Songs, Scents and Sickness

I am a person ruled by my memories. I remember way more than I would like to and those memories are often guided by songs and, occassionally, scents. I feel sick right now.

Sick because a co-worker was drinking a Strawberry/Kiwi Snapple. Sick because an ex-boyfriend used to drink them right before coming to my house. Before walking in my front door and kissing me. The sweetness of the drink flavored every kiss and every word spoken. That scent of sweetness makes me want to vomit. Literally. It reminds me of a time when there were so many promises made, none of which were kept. When I was naiive and in love enough to believe anything. A time when I made some of the biggest mistakes of my life. When I allowed a person into my life who had no business being there in the first place, much less staying there for 5 fucking years. Sick because I still can't stop hating him. Sick because I don't know if I want to. It's been 8 fucking years since we parted and he still makes me sick.

I know this can't be the first time I smelled this smell in the last 8 years but it's the first time it hit me like this. It's the first time I remember smelling it in 8 years.

I'm not used to this from a scent. I'm used this from songs. Songs evoke such strong memories for me. Here's a brief list of songs that make me remember very specific moments in time:
Breakfast at Tiffany's - Deep Blue Something
Is This Love? - Whitesnake
Angel Eyes - Jeff Healey Band
End of the Innocence - Don Henley
Whoomp There It Is - Tag Team (yes, seriously)
Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton
Run-Around - Blues Traveler
Little Black Backpack - Stroke 9
I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues - Elton John
Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls
All I Want is You - U2
Send me on my Way - Rusted Root
Sunrise, Sunset

All of these songs put back to a very specific place. I can picture everything about the moment they are related to. I know where I was, I know who I was with.

Closer to Fine? Dancing in the rain with Becky while Jim and Dave looked on at the Indigo Girls concert at Ravinia in Chicago in 2000.
All I Want is You - dancing for the first time as husband and wife at our wedding.
Send me on my Way - picking songs for a video after D's first bday.
Sunrise, Sunset - dancing with my dad at my wedding and letting him I believe I was "daddy's little girl" for a moment while my mom stood off to the side sobbing.

All of the songs above take me back. Some to good time, some to bad. But they all take me back. Sometimes I feel like without music, I wouldn't have any memories at all.

Mommy Guilt

It took me a long time to get over the guilt I felt when I put Dylan into daycare at 12 weeks of age. He adjusted well and I saw him blossoming. He has great friends and is in a wonderful environment. He has fun and most mornings drop off involves a quick hug, kiss, I love yous and he runs off to play with a smile. This morning was different. This morning I took both kids to the doctor for colds, they're fine, and brought them to daycare late. Sasha is still young enough not to notice. Dylan, on the other hand, definitely noticed the extra time with mom.

On the way to daycare he started begging not to be left there. "Don't go to work, Mommy."

When we got there, I had to peel him off me after 20 hugs and kisses. He wanted to wave to me through the window. He did so with tears in his eyes mouthing the words don't go. By the time I got in the car, I had tears in my eyes too. There are days I wonder if it's worth it. If the life we lead is worth the time away from my kids. I have written before about the push and pull I feel about being a working mother. Most days I handle it well. Most days I enjoy my time at work and being me. I enjoy the drive to and from work with my husband when we get to have an actual converstation.

But on days like today, I wish I had the freedom to just scoop him up in my arms and go play. Go have fun and make memories. Cater to his every whim rather than catering to the demands of work. I wish my children didn't get what little is left of me at the of the day. I wish I got to spend more than 2 waking hours a day with them. Neither of those hours being quality time. The hour in the morning is spent running around trying to get out the door. The hour in the evening is spent trying to get dinner, get play time, baths, books, bed. I spend half the time sequestered in a room with Sasha, feeding her and putting her to bed. It's wonderful time I spend with her. It's time I don't spend with D. I miss him, he misses me I feel guilty. I don't spend enough time with Sasha, I feel guilty. I don't spend enough time with Dave, I feel guilty. I think about the kids and home at work, I feel guilty. I think about work at home, I feel guilty.

Will there ever be a time when I don't feel guilty?

Things I say

There are so many things I say over the course of a day that I never, in a million years, thought I would be saying. Or at least not saying them as often as I do.

Here's a list:
Move allegro not adaggio!
Please be a boy, not a puppy. Don't lick me.
Stop touching your penis.
My pony tail is not a handle.
My pony tail is not a train whistle.

There are definitely a lot more but they are escaping me at the moment. Come out of lurkdom and tell me the things you say which you never thought you would.

Gen X in action

This morning, in the car, we had one of those moments that can only really happen to Gen Xers. We were driving the kids to daycare and flipped to a radio station which happened to be playing Bohemian Rhapsody. Of course, Dave and I started singing immediately, taking turns belting out the different parts of the song. Dylan was not amused and asked us to stop singing. I told him that simply was not an option for this song. We finished out the song just as we were pulling into the driveway of our daycare providers home. I had just headbanged before 8am and I was in a good mood.

Thank you, Wayne's World, for bringing this song to Gen X to enjoy in our own little way.

And seriously, Wayne's World came out in 1992!!! Damn I'm old. And, for an added note of amusement, Dave and I met in Aurora, IL.

Blushing Sailors

Dylan is 4.5. In his 4.5 years he has picked up a few choice words. At about 15 months he walked around saying "faaaa, faaaaa" after hearing me scream "FUCK!" into the phone about 25 times in a row after getting off a work call. On. a. Saturday.

At around 18 months he said "shit" every time I would drop something into the cart at Target. Lately he saws "aw crap" whenever he doesn't like what he is told to do. We're trying to replace it with "aw man."

The entertaining part of all this is that the swearing children are usually the fault of the men in their lives. Not in my house. It's all my fault. I have a mouth that could make a sailor blush. I have a very solid grasp of the English language and can easily describe any situation and express myself without the use of swear words quite well. But there are times when it really seems no other words will do. Most of these times are at work. Thankfully, I work in an environment where cursing is embraced. Because otherwise I would be reduced to "aw man" being the strongest language I could use. And that, internet, would just be fucking wrong.

Giggles

I have never known a person who can make me laugh as much as my son. He says the silliest, most hillarious things on a regular basis. There are days when I don't know what I would do without his giggles or the giggles he makes come out of my mouth. My daughter is starting to this as well. She has been really, REALLY laughing lately. And I can make her laugh.

Really, is there anything sweeter than the sound of a baby who has just learned how to belly laugh? No.

NaBloPoMo Day 3

This is getting tough already. You might notice I removed the "Facebook sucks" button from my page. It's not because I think Facebook sucks any less, but because I still have my account and I feel it's hypocritical of me to have both the button and an account. I still have the account because it allows me to reconnect with people and that's important to me.

All in all, today was a great day. We ran errands together and hung out all day. The kids were both fantastically behaved and Sasha went to bed well. We have some friends and their kids over for dinner and none of the kids argued. What could be better?

I'm exhausted, it's late and I want to watch a TiVoed show then go to sleep.

Good night.

Do they make coffee IVs?

Apparently, Sasha has yet to recieve the memo that sleeping through the night is perfectly appropriate behavior for a 5.5 month-old. I can't take it. Even on the nights I don't end up feeding her she still wakes up at least once for a pacifier. in the 5.5 months she has been alive I have had approximately 5 nights where I have slept through the night. And, even those night, I usually wake up at 6 to go pump before my boobs explode. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. She eats. and eats. and eats.

She gets three 7 ounce bottles of breast milk a day at daycare along with a morning and before bed nursing session. She now eats a fair amount of cereal before the last nursing of the day as well. And she still thinks she needs to eat at night. I'm sorry baby girl, but you weigh 19 pounds and are only 5.5 months old. I don't think you need to eat at night. Not that I think my baby needs a diet or anything completely inane like that, but really, she should be able to last the night.

In the meantime, I have been walking around in such a fog that it's a wonder I make it through my days. I never feel like I am giving the proper amount of attention to anyone or anything. I just want to be able to give 100% to SOMETHING OR SOMEONE for even 1 day. Is that really too much to ask?

What the hell did I just sign up for?

I just made the decision to participate in NaBloPoMo which will involve me writing something every. damn. day. Oh boy.

I will also be participating in NoBloShoeMo which is Susan's brainchild.

Should be an interesting November.

So, for today's post, here are the monkey and pumpkin in my life.

Word Scramble

The words aren't flowing very well these. They feel all jumbled up in my head and I'm unable to sort them out. It's a clusterfuck of thoughts and feelings and emotions that are taking over. It feels like a flood gate has been opened and I don't know what garbage will flow through.

There is so much going on in life that I can't sort it out. I can't get my head wrapped around what it is I have to do in a day, a week or month. I make list after list just to try to get it straight and then I lose the list. Fitting.

Everything is getting overwhelming all at once and I just want to be able to sort out the words in my head. And then maybe, just maybe, everything else will get sorted out as well.

I'm not cute!

ME: Dylan, you look so cute!

D: I'm nooooot cuuuuute! (in his best whiny voice.)

ME: Why not?

D: Only little girls are cute. Big boys are so handsome.

DUH! Why didn't I think of that!

Tattle Tails

- Mommy, Daddy said "stupid"!
- He did? Why did he say that?
- He said "stupid movie" about Wiggly, Wiggly, World.

We have officially reached the tattling phase. Woo-frickin'-hoo.

Ups and Downs

I go through ups and downs, I think we all do. Right now I'm in a down. Not too sure why, never am. What I do know is I hate the down slopes. I hate the times when every little thing can reduce me to tears in a matter of seconds. I hate the times when the list of frustrations runs long and my temper runs short. I hate when I have a tough time finding the joy in things.

There are some tangible things getting me down.

Sasha's continuing GI issues. 1 out of 3 hemocult cultures (testing for blood in her stool) came back positive. Saturday she had visible blood in her stool. The doctor isn't terribly concerned and thinks it's just a sensitivity to something I am eating but we don't know what that is. I've been off dairy since the end of August and it has made a huge difference. I've been extremely careful about my consumption and I definitely have not had any dairy. I don't know what else it could be. I haven't had anything new. I feel like a failure. I feel like I can't even feed my daughter. I want to know what's wrong. I don't.

I'm off dairy. This is really challenging and starting to impact my quality of life a bit. Going out to eat, one of my favorite things to do, is laborious and no that enjoyable as I have to examine everything I eat. I can't have treats or the bast majority of frozen foods. No frozen lunch meals which means more prep for bringing a lunch to work and I don't have time for that so I eat out too much which is extra calories and extra money spent.

My body sucks. I weigh less than I did when I got married and before I was pregnant with Dylan. I wore a skirt today I bought 6 years ago and it looked great. But what's going on underneath is so depressing. Not that I'm doing anything to change it. At least I look decent in clothes.

Work is kicking my ass. I'm stuck in a middle management role where I am responsible for a lot but enabled to make virtually no decisions.

I don't see my friends and I miss them.

There is plenty of good in my life. My children are amazing. My job, at the end of the day, is fairly rewarding. My friends are wonderful and I know they are there for me.

Just need to ride it out and the ups will come back.

Let's talk about breasts, baby!

I now have a "Facebook Sucks" button on my page. Why? Well, seems that Facebook has taken to deleting photos of women breastfeeding their children. Those photos are "inappropriate." However, flashing your tits at a frat party and posting the photos for all to see is OK. Um, sure.

I breastfeed, I do it in public. I do it in private. I do it wherever I damn well please and the first person to ever ask me to put away my boob when my baby is hungry will be told exactly where to go. Luckily, noone has been dumb enough to say a word to me yet. Then again, I have mastered the art of discreetly, publicly breastfeeding (without a cover I might add). Seriously, men have started up conversations with me while my car was getting serviced without a clue as to what I was doing. They thought the baby was sleeping.

What I find the most entertaining about the whole Facebook issue is that breasts displayed in a sexual manner are ok but breasts being shown sustaining human life are not. It's fucked up. If I want to post a picture of myself nursing my baby girl for my friends to see, which I don't want to post, who the hell cares. Seriously, half the Twin Cities metro area has seen at least a glimpse of my boobs at this point.

I'm surprised, a little, at how comfortable I am with the whole thing. Granted, I used to dance at First Ave. in my bra, but I was 15 and had a rockin' bod and no one could actually SEE my boobs. Anyway, I've always been comfortable showing (a lot of) cleavage and showing off my assets but I've never been one to freely show my breasts. Not in a locker room, not if front of a boyfriend or friends. But with breastfeeding it's different. They're not sexual in this situation. They are totally utilitarian. They are there to serve a purpose and getting my daughter fed is more important than any modesty. Besides, that modesty went out the window when I gave birth. After that sight I didn't really care anymore.

What I'm totally suprised by is how my husband doesn't care about the public breastfeeding either. Hubby dear loves the boobs. Always has, always will. He thinks they're the greatest things ever. And he considers it a great privilage that he is the only one that get to see them in all their glory. BUT, he too recognizes that when I am nursing they are far from a sexual thing. He understands that feeding our daughter whenever she needs is more important than anything else. He understand that I will always be as modest as I can. And he understands that everyone needs to get over themselves and just look away.

Here we go again

Sasha is sick. My instincts told me what was wrong this morning but I was in denial and sent her to daycare anyway. All day long I waited for the call to come get her. The call to hurry it up came at 4:40. We got to my daycare and I took my baby girl in my arms. I gently pushed on her right ear and she winced and cried. That was all I needed to tell me she had an ear infection. We took her to the doctor and it was confirmed. She has an ear infection. I was so hopeful we would escape ear infections with her.

Dylan had 10 ear infections between 3 months and 1 year when he got tubes. It was hell for all of us. I felt terrible for D and that he had to endure so much at such a young age. It always amazed us that he would still sleep through the night even with a double ear infection.

I have decided that with Sasha there will be a 4 ear infection limit. IF she gets a fourth ear infection I will demand a visit to the ENT and demand tubes. She should not have to endure the continued pain of ear infection. I hate myself for not doing this with Dylan but I trusted that it would always be the last one. I won't make that mistake again.

Me

Sometimes I just need a fucking break. To read a book in peace. To cry. To laugh. To sleep.

Sometimes I just need a chance to be me. To be Clara. Not Dave's wife or Dylan's mommy or Sasha's mommy or my parents' daughter.

Sometimes I just want to be defined as myslef. And then I wonder - Do I even know myself anymore? Do I know what I would do if I didn't have my family to take care of, my job to do? Who the hell am I? What are my interests? What do I like to do? I like to go to movies, museums, plays, concerts. I like to read, cook and go to happy hour with friends.

I don't remember the last time I did any of those things, with the exception of reading, for the just the pleasure of it. I think I need to figure out how to bring those things back to my life. Any ideas?

A parent's job

As parents it is our job to worry. Our job to take every little thing they do, or don't do, and examine it. Look at that action from every different angle and try to discern whether or not it's "normal." Whatever "normal" means.

There are times I worry about Dylan. Ask him a question and the answer may or may not make sense. It might be related to the question or it might be a verbalization of whatever is going on in his head at that moment. There are times he says things with perfect pronunciation that make perfect sense and sound so advanced for his age. Yet there are others that he babbles whatever is going on his head. I look at his peers and I see this is fairly normal.

There was a time, a few years ago, when I was worried. Dylan exhibited some early signs of Autism that were hard to ignore. Everything had to be sorted by color, by size, by shape, by type. Everything had to be just so. He was so particular from such an early age that it freaked me out. I would see that behavior and be scared of what it could mean. It meant nothing. Luckily, I know enough about Autism to know that socialization is really the biggest indicator of whether or not a child is on "the spectrum." Anyone who has met Dylan know he is very social. It was the one thing that put my mind at ease.

Today I worry that he won't be ready for kindergarten next year. That he still won't have the concentration it takes to sit still and listen. The comprehension to learn the things he needs to learn. Then I think about it. Why the hell am I worried about something that is in a year? What the hell is wrong with me that I don't see the progress he has made in the last year? I think back to swimming lessons last fall. He couldn't keep his head out of the water long enough to listen. He didn't yet have respect for the teacher/student relationship. This year he sits quietly and listens to the teacher. He focuses on what he is being taught and makes a real effort. He has come so far.

I am so confident that he will grow to be an intelligent, wonderful child who is creative and whimsical. That he will be compassionate and kind. I try to remain confident that he will be ready to make the leap into kindergarten next year. And you know what? If he isn't, does it really fucking matter? Does it matter if he goes to school at 6 rather than at 5? No, it doesn't. A dear friend went through kindergarten twice because his mother felt he wasn't ready to move on. Well, he proceeded to graduate from both undergrad and his MBA program something Cum Laude.

Then I look at what he is supposed to be able to accomplish at the end of kindergarten and he has 95% of it already mastered. I guess I really don't need to worry.

But I will, because that is my job.

A year ago

Today is one year since I found out I was pregnant. Since the little line on the stick finally turned a color after 5 months of blanks. One year since I found out that, once again, my life would be turned upside down in the most amazing way.

A year ago I was dealing with some of the same things I am dealing with now with one very significant difference - this year it's because of my amazing 4 month-old and last year it was because of the promise of a baby.

Exhaustion then = early pregnancy
Exhaustion now = a baby who doesn't sleep through the night yet

Sore breasts then = early pregnancy
Sore breasts now = breastfeeding

Poochy tummy then = early pregnancy
Poochy tummy now = 2 kids, 'nuf said

One year ago I was in disbelief that it was finally happening. I was scared about what the future would bring. I was hoping with all of my being that I would carry this pregnancy to term. That I would once again be lucky enough to have a healthy baby. I was nervous about how Dylan would react to a new little person in the house. I was scared about how I would deal with another baby. I was scared about how another baby would affect my marriage.

This year, I get to look at the beutiful little girl I gave birth to and be in awe of her. This year I get to hold my baby in my arms and squeeze her tight. This year, I get to look at my family and wonder if it might be complete rather than knowing it wasn't yet. This year I get to see my husband be an amazing father to another lucky child. This year I get to swell with pride as I watch the two most beautiful children I have ever seen interact with each other. This year I get to say, "Yes, it's great to have one of each." This year, the dream of being a mother to a son and a daughter is no longer a dream, it's reality.

And it's the most amazing reality I could imagine.

Another actual conversation

Dylan: Daddy, don't do that again or I will put you in time out.

Dave: Dylan, you can't put me in time out.

Dylan: Daddy, you go SIT IN THE CAR. The POLICE will come and TAKE YOU AWAY!

6 years

This is what 6 years into being old and married looks like...



I suck at the self portrait but the smiles are real. During the last 6 years I have experienced some of the best, and worst, days of my life. There are times when things have been hard, but always worth it. In the last 6 years, I have never once regretted marrying the wonderful man by my side. I married the best man in the world for me and I wouldn't change it for anything.

I love you, Davey.