Making it up as we go along

Unfortunately for some folks, "parent" doesn't come with a job description. There's no manual. No returns. When your first little bundle is placed into your arms, you are plunged headfirst into a sea of dirty diapers, sleepless nights, and tear translating.

When I was pregnant I read every pregnancy book I could get my hands on. My mind was a virtual library of information regarding gestational diabetes and frequent urination. I knew the possible first signs of labor, the breathing techniques, and nearly everything that COULD go wrong. I thought reading all those books and pamphlets were preparing me for what was to come.

BOY WAS I WRONG! I nearly passed out on my first trip to the bathroom after delivery. And whoah, look down. Those do not look like my parts. Will it ever look the same again? You want to know if you can cut his what? And the sleeplessness. My little alarm clock was up every two hours to suck on raw and bleeding nipples. Damn it hurt. But why was there not one single sentence in those books about how this huge piece of my heart would be ripped out and live outside of my body forever? No one told me I'd be willing to walk to the ends of the earth for that 10 lb. 1/2 oz. bundle, but I'd do it in a heartbeat.

It was after this that I swore off parenting books. The physical stuff is pretty accurate. Yep, my toddler has a pot-belly and a large head. He gets diaper rash from time to time. His stomach is about the size of his fist. Got it. But no one knows my sons like me. They have individual needs which no book can ever categorize. The relationship between mother and child is too complex to put into words. I don't believe anyone can tell me how to raise my child any better than I can figure it out on my own. Plain and simple.

No one can tell you how to love your children. That part comes naturally. And that's all we need. Live and learn along the way. We splash in mud puddles. We fingerpaint with pudding on the highchair tray. We sing a song when it's time for a bath. We deal with drama as it arises. It's about individual needs. What's best for my children clearly may not work for yours or the next Momma's. What works for one of my boys might not work for all of them. It's about versatility and willingness to adapt.

For what it's worth, your child will probably clue you right in to your job description. It becomes easier as time goes on. As children are added to the family. I wish I'd known then what I know now! But one of my most important realizations was this- I'd much rather have pieces of my heart walk around outside my body, than keep it all to myself.

That's NOT my Dad

My Mother has been seeing a married man. She broke off her own marriage to build a relationship with someone who had a wife and two daughters of his own. Her boyfriend is now divorced. They are both now technically single and can begin a new relationship as divorcees. Since the final papers were signed, she and her younger man-friend went on some celebratory vacation to Idaho. Idaho? Isn't that where Napoleon Dynamite takes place? Two words. Small potatoes.

I was just talking to her on the phone yesterday. I called mostly to tell her about Connor's eye doc appt. (It turns out he's farsighted btw.) I had no intention of asking about where she was all weekend. I heard it from another family member. Mom never gives details of her life out freely anymore and frankly, I just don't wanna know anyway. So I didn't ask a single thing about her. I just filled her in on my life. And out of nowhere she says "We had a good time in Idaho. Went on that dinner cruise on Lake Coeur D'alene....(long pause).....I threw my back out this weekend." Oh geez what the heck? I don't even wanna know. Change the subject quickly. Can't think of anything to say. "Uh, errr...Connor learned a new word this weekend. It's stinker."

Right now, my Grandma is praying that we all accept this other man in Mom's life, because he is making her happy. But I'm still having a difficult time with it, mostly because he knew exactly what he was doing from the get-go (breaking up two marriages) and he still went ahead and pursued it. She's not blameless either. I know it takes two to tango, but sigh.

I need to step into some different shoes. Should I be thinking of my Mom's happiness above all else? Am I blowing this out of proportion like I have a tendency to do? Look at the smile on her face.

Funnies

I've got a couple funnies to share today.

Another trip to senior bingo last night proved fruitful (and nutty!) I won the $300 blackout game! At the beginning of the night, my Grandmother's friend Hazel bought and handed me what she called a lucky Hershey bar. Hazel is a friendly lady with a white mop of hair and dainty little glasses. I said "Are you sure?" and she said "Of course. My dinner is nuts. I'm big into nuts." Followed by I-just-said-something-that-could-be-construed-as-naughty laughter from both Hazel and my Grandma. OH MY!

The other day when the boys woke up, Wes asked me "Mom, do you shave your legs in the night?"

Uhhh, errrr, yes?

My Uncouture Closet

I've been tagged by Amber! So here's what's in my closet because I know ya'll are dying to find out. =P

Three Random Facts About My Closet:
1) It has no doors because DH kicked a hole in one so we took them off
2) We store our comforters in it
3) It used to be the laundry room

Three Items I've Never Worn But Still Haven't Tossed:
1) HS letterman's jacket
2) Pink AE tank top that just doesn't fit right
3) Turquoise tube top

Three Items I'll Never Get Rid Of, No Matter How Ugly They Get:
1) White jacket made out of long john type material
2) My husband's USMC sweatshirt
3) Wedding dress

Three Items People Wouldn't Expect To Find In My Closet:
1) Purple suitcases from the 70's
2) An iron
3) An extra swing from the swingset

Three items that made me go, "Oh Lord, what was I thinking?":
1) Black granny sweater
2) Green cable knit sweater
3) Brown waterproof boots

Three things that I have a surprising number of:
1) AE T-shirts
2) Hollister T-shirts
3) Old Navy jeans

Three dominant colors in my wardrobe:
1) Blue
2) Green
3) Black

Three items that never fail to put me in a good mood whenever I wear them:
1) AE "Squeeze Me" T
2) Hollister 22 T-shirt
3) Black v-neck dress

Three people I will tag:
1) Terri
2) Lorraine
3) Elisa

Horse Sauce

Have you ever been embarrassed to order something because of what it is named? Last night at the Arby's drive-thru my husband requested "Horse Sauce" and I went "What is Horse Sauce? It says right on the packet it's Horsey Sauce." I'm thinking of all the horrible things Horse Sauce could be. At this point he tells me he knows what it's called but HE DOESN'T WANT TO SAY IT. Clearly, Horsey doesn't sound manly enough. I'm sure the lady at the window would have just died laughing had a grown man said "Horsey."

I admit that I've been out in public and resorted to choosing another menu item because I didn't want to say the name outloud. Here's some of my not-so-favorites, and don't get me wrong...some of them are great tasting. But can you really look the waitress straight in the eye and order Rooty Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity? Jackeroo Chops? Sweet Chook O' Mine? Moons Over My Hammy, Vive La French Toast (yes, do live long french toast) or the ethnic dish Poo Poo Platter. Bang Bang Ji. Chee Cheong Fun- hmmm that does sound entertaining. Who names these things?

Maybe you're a Pointer. The waitress comes over and politely asks "What can I bring for you today?" and you already have your menu turned to the right page and extend your pointer finger triumphantly.

Abbreviator? Shorten the name. I'll take the Moons.

Gamer? Perhaps you like a nice game of Taboo. How do you get your waitress to say the name of the menu item without you actually saying it? Ex: "I'll take two eggs, two bacon, two sausages, two pancakes with fruit." And the waitress says "Ma'am we have that in a meal, the Rooty Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity." Yeah that's it!

Maybe you prefer someone else do it for you, a Delegator of sorts. When I was little, my parents did the ordering for me. Yeah, that works. "Hey honey, would you order this for me? I need to go use the restroom." And then make a quick escape as the server weaves her way to your table.

Or maybe you are like me, the Avoider. You just find something else on the menu altogether. You didn't really want the Poo Poo Platter (and yes...at our local Tahitian restaurant, that is how it's spelled!)

You go ahead and order your silly dish- and try to say it without cracking a smile- I'll be one booth over giggling with you, not at you! =D

June 22 - July 22

If you know your zodiac, those are the dates for the sign of Cancer. I fall on the cutoff date July 22, but I know exactly why! I'm not a Leo. I fit Cancer in every way. The following is a great description. http://www.astrology.com/allaboutyou/sunsigns/cancer.html

Cancer is one of the water signs, identified by emotion and nurture. My emotions change like the tides. I'm deeper than I appear on the surface. But the telltale signs of a Cancer show both inside me and out. I'm drawn to the water. Many of my good memories relate to being around the water with the people I love.

Even as a baby, I was taken out in a boat on the river so my parents could fish and sunbathe. We grew up next to, in, and on the Columbia River. Some days we'd just cruise the river. Dad knew all the best fishing spots. He knew where to show us wildlife. We'd have fishing competitions. We watched fireworks and hydroplanes from the boat. We'd take picnics to the sandy beaches along the water. We spent together time.

One of my favorite family vacations didn't feature an airplane ride or a fancy hotel, but riding in a station wagon and going up to the family cabin by the lake. The whole extended family would go. We took hikes in the woods, frolicked in the lake, caught baby frogs on the shore, played cards and horseshoes. Recently, my family sold the cabin but the memories will always remain.

When I was little my Grandparents moved to the coast. I was devastated...until we got to go visit for the first time. Once I beachcombed, I was forever hooked on finding treasures that the ocean spit out just for me. Maybe it was the thrill of visiting Grandma and Grandpa and getting spoiled. The fresh seafood. The tourist shops. Maybe it was the clamming with Grandpa, the fireworks on the beach, the horseback rides in the surf. The ocean had its grip on me and will forever draw me back.

While I was dating my now-husband, we spent lots of time by the river. We enjoyed fishing together. Well, I did more fishing because he would spend time untangling my line while I used his fishing pole. We spent nights sleeping in the back of his truck next to the river. He watched from the boat as I learned to waterski. We rafted down it on sultry summer days. We even skinny-dipped there and had a good laugh as a couple boats went speeding by.

The water holds all this and so much more for me. It can be utterly violent and unpredictable at times, but at others there is something so serene about not being able to see bottom. Just what it holds at its depths is more than crawdads and catfish. It holds discarded riffraff and forgotten treasures. Water means recreation and congregation. It's like the tide has some magnetic force that draws us to gather nearby. I feel compelled to show my boys all that water has to offer too.

It Works

This tiny yellow pill is keeping me happy. I'm taking the lowest dose, and it's working. I'm the one who wanted to forego meds altogether, but there is no denying that this was just what I needed to turn things around. Now I am no longer ashamed to admit that I had to turn to a pill to fix what was wrong with me; what felt "off" for so, so long.

I am back to ME. Patient with the boys once again. Sleeping better. Getting housework done. Feeling gratified and content in my marriage. Is it possible that this little pill is saving a marriage? Those around me notice the difference too so I can't be dreaming this. At first I thought that it was causing one side effect, lowering my sex drive, but for the last few days there were no problems whatsoever in that department, just ask my husband ha ha. I'm a skeptic turned believer. And I'm off to refill my scrip.

Meet Gordon

He's your everyday friendly gnome, garden type, 1 each. He stands proudly in his sea green fashion showing off his catch of the day, the same stone fish he caught 17 years ago. The boys have affectionately named him "Gordon." He quietly stands guard at his post at the end of our deck.

This morning, I was putting Connor into his stroller just inside the house and I heard the boys whispering and chattering amongst themselves on the deck while they waited for us so I listened in. They are admiring Gordon's chubby cheeks and pointed hat. They point out that he's been knocked over and now has a hole in his boot which they call his war wound. And then I hear it...Weston says "Gordon says we should go jump in mud puddles." Uh, the gnome is telling them what to do? I'm giggling as I peek through the crack of the door. Both boys are now standing up on the tallest ledge of the deck urging each other to jump off because Gordon did it! Just as Weston squats down to leap, I spring from behind the front door and put a stop to the daring feat.

On the way to school I explain that while Gordon has quite the plastic personality, he's a friendly gnome- he wouldn't want them to get hurt. It was just two clever brothers trying to get each other into trouble. I deliver the boys to school. When I walk back up the driveway, there's that mischievous little gnome smiling his rotund cheeky smile and I can't help but giggle and greet him..."Hey little fella."

Glasses

Here's Tyler before and after getting his new glasses. The first thing he commented on was that he could "see people better." After some adjusting and a few scraped elbows AND knees, he's got the hang of wearing them and placing them by his alarm clock each night at bedtime. I never realized how many KIDS wear glasses until Tyler's wearing of spectacles sparked a curiosity in me to pay attention to it. I am so thankful we got his eyesight checked now instead of months or years from now. Who knows how long he's had problems with his eyes? It must look like a whole new world to him.

Holy geezers people!

Taking a look back at my 1000th post on "Let's Get This Thread to 1000!" those are my infamous words. And I stand in front of the mirror and say them once again. I can't believe I forgot to tell this story. On Weston's first day of kindergarten, I spotted my first gray hair. I was happily arranging my hairs atop my head to drop the kid off and make a good first-day-of-school-I'm-not-that-late-disorderly-Mom impression. There it was sticking out amongst a head full of mousy brown hair. It wasn't very long. But it sure stood out. I kept thinking "I'm only 26." I must have really earned that baby. So since I first noticed it on Wes's first day of school, I'm going to officially thank him for it. He's the bull in a china closet. Acrobat/ninja/cliff diver/stunt man in training. Hobbies include defying gravity and copying stunts as seen on television. Has had two broken arms already. Thinks his shoes really make him run faster, etc. you get the picture. And gray hair, no I will not pluck you, after all I hear that plucking one makes two grow back lol.

Look at this Muslim belief:
1646. Reported `Amr bin Shu`aib, on the authority of his father and grandfather that the Prophet (PBUH) said, "Do not pluck out grey hair, for they are the Muslim's light on the Day of Resurrection.''[Abu Dawud, At-Tirmidhi and An-Nasa'i].

Commentary: Plucking of gray hair, usually a sign of old age, should be avoided because besides the benefit which one gets from them in the Afterlife, they are a means of respect in this world.

On that note, Grandma I have new respect for the silver nest atop your head. Wear it proudly woman.

A Blog of Silence

In Memory of 9/11...











...I have few words at the moment. This has been on my mind all day and I just wanted to dedicate this entry today to the families of 9/11 victims. Thinking of you all. I hope you have found the courage to move on, the strength to get you through when things were challenging, and peace upon every thought of your loved ones.

From Gummy Bears to Grade School

I am chomping on those chewy cavity-creating confections that we call Gummy Bears. My 5-lb Costco bag of ursine delights is running out! The horror! At least I can relish the fruitiness while I finish my post. There's something I'm more excited than Gummy Bears about...Weston started kindergarten!!

This isn't just two random topics combined into one post. In grade school (ok, that sounds like I'm getting old) uh, in elementary school, Gummy Bears were a special treat for those children who won Heads-Up, 7-Up or remembered to bring back their library book. I was bribed with sugar many times as a young child.

When Wes walked out of his classroom, he was beaming as he showed me a lemon Tootsie-Roll. Why on earth would someone give a room full of kindergarteners candy? The little buggers have plenty of energy as it is. Oh, I know. It was because it was the end of the day and the kids were going home. Ahhh that makes so much more sense. Well anyway, I'm glad we have a good dentist.

Wes was most proud of making new friends. I said "So what are their names honey?" and he didn't know. But they played together and made checkerboards out of blocks. And one girl from his table already got sent to the Principal's office. Is that the teacher's way of snapping them into shape early? Whatever the case was, I got the impression that Weston was proud and exhausted and he promptly retreated to the couch for a rest. He hasn't done that since he was 3!

With both older boys in school now, I found myself unsure of what to do. It sounds ridiculous but I've been a SAHM all but 7 mos. of Tyler's babyhood. Today it was a day to pick up Grandma and go shopping. We took pleasure in yet another good blended mocha and a day of shopping without repeating "Don't touch that! Stay by me!" like broken records. It took us half as long to get in and out of the vans. We were out from 9-3. Taking a cue from the Creator himself, on the 7th hour I rested. In fact, that's what all of us are doing now. School wears the kids out!

If we are what we eat, then I'm a chubby, roly-poly red Gummy Bear right now and I'm not moving a muscle. I feel like I just overdosed on sugar. You can bounce me to the kitchen. Or wait about 1/2 hour and I'll have enough energy to bounce there myself. I hope you boys like Gummy Bears for dinner! Let's see, what chores is THAT worth to ya?

Seeing Clearly

When I was little, maybe 7 or 8 years old, I went grocery shopping with my Mom at our local neighborhood market. We lived in a small-at-the-time but rapidly expanding town. A town that I wouldn't have noticed at the time didn't have many colors of people. In fact, we had an Oriental-owned market at the end of town and and the occasional Hispanics. We'd just finished purchasing our way overpriced pork chops and fresh fruit, some Marlboro's, and rented some videos to watch. That's when I saw it. The quarter machine! I begged and begged Mom to give me a quarter so I could buy some gorgeous plastic and imitation rhinestone ring. At this time, a polite older gentleman approached us and dug in his pocket and whipped out a shiny quarter on the spot and handed it to me. But what I remember most about the moment was how jet black and smooth his skin looked. It looked like dark chocolate- no even darker...like when one looks into a cave and cannot see the end. I thanked him profusely, at the humph of my Mom who was clearly displeased that someone was rewarding my behavior. I cannot before this remember a true division of "race." People were people were people. It wasn't that I didn't see in color before, but that it didn't matter. My friends were pretty on the inside.

With all the talk going on of racism in the news, stemming from media coverage of Hurricane Katrina, I think it's important to remember this. Every victim of Katrina is capable of being a beautiful person on the inside. Homes are lost. Families are split up. Spirits are broken. They have had their hearts tested to limits we should never have to endure. Last I knew those hearts all pumped the same color of blood. Please let's not make this an issue of color, but of HUMAN.

Here are links to a couple stories that prompted this entry:
http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2005/09/01/photo_controversy/index_np.html

http://www.mercurynews.com/mld/mercurynews/news/opinion/12542143.htm

It's Affecting Us All

Blogging for Relief

Photo from AFP/Paul J. Richards

Hurricane Katrina, look what you have done! In the wake of Katrina's aftermath we are left in awe of the chaos and damage you have done. While the images being splayed across my T.V. screen are shocking, I can't look away. You took away basic needs such as shelter and fresh drinking water. You caused gas prices to rocket skyward. The cost of items all over the country will inflate. You flooded the homes of family and friends- people I don't even know but they are someone's relatives. They have anxious parents and siblings and grandparents across the world who can't get through on the phone lines to see if they are alive or still yelling for help or worse. You took lives...

But you are also giving us another chance to show our strength as a nation, as Americans. You hit close to home. It's high time we help our own. And not just in disaster but let this be an awakening that it can happen to any of us- with warning or not. So the lesson here is treat others as you would want to be treated. Let's see what relief funding the people with gather. What countries will reach out and offer the good ol' U. S. of A. a helping hand? Will those who have little to offer still manage to give what little they can?

If you are reading this, be thankful that you are dry. That you have a roof over your head. That you are sleeping in your own bed tonight. That you won't have to worry where the water to make your baby's next bottle will come from. Don't take for granted simple things like homecooked meals and a functioning restroom or things that make life more enjoyable like the internet access you have right now to read this. Be thankful that you don't have to explain where home is and why Kissyfur the stuffed bear is gone.

You can help by donating or giving blood. More info at: http://www.redcross.org/

After making a donation, you can choose to log it here.

or see how much Blog for Relief has raised so far at the truth laid bear.

Visit Glenn's Roundup Page for more info.

Second photo from REUTERS/Mark Wallheiser