Yesterday I happened to look in my rear view mirror at the exact moment Little Bug burped.
He got this curious, delighted look on his face and continued to try to burp some more.
Once
Twice
Three time.
He actually got some good fake burps out. The he laughed and went back to sucking his thumb and looking out the window for choo choos.
Isn't it fascinating to watch someone learn something that will bring them such joy for years of elementary and junior high school?
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
I'm Alive and Going to Work
I'm strong enough to go back to work tomorrow. Honestly, it can't come at a better time. I've been out of work for a full week now, and it's be killing me. Sure, I've been doing some work from home, but it's hard to stay focused at home when the allure of a certain Korean drama is calling my name. I could have clocked 25 hours of work, or I could have watched the full 25 hour series.
I'm happy to report my priorities are in line, and I have a huge crush on Joon Pyo now, even if he is a bit of a wanny pants (but oh, he does look nice in those pants).
But tomorrow I go back to the working world. This week has made me think a lot about being a working mom versus a stay at home mom. I have a strong desire to be both, but that's not in the cards for me right now. So, I had to make the choice. (I want to acknowledge that I consider myself very luck to have the choice to work or stay home. I know not everyone has that choice.)
For me, I've never done well staying home. During my job hunting searches I ended up watching way too many TV series on DVD, spending too much time online, and generally not showering with any sense of urgency. I think part of the problem is that I didn't strive to make a schedule because I knew I would be going to work eventually.
The same thing happened to some extent when Little Bug came home. I only got 6 weeks with Little Bug (which I do not think was enough time; I've already told my work I am taking the full 8-12 weeks off for Little Bro). I didn't bother with a schedule for "me" because I knew that situation was temporary, too.
These experiences have left me scared out of my mind to stay at home for any extended period of time. I think if I was going to do the SAHM thing now, I would plan better to avoid some of the blah I traditionally fall into. I'd build in friends and sunshine and down time and cleaning time. I might even cook a proper dinner. Or maybe I can just say that because I don't have to put my money where my mouth is.
The honest truth is that I like my job. This year is a huge one for my career; my resume and portfolio are really going to expand. I've always thought that I would like to work from home or freelance while still taking care of my kids, but the reality is that sort of thing takes a lot of experience, experience I am still building. To leave now (or more accurate, to leave when Little Bro comes home) would be leaving just before achieving skills and titles I have been working hard to acquire. When I think about quitting, I get really panicky.
Unfortunately, our choice of schools for our sons is not cheap. I don't regret that for a second, but on an editor's salary, putting two kids in that kind of place basically eats up my entire salary (actually, when you figure in the higher tax bracket my income puts us into, we actually lose a substantial sum of money).
So I will soon find myself in the peculiar situation of working solely to fund my kids' school tuition. In fact, to cover to loss, we would have to tighten up a bit. On those days when all I want to do is cuddle with my kid in the morning and take him on a walk after breakfast or join my friends on a play date, that is a bitter pill to swallow.
But then there are those moments when I am sitting at my desk with my green pencil and a supreme sense of satisfaction at the marked up copy in front of me or when my input helps shape the essence of a publication that I truly think, "how can I give this up?"
I can't. Not until I have to. Make no mistake, if my kids needed me home, I would drop it all in an instant and walk home barefoot to be with them forever--happily and gratefully. But until then, for our family, the pros outweigh the cons.
In our home, a happy mama = a happy, better run family. I might not have time to cook a lot or clean much, but I come home from work with an inner balance that I can pass on to my son and husband. Everyone finds their balance in a different way and different place, but for me, it's at work....at least for now.
So, tomorrow, with my new illness-inspired sans 10lbs body and double washed hair, I'm going to kiss my sweet boy good bye and wish him a good day at school, and then I am going to head to work. It's what works for our family right now; it's our schedule.
And I heart productive schedules, and I heart not being sick anymore.
I'm happy to report my priorities are in line, and I have a huge crush on Joon Pyo now, even if he is a bit of a wanny pants (but oh, he does look nice in those pants).
But tomorrow I go back to the working world. This week has made me think a lot about being a working mom versus a stay at home mom. I have a strong desire to be both, but that's not in the cards for me right now. So, I had to make the choice. (I want to acknowledge that I consider myself very luck to have the choice to work or stay home. I know not everyone has that choice.)
For me, I've never done well staying home. During my job hunting searches I ended up watching way too many TV series on DVD, spending too much time online, and generally not showering with any sense of urgency. I think part of the problem is that I didn't strive to make a schedule because I knew I would be going to work eventually.
The same thing happened to some extent when Little Bug came home. I only got 6 weeks with Little Bug (which I do not think was enough time; I've already told my work I am taking the full 8-12 weeks off for Little Bro). I didn't bother with a schedule for "me" because I knew that situation was temporary, too.
These experiences have left me scared out of my mind to stay at home for any extended period of time. I think if I was going to do the SAHM thing now, I would plan better to avoid some of the blah I traditionally fall into. I'd build in friends and sunshine and down time and cleaning time. I might even cook a proper dinner. Or maybe I can just say that because I don't have to put my money where my mouth is.
The honest truth is that I like my job. This year is a huge one for my career; my resume and portfolio are really going to expand. I've always thought that I would like to work from home or freelance while still taking care of my kids, but the reality is that sort of thing takes a lot of experience, experience I am still building. To leave now (or more accurate, to leave when Little Bro comes home) would be leaving just before achieving skills and titles I have been working hard to acquire. When I think about quitting, I get really panicky.
Unfortunately, our choice of schools for our sons is not cheap. I don't regret that for a second, but on an editor's salary, putting two kids in that kind of place basically eats up my entire salary (actually, when you figure in the higher tax bracket my income puts us into, we actually lose a substantial sum of money).
So I will soon find myself in the peculiar situation of working solely to fund my kids' school tuition. In fact, to cover to loss, we would have to tighten up a bit. On those days when all I want to do is cuddle with my kid in the morning and take him on a walk after breakfast or join my friends on a play date, that is a bitter pill to swallow.
But then there are those moments when I am sitting at my desk with my green pencil and a supreme sense of satisfaction at the marked up copy in front of me or when my input helps shape the essence of a publication that I truly think, "how can I give this up?"
I can't. Not until I have to. Make no mistake, if my kids needed me home, I would drop it all in an instant and walk home barefoot to be with them forever--happily and gratefully. But until then, for our family, the pros outweigh the cons.
In our home, a happy mama = a happy, better run family. I might not have time to cook a lot or clean much, but I come home from work with an inner balance that I can pass on to my son and husband. Everyone finds their balance in a different way and different place, but for me, it's at work....at least for now.
So, tomorrow, with my new illness-inspired sans 10lbs body and double washed hair, I'm going to kiss my sweet boy good bye and wish him a good day at school, and then I am going to head to work. It's what works for our family right now; it's our schedule.
And I heart productive schedules, and I heart not being sick anymore.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
98% Whine, 2% Confession
I had high hopes of posting a special blournal entry about the fun mommy/son date Little Bug and I had on Wednesday (I took time off work and Little Bug out of daycare and canceled his therapy), but almost immediately after I got home, my week went in a couple directions I had not expected.
From Wednesday afternoon to Friday afternoon, Appa and I found ourselves faced with a pretty heavy and unexpected decision. Not a bad decision, by any means, but not one we had been prepared in advance to make. Ultimately, we made the choice that was best for everyone involved. It wasn't easy (especially in my condition, as you will see below), and it was a stressful couple of days.
The first night I had a horrible night filled with hot flashes and chills and hallucinations. I thought that it was stress from the situation. A pretty extreme reaction, to be sure, but as I do have some anxiety issues and this was a highly stressful situation, it made sense to me that I would react in such a way.
But once I was at work on Thursday, it became apparent it was not stress, but an actual illness causing my significant discomfort and making me plot out my escape route to the bathroom during a department breakfast filled with greasy eggs and meats.
I made it through about half the day before I went home and slept for the next 9 hours. I figured the stress was compounding whatever 24-hour bug my "carrier monkey" had shared with me. I didn't consider going to the doctor because I assumed it would all just go away.
We all know why you should never assume....
Blessed Friday morning came and my a$$y self found a lack of pretty much any sort of coherence. Appa had to stay home from work to take me to the doctor and make sure I could function.
ARE.YOU.KIDDING.ME. I've been sick more times that I can count recently. This is uncool.
Oh, but it can get more uncool, apparently.
I'm waiting to have it confirmed for sure on Monday morning (due to a miscommunication with my doctor, it was not confirmed on Friday like I thought it was), but it looks pretty much like I have a serious virus that takes 6-8 weeks to recover from. You know, because I totally have 6-8 weeks to lay around feeling like death.
What job? What 2 year old?
It's frustrating. My husband has basically taken on the role of single dad for the past few days. My interaction with my son has been limited to the times when he manages to race past Appa and burst into our bedroom chanting "Mama, Mama" as he pops up with his perfect grin to my side of the bed. Sometimes during my 5-10 hour "naps" I could hear him downstairs chanting my name and it broke.my.heart.
Which is why I am on the computer today.
Yes, I've been camped out in our recliner. Yes, I smell horrible (I try to shower and then lose my energy before I can shampoo and just sit down until the water turns cold). Yes, I'm trying to swallow down applesauce or pudding just to get some calories. Yes, I've been taking some cat naps.
But I am also trying really hard to work through this. It's not easy. I'm actually quite sick, and honestly, I am a big baby when it comes to being sick. I don't usually grin and bear it quietly. Appa gets up and does the dishes and martyrs around when he is sick. I moan and complain and pitifully sip my ice water while give Appa a play-by-play of my many ailments. He is a saint for putting up with me because I would drive myself nuts.
But I miss my boys. I miss talking to my husband, and I miss spending time with my son. The idea that this hellish feeling will go on for 6-8 more weeks is something I just cannot believe. There is this hope inside me that if I just take it easy for a few more days, things will go back to normal.
Maybe it will. I won't know for sure until Monday.
But today I have tried to be present for my family. I watched the Olympics with my husband and rocked my son to sleep for his nap. I'm feeling better today than I have the last two days, so that's a positive. As the day has gone on, I've gotten more and more lucid and functioning. I'm not myself, no, but I'm also not the moaning corpse I was for the last two days. Maybe tomorrow will be even a little bit better.
I'm not sure what I am going to do about work. Career-wise, this is pretty much the worst period of time for me to take an extended leave from work; I have a redesign for a newsletter I am just starting to manage that is going to need critical attention this week. I can't even think about the PTO that will be sucked dry; PTO that was being saved for my second honeymoon in April. A vacation already booked.
So, there are my whines and confessions. I am sick, smelly, tired, achy, feeling sorry for myself, and overall just a big baby about the whole business. I consider it a victory that I had enough energy to blog while the boys escaped the sick house this afternoon.
Is it bad that the only bright spot in all this is that I'll have a much better looking (if only temporary and unhealthily obtained) swim suit body in Jamaica?
Fingers crossed I can kick this soon.
Oh, and as for how I might have gotten this lovely little virus. Turns out that the mysterious illness that took Little Bug down hardcore a few weeks ago was most likely not a weird strain of the flu. It's was what I now have (that he so graciously shared with me via shared spoons and open cup practice). In babies, it's much different and remains for a much shorter period of time and is rarely diagnosed until it is passed on to a parent. Nice, sign us up for that case study. Sigh, I guess if I had to choose between him being sick for 6 weeks or me being sick for 6 weeks, I'd definitely choose myself.
Kids and their germs, man, kids and their germs....
From Wednesday afternoon to Friday afternoon, Appa and I found ourselves faced with a pretty heavy and unexpected decision. Not a bad decision, by any means, but not one we had been prepared in advance to make. Ultimately, we made the choice that was best for everyone involved. It wasn't easy (especially in my condition, as you will see below), and it was a stressful couple of days.
The first night I had a horrible night filled with hot flashes and chills and hallucinations. I thought that it was stress from the situation. A pretty extreme reaction, to be sure, but as I do have some anxiety issues and this was a highly stressful situation, it made sense to me that I would react in such a way.
But once I was at work on Thursday, it became apparent it was not stress, but an actual illness causing my significant discomfort and making me plot out my escape route to the bathroom during a department breakfast filled with greasy eggs and meats.
I made it through about half the day before I went home and slept for the next 9 hours. I figured the stress was compounding whatever 24-hour bug my "carrier monkey" had shared with me. I didn't consider going to the doctor because I assumed it would all just go away.
We all know why you should never assume....
Blessed Friday morning came and my a$$y self found a lack of pretty much any sort of coherence. Appa had to stay home from work to take me to the doctor and make sure I could function.
ARE.YOU.KIDDING.ME. I've been sick more times that I can count recently. This is uncool.
Oh, but it can get more uncool, apparently.
I'm waiting to have it confirmed for sure on Monday morning (due to a miscommunication with my doctor, it was not confirmed on Friday like I thought it was), but it looks pretty much like I have a serious virus that takes 6-8 weeks to recover from. You know, because I totally have 6-8 weeks to lay around feeling like death.
What job? What 2 year old?
It's frustrating. My husband has basically taken on the role of single dad for the past few days. My interaction with my son has been limited to the times when he manages to race past Appa and burst into our bedroom chanting "Mama, Mama" as he pops up with his perfect grin to my side of the bed. Sometimes during my 5-10 hour "naps" I could hear him downstairs chanting my name and it broke.my.heart.
Which is why I am on the computer today.
Yes, I've been camped out in our recliner. Yes, I smell horrible (I try to shower and then lose my energy before I can shampoo and just sit down until the water turns cold). Yes, I'm trying to swallow down applesauce or pudding just to get some calories. Yes, I've been taking some cat naps.
But I am also trying really hard to work through this. It's not easy. I'm actually quite sick, and honestly, I am a big baby when it comes to being sick. I don't usually grin and bear it quietly. Appa gets up and does the dishes and martyrs around when he is sick. I moan and complain and pitifully sip my ice water while give Appa a play-by-play of my many ailments. He is a saint for putting up with me because I would drive myself nuts.
But I miss my boys. I miss talking to my husband, and I miss spending time with my son. The idea that this hellish feeling will go on for 6-8 more weeks is something I just cannot believe. There is this hope inside me that if I just take it easy for a few more days, things will go back to normal.
Maybe it will. I won't know for sure until Monday.
But today I have tried to be present for my family. I watched the Olympics with my husband and rocked my son to sleep for his nap. I'm feeling better today than I have the last two days, so that's a positive. As the day has gone on, I've gotten more and more lucid and functioning. I'm not myself, no, but I'm also not the moaning corpse I was for the last two days. Maybe tomorrow will be even a little bit better.
I'm not sure what I am going to do about work. Career-wise, this is pretty much the worst period of time for me to take an extended leave from work; I have a redesign for a newsletter I am just starting to manage that is going to need critical attention this week. I can't even think about the PTO that will be sucked dry; PTO that was being saved for my second honeymoon in April. A vacation already booked.
So, there are my whines and confessions. I am sick, smelly, tired, achy, feeling sorry for myself, and overall just a big baby about the whole business. I consider it a victory that I had enough energy to blog while the boys escaped the sick house this afternoon.
Is it bad that the only bright spot in all this is that I'll have a much better looking (if only temporary and unhealthily obtained) swim suit body in Jamaica?
Fingers crossed I can kick this soon.
Oh, and as for how I might have gotten this lovely little virus. Turns out that the mysterious illness that took Little Bug down hardcore a few weeks ago was most likely not a weird strain of the flu. It's was what I now have (that he so graciously shared with me via shared spoons and open cup practice). In babies, it's much different and remains for a much shorter period of time and is rarely diagnosed until it is passed on to a parent. Nice, sign us up for that case study. Sigh, I guess if I had to choose between him being sick for 6 weeks or me being sick for 6 weeks, I'd definitely choose myself.
Kids and their germs, man, kids and their germs....
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Beware the Snark
In the last few weeks, I've been moved a number of times to do something I never used to do.
Comment on an online news article.
The people who comment on online news articles are primarily idiots who are most likely unemployed, barely literate (but kudos for stopping by a news site on your way to your p*rn sites), and looking something to do other than scratch themselves. Okay, maybe not, but that sentence is the type of thing people who comment on news articles like to write to each other as they bicker and insult each other…oh wait, what were we actually talking about? An actual piece of news?
Nah, let's go back to over generalizing, stereotyping, preaching, and being rude--all about topics we know nothing about.
Unfortunately for me, it seems like these special people gravitate toward a topic that I also gravitate toward…adoption. Fantastic.
No matter what the article is about (pro or con adoption), there is a loud group who likes to turn up their country music, turn down the court TV, pop open a new one, hop on their favorite online news organization comment feature, and rail about how people who adopt internationally should
Or maybe, if they are feeling feisty, they might drop some sort of racial comment, because there is no better way to prove your intelligence than being a racist a-hole.
In the past I have never scrolled down far enough on the page to see or read the comments, but lately I have been. I shouldn't, but I can't not. Now that I know the ridiculousness that goes on there, I feel this intense need to respond with some sort of reality and protect the FACTS, both good and bad, that surround adoption.
You know, like ALL kids deserve love, no matter what country they were from; all international adoptions are not based on some crazy child trafficking scheme and a set of greedy white parents who slink into a back alley, grab a kid out of a box (not making this up, someone actually suggested children in China are sold out of boxes to American tourists); that domestic and foster adoption is not easy, quick, or inexpensive; that international adoption is not easy, quick, or inexpensive; and that kids can't waltz into this country with proper documents. Ask any family who knows what the I-600 form is and watch them laugh you all the way back to your scratching chair.
So, a couple times I have registered with these sites and responded with a logical, thought out, fact driven comment. Wouldn't you know it, no one ever responses to my comments (and I rarely even get "liked"). They just glide right over it as they continue to rant at each other over their views on God, equality, patriotism, and intelligence. I used to (like last week, this isn't a long-term hobby for me) be sad about this. I worried people would read these comments and be turned off from the joys of adoption.
But the more I read, the more I think that these are the people who should most definitely not be adopting a child. It's bad enough that the children they have most likely biologically created will grow up with the same penchant for idiocy. There is a reason I don't read and respond to these comments, and I need to remember that and walk away slowly. These are not my peeps, and I don't get anything good from them. I am beginning to see that I can't give them anything good, either.
So, to all my not-friends at those online news sites, I leave you with one last comment, because I will no longer be scrolling through your comments and leaving my own.
CJS writes:
My family is built through international adoption. Our choices for adopting are our own, and are none of your business, but rest assured, we feel that this was God's plan for us. I'm so sorry he forgot to give you an explanation on his plan for our family. Oversight, I am sure. Anyway, we did extensive research before deciding on an ethical agency that would help us adopt from a country with an ethical program. By "ethical" I mean more than just a flashy Web site and a tear-jerker YouTube video channel. My son, although not white or born in the United States, is going to be an excellent citizen of this country and this world. He will grow up to be respectful, tolerant, smart, and empathetic and will work in a respectable job that will help our economy and provide for his family (you know, when he gets older. He's only 2 right now, but still fair game to insult, obviously). He deserved love and a family just as much as any other child does. Although we might have indeed paid adoption fees equal to the amount of a nice new car, I would ask how much you spent on your hospital trip and the first 10 months of your biological baby's life. About the price of a new car? Oh, weird. I guess that is how much it costs to provide and take care of an infant. But, I get it, it's not the same because I wrote one big check and you wrote like 10 checks and put the rest on your credit card. (I wonder who made more profit on those checks though? My non-profit adoption agency or your hospital and diaper/formula/big box store providers? Curious.) Although we did not adopt through the domestic or foster program, we will be more than happy to support you in any way we can should you choose to adopt through these excellent programs. We know many people who have done just that and have wonderful families. God is happy for them, too. Did he tell you that about them? No? Huh, that's odd. I think you will find it to be an incredibly difficult process, but based on your passionate feelings on overpopulation and not bringing "foreigners" into our country, I am assuming you are planning to adopt instead of having biological children. I mean, wouldn't your kids technically be German/English/Irish anyway? What makes a kid an American? Having American parents? That's what the government says anyway, but OH RIGHT, our government is secretly trying to take down our country. I know that's not the topic we are on, but I think it is good to throw that in there every once and a while. Best to ask Big Al down at the Stop N Shop what he thinks about the issue (adoption, not government, his bumper stickers make it clear how he feels about that). Make sure to clarify with him what constitutes a "family." If it's blood, well, you and your wife have some BIG problems. Big Al never told you that you could only marry your sister in order to have a "real" family built with blood. Man, this whole adoption thing is getting confusing. Perhaps we should just make up some wild figures and facts to make us feel better about not knowing a thing about it. Right after Judge Judy is over, of course. Oh, and could you pass me the spicy cheese puffs?
Comment on an online news article.
The people who comment on online news articles are primarily idiots who are most likely unemployed, barely literate (but kudos for stopping by a news site on your way to your p*rn sites), and looking something to do other than scratch themselves. Okay, maybe not, but that sentence is the type of thing people who comment on news articles like to write to each other as they bicker and insult each other…oh wait, what were we actually talking about? An actual piece of news?
Nah, let's go back to over generalizing, stereotyping, preaching, and being rude--all about topics we know nothing about.
Unfortunately for me, it seems like these special people gravitate toward a topic that I also gravitate toward…adoption. Fantastic.
No matter what the article is about (pro or con adoption), there is a loud group who likes to turn up their country music, turn down the court TV, pop open a new one, hop on their favorite online news organization comment feature, and rail about how people who adopt internationally should
- listen to God when he is telling you that you just should not be parents
- adopt one of those trillions of American babies who need homes (usually backed up by completely made-up facts they heard down at the opening of Moe's Burger Shack)
- not overpopulate our great country by bringing "foreign" kids in to pollute our language and take our jobs.
Or maybe, if they are feeling feisty, they might drop some sort of racial comment, because there is no better way to prove your intelligence than being a racist a-hole.
In the past I have never scrolled down far enough on the page to see or read the comments, but lately I have been. I shouldn't, but I can't not. Now that I know the ridiculousness that goes on there, I feel this intense need to respond with some sort of reality and protect the FACTS, both good and bad, that surround adoption.
You know, like ALL kids deserve love, no matter what country they were from; all international adoptions are not based on some crazy child trafficking scheme and a set of greedy white parents who slink into a back alley, grab a kid out of a box (not making this up, someone actually suggested children in China are sold out of boxes to American tourists); that domestic and foster adoption is not easy, quick, or inexpensive; that international adoption is not easy, quick, or inexpensive; and that kids can't waltz into this country with proper documents. Ask any family who knows what the I-600 form is and watch them laugh you all the way back to your scratching chair.
So, a couple times I have registered with these sites and responded with a logical, thought out, fact driven comment. Wouldn't you know it, no one ever responses to my comments (and I rarely even get "liked"). They just glide right over it as they continue to rant at each other over their views on God, equality, patriotism, and intelligence. I used to (like last week, this isn't a long-term hobby for me) be sad about this. I worried people would read these comments and be turned off from the joys of adoption.
But the more I read, the more I think that these are the people who should most definitely not be adopting a child. It's bad enough that the children they have most likely biologically created will grow up with the same penchant for idiocy. There is a reason I don't read and respond to these comments, and I need to remember that and walk away slowly. These are not my peeps, and I don't get anything good from them. I am beginning to see that I can't give them anything good, either.
So, to all my not-friends at those online news sites, I leave you with one last comment, because I will no longer be scrolling through your comments and leaving my own.
CJS writes:
My family is built through international adoption. Our choices for adopting are our own, and are none of your business, but rest assured, we feel that this was God's plan for us. I'm so sorry he forgot to give you an explanation on his plan for our family. Oversight, I am sure. Anyway, we did extensive research before deciding on an ethical agency that would help us adopt from a country with an ethical program. By "ethical" I mean more than just a flashy Web site and a tear-jerker YouTube video channel. My son, although not white or born in the United States, is going to be an excellent citizen of this country and this world. He will grow up to be respectful, tolerant, smart, and empathetic and will work in a respectable job that will help our economy and provide for his family (you know, when he gets older. He's only 2 right now, but still fair game to insult, obviously). He deserved love and a family just as much as any other child does. Although we might have indeed paid adoption fees equal to the amount of a nice new car, I would ask how much you spent on your hospital trip and the first 10 months of your biological baby's life. About the price of a new car? Oh, weird. I guess that is how much it costs to provide and take care of an infant. But, I get it, it's not the same because I wrote one big check and you wrote like 10 checks and put the rest on your credit card. (I wonder who made more profit on those checks though? My non-profit adoption agency or your hospital and diaper/formula/big box store providers? Curious.) Although we did not adopt through the domestic or foster program, we will be more than happy to support you in any way we can should you choose to adopt through these excellent programs. We know many people who have done just that and have wonderful families. God is happy for them, too. Did he tell you that about them? No? Huh, that's odd. I think you will find it to be an incredibly difficult process, but based on your passionate feelings on overpopulation and not bringing "foreigners" into our country, I am assuming you are planning to adopt instead of having biological children. I mean, wouldn't your kids technically be German/English/Irish anyway? What makes a kid an American? Having American parents? That's what the government says anyway, but OH RIGHT, our government is secretly trying to take down our country. I know that's not the topic we are on, but I think it is good to throw that in there every once and a while. Best to ask Big Al down at the Stop N Shop what he thinks about the issue (adoption, not government, his bumper stickers make it clear how he feels about that). Make sure to clarify with him what constitutes a "family." If it's blood, well, you and your wife have some BIG problems. Big Al never told you that you could only marry your sister in order to have a "real" family built with blood. Man, this whole adoption thing is getting confusing. Perhaps we should just make up some wild figures and facts to make us feel better about not knowing a thing about it. Right after Judge Judy is over, of course. Oh, and could you pass me the spicy cheese puffs?
Monday, February 15, 2010
I Need to Stop Watching the Commercials
How completely bittersweet it is to watch your child age.
On one hand, I am anxious and excited for Little Bug to grow up, learn more, and advance. Just last night I wondered out loud to Appa what Little Bug would be like at age 5. I'm honestly really excited to see years stretched out before me with Little Bug and Little Bro as the stars. How lucky am I to be a part of that awesomeness for so many years to come?!?
On the other hand, with each new skill comes the loss of something less tangible, the "babyness," if you will. As our children grow, their personalities change. Everything about them becomes different. It's a natural progression of life and a really cool one to witness, but it's also very bittersweet to realize that life is changing for your child (and you) in ways that can never be undone.
Ultimately, it's a good thing Little Bug is growing up. Every parent wants their kids to grow up to be the best they can be, and for us, every stride Little Bug can make before Little Bro comes home is going to make it easier on him as he transitions into the role of big brother, which I know he will excel at. But, it's still a bit sad to see my baby bug morph into a big boy bug.
So, to Pr*ctor and G*mble: thanks for the commercial you keep running during the Olympics...the one that makes me cry every. single. time. and has brought up way too many bittersweet emotions for me lately. You know the one, the commercial showing all the little kids getting ready to complete in events, then it pans to the older, nervous mother in the crowd who looks like she is going to cry, throw up, and cheer all at once before cutting to the tag line, "To their moms, they will always be kids."
If I promise to buy Cr*st toothpaste, will you stop making me cry every time I think of my child growing up?
On one hand, I am anxious and excited for Little Bug to grow up, learn more, and advance. Just last night I wondered out loud to Appa what Little Bug would be like at age 5. I'm honestly really excited to see years stretched out before me with Little Bug and Little Bro as the stars. How lucky am I to be a part of that awesomeness for so many years to come?!?
On the other hand, with each new skill comes the loss of something less tangible, the "babyness," if you will. As our children grow, their personalities change. Everything about them becomes different. It's a natural progression of life and a really cool one to witness, but it's also very bittersweet to realize that life is changing for your child (and you) in ways that can never be undone.
- This morning my son pulled my hair brush out of my bathroom drawer, brought it into the bedroom, and started brushing MY hair. He did a surprisingly good job.
- Yesterday my son officially got his first chore, taking his place mat to and from the table. He's very disciplined at it and needs little prompting.
- Three days ago my son figured out how to completely unzip his winter coat...this is an inconvenient skill considering the current Midwest climate.
- In the last week, Little Bug has developed a bit of a swagger. He's so comfortable lording over ever room in our house and his attitude is much less "I'm a baby, hear me cry" and much more "I'm 2, hear me roar." The baby gates are really starting to piss him off; he now sees them as a direct affront to his ability to do what he wants, when he wants. (Tough nuts, kiddo.)
Ultimately, it's a good thing Little Bug is growing up. Every parent wants their kids to grow up to be the best they can be, and for us, every stride Little Bug can make before Little Bro comes home is going to make it easier on him as he transitions into the role of big brother, which I know he will excel at. But, it's still a bit sad to see my baby bug morph into a big boy bug.
So, to Pr*ctor and G*mble: thanks for the commercial you keep running during the Olympics...the one that makes me cry every. single. time. and has brought up way too many bittersweet emotions for me lately. You know the one, the commercial showing all the little kids getting ready to complete in events, then it pans to the older, nervous mother in the crowd who looks like she is going to cry, throw up, and cheer all at once before cutting to the tag line, "To their moms, they will always be kids."
If I promise to buy Cr*st toothpaste, will you stop making me cry every time I think of my child growing up?
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Too Much
My kid has too many toys. It's actually embarrassing how much of an understatement that is. There are toys in every single room of our house....baskets and boxes filled with toys. I've already gone through and purged our toys twice, resulting in two larges boxes and one large bag full of toys he has outgrown. Still, the toys seem to consume us.
This worries me for a variety of reasons (the least of which being my toy-strewn home). I'm frustrated that Little Bug can't really focus on one toy because he has so many. Yet, each time I purge I leave some toys out that he never plays with, the blocks and puzzles and plush animals. Things that he should be playing with, but doesn't because the pieces fall to the bottom of the basket and, let's face it, because puzzles are lame.
In fact, with a few notable exceptions, Little Bug would be happiest with kitchen utensils and our cell phones as his play things.
So, what do I do? Do I keep just a small amount of toys out....like a VERY small amount? What do I do with the boxes filled with all the other toys? Do I donate boxes of toys knowing full well a second child is coming? We're talking about a serious amount of toys here. Do I try to figure out some fancy organization system? I feel like Little Bug's generous amount of toys is actually limiting his ability to enjoy any toys at all.
It's just too much, and I am not sure how to dig out.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Trying to Keep My Kid Alive, Part I
As the oldest of 5 kids and a master babysitter, I used to think I was pretty prepared for the dramas of keeping a child alive.
Then I got a kid.
I remember the first time Little Bug got a high fever. Appa was out of town and I looked at that 103.5 on the thermometer and just froze. I second guessed all the actions I should take that ran through my head, which sadly, were very few. It took a late night house call by Jeff's aunt and a call to the pediatrician to convince me that Little Bug was probably going to be okay.
Things like that happen all the time now. I think I've got a handle of the parenthood thing and then something happens that leaves Appa and I momentarily staring at each other with that wide-eyed looked, like "Holy crap, what the hell are we supposed to do about THAT?"
You know, like this morning when Little Bug decided to have glass for breakfast.
Now, we don't have glass lying around as a pre-breakfast snack option, but apparently there was a bit of glass from an accident a few weeks back that had somehow managed to hide. Until my 2 year old found it with his "naughty radar." (PLEASE don't think we intentionally leave glass shards laying around.)
So, that is how we started our morning. I was making lunch while Little Bug munched happily on some cheerios and played with his toys when he started crunching on something a little more violently. It took another crunch or two before Appa and I had that moment of eye contact where we both looked at each other and realized something was not right.
Yeah, try the blood coming out of my kid's mouth. That constitutes "not right."
So we sprang into action, sweeping his mouth and trying to rinse it out. He had a cut on the side of his lip and we managed to get a small chunk of the glass out, but we honestly don't know how much, if any, he ingested.
Then our novice parenting kicked in. What does one do when your kid might have ingested glass? I'm envisioning his innards slowly ripping apart, and Appa is envisioning violent puking episodes. We stood there in our kitchen staring at each other, late for work and trying to figure out what to do for our son, who was pissed that he was out of cheerios.
Ultimately, after consulting our books and some online medical items (our pediatrician was not open yet), we decided to let his school know to watch for certain symptoms and call me immediately should anything seem amiss.
So there it is. Another humbling edition of "Trying to keep my kid alive." Needless to say, I'll be doing a hands and knees mop of our floor tonight and hugging Little Bug a little closer. Next time one of my kids eats glass, which I'd like to hope will be never, at least we'll already be a well-oiled machine.
Keeping a child alive is hard work.
Then I got a kid.
I remember the first time Little Bug got a high fever. Appa was out of town and I looked at that 103.5 on the thermometer and just froze. I second guessed all the actions I should take that ran through my head, which sadly, were very few. It took a late night house call by Jeff's aunt and a call to the pediatrician to convince me that Little Bug was probably going to be okay.
Things like that happen all the time now. I think I've got a handle of the parenthood thing and then something happens that leaves Appa and I momentarily staring at each other with that wide-eyed looked, like "Holy crap, what the hell are we supposed to do about THAT?"
You know, like this morning when Little Bug decided to have glass for breakfast.
Now, we don't have glass lying around as a pre-breakfast snack option, but apparently there was a bit of glass from an accident a few weeks back that had somehow managed to hide. Until my 2 year old found it with his "naughty radar." (PLEASE don't think we intentionally leave glass shards laying around.)
So, that is how we started our morning. I was making lunch while Little Bug munched happily on some cheerios and played with his toys when he started crunching on something a little more violently. It took another crunch or two before Appa and I had that moment of eye contact where we both looked at each other and realized something was not right.
Yeah, try the blood coming out of my kid's mouth. That constitutes "not right."
So we sprang into action, sweeping his mouth and trying to rinse it out. He had a cut on the side of his lip and we managed to get a small chunk of the glass out, but we honestly don't know how much, if any, he ingested.
Then our novice parenting kicked in. What does one do when your kid might have ingested glass? I'm envisioning his innards slowly ripping apart, and Appa is envisioning violent puking episodes. We stood there in our kitchen staring at each other, late for work and trying to figure out what to do for our son, who was pissed that he was out of cheerios.
Ultimately, after consulting our books and some online medical items (our pediatrician was not open yet), we decided to let his school know to watch for certain symptoms and call me immediately should anything seem amiss.
So there it is. Another humbling edition of "Trying to keep my kid alive." Needless to say, I'll be doing a hands and knees mop of our floor tonight and hugging Little Bug a little closer. Next time one of my kids eats glass, which I'd like to hope will be never, at least we'll already be a well-oiled machine.
Keeping a child alive is hard work.
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