Unplugged

A major source of contention in my marriage is my "pluggedness." I use the internet to keep me company when my husband travels, connect and nourish friendships with people, write, and research things that are important to me.

Appa would prefer I did less of all that during our limited time together. Usually he has a point, and although he might not think so, I have been trying to be less plugged in when he is home.

This vacation I decided to try to unplug. Besides the occasional e-mail checking (I'm actually still waiting for an formal update on Little Bro--how greedy am I?), and one blog post that I had to get off my chest, I've been almost completely unplugged for 5 days.

And it was great....magical, even.

Appa and I fell asleep when our son did most nights. We watched fireworks from our hotel room and sports news. We chatted. We didn't read or get on the computer or do anything other than just stare at each other and laugh at our crazy child.

It was easy to get caught up in the family moments. Work and Facebook and blogs and e-mail (I had exactly 200 this morning when I checked) just didn't seem to hold a candle to spending time with my boys.

As happy as I am to be connected again, there is a part of me that wishes I could stay back behind those colorful gates that seem to keep the "real world" at bay while simultaneously reminding you what is truly, truly real in your life.

Poop: The Interlude

Scene: Very fancy and expensive restaurant at Downtown Disney.

Shortly after we ordered at our one super fancy meal of our trip, I noticed that Little Bug was smelling a bit off. A casual look revealed that HOLY CRAP, he was the the midst of a blow out.

Never fear; I am a prepared and capable mother. I calmly asked Appa to hand me a diaper and some wipes, figuring I could salvage things enough to finish dinner, but as the words left my mouth, I realized a horrible truth.

I had left the diaper bag back at the hotel.

Sh*t. In every sense of the word.

After staring at each other for about 30 seconds of serious horror, I got up and ran walked briskly out of the restaurant and toward the first place that I saw that sold kid's clothing.

The upside is at Downtown Disney, those places are every few feet. The downside is that the selection of boy's toddler wear is pretty limited and overpriced.

But my son was currently sitting in a fancy restaurant erupting unspeakable things from his pants, so I grabbed a pair of gray sweat pants with a red racing stripe on the side and Mickey Mouse embroidered, paid about seven times what I would ever pay for sweat pants (more than that if you factor in my hatred for sweat pants), and then turned to the more pressing matter.

A diaper.

I took out all the cash I had ($3) and spotted the first kindly looking family with kids and begged them for a diaper. Offered them my $3 for a diaper. In the middle of a giant Disney store in front of a life-sized version of Sleeping Beauty. They gave me the diaper, let me keep my $3, and wished me luck as I sprinted out of the store and back to the restaurant.

You'd think the story would get boring from here.

When I got back to our table Appa told me that things had gotten worse, almost to the point of having to leave (I don't know where we would go though). Without a word I whisked Little Bug up and into the women's restroom...probably the only one in a 50 mile radius without a kid's changing area.

In a tiny stall, with my son's salvaged shirt over his head and his hands being held like handcuffs, I used my free hand to strip him, methodically clean him off using paper towels and my antibacterial wipes, and then clean up the mess we made. His naked body was on the bathroom floor, not to mention me sitting cross legged facing the toilet.

It was so gross; I seriously felt a bit traumatized.

So the story should end here....

As we were working, I could hear people commenting on the smell. I understood; something was seriously foul in my son's diaper. As I figured the restaurant would not want me to carry a super pungent diaper next to all the diners, I wrapped it up and shoved it in the bottom of a garbage can in the bathroom.

However, we were seating directly next to the bathroom and for the next 2 minutes I could see people coming out with their noses still pinched. Talking about the smell. Looking ill.

Oh my God; we were ruining people's meals.

So I had to find the manager and tell him what had happened and suggest they use some room spray and remove the garbage. He was very gracious, but I saw two people complain to him right after that, so I assume he wasn't super stoked.

Nor were the two female employees who we had to watch go in and out as they were "taking care of it."

We finished our fancy meal; me a bit quiet due to disgust and mortification, and left to find me a caramel apple to make up for the night. I'm trying to stay unplugged for this trip, but I had to get this one out, in the hopes it will seem funnier and less horrible.

The biggest irony: Little Bug is having a hard time falling asleep tonight, and I needed to do some research in preparation for tomorrow, so I had to bring the computer into another room. So this entry is being typed from our hotel room bathroom, as I sit cross legged on the floor with the computer propped up on the toilet.

It's how we roll.

Dreams Come True

Tomorrow my little family is heading to the happiest place on earth. I'm ridiculously excited, not only because it's the type of place you are supposed to be excited about, but because this is the first time we are taking a trip just for us. No agenda, no people to visit, no event to attend.

Just sun and family and food and a bunch of strangers dressed as cartoons. Awesome.

Our life is pretty amazing, and I know that, but a slightly-less-than-perfect part of our life is the time we have to spent apart. To just be Appa, Mama, and Little Bug without phones or e-mail or therapists for almost a week makes me giddy.

Like, I might actually cry when we walk through the gates to that magical kingdom and I get to watch my husband and son experience it for the first time.

We have billed this trip as a gift to Little Bug, a congrats for all his hard work over the past 2 years in therapy, an early happy birthday, and a sorry we are getting you a baby brother trip. Every decision we have made has been with him as the main factor.

But as parents, I've found the best gifts you can give to yourself is watching a child delight in a gift.

A Note to My Sons from Their No-Longer-a-Teenager-Mama

My friend Tiffany wrote a blog post a while back about what she wished she would have done differently in high school. She was sharing her list with her high school students and her own sons. She challenged others to do the same, and although I never do stuff like that on this blournal, this topic is one that I would like to preserve for my kids. Sitting down to think about it was pretty heavy, and if my sons can avoid even one of my "mistakes," I will consider it a victory.

What I wish I would have done differently in high school........

I wish I had been kinder to my younger sister. She was dealing with her own insecurities, and I just took mine out on her....for about 16 hellish years. People always told us that we would be close friends when we were adults and I absolutely thought they were full of crap....they were not.

I wish I would have volunteered in the community more.

I wish I would have been more honest with my parents.

I wish I would have said yes when J.J. asked me to senior homecoming (even though I declined nicely). Appa was up at college and wouldn't have minded if I went with this person as friends, and I know it took so much bravery for J.J. to ask me to that dance. He could never catch a break socially, and I so regret being one more instance of that...simply because I was too caught up in myself to be on his arm for a couple hours. Instead I sat at home and acted like an "I'm dating a college boy martyr" while J.J. sat at home because I said no.

I wish I could have found a way to compromise with my parents a bit more on the things that were really important to them. It wouldn't have hurt me, but it would have saved them a lot of hurt.

I wish I would have learned the value of money and how to use what you do (and don't) have responsibly.

I wish I would have backed up and kept the things I wrote, school papers, creative writing, etc. The papers would have come in handy in college and the creative writings would have been a treasure now.

I wish I would have learned to cook as my mother cooked for us each night.

I wish I would have spent more time getting to know my brothers.

I wish I hadn't thrown away the little gold unicorn earrings my dad gave me for my 8th birthday in honor of being able to get my ears pierced. As a teenager I thought the little gold earrings were silly, childlike things I would never wear again. As an adult I mourn the loss of this special gift my daddy had picked out just for his "little lady."

I wish I would have spent a little more time with my friends and a little less time with my boyfriend....even if I thought he was (and still is) the love of my life.

I wish I would have learned how to apply makeup.

I wish I would have cultivated a love for physical activity or learned a sport.

I wish I would have honored my commitments to church more, or at least been able to be brave enough to bow out when I could not longer honor those commitments.

I wish I would have learned the value of chores or the self-discipline of cleaning.

I wish I would have taken better care of the pictures I took, instead of strewing them about to be lost to the four corners of the earth.

I wish we went to more family counseling sessions instead of me canceling them as soon as I got what I wanted out of them.

I wish I had been more aware of how my actions were impacting my little siblings, how my teenage dramatics were scaring them and making them feel worried and sad about the state of their own family.

I wish I never would have dyed my whole head of hair using the spray on highlighter.

And, just for kicks, there are a couple things I am glad that I did in high school.....

I am glad that I was responsible and resourceful enough to get the items and information I needed to make safe choices in my life...despite not being able to share that with my parents.

I am glad that I chased that lone Sunday trick-or-treater down the street and gave him candy when everyone else in our neighborhood (including us) had their lights off in protest of a Sunday holiday, despite my parents' protests. (And in turn made an impression on them that my mother still brings up around Halloween each year.)

I'm glad I worked during the summer and after school....especially that I worked in fast food.

I'm glad I only applied to the colleges of my choice.

I'm glad that my running away consisted of simply running to Ali(ce)'s house and having her mom call my mom to let them know I was going to hang there for the night.

I'm glad I fought for Appa.

I'm glad I didn't say "I love you" until I meant it.

I'm glad that I never touched a cigarette, alcohol, or drugs.

I'm glad that I was open to change.....all the best things about my life now are things I never could have anticipated in high school.

Two Moments Worth Remembering

Two moments that melted my heart yesterday:

Running into Sasha in the hallway and watching Sasha and Little Bug smile and wordlessly link hands to walk outside. Watching them stare at each other with little smiles before waving goodbye. Hearing Little Bug talk about Sasha for the rest of the night. Knowing that Sasha might be gone from Little Bug's daily life, but his impact on my son's spirit is not.

and

Hearing my son calmly murmur "mama" in his sleep over and over again.

1,000 Ways to Love You

Little Bro,

Today we received close to 1,000 pictures and video of you. Pictures from when you were just 8 weeks old to pictures of you crawling and walking and now running.

Even though I am blessed to have many of these same pictures of your older brother, seeing your pictures now, before I have met you, has allowed me to feel like I know you in some way. I know what you look like smiling and sleeping and snotty and drooly and angry and tired and bored and amused and curious. I know how sure of your feet you are now, and how tentative you used to be. I know what your first baby smile looked like and how your voice sounded just as you were finding it. I know what you chose on your Tol, and I know how you only chose your item after a melt down, cuddles from Omma and Appa, and a bottle break.

I'll never be the same.

This wait is awful, and I think it was/is bound to get worse, but being able to share this history with you...having more pictures than day left waiting....it makes it so much more bearable, makes you so much more real. It makes the wait more unreal than you.

I feel so guilty that I got this blessing and others have not. I can't wrap my mind around how randomly lucky I am.

Seeing these pictures today also made me very sad. Not that I was missing these moments with you, but that these beautiful moments are temporary for this family who clearly loves you as a son with a passion that oozes from every film cell. It makes my heart hurt in a way I won't be able to sooth for the rest of my life.

Because I feel like I know them now, too.

As I sit here tonight with your big brother curled up against me, my heart is filled with thoughts of you and him and your families in Korea.

And my heart is so very full tonight.

Safety Kid

As a mama, I know I shouldn't be bummed that my small child is naturally fearful and skeptical of men wearing fake beards and red velvet suits while encouraging children to sit on his lap and tell him what goodies he can bring when he breaks into their homes at night and of knocking on random strangers' doors at night and asking them to give him candy.

But I am.