The Triumphant Fries

Two days ago Little Bug got a frowny-face note from school saying that he had a hard day keeping his hands to himself and hit and pulled the hair of a number of his friends.

This used to be a daily, hourly, minute by minute occurrence, but he’s come so far.  Now those notes are rare and worth giving him a stern talking to.  Unfortunately, he’s also in the laugh in your face while you are scolding me phase, which is one of the most trying phases….E.V.E.R.  On the day in question, he met me at the door asking for french fries for dinner. Being that he hadn’t behaved, he certainly wasn’t getting French fries, and I told him so.

Freak out ensued. 

So I tried a new tactic.  Little Bug’s cognitive development isn’t totally caught up yet, so believe it or not, we’ve never used a theoretical reward tactic with him.  Until now.  I figure if he can cognitively and abstractly decide he wants French fries for dinner, he can handle having them dangled in front of him in exchange for good behavior.

I told him that if he was nice and didn’t hit is friends the next day, he could have French fries for dinner the next night.  That certainly didn’t placate him in the moment, but all evening long we talked about how he would get French fries if he was nice.  The next morning we talked about it again, and I even asked his teacher to remind him throughout the day.

And what do you know, he had an AWESOME (his teacher’s caps, not mine) day!  She did remind him throughout the day, and he did seem motivated to be nice.  And when I walked in to pick him up he was all over me about those freaking fries. 

So I’m not sure who enjoyed the triumphant fries more, him eating them or me giving them to him.

Of course, this morning when I reminded him to be nice, he immediately asked “French fries?”

I’m going to need to find a less greasy reward system.

Bee Bim My Head

This week things finally started moving again in the adoption world….things that actually impact Little Bro’s time lines. The door that has been shut since April is finally creaking open. It’s been so long since it closed that I find myself surprised to see it actually opening again (not that I ever thought it wouldn’t).

And it’s driving me to distraction.

Heaven forbid I attempt to work this week, even though we are chasing a big print deadline and I have hundreds of pages left to proof. Heaven forbid I be required to do anything that forces me away from the computer for more than a few hours….what if someone else hears something about anything!?!

Besides the cautious but genuine interest in how the process in Korea plays out over the next few weeks (and I know I do it to myself by getting invested in message boards), we recently heard that our agency is going to be getting a real update on Little Bro soon. One with development information and medical information and all sorts of stuff that actually makes a difference in how we go about preparing his transition (because how many teeth he has really doesn’t). For the record, we’re not worried about him, nor do we think that anything is amiss, but the last time we officially heard anything more than what pictures can tell us was in April 2010…when he was 9 months old. He’s 18 months old now, so it’s be nice to get a check in.

I have no idea when this information will come to me. I don't know if it will be a week or a month. It could be either. I'm prepared for either.

But one thing I have learned about myself is that I can be very patient when I have low expectations, but when I have high expectations (for example, when I know I am going to be getting some information), I'm about as patient as Little Bug is when he wants his blasted motorized train to "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

Poor, patient Appa. He's living in a house full of lunatics.

So I sit this afternoon. Unable to really commit to work or whatever when my head is mushing around with excitement and impatience. The high will wear off soon enough. The information will either come quickly or it won't, either way I'll get over it. The EP situation will lull for another month. My proofs will get done....

And someday none of this will matter.

Except for the proofs, of course. As good as I am getting at being a crazy time lines stalker, I'd like to keep my day job.

Unicorn Fluff

So this sleep book...the one about unicorns and kittens and rainbows and slumbering babes....it's still annoyingly upbeat and positive while our nights are not so much.

But it's actually really illuminating.

In the grand scheme of sleep issues, ours are minimal. To be frank, the reason I even started modifying the routine is because I want to be able to deal with the sleep-issues surrounding the upcoming (HA!) arrival of our second son without dealing with Little Bug, but I wanted to give myself months to deal with this transition to avoid having him just cry it out and keep me up more than he is. My selfish goal is to be able to have him go to sleep by himself and stay there all night long. I want that for him, of course, but even more, I don't want to be dealing with two crying babies on my own. I'd like to be able to deal with them at night in an orderly and smooth way.

Rainbows, unicorns, dancing fairies.

And as much as I like the warmth of my baby in my bed, my husband's chest is pretty warm the 3 nights a week I get to share a bed with him....and yeah.......I'd like that back, too.

Ahem.

So this sleep book. It claims that there is a certain amount of sleep most children inherently need each night. It states that if your child is getting wiggy around bedtime, instead of saying "Oh, poor Little Bug is starting to get tired" and going on with your evening, you should just put your kid to bed.

Kid is tired = parent should put kid to bed. No matter when the botanical garden closes.

Rocket . Science.

Sadly, this no brainer statement really hit home for me. Little Bug's 8 pm bedtime was arbitrarily chosen because it worked for my schedule and he seemed to do fine with it.....minus the 30 minutes beforehand when he would start sucking him thumb and whining. I just thought that was what kids did in the evening; it never connected with me that I might be keeping him up past the time his body inherently wanted to be up.

Another instance of "I'm a first time mama and have no idea what I am doing" with a healthy dose of "I'm being unintentionally selfish and inflexible."

Sigh. I hate you, book.

So this week I've been watching Little Bug in the evenings to monitor his mood and when he starts to go down. A few nights ago, when he started to get fussy and whiny, I just started his bedtime routine early and put him to bed.

He was deeply asleep 30 minutes before his "bedtime."

And mama is a believer.

It's going to be an adjustment for us all. As a working mama, my evenings are so precious with my son, and I am going to be giving some of that up. We've still not even attempted anything serious with the going to sleep alone or staying in bed during the night or the waking up during my morning showers and pounding on the door while sobbing "baf, Baf, BAFFFFFFFF" pieces of our life, but those will come. I also know that every kid is different and that what is working for my kid would never work for another kid, including Little Bro.

Kids are lame and awesome like that.

So although this book is just a big pile of unicorn fluff, it is giving me a new way to view my child and how much of his routine I can attempt to control, which has been very illuminating.

And possibly the stuff of unicorns, kitten, and rainbows....we shall see.

The Campaign for a Television-Enjoying Child

I think I might be the only parent in the world who is actively trying to teach my kid to watch television.

As part of some therapy, we've been asked to start trying to get Seth to sit still for periods of time. He doesn't have ADHD or anything like that, but after almost 3 years of a constant, almost-every-minute movement therapy-lifestyle, coupled with the fact that he is a toddler, Little Bug has a problem being able to sit and focus for periods of time. Television was suggested as a way to get him comfortable with just being still.

However, Little Bug has never shown a preference for the TV. He has a set of musical DVDs that he will watch religiously, and one 8-minute animated version of "Wheels on the Bus" that we had to hide for fear the DVD would break, but other than those programs and the 3-minute part of the Glee episode where they cover Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance", he's not really interested.

For a long time, that was okay, good even. He was sitting still and listening to music, which is his biggest sensory stimulator.

But he's not learning much.

So it was determined we needed to switch it up and add some shows that have....words...into the mix. We tried all sorts of things, but nothing seemed to stick.

Wiggles...so, so. Thomas the Train....only when the trains are moving and not talking. Everything else...totally not interested. Even the shows that have a high singing:talking ratio.

You're killing me, Little Bug. Stop being such a perfect, anti-TV child, already!

Little Bug's godmother recently bought him the Thomas movie, and we've been trying to add that into our evening once a week or so. The most we have managed is about 3-5 minutes...basically until the trains stop moving and the plot starts.

Last night we had a pretty ominous storm roll through. Ever since an admittedly scary camping storm incident, Little Bug gets very nervous when storm clouds roll in, scared when thunder hits, and petrified when lightning lights up the sky. Little Bug made it clear last night that he was planning on riding this one out from the safety of my lap with my arms locked around him, courtesy of his baby death grip.

I'm only mildly ashamed to admit I used his fear to my advantage.

Knowing he was more likely than normal to stay close to me, I turned on our new movie and hoped for the best.

1.5 hours later, Little Bug was clapping as the credits rolled.

Do I think this means he will sit angelically through a movie whenever I need to turn one on in a pinch? No. Do I recognize that the storm has a huge impact on his choice to sit still? Yes.

But he did stay engaged with the show the whole time, "choo chooing," "ohh ohhing," and clapping in all the right spots.

So I'm declaring a small step forward in our quest to commercialize our son.

A Backhanded Love Letter

Tonight Little Bug and I were sitting outside watching (or rather, feeling) the Midwest summer storm roll in. Little Bug has had a rough day (mainly because we were bad parents and kept him up way too late last night), and I was momentarily jealous of Appa's night of room service and hotel premium channels. My husband works long hours. LONG days. Usually far away. I'd be lying if I said this didn't cause me serious annoyance, frustration, sadness, etc. Most of the time I forget that when he is not here with his family, he isn't off doing something fun.

It hit me tonight that when he is away from us, he would probably cut off his left arm to spend the evening eating leftovers (actually, in the interest of truthiness, Little Bug and I had Arby's tonight) and sitting outside watching our child slowly melt down. He's working his butt off 90+ hours a week to provide a nice home for our family and let us live comfortably while creating a fufilling career.

So to the real place my head went tonight. I admire the hell out of my husband. He had the most impeccable work ethic in undergrad, always with his eye on the prize of a good grad school. He was devoted to his research in grad school, breaking ground in the field of stem-cell research. Although he could have gotten his PhD with just a publication or two and going through the motions for 5 years, he published at least five papers, filed three patents, and created a project that was robust enough to be passed along to another student. Beside work ethic, he just blew me away with how intelligent he truly was. I tease, but I found his lab rat persona pretty sexy.

So I was rocked to my core when he told me out of the blue that he was terribly unhappy with the lab life and wanted to pursue a career in business. This is a man who has spent 19 years in science-focused classes. But, when it was clear that he was serious, I watched him start auditing business classes and helped him go through case studies for interviews. Secretly, I couldn't imagine how all this could lead anywhere.

Wouldn't you know, he got the job. The job that he had absolutely no qualifications for other than just simply being his intelligent and articulate self. I still am surprised in some ways. I'm even more surprised that we agreed (and still do) that it was the right fit for our family. What I am not surprised about is how hard he has worked in the last few years to prove himself, gather necessary knowledge and experience, and just generally excel at an incredibly hard challenge that he had no business excelling at.

All this was swirling in my head while the clouds were stirring above me and my little boy tonight. Suddenly, instead of being annoyed that my husband is often absent and always having fabulous dinners and staying in swanky hotels, I had this fervent hope that somehow he will be able to teach our sons to live as fearlessly and completely as he subtly has. I'm Mrs. Status Quo, but Appa puts 110% into whatever he is doing and isn't afraid to make a change (sometimes HUGE changes) in order to seek happiness and something better for himself and the ones he loves (namely, me and our babies). It's grueling, but it seems to be worth it for him, which makes it worth it for me.

My mama's wish of the day: for my sons to be even half the fearless but realistic dreamer their Appa is.

A Working Mama's Whine

What came first? The (working) mom or the messy house?

I'm really trying to find balance in my homemaking role, and it's hard. I work full time, and my son works his little diaper-clad butt off each day in school (he uses up SO much energy just doing daily things, let alone his multiple therapy sessions). When we get home, it's time for dinner and then a few hours of together time. For me, this time is best spent with my child because I don't see him during the day.

But I'm tired. He's tired. We both just want to hang.

Sure, we go to the park or take a bike ride. We play outside. We work on colors or shapes. At least once a week we head over to the botanical gardens or a much cooler park. But the honest truth is that my son really just wants my complete attention while he winds down. This can be while watching his music show or while he is playing with kitchen utensils or walking backwards a la Michael Jackson. But the key is that he wants my attention.

I know my 2.5 year old should be more independent than he is. He's not crippled by needing me, but he certainly is attention-spoiled and would like to keep it that way. I like spending time with him, I like being wanted and needed.

But I don't like the fact that I can't easily even think about fold a load of laundry or do the dishes or mop the floor until after 8:30 pm.

Because I'll be honest, after working all day and being a bit on the lazy side, at that point I am not feeling it.

Being a working mama is hard. Not to say being a stay at home mom isn't just as hard, but being a mother in general seems to be a challenging position. However, from my working mom position, I try to spend all the limited time I have with my boy doing things that will be good for him and good for us. I'm trying very hard to make our time together more and more substantial now that he is getting older and more aware. Appa travels during the week, so it's not like I can tag team with anyone. It's all up to moi.

Once he goes to bed, I want MY time. I need my time to stay sane. To surf the web and connect with friends, to write and read, to do adoption paperwork, to veg. The last thing I want to do with my time is clean late at night, so I usually don't.

But shocker, no one else does it for me.

Having a messy house does weird things to my head. In the summer we can get out in the evening so I can pretend there isn't a large family of dust bunnies living in our corners and something sticky underneath my table. We all have clean underwear somewhere....right?

I'm actually hiring someone to do some light cleaning for us a couple times a month, but I need to get better about figuring out a way to convince Little Bug to play nicely long enough for me to do some housekeeping things during a time when I am actually motivated to do so.

I don't want to be supermom (well, I actually would love that), but I do want to get better about balancing all the aspects of motherhood and homemaker that I have taken on in our home. My poor husband works his butt off, and I feel horrible when he comes home after a long week to loads of dirty laundry and dishes...even though his son and wife are happy. I'd like to feel a bit more balanced.

How? No idea. That's why this was a whine......

This Mama Needs A Hobby

It has become apparent to me recently that I need a hobby…preferably a constructive one that does not involve the computer (or any of the tracking lists, blogs, bulletin boards, online groups, etc. that come with it).

The problem is I am essentially a bookish sort of girl who is happiest curled up with a book or my computer. Sure, I love to go out and be active, explore things, etc., but those really aren't things I can translate into a daily hobby I can use to take my mind off of what is looking to be an emotionally draining couple of months where I will need to be keeping busy and sane.

I enlisted my BFF Ali(ce)'s help in coming up with a hobby for me. She knows me really well (partly because she is like 85% the same person). Her response, "This is a little tricky since we are not super crafty people." She's right; I have no patience for anything creative (other than Blurb, which is off limits as it is a computer-related hobby). This means things like sewing, kitting, scrapbooking, quilting, and anything else like that is off the table.

I considered exploring cooking, but the reality of my working mom status is that cooking a creative or fun meal is just not really a daily option. I considered redecorating my house, but the only room I really need to redecorate is Little Bug's new room, and I'll be honest, that's not where my head needs to be right now. Plus, any other room would just be me spending money on more decorations. I don't think Appa would really get behind that sort of hobby. I don't draw, or paint, or even have an idea how to repurpose things for artistic purposes.

We finally came up with something that would be useful and something I could be successful with some time and effort.

I'm going to landscape our yard.

For me, this will be a major undertaking. I hate to garden. Hate it. The previous owners planted all these fancy flowers and plants that bloom throughout the year and I hate them because the way they are planted leaves room for tons of weeds (not to mention I think some of them look like weeds). I like boring, traditional, symmetrical looking landscaping…they liked cracked-out abstract not-sure-if-that-was-an-accident-or-not landscaping. It's going to be a challenge, and that is exactly what I need.

My plan of attack is to spend time right now researching how to garden, what types of plants and flowers and planters I would like to use, and planning out my planting. Once it gets warmer and lighter, I will be able to work on this project after Little Bug goes down for bed.

I'll need to get an outdoor wine glass...

So, if anyone has tips on gardening, ripping out expensive flowers, various types of low-maintenance plants and ground cover, send them my way.

Operation
Exchange Vegetation And Negativity
has officially began.

The Little Triumph

This morning Little Bug went into the 2 year old class for the first full day. (He actually spent all Friday in the classroom with awesome results, but today was the first day we took him into the classroom as his "home room.")

I've always been a bit on the sappy side, but being a mom has taken it to a new level. Little things, like Little Bug's long anticipated move to his new room at school, make my emotional grid go wild. I alternate between being nervous for him, excited for him, a little sad that he is growing up (even though he's already bigger than most of the kids in his new class; my kid is super tall), and completely triumphant that this moment has finally come.

Every milestone Little Bug hits is special for us, but they hit me hard because I often get caught up our daily grind and forget to believe that those milestones we work so hard for will come. I clearly remember the moments where I found it hard to believe Little Bug would ever sit up, crawl, walk….and someday I will look back on these moments when I find it hard to believe that the day will come when Little Bug will drink from an open cup or eat soup with a spoon or color with a crayon instead of eating it or count to 3 or pick out colors and ruefully laugh to myself.

Today, though, is special because it's a tangible step forward socially for Little Bug. He is joining his age peers, even though he is still developmentally behind them. He's taking it to the next level now and will be challenged in new ways. In fact, the last time he faced such a challenge was when he first started school last July and could only just crawl and pull up. Little Bug likes challenges. He was blessed with a disposition that doesn't quit. I have no doubt he will flourish in his new environment.

Best. 2 year old. ever.

Beautiful Life (Who would have thought!?!)

I have one more session to summarize, and I promise I will get to it this weekend.

However, I just wanted to throw out to the world how beautiful my life is because that is what is filling my heart today. I blog, a lot, and have for many years, but only with this blog have I ever let my guard down with my more personal feelings. Our pain of infertility and our pain of the waiting with our adoption and our pain with dealing with Little Bug's special needs, those are all things that have been real trials for us, for me, and as we walked those roads, the pain was intense, the light seemed dim, and the toll was taxing.

Yet, we shared that with very few people. Sure, our close family and best friends knew that we were dealing with these things, but they didn’t know how it was feeling to deal with them. These were roads they had not and were not traveling. They could not walk these roads with us in the most literal sense of the word, just as I cannot walk the road of Ali(ce)'s last trimester with her. Support yes, fully understand, no. In the last year I have seen how powerful and therapeutic it is to let these feelings out and share them with others who have or are walking these same long and lonely roads and let them take your hand and walk with you when it gets too hard.

I didn't have the network of support then that I do now. The moments I consider darkest are still locked away without having been verbally expressed to many people. I knew only a couple people who had ever adopted from anywhere before we went to Korea to get Little Bug, and only one person who at the time I even had any level of personal comfort with. I wrote her an e-mail during one of the lowest points in my life, just days before we traveled to get Little Bug. A portion of the text reminds me of the trials and blessings that were warring within me even then.

I was kind of in a dark place this weekend, very bitter and worried and just generally helpless. I've been sort of sick to my stomach for the last few days waiting to hear, and he is all I can think about. I'm not really sure where I am going with this, other than that I just really wanted to tell you because I know that you understand that helpless feeling of having your child be so far away from you. The idea of backing out of the adoption makes me heartsick. The one positive is that it has (in a really weird way) helped me start the bonding process with LITTLE BUG, not just the idea of him, but him as a person. I don't want another baby, I want him. That took me a couple of days and a lot of tears and prayers realize that, but I am finally at that point. Even if they come back and tell us that he has some big challenges, I can't imagine turning away from him now. And it might be that there is nothing going on after all and that he just needs a little more tummy time and a little more motivation to bridge that gap. Either way, I feel like he was meant to be with us, and I just want him home.

To have been wrapped up and lifted up by people who understood perhaps not my specific situations and emotions and fears and heartaches, but at least the nature of them in general, would have been so helpful. Someone who could have stood directly next to me on that road and pointed out the light that I might not have been able to see. As so many of my friends now face challenges on their own roads, I take comfort in the fact that most of them seem to have people they can turn to who will take their hand and squeeze it tight; people who can see the light because they have already been to the end of those roads or who might be just a step or two ahead. It won't make the road any straighter or easier or more clear, but I know how it feels to have walked my roads alone, and it didn't feel good.

For me, my roads continue to wind. Don’t all of ours? Somehow, once you get to the end of the road, another one appears. One with new turns and twists and potholes. Yet, we can face these new roads with new eyes and a stronger heart because of the roads we have already traveled. Robert Frost should have wrote about that road, the ones we DID take. How amazing is it to look back on those trials in our lives and see the blessings they have given us, the lessons we have learned? I only wish we could have a glimpse of that forthcoming joy as we were going through those dark times. It would make it so much easier, but alas, that isn't really the way it works. The heartache is part of the process.

So, why is my life so beautiful, and why have I just word vomited a small novel with literary references, e-mail quotes, and questionable analogies? Because I put this picture on my work desktop.
This picture tells the story of my life. Everything I have ever wanted, hoped for, begged for, despaired for, endured for, prayed for, cried for, cared for, and wished for is wrapped up in this little snapshot of my life. It speaks more to me than I think anyone could ever know, every little detail. It's the glimpse I wish I would have had to spur me through those trials.

That's a truly beautiful thing.

Reality Check

3 posts in like 12 hours...my mind is a-spinning lately.

I just got a nice dose of reality in the form of Little Bug's occupational therapist (OT) who has been with him for over a year.

She's officially giving up on him.

Seriously?

Little Bug has made AMAZING strides in the last year, and he seems to be on the cusp of so much more. His OT has always been the farthest behind, but part of that was attributed to the fact that he was focusing on other things to develop....he's just a baby; he can't do everything all at once.

But, his OT has decided the progress just isn't enough. She thinks he needs OT twice a week (that would be, for those who are counting, 6 therapy sessions a week for Little Bug), and she thinks she isn't the one for the job anymore. She is officially assessing him at 11 months developmentally in fine motor skills. I'm being honest when I say that it stings a bit, but I am not distraught about it. (Little Bug was assessed at 3-4 months old overall when he was 11.5 months old...that is a much harder pill to swallow for some reason.)

You know what....Good. Go. Like I told Appa on the phone when he was worried about breaking this "bond" she has with Little Bug.....

She doesn't believe in my kid; she has no business being around him.

So we move on. We get a new OT who will hopefully come in with a new energy and drive. We continue to stick with the PT, DT, and ST who have been so wonderful to celebrate those little victories with us. We don't let the opinions of one woman who clearly isn't feeling it shape the opinions and hopes and dreams of those of us who totally are feeling it.

However, it is a good reality check for me. Not everyone will see past the wobbles and toy banging and drooling and cheerful smile and hugs to the intense stubbornness and perseverance and patience that makes up our son.

And that is fine, but those people don't need to be in our lives.

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month

Warning, this post is pretty jumbled. I have about five different things I want to get out of my head, and I am not sure that they really connect or have any real point at the end of it all.

Since I was in college, I’ve always had a soft spot for breast cancer awareness, most likely because the cause is heavily promoted to women and, well, because I myself have breasts. I would spend the extra money to buy the pink ribbon stamps, donate my $15.00 contribution each year to some random foundation, and generally just support the cause through awareness. However, breast cancer never actually touched me in any way.

When I moved to the Midwest I made a dear friend about 25 years my senior. She was going through her second round of chemo for breast cancer. In the course of our subsequent 5 year friendship (in the same city), I watched her struggled through chemo, radiation, a period of wonderful health, and a relapse. I saw both the physical and emotional highs and lows. I did Breast Cancer Awareness walks with her and even organized and ran a huge sponsorship with the Komen Foundation and my company. I dyed her hair when it started coming back in, soft and completely white. I helped her shop for a new bra. This, I thought, was why I had always felt compelled to support this cause. For her.

One morning this last April I got a very odd voice mail from my mom in the wee hours of the morning. My thought was that one of my grandparents had died, so I called her on my way to work, prepared for the worst.

I was not prepared for her to tell me in a very detached, almost blunt manner, that she had found a huge lump in her breast and it was cancerous. The conversation lasted less than 2 minutes and changed my life.

My mom doesn’t read this blog (she doesn’t read much these days, but is addicted to pictures and videos of Little Bug, which has spurred me to become a near-daily family blogger), but some people that know her do read this blog. Anyone who knows my mom knows that she doesn’t like people to “know her business” and fuss or worry or talk about her. She is an intensely private person. I know that people talking about her or her cancer upsets her, so I will respect that and make this post about my feelings; and only say that she has gone through an awful lot these last 6 months, personally, emotionally, and physically. Things that I can’t really sit and think about because it doesn’t seem real, and when it does, I can’t handle it very well.

My mom is alive and kicking, and for that we are all blessed, but that doesn’t change the fact that her life (and by extension the lives of my father and two siblings still in the house, and the rest of us who are now out of the house) has straight up sucked since cancer came to town.

Is this why I felt compelled to support this cause so long ago? For my mother?

There is something people call the “cancer gene” that my sisters and I are supposed to be tested for. My mom rarely shares her feelings about cancer with me, but when she does, it is usually in the context of her fears that my sisters or I will get breast cancer. Honestly, when I drop the whole invincibility thing most people my generation have, it’s probably a legitimate fear. I have PCOS, which increases my risks for cancer. If I end up with breast cancer, there will be a part of me that won’t be surprised.

The worst part of this for my mom, I think ultimately, is her concern for her kids. Her mother died of cancer with a kid still in the house. She knows what it feels like to take time off of school to bury your mother, to raise your own babies without a mother to feel completely comfortable turning to. (My family is luckier than most because my mom’s “stepmom” is truly a mom to her in every way, so she was not left “motherless” for long and her children [i.e., me and my sibs] have grown up with the best grandma a child could ever wish for.)

It gets me thinking, though, about my role as a mother. My life is in so many ways no longer my own. Everything I do, personally, professionally, spiritually, emotionally, etc., impacts Little Bug’s life in the most major ways. His life is shaped by mine. Am I living a best life for myself and in extension, for him? The third Diet Dr. Pepper I just opened today probably says no.

That’s really daunting. (The responsibility to your child, not the lack of DDP, although I would probably consider that daunting as well.)

Is this why I have always supported the cause? Somehow for him?

My mom’s prognosis is very good, and I fully expect her to be hounding me for pictures and videos of Little Bug, Little Bro, and Little Sis for years to come, but her illness has reminded me of how fragile life is, both our own and others. Sadly, this reminder is going to keep on going for some time.

There are no “islands” in a family; we are all connected in the most intimate of ways.

Motivation

It's amazing how a child changes every fiber of your being. I have moments when I want to "lose it" for a variety of reasons. I want to crawl in a ball and cry, call in sick and veg out at home, sleep the day away, or just have a plain old hissy fit. 11.5 months ago I would have fit that urge into my life in some way.

Now, when I have those urges, I think of Little Bug and everything I want becomes secondary. Little Bug deserves to have a mom who holds it together, who is responsible, who is a good example of how to handle stress and life challenges. Calling in sick to lay in bed and wallow is decidedly not a good example. His innocent love and trust are my motivations to strive harder, to be better. It's assumed that parents shape who their children become, but I have to say

Little Bug is shaping an awful lot of who I am becoming.