's been nice.
What hasn't been nice is this damn heat. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate the heat. I hate have to strip down to nothing to finally feel cool. I hate having to shave everything all the time to be able to dress appropriately. Most of all I hate sweating. I'm a sweater. I actually pay almost 30 bucks a pop for deodorant to avoid sweating. It's the reason I absolutely hate working out. I hate to sweat. Thankfully, it seems like the heat wave has broken and we can once again step foot outside without instantly breaking into a sweat.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Shark Frickin' Tales
Why the title? Here is this morning's initial conversation:
"Good morning mommy! I watch Shark Tales tonight! Ok Mommy?!" All with a big grin and twinkling eyes. And before 6:30 a.m.
Shark Tales is a deceiving little picture. You see the previews and get a taste of a couple of funny lines and a snippet of car wash and you think, "Cool, this will be a kids and adults like it alike kind of movie. Like Shrek. I can deal with this."
WRONG
Shark Tales is beloved by children as it is full of brightly colored fish. As an adult, however, I find it utterly stupid. Do I still watch it? Yes. Why? Because he's cute and I love him.
"Good morning mommy! I watch Shark Tales tonight! Ok Mommy?!" All with a big grin and twinkling eyes. And before 6:30 a.m.
Shark Tales is a deceiving little picture. You see the previews and get a taste of a couple of funny lines and a snippet of car wash and you think, "Cool, this will be a kids and adults like it alike kind of movie. Like Shrek. I can deal with this."
WRONG
Shark Tales is beloved by children as it is full of brightly colored fish. As an adult, however, I find it utterly stupid. Do I still watch it? Yes. Why? Because he's cute and I love him.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Umbilical cord...Revisited
It seems as though lately the umbilical cord that connected Dylan to me in utero has somehow resurfaced in an invisible manner. If I get more than three feet away from the boy he thinks I am leaving to never be seen again. We're not entirely sure what brought this on but it's killing my back.
This had already started when Dave left for the week last week. His absence and our short stay in the hospital, suspected appendicitis which turned out to be dehydration resulting from a stomach bug, have only enhanced this immense need for the Mommy. As anyone who has met my child knows, it's not "I want Mommy," it's "I want THE Mommy." Like I am some object that his been stolen away from him.
The possessiveness is also quite entertaining. God forbid my mother says, "Dylan, this is my daughter." Such a comment is met with an adamant proclamation of, "NOOOOO Babulya, that's MY mommy!" As if anyone wants me for their own mommy.
Someday this child is going to have to share HIS mommy. I can only hope at that time his love of babies will overshadow his possessiveness of the mommy.
This had already started when Dave left for the week last week. His absence and our short stay in the hospital, suspected appendicitis which turned out to be dehydration resulting from a stomach bug, have only enhanced this immense need for the Mommy. As anyone who has met my child knows, it's not "I want Mommy," it's "I want THE Mommy." Like I am some object that his been stolen away from him.
The possessiveness is also quite entertaining. God forbid my mother says, "Dylan, this is my daughter." Such a comment is met with an adamant proclamation of, "NOOOOO Babulya, that's MY mommy!" As if anyone wants me for their own mommy.
Someday this child is going to have to share HIS mommy. I can only hope at that time his love of babies will overshadow his possessiveness of the mommy.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Primal Love
Yesterday was mother's day. It's a great day to honor those in our lives who are, or act as, mothers. While sitting at the dinner table with our family, we got on the topic of a mother's love. It's cliche, but I never knew the extent to which a mother can love her own child until I became a mother. It's something no one can really understand, not even fathers, until they have their own.
It's primal. It's powerful and it is incomparable to anything else in the world. God help the individual that hurts my child or gets in my way when I try to protect him. I can't even begin to describe how I feel when my son is hurting and I don't know why or I know why and I can't help him.
I think the first time I really felt this intense need, and it is a need, to protect was when Dylan was 4.5 weeks old and we took our first trip to the ER. I was talking to a bunch of residents and it seemed as if each was more incompetent than the one before. On our third trip back to the ER and our second admittance to stay at the hospital, the chief resident came into the room in the ER. He started telling me that they weren't sure, they're trying to figure it out, BLAHBLAHBLAH. I looked at him and very pointedly told him they need to figure it out and tell me what's wrong with my son. I had never heard that tone of my voice before, I had never felt my face making the expressions it was making before.
I have heard that tone and felt those contortions of my face on a number of occasions since then. It doesn't suprise me anymore, it simply reminds me of the fact that I am a mother and no matter what happens in life, no matter where my child is, no matter who he is with or how old he is I am his protector, his advocate and his biggest fan.
It's primal. It's powerful and it is incomparable to anything else in the world. God help the individual that hurts my child or gets in my way when I try to protect him. I can't even begin to describe how I feel when my son is hurting and I don't know why or I know why and I can't help him.
I think the first time I really felt this intense need, and it is a need, to protect was when Dylan was 4.5 weeks old and we took our first trip to the ER. I was talking to a bunch of residents and it seemed as if each was more incompetent than the one before. On our third trip back to the ER and our second admittance to stay at the hospital, the chief resident came into the room in the ER. He started telling me that they weren't sure, they're trying to figure it out, BLAHBLAHBLAH. I looked at him and very pointedly told him they need to figure it out and tell me what's wrong with my son. I had never heard that tone of my voice before, I had never felt my face making the expressions it was making before.
I have heard that tone and felt those contortions of my face on a number of occasions since then. It doesn't suprise me anymore, it simply reminds me of the fact that I am a mother and no matter what happens in life, no matter where my child is, no matter who he is with or how old he is I am his protector, his advocate and his biggest fan.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
A trip...
Dylan just had his first successful trip to a coast.
His 3rd or 4th cousin removed (their grandpas are 1st cousins - construct your own family tree) had his Bar Mitzvah out in the land of all things Soprano. It was Dylan's first time attending such a service and, with the help of a sucker, he did VERY well.
We stayed with my cousin (again, you do the math - our dad's are 1st cousins) and his family. They were very gracious hosts and their little girl Zoe and our little Dylan got along famously. A little smooching between the two of them had all the adults in awe of the love two little people can feel towards each other. They're both 3 and under so we don't care that they are related.
Here is a highlight reel:
His 3rd or 4th cousin removed (their grandpas are 1st cousins - construct your own family tree) had his Bar Mitzvah out in the land of all things Soprano. It was Dylan's first time attending such a service and, with the help of a sucker, he did VERY well.
We stayed with my cousin (again, you do the math - our dad's are 1st cousins) and his family. They were very gracious hosts and their little girl Zoe and our little Dylan got along famously. A little smooching between the two of them had all the adults in awe of the love two little people can feel towards each other. They're both 3 and under so we don't care that they are related.
Here is a highlight reel:
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
I THREEEEEEEE!
I'm a slacker - I admit it. It's been a long time since the last update. Dylan had a fantastic 3rd birthday party back in Feb - well, 2 parties. One at day care with his little friends and a last minute get together at home with a handful of close friends and family. He had a lot of fun and has been enjoying his gifts immensely.
Dylan is now very proud of the fact that he is three. For awhile he decided I was 4 but has since floated back to reality that mommy is 29 and daddy is 30.
For whatever reason, Dylan turning 3 was very emotional for me. He's not a baby anymore in any way and with thoughts of #2 coming to the surface, this may have been the last birthday he celebrated as an only child.
We're currently working on numbers and letter with D and he's doing really well. He knows all the numbers - 1-9 - and we've heard him count 31, 32, etc. Not sure how we skipped the 20s, but we'll take what we can get.
Chin "mishap" update:
Dylan's wounds have healed nicely and he is very proud of the fact that he has owies. He will gladly show you his owies anytime.
The daycare par-tay
Dylan is now very proud of the fact that he is three. For awhile he decided I was 4 but has since floated back to reality that mommy is 29 and daddy is 30.
For whatever reason, Dylan turning 3 was very emotional for me. He's not a baby anymore in any way and with thoughts of #2 coming to the surface, this may have been the last birthday he celebrated as an only child.
We're currently working on numbers and letter with D and he's doing really well. He knows all the numbers - 1-9 - and we've heard him count 31, 32, etc. Not sure how we skipped the 20s, but we'll take what we can get.
Chin "mishap" update:
Dylan's wounds have healed nicely and he is very proud of the fact that he has owies. He will gladly show you his owies anytime.
The daycare par-tay
Home...
Sunday, February 19, 2006
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