Favorite

I am done having babies. As a matter of fact, I’m beginning to consider undergoing some sort of permanent birth control procedure. I’m not sure which type, yet, as I haven’t met with my OB/GYN for fear of Vagina Cancer. (Or as Shelly posits, Pube Cancer.) Regardless, I am done with the birthin’ of babies. I am 100% accepting of this fact. I am not able to care for more than two children without losing my damn mind. And let’s face it, there are days when even two children taxes what mind I have left. BUT, oh how I’ll miss some of the things that I only get with babies and not young children.

Sam is at such an awesome stage right now. He’s trying so hard to talk and everything he says is adorable. His walk is more of a drunken stumble/ zombie lurch. He is, literally, the most affectionate kid I’ve ever known. He gives full-on hugs frequently and without prompting. When we play together, he stops roughly every five minutes to climb into my arms and hug me and then returns to playing. He brings me a book and curls up in my lap while I read it. He’s starting to be funny on purpose. His favorite joke is to offer me a bite of whatever he’s eating and then shove it into his mouth at the last minute. Which is my cue to shout “tricky tricker!” and he laughs like a loon.

It’s hard not to have a favorite child. Because while Maddie is completely awesome in other ways, she’s also a complete asshole sometimes. Sam is seldom an asshole. He doesn’t have a temper, he doesn’t scream at me, throw tantrums or randomly decide he hates his favorite food just to mess with me. I keep reminding myself that all too soon, Sam will be an asshole, too. It’s just the nature of children. But sweet baby jebus, how I want to stop time and keep him this age forever.

Tiny Cowboy. We start 'em young in Texas.

How do you do it?

Gerald and his contract employer have come to the point where it’s best for all involved for them to part ways and move on to new things. This is great for him, but kinda scary for the family to lose 1/3 of our income without any other way to supplement it.

We’ve talked about me going back to work full-time if the salary was enough to justify the cost of childcare for both kids. I’ve had an interview and two more requests for interviews, so things look promising on that front.

BUT

I can’t wrap my mind around how I’ll actually make it work. How in god’s name am I supposed to get myself and two kids ready every morning, work all day, take a 1/2 hour lunch so I can get out of there even sooner to pick up the kids, get everyone home, cook dinner, bathe and get both kids to bed. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? As it stands now, I’m responsible for about 98% of the kids’ daily care and the running of the household. This can’t continue if I’m also going to be working in an office all day.

Gerald would prefer for me to stay home if it was possible. He’ll have to disrupt his beloved work schedule to enable us to carpool if I get a job in the city because taking my minivan all the way to Dallas and back everyday will bankrupt us right quick. He’s also going to have to pick up more responsibilities around the house and in taking care of the kids. This is kind of a lot to ask a guy who doesn’t want me to work in the first place. He likes the way things are now, but knows that this is something we need to do right now.

Please don’t misinterpret this. He’s not mean, or ugly or pouty about it at all. But I know it bothers him and I know he’s stressed about how it’s all going to work. And so am I. I’ve never worked full-time with kids before. I have no idea how y’all make it work. Would you please share some of your tips and secrets with me? And maybe throw in a “Don’t worry! It’s not as hard as you think it is!” Even if it’s a lie.

To Read or Not To Read

My mother used to collect antique tins. My friend, Jennie, is looking for vintage tea tins. Fate, no? I know that my mother would rather her beloved tins go to someone who will love and appreciate them as much as she did instead of being packed away, out of sight and out of mind. I asked my dad if he had them because I don’t remember what happened to them after she died. That whole time is really blurry for me. I do know that I got quite a few of her things, but didn’t remember seeing her tins amongst them. My dad said he had a box of her/their things in his office that he’d check, but he was pretty sure he gave them to me. I opened and went through the two boxes that I have of hers to check for the tins without a second thought. She’s been gone for almost six years now. The pain isn’t fresh and the wound isn’t raw anymore.

The first box contained the Harley Davidson ‘do rag I bought her when she was first diagnosed with cancer. I figured if she was going to be bald she ought to be bad ass about it. Needless to say, she never wore it but kept it nonetheless. The box also contained mementos from my childhood. Things I had made for her, pictures of me in the paper, school photos, that sort of thing. It also contained her journal. I opened the journal and read enough of the first page to ascertain that she began writing under the advice of the therapist she started seeing when she was diagnosed. I quickly closed it, feeling overwhelmed.

My first thought is that I don’t dare read it. These are the private thoughts, dreams and very likely the fears of a 48 year old woman facing cancer and being across the country from her entire family. I would feel like I was violating her privacy if I read it. The next thought I had was that she’s dead and she’s not going to feel violated or upset or any of those things. She doesn’t feel ANYTHING anymore so it seems silly to try and preserve her privacy.

Then, I’m afraid of what I might find. Will I find something horrible written about me and my undoubtedly selfish behavior? Will I read something that changes my opinion of my mother? Shouldn’t I remember her as I do instead of polluting those memories with things that were written during her darkest hours?

But then I think of all the things I don’t know about my mom. All the questions I never thought to ask while she was still with me. Will I find those answers? Will I learn more about the woman she was outside of being my mother? I blog partly for my children. I want them to know who I am. Who I was while they were children. See me as a person separate from them. But the difference is that I blog publicly and know that others will read these words. My mom wrote in a bound journal for no one but herself and that changes things for me.

So, I sit here with her journal on my coffee table and her ghost thick inside my heart. And I wonder if I’ll ever have the courage to read it.

Crazy Cat Lady

For Valentine’s Day, Gerald and Maddie surprised me with a new kitteh! She’s an almost 11 week old tortie, whom we named Beatrix. We call her Trixie, Trixita Banana and Trixiebelle. She’s the most un-skittish cat I’ve ever seen in my life. She came into the house and immediately made herself at home. She didn’t spend a single minute hiding. She slept the on my pillow the first night and every night since. She believes her rightful place is on my lap and will get up here no matter what else is going on. She even likes Maddie and likes to be held and petted by her. She just tolerates our dog, Roxy. But they’ve started playing together in the last day, so that’s promising.

And without further ado, here are a million pictures:

I love her stripey nose.

She what a good girl she is?

Kisses!

She's very busy on the twitter.

She moonlights as a computer mouse.

Do you really have to work, mom?

Less working, more lovies.

She's absolutely gorgeous, isn't she?

Done and Done

There are several instances in life when friends and family tell you “You just know.” I heard it about finding the person I was going to marry. I heard it about choosing a career. I heard it about the number of children I was going to have.

Each and every time, I just knew.

When Maddie was a newborn, I swore up and down that I was never having another baby. A crappy pregnancy and awful birth will do that to a person. However, as time healed my wounds and my daughter got more and more awesome, I realized that I wasn’t quite done yet. I knew I wanted another baby and I was sort of scared that I was the type of woman who would want babies forever. I knew Gerald was happy with one child and it took a fair amount of convincing to get him to agree to a second. There was no way I was going to get more kids and keep him as my husband, you know?

Turns out, I’m not that kind of woman. Oh, I’ll still love babies and their porkchops and daydream about them for the rest of my life, but I’m through wanting more. I have that sense of rightness that tells me our family is complete. It was always supposed to be Gerald, me, Maddie and Sam. This is our family. I’ll have fun snuggling my new niece or nephew in March, and I’ll always offer to hold friends’ babies, but I don’t feel the need for another one of my own.

A couple of days ago I went to our storage unit to get some of Maddie’s toys for Sam now that he’s interested. We were given a new exersaucer, so I threw Maddie’s moldy one in the dumpster. As I did, I had the weirdest sense of loss. That was my first baby’s favorite toy. It felt like I’d lost something, which was ridiculous because said “baby” was sitting in the van, singing along to Wubbzy tunes on my iPod. I shook off the weirdness and came home. I cleaned all the toys in the backyard with bleach and Magic Erasers and waited for them to dry. So far, Sam loves the jumperoo like nobody’s business. It felt great to see him enjoying the same toys Maddie played with.

I also brought home my maternity clothes. I made sure everything was clean and boxed them up for Jess. As I did, I again had that sense of loss. I was never going to wear these clothes again! My belly would never be round and full of baby again! WAH! Nevermind that I find pregnancy absolutely miserable and I don’t even want more kids.

I guess even when you’re done, your ovaries keep shouting “babies! babies! babies” Maybe I need to have those suckers removed.

Another sappy letter to my children

Dear Maddie and Sam,

I’ve given up on writing you individual letters. I have the very best of intentions, but time is a precious commodity these days and writing one letter to you both makes more sense.

Mad, let’s start with you. You’re three and a half years old. You’ve mastered the arts of negotiation, stalling and extortion. You’re fully prepared for your teenage years or a seat in Congress.

Our life has changed pretty drastically in the last three months. Sam has disrupted our routine and thrown everything for a loop, but you’re handling it like champ. You’ve never once shown any jealousy or ill will toward Sam. You rush to see what’s wrong when he’s upset, you love to wake him up in the morning and play with him. You’re a fabulous big sister and Sam is lucky to have you.

Maddie, you’re such a wonderful girl. Sure you get on my every last nerve, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re loving, funny, insane, creative and a whirlwind of activity. You never stop moving or talking. You even talk in your sleep, baby girl. I look at you and can hardly believe that you’re the same little baby I nurtured three years ago. I had no idea that you’d grow into such an awesome little kid.

Sammy Sam, you’re pretty stinkin’ awesome, too. You’re fat and roly poly and so happy. Unless you’re not being held or entertained. Left to your own devices, you scream like you’re being tarred and feathered. Recently you’ve become incredibly verbal. There’s a real laugh about to explode out of you at any moment. I cannot wait! Maddie’s first laugh is one of my most precious memories.

You’re quite the Senor Kickypants these days. Your little legs are hardly ever still. You’ve discovered your hands and watch them so intently that you go cross-eyed. Which is adorable and creepy at the same time. Anytime someone makes eye contact with you, you smile your huge, wet grin at them. Your eyes crinkle with delight when you see me over your crib rail for night feedings. It almost makes up for the fact that you wake me up WAY TOO OFTEN to eat at night. ALMOST.

You two are the most frustrating, crazy-making, delightful, wonderful people in the world. I love you more than you’ll ever know.

Love,
Mama

Picture Pages

Why pay good money for a pacifier when you've got a nose?

I may be biased, but my boys are frickin' adorable, y'all.

My hibiscus bloomed.

(for scale purposes)

Weekenderies

So, what are your plans for the holiday weekend? I plan on cursing my emeffing neighbors who shoot off (illegal) fireworks in their yard, thus waking up my kids and terrifying my dog.

Although the above is actually true, it’s not all we’re doing this weekend. Tomorrow afternoon/evening, my dad and his wife are hosting a BBQ at their place. The kids and I will be going but Gerald has to stay home to work on a HUGE! project that he wants to have done by Tuesday. Then, we’re heading over to my dad’s church parking lot to watch the fireworks. (The parking lot happens to be across the street from the place where his town launches their fireworks. It’s the primo spot to be. Score!)

Sunday is Sam’s baptism; again at my dad’s church. Since all our 4th hullabaloo is on Saturday, we’re free for the rest of the day and all day Monday. Nothing too exciting, but plenty of fun.

How ’bout you? What are your plans for this festive of weekends?

Her milkshake brings all the dinos to the yard

Sam’s starting to be a little more like a baby and less like, well, like a blob. He’s staying awake for longer periods of time. Granted, they mostly occur between the hours of 10:30pm and 3:00am, but STILL. He’s cooing and interacting and generally being more fun than, well, a blob.

Maddie still adores him. She wants to feed him and burp him and hold him and hug and kiss him. (“I will hug him and squeeze him and call him George!”) She’s super helpful and loves to put his pacifier back in his mouth for the 8793485734 time in an hour or run to his room and get me yet ANOTHER burp cloth for Spitty McPukesalot.

I managed to take both kids to a playdate with my new mom’s group this morning. It went Very Well and I feel like some kind of Super Mom. We came home, both kids had lunch and now they’re napping. I feel like just maybe I might get the hang of this. (Which we all know is the worst possible thing I could’ve written because now The Universe must smite me for my prideful boast and my life will be a complete shit storm for the next week as punishment.)

And just because it makes me laugh every damn time I see it, here’s a picture of Maddie nursing her dinosaurs. She refuses to play with any of her baby dolls and instead nurtures the hell outta these guys. It’s sweet and twisted all at the same time.

Overwhelmed

Sam has entered the official “crying like a mofo” stage. For the first two and a half weeks of his life, he barely cried. He fussed and grumbled, but really only cried during sponge baths. Two days ago, that all changed.

And not for the better.

Now he cries when he’s hungry. And when he’s tired. And when he’s getting a diaper change. And when he’s not being held. Nighttime is the worst. I put him down for bed last night at 9:30 and at 1:30 am I was still trying to calm him down and get him to sleep. The only thing that calms him is to be in the Moby Wrap with a pacifier, and it’s physically impossible for him to be in there 24/7. I mean, I have to poop sometime, right?

Anyhow, I had completely forgotten how much I HATE the newborn cry. It makes my internal organs shrivel up and I get all panicky. I also HATE the feeling of helplessness that overwhelms me when I can’t comfort him.

I seem to spend the majority of my time feeling overwhelmed these days. I spend most of the night dealing with Sam’s issues and then I wake up and it feels like everyone needs me for something. The animals need to be fed. Maddie’s smothering me for attention. Sam needs to be fed again. Today, I didn’t eat “breakfast” until 2:30 in the afternoon. I come in dead last when it comes to time allotments. I know that’s normal for mothers, but DAYUM, you know?

So, that’s how it stands now. I’m overwhelmed. My baby cries. My preschooler is stalking me. My husband is frustrated and grumpy. Feel free to stay far, far away from our house.