For Alex - My Almost Big Boy

I love...

how you think cuddling and snuggling are different. To quote you: "Cuddling is touching and snuggling is no touching!"

the way you love music; you sing all the time, and it makes me smile whenever I hear your little off-key voice.

how proficient you've become with the computer. You use it better than some of the people I work with, and I'm so proud that you're diving full force into the technocentric world we live in.

how happy you were when you discovered that our new king sized bed is plenty big enough for the three of us to cuddle without Daddy grumbling that he doesn't have any room.

that you want to hold my hand, even when we're just walking around the house. I know our hand holding days are numbered.

your ninja moves. You flip and kick and air-punch your way across the living room several times a day, always with a cry of "Watch my moves, mama!"

your enthusiasm for make believe. We were playing restaurant the other day, and you were so involved that you tried to eat the sandwich you made. You quickly discovered that felt food is not as good as the real thing.

the look of concentration on your face when you're really focused on something. I wonder what's really going on in that mind of yours.

the way you sneak into my room in the morning, unplugging your iPhone with as much stealth as possible, hoping to get a few uninterrupted moments with your favorite apps. I usually wake up because you walk like a herd of elephants, but I let you think your sneaking works, because you're always so pleased with yourself.

how you still think mommy kisses make everything better. I don't know how much longer this particular magic will keep working, but as long as it does, I'm happy to kiss your boo-boos - even the ones on your stinky toes!

how big you are now, but how you're still so small at the same time. I want to freeze this age, almost five, and keep you like this forever... almost a big boy, but still young enough to need your mama.

I love you, Alex.

Thanks to Allie, over at Having a Fields Days, for the idea for this post. Her list for Sarah Hazel is so sweet.

Sideways

It's windy here today, the dry leaves swirling and dancing on the asphalt as I back my car out of the parking lot to head home. The temperature is cool, the kind of day that brings excitement in late March or early April, a harbinger of brighter, warmer days ahead.

This is not late March or early April, however. This is mid-October. A dreary, overcast day that hints of the cold to come, the dark days of winter stretching out before us. I can feel the darkness closing in on me, the long months to come looming ahead.

My thoughts slide sideways this time of year, dreaming of a different life, one filled with year-round sun and walks on the beach, the ocean breaking on the shore beside me. I long to pack my car, stopping only long enough to load my husband and son, and make an escape. Instead I head to the grocery store, the library, the bank - mundane chores filling my days until the spring brings a return to lightness.

I can feel myself sinking deeper with every overcast day, the sadness rising inside me with the shortening of the days. I'll keep to my house as much as possible, sleeping long hours and avoiding people. I want to be different, but every year it's the same - cold temperatures, long hours of darkness and depression seeping into my bones. I can see it coming again this year with an awareness that I've never had before, but I don't know how to stop it, how to hold it at bay until the sun returns next spring.

So, I'll make my way through the winter as best I can, taking refuge in my sideways thoughts - warm breezes, hot sand under my feet and the waves crashing. And I'll wait for the sun to come back to my landlocked, small town home. I know it has to.

Diary of a Quitter: Day 1

Today is the day. I'm quitting smoking. This is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm a mass of quivering nerves, churning gut and shaking hands.

It's been 9 hours since my last cigarette. I want one so badly; I can't even put it into words. I've smoked for almost 18 years and I don't know what to do with myself.

It's not just the nicotine addiction, although that's quite the bitch. I don't know what to do with my hands. I don't know how to take a break without a cigarette in my hand. What will I do on hot summer days, when the sun beats down and there's a book waiting to be read?

Day one, this sucks.

Writing Fail

So, it turns out that I'm just as unreliable as I predicted in my very first post. NaBloPoMo was a total bust for me, but that's okay. Daily posting is obviously not my thing, and I can live with that.

We're on our way back from Disney World, and I just downloaded the Blogger app. I have a feeling that being able to blog on the go is going to make it much easier to get all these words out of my head.

Lots to talk about: a great trip to Disney & we're getting ready for Christmas. We've bought Alex a ridiculous number of presents. First though, we have to finish this drive back home. Just 400 miles to go!

His Favorite Color Was Red

My father died this summer. I don't think I'll ever be able to stand outside on a hot, humid day again without remembering the first moments of my grief. Smoking a cigarette, walking in circles in the grass, just trying to get it together enough to drive home.

He had been sick for a long time, kidney failure, heart attacks, diabetes, liver problems from his medication an occasional seizure thrown in just for fun and scariest of all, a stroke. He started getting sick when I was in high school; we actually celebrated my 16th birthday in his hospital room, so we had been living with the reality of his illness for almost 20 years.

You think that you're prepared for something like this. We all know it would happen, and as more time passed we knew that it might happen soon. But we never really believed it would happen. When he went into the hospital for the last time, in mid-August we all assumed he'd be back home soon, maybe on dialysis, but home.

On August 29th, I stood in the ICU, where I had visited so many times, and watched my mother let him go. They had been trying to revive him for at least 30 minutes, while we drove to the hospital, and when we arrived she told them to stop, that they had done all that could be expected. She thanked them, and I cannot imagine the strength that must have taken, to thank the people who couldn't bring him back and to be the one to make the decision that it was time to stop trying.

I miss him so much, and whenever I see a photo of him it hits me again. The thought that I'll never hug him, never feel the scratchiness of his stubble as he kisses my cheek or hear his laugh, it's like a punch to the gut that takes my breath away.

We talk about him every day. I'm determined that Alex will know how much his Papaw loved him and hopeful that he will remember how much he loved his Papaw in return.

This is what I remember:

flying through the air as a child, as he swung me in his arms, knowing that he would never drop me

floating in the ocean with his hands under my back, learning to swim

sitting on his shoulders in that same warm water as a storm rolled in, feeling the waves crash over us, but never being afraid because his strength would keep us safe

sitting in our kitchen, watching him cut up the steak for the stroganoff my mother would be making for dinner

learning to shoot - his large, calloused hands wrapped around my small ones

climbing on his tow truck in the summer, "helping" him wash it, but mostly just getting squirted with the hose

Christmas mornings where the joy in his eyes outshone anything my brother and I were feeling, just so happy to see his kids happy

walking down the aisle towards my soon-to-be husband, my hand on his arm, it felt like floating

the first time he held my son, so tiny, and the gentle love I could see as he cradled Alex in his arms

the way he loved my mother and how they showed me, together, that marriage isn't always easy but it's so worth the work

a million more small moments - the wonderful, which I will hold on to as tightly as I can, and the fights and friction that come from strong, conflicting personalities living in the same house, which I will let go of

I will miss him for the rest of my life.

Love you, Daddy.

In My Head

So... it's been awhile since I've posted here. I've been having a hard time motivating myself to write; there's so much in my head that it just swirls around all day, ideas popping in and out, but nothing ever makes it to the keyboard. Very frustrating.

I'm challenging myself to NaBloPoMo this year. I want to write and I think this is exactly the motivation that I need.

There's so much to say; my father passed away in August, Alex turned three in June, we're planning a bathroom remodel, a vacation and just all of the ordinary, everyday things that make this life so amazing.

I'll be using the writing prompts that they have on BlogHer, but probably not all of them. There are things in my head that need to get out, and this kick in the butt is the perfect opportunity.

Nothing like a deadline to get the creative juices flowing, right?

Tomorrow I'm going to tackle the subject that's been keeping me away from here more then any other: my father's extended illness & his death in August. Just thinking about writing about it makes my eyes burn with tears, but I need to get it out and hope that you're willing to hear it.

Until tomorrow...

Gratitude and Resolve

The turning of the new year is an amazing thing. It marks not only the passage of time, but also the anniversaries of all that we have gained. It gives us a concrete, markable point during which we have the opportunity to think, really think, about all that has gone before. I'm not saying we can't do this throughout the year, but we get so caught up in the day-to-day that time just slips past, running through our hands like water, vanishing before we've even realized it was something we needed to hold on to.

The last couple of years, though, I've really sat & thought about all that I have to be thankful for, all the joy that I have in my life and also the opportunities I've let slip by. Things haven't always been easy; there are times when I want to crawl into a hole & pull it in after myself, but that's just the day-to-day grind. When I step back and really consider, I realize that things are great, that I'm right where I want to be, and that I have a head full of plans for where I'm going

So, without further ado, the annual list of sappy thankfulness and wishes for the future:

This Boy

cheesy grin courtesy of toddler notions

of what constitutes a smile

Sometimes, I don't even have words for what I feel for him. When I watch him sleep, it takes my breath away. Hearing his laughter is like the sun shining, even during the times when it seems like all I can see is a downpour on an overcast day.

There was a time when I thought that I wouldn't have children, then out of nowhere he was there. A surprise, a shock, an adjustment if I'm being perfectly honest. And even now, there are times, lying in bed, that it all feels unreal. The idea that this perfect person is lying in his crib, just on the other side of the wall, it stuns me anew. I turn up the monitor, just so I can hear him breathing as I fall asleep and I wake with a smile when I hear "Mommy! Where are you?"

Lately he's been challenging, defying us in ways that he never has. He sneaks candy, touches the Christmas tree, grabs things off of Jym's desk, tries to play with my computer, refuses to nap (and then turns into a monster 4 hours before bedtime) and on one heart stopping occasion he ran away from me in a parking lot. He's two, and he's testing limits, exploring his world.

I marvel at the person that he's becoming. I marvel that he is becoming a person, that I get to watch it happen right in front of me. He told me today that his favorite color is blue and it staggered me: how is he big enough to have opinions already? How is he old enough to know these things? But he is, and I soak it up, savoring the becoming & trying to clutch him tight to me at the same time, to keep him small.

But, at the same time, its so easy to just mark the time, to wish away the hours until bedtime. There are days when all he wants is to play with his trains, to run his cars around on the floor for hours at a time. I love to be with him, but when I'm being honest with myself I can admit that toy trains and cars just don't do it for me. I find myself longing for the day he'll be able to sit quietly next to me and read a book. This year I will work harder to hold those hours of trains and cars and make believe close. I will get down in the floor and make choo-choo noises. I will make sure that he never knows that mama doesn't love trains as much as he does, because as sappy as it sounds, his happiness is my own. When he looks back at his early years I know he won't remember many details, but I want his to remember the feelings, especially the feeling of an actively involved mom and all the joy that brings.

This Man

On the porch at Belle Meade, during
our 10th anniversary trip

He is patient, though he will say he is not. He is kind, though he thinks he's a hard ass. He is funny and smart and cuddly and a great cook and a great father (although if he could jump in with the potty training, that would be great). We met when I was 19, and I thought he was sleazy (he is, just a little, like a good used car salesman). I mostly avoided him for the next 2 years, despite the fact that I was drawn to him (or maybe because I was drawn to him, who can tell the mind of a 19 year old girl?). When I finally gave in, he swept me off my feet. We started dating in April and were engaged by June.

There have been hard times, there will be hard times again in the future. But he is there, a rock for my raging river to flow around. Steady and stable, he tempers my moods and keeps me on an even keel when I want to throw caution to the wind, shirking responsibilities and obligations. He helps me be the person that I want to be, he encourages me to do the things that I dream of. When I fret, when I sink into depression he is there, holding out his hand, a lifeline to bring me back.

All those words to say this, simply this: I love him & in 50 years I'll love him still. So this year I will strive to be the patient one, to become more steady and be the person he can lean on. When he needs support, I will not huff impatiently and I will not roll my eyes. I will do things to make his life easier, like he does for me. On occasion, I may even cook dinner (or maybe not, I'd like to keep this realistic).

This Lady

With Alex at Walt Disney World, December 2008

My mother-in-law is, in my humble opinion, the greatest mother-in-law in the history of the world. She comes to our house almost every day and takes care of Alex while Jym and I work. As much as it sucks to leave Alex to go to work, she makes it easier. Alex adores her and she thinks he hung the moon. She helped us buy our house and she's currently given up her garage for more then a month while we try to fix Jym's car. She is supportive, in a no nonsense, zero tolerance for bullshit, Italian mother way and has helped us with so many things that I've lost count.

This year I will be a better daughter-in-law. I will not take her for granted. I will thank her for all the time she gives to our family. I will even take her to lunch, for no reason other than that she is awesome.

These Folks

My parents with Alex, July 2010

My relationship with my parents has not always been the best. I was a rebellious teenager, running wild, said condition exacerbated by my father's struggle with addiction. Things were hard when I was growing up, money was tight and we were far from the Rockwellian version of a perfect family.

But they always loved us and did the best they could. And now that Alex is here, I am desperate for him to know them. They love him beyond anything I could have ever imagined from two grandparents, showering him with attention, filling his time with laughter and joy whenever they're able to visit.

Those visits are too infrequent, however. So this year, I resolve to visit more, to make the 2 hour drive to their home as often as my overstretched finances will allow. My father has myriad health problems, and as much as I hate to think about a time when he'll be gone, I know that it's coming. It could be next month or it could be years from now. The not knowing is hard, harder than I know how to put into words.

So, what I want is to give Alex as many memories as I can, to fill his mind and heart with his Papaw. I want my son to know my father, to remember him and I know that time is limited, so I'll give up some of mine (and some money, too... $3.00/gallon for gas, ack!) to make sure that he does.

That's the big stuff and there are so many more things: my job, my home, cable television, bloggers that make me laugh & make me think, homemade cookies and a million little things that add up to a happy, content life. This year I will savor those things, I will soak them up, I will wallow in the everyday joy. This year I resolve to really live, and love, my life.

Birthday Wishes

Alex has an alphabet puzzle. All 26 letters in bright, primary colored wooden cut-outs with a board that they fit into. He loves this puzzle and we play with it every day.

Before bed tonight we sat down with the puzzle. He handed me the letters of his name, saying each letter out loud: A - L - E - X. We spelled his name and then he proudly proclaimed "Alex!" with his hands held triumphantly in the air. He then pulled random letters from the puzzle board, passing them to me one by one, naming each. When he was done he demanded asked for a bath, running eagerly to the bathroom when I agreed, puzzle forgotten by us both.

We played in the water until his lips turned blue and he was shivering. When I pulled him from the tub, against his firmly voiced protests that he wasn't cold, he snuggled into me, actions belying words.

After diaper and lotion and jammies we enjoyed a leisurely bedtime snuggle. I managed to drag myself from the bed before I fell asleep and tucked him securely in the crib, heading to the living room and the warm glow of my laptop.

Where my computer normally sits there was a message for me. No one in the house has claimed responsibility for the message, but I have my suspicions.

.
Happy Birthday, Jym. Would you settle for a flea market knock-off?

Bath and Bed

Step 1: Inform him that he will receive a bath tonight. After retrieving him from the empty bathtub, fully clothed, explain that the bath will be after dinner. Ignore pouting.

Step 2: Go into bathroom and close door. Ignore the wailing sounds from outside.

Step 3: Plug drain and turn on water. This will help to drown out the sounds of woe.

Step 4: As tub is filling add bath toys until there is a small menagerie of water animals assembled. Place step stool by tub and shampoo by stool.

Step 5: Turn off water and open door.

Step 6: Capture toddler who is attempting to climb into tub with clothes and shoes on.

Step 7: Remove toddler's clothes while keeping him restrained. Ignore with heartlessness the despairing cries that issue forth at the injustice of being held back from the water for this clearly unnecessary process.

Step 8: Release toddler, blink. Toddler has now disappeared and splashing can be heard.

Step 9: Join toddler in bathroom, perching on stool for comfort.

Step 10: Pour water over toddler's head to wet hair. Dump most of the water in the tub, as he has dodged at the last minute. Repeat approximately 100 times.

Step 11: Shampoo hair and wash toddler's body. Lift feet and hands out of water as needed for the removal of toe jam and the cleaning of fingernails.

Step 12: Tell toddler to stand up so his bottom and related parts can be cleaned. Tell him again, this time tugging gently on his arm to encourage standing. Tell him approximately 15 more times, each accompanied by a gentle tug until finally hauling him to his feet to wash his stinky bottom. Ignore wails and protests; the toddler is not injured, merely outraged at the fact that he dropped his seahorse.

Step 13: Rinse the toddler's hair. See step ten for instructions.

Step 14: Dump some water on the toddler's tummy and back to rinse off remaining soap. Marvel at how there are no bubbles in the tub even though there were bubbles in his hair when you rinsed it.

Step 15: Sit back, towel at the ready for toddler induced tsunamis. Give a halfhearted protest at each wave. The toddler has broken you of any reasonable expectation of a dry bathroom at this point.

Step 16: Gasp in shock as toddler stomps his foot and drenches both your legs, the stool upon which you are sitting and the floor. Mop ineffectually at what used to be the contents of the tub.

Step 17: Declare that bath-time is over. When toddler responds with any variation of "no" (i.e. "Not yet," "I don't wanna," "I'm not ready" and the like) ignore him.

Step 18: Stand up and retrieve towel from back of toilet. Grab slippery toddler under arms. Drop towel in water while avoiding dropping toddler. Set toddler on stool.

Step 19: Grab another towel from outside the room. Hear splash.

Step 20: Return to bathroom; retrieve toddler again. Leave towel on counter until toddler is standing on his own.

Step 21: Wrap toddler up like a 3 foot tall burrito. Pick up now helpless bundle and adjourn to the living room.

Step 22: Realize that you failed to get out toddler's diaper and pajamas. Set toddler on couch with instructions to stay put. Turn on cartoon as incentive.

Step 23: Walk down hall to toddler's room. Open drawer to retrieve pajamas. Glimpse small toddler shaped blur streak past out of the corner of your eye.

Step 24: Repeat steps 20 & 21. Close the door on the way out of the bathroom this time.

Step 25: Return protesting toddler to living room. Place him on your lap to towel dry his hair. Ignore howls of fury as he routinely shakes his head harder then this while jumping on your bed.

Step 26: Place toddler on floor. Begin diapering process only to realize that you have forgotten the Desitin.

Step 27: Retrieve Desitin from kitchen counter.

Step 28: Wonder where toddler has gone.

Step 29: Find toddler in front of bathroom door, desperately trying to turn the knob. Be grateful that he hasn't mastered that skill, yet.

Step 30: Hear toddler say "Oops, you can clean it up, Mommy," as he empties his bladder in your bedroom floor.

Step 31: Sigh in resignation and throw towel over puddle.

Step 32: Send toddler, who has now realized his route back to the tub is blocked, back to the living room. Blot up worst of puddle, then follow.

Step 33: Place diaper on toddler, including Desitin.

Step 34: Apply lotion to toddler's delicate, sensitive skin. Wonder why his lotion costs more than yours.

Step 35: Wrestle toddler into pajamas after failing to convince him that an ice skating bear is just the thing he wants to wear.

Step 36: Chase toddler down after he bolts to your room, begging to sleep in your bed. Promise one story and cuddle time in the big bed.

Step 37: Read book, perhaps something Seussian.

Step 38: Turn bedside lamp to lowest setting and curl up for a good snuggle.

Step 39: Sing, talk, sing some more.

Step 40: Tell toddler that it's time to get into his crib.

Step 41: Feel will being broken by toddler's cuteness and cuddle-ability. Give in for just a few more minutes.

Step 42: Feel eyelids drifting shut as you sing The Sleepy Song.

Step 43: Wake as husband picks up toddler three hours later and puts him in the crib.

Turning Two

Yes, this post is ridiculously late. Alex is almost 2 months past his 2nd birthday, but cut me some slack; I have a two year old.

Oh, dear lord, I have a two year old.

I'm not entirely sure how that happened. I mean, I understand the theory - the earth rotates and revolves, minutes pass, the minutes add up to hours, days, so on and so forth, but the actual reality of the fact that Alex is two just seems to escape me.

He's so much a big boy these days. Full sentences and independence and telling me "No!" and deciding what he wants to eat all by himself (and seriously, if you try to feed him something else you will be met with tears of woe and the refusal to allow even a molecule of the undesirable foodstuff to pass his lips). But at the same time, he's still so very much my baby. Sleepy time cuddles and singing lullabies and snuggling up to me in my chair just so he can touch me.

He's not so much with the potty training, using a fork & spoon or dressing himself (undressing is another matter, he's all over that one), but the other stuff, my mind boggles.

He talks, or more accurately, he never stops talking. Sentences and ideas and plans and make believe and the recounting of memories in such a sweet voice that it brings tears to my eyes sometimes. Tears sparked by the hope that the joy he finds in these days will stay with him, that he will someday remember the sweet lazy days that we spend, laughing and playing, chasing and tickling, reading and cuddling.

He loves the water - pools, splash pads, garden hoses, sinks, bathtubs - water in all its forms. If it's wet and nearby he will find his way to it. This has led to some trauma on his part, and by trauma I mean the way his world falls apart when I won't let him stop and play in some filthy, muddy, insect corpse laden puddle at the park after a good rain storm. He falls to the ground, hands over eyes, wailing to make sure the world knows how miserable his existence is whenever this happens.

He is ridiculously smart, tearing apart puzzles and games designed for the 3+ set, and blowing my mind at the way he absorbs everything around him. His vocabulary is that of a 6 year old, and it's always satisfying, in that proud mama bear way, whenever someone comments on it. I'm so proud of him that I could burst, and I do my best not to sound smug, but if I can't brag about him here, then where can I? I know that all of you will understand (all, let's see... 1... 2... 3? Yes, all 3 of you.) the desire to shout his accomplishments from the rooftops.

He is also easily frustrated, giving up when things don't come easily. He doesn't feed himself with a fork or spoon. Not because he doesn't understand the idea, but because it's hard and when he can't do something right away he resorts to his fall back plan: "You can do it, Mommy." I fight the impulse to step in and help right away, because as hard as it is to see him fail, I know that he will be better for learning to do things on his own. This is not to say that I don't help him when it's obvious he needs it, but I'm making myself let him struggle just a little, make a mess when he eats, pushing him to try.

He is awkward with other children, calling all of them "baby" (which he undoubtedly gets from me calling him "baby" and "my sweet baby" all the time; seriously, he was almost a year old before he realized what his name is because I use pet names with him all the time). He doesn't know how to interact with them, and does much better with adults. I fully believe this is my own fault (not in a guilty, I'm the worst mother ever kind of way, though) for not getting him out to more activities. I always feel awkward around new people and I've been letting that slow us down, keeping us from taking part in playgroups and the like. We'll be signing him up for a gymnastics program soon, a Mommy & Me type class at a place specializing in toddler gymnastics, and hopefully that will clear up any lingering awkwardness on both our parts.

His emotions seem to be spinning out of control lately. I'm told that this is normal, just a part of being two. Hopefully everyone is right because it's either that or we're living with the world's smallest bi-polar person. He bounces from highs to lows faster than you can blink, and just when you're breathing a sigh of relief about a crisis averted in the store over a balloon (solution: he may hold the balloon while we shop, but not take it home because it needs to live with it's Mommy and Daddy; and yes, he seriously believes that) he's trying to pitch himself headfirst out of the shopping cart in order to get to "the pink one!" (baby lotion), "cookies" (um, any kind of cookie), books or seriously kid, what the hell, a pork loin? I've taken to picking out an item from the dollar section at Target and letting him lovingly fondle it while we wander around, just so I have something new and shiny with which to distract him.

So, to recap:

Birth
3 lbs 7.7 ozs

16.25 inches

One Year
19 lbs, 9 ozs
28.25 inchesTwo Years
26 lbs, 4 ozs

34.75 inches

Crazy mood swings, terrible (and highly amusing) tantrums, enough talking that you could drown in the words, hugs and smiles and kisses and cuddles. It just keeps getting better.