Month: September 2011

letting go (just a little bit)

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest

We visited friends that live a couple of hours away over the weekend and last week my friend texted me asking if I would be okay with a babysitter watching all four of our kids so us grownups could go out for dinner and drinks. 

Nope. No thanks.  Not comfortable with that.  Not at all. 

That was my initial gut reaction and response to her.

The next day, I thought about how hard these last two weeks have been with the sick babies.  I thought about the (short) conversations I’ve shared with my husband about how neither of us are satisfied with the state of our relationship right now.  I thought about how nice it would be to eat a hot dinner without the stress of getting done before Theo starts throwing food or Dexter melts down.  I thought about how fabulous it would feel to be able to focus on the menu selections as opposed to just trying to pick something as fast as I can so I’m available to catch the flying crayons and kids menus when they sail to the neighboring table. 

The next day, I texted my friend and said “I’ve been thinking about it…I’m listening.”  She explained that the babysitter they use is their favorite teacher at their little girl’s daycare.  She didn’t hesitate when my friend asked her if she was interested in watching a 4 month old, a one year old, a two year old, and five year old. 

So I agreed to it.  I let a complete stranger (to me) watch my babies for almost 3 hours, can you believe it?  They were alive and well and happy when we got back and we enjoyed a much deserved night out with our wonderful friends.  Baby free.  That’s not to say I wasn’t thinking about them every second and itching to get back and hug their little bodies, but I did it.  It was muy fabuloso.  More about our weekend later.

~C~

where were you? (9.11.01)

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest
Knowing that the 10th anniversary of 9/11 was coming up, I’ve done a lot of reflecting.  I have recorded and watched several shows that recapped every detail of that day.  I don’t know why I want to put myself through watching it and feeling that emotion all over again, but it’s something that I’m drawn to do.

I didn’t know anyone who lost a loved one on 9/11.  I didn’t know anyone who was even in New York or DC the day the towers and the Pentagon were struck.  Do all Americans (or humans?) feel this strong connection to what happened, even if they weren’t directly affected? 

****

I was 21, living in Tennesee, and working for a group home for kids with developmental disabilities.  I had driven up north to visit my fabulous boyfriend (who turned in to my fabulous husband) and spend the weekend with his family at their cabin on a small lake.  R had been off work on Monday but had to go back that Tuesday morning.  I had to work Tuesday night so I got in the shower after he left for work.  He lived at home with his mom and dad at that time and worked just 5 minutes down the road. 

After I got out of the shower, I went back into R’s room to finish packing up and getting ready to go.  I walked out to the living room and R’s mom was sitting there watching the news in silence.  It was obvious that something serious was happening and it wasn’t long before I understood that a plane had crashed into the first tower.  It was shocking and sad, knowing that lots of people had lost their lives.  I went back to R’s room to gather my things and turned on the T.V.  As I was sitting there, I watched with the rest of the world as the second plane crashed into the second tower.  I remember a gut-wrenching feeling washing over me as I realized that this was in no way an accident.

Still though, I didn’t realize the gravity of what was happening or how it would affect so many people for so many years to come.  I know I had a conversation with R’s mom about it, but I don’t remember what was said.  I think we were both in awe.  I got on the road to head back home because I had to work that night.  I listened to news radio, as the coverage was the only thing that was on all day as I made the 5+ hour drive back to Tennessee. 

As the events unfolded … the Pentagon was struck…the towers collapsed… I wondered when it would end.  How many lives would be lost? I listened to it all as I drove and drove and drove.  The road felt different that day.  There were no planes flying taking off or landing as I passed airports.  I sobbed in my car as reality set in.  I got home in time to get to work and as I walked in, it was quiet.  Usually a rambunctious group of kids and co-workers, they were all gathered around the television watching the news.  We did our jobs but stayed tuned in to what was going on.  I remember around 8 or 9 that night, we all took turns going to the gas station to fill up because there were reports that gas prices were going to soar.

In the following days, as the death toll climbed, what had happened started sinking in.  I remember seeing signs with messages of love and support and American flags everywhere, uniting us as fellow Americans.  Not just white people or black people.  Not just Democrats or Republicans.  That was before the blame and accusations started.  Before all middle-eastern Americans were regarded as terrorists.  Before I realized how very alive racism is in America.  Before our country was torn apart by this war.  The death toll continues to climb today.

When I watch these shows today, I feel just exactly like I did 10 years ago.  I feel sick with grief for the people that lost their loved ones.  I get overwhelmed with emotion, imagining how scary it must have been to be on one of those planes.  Or to be in one of the buildings, watching as the plane came straight for them.  Or to be a firefighter or policeman climbing up the stairwell when everyone else was climbing down, knowing that I might not come back out.  It pains me to think about the innocent children that died.  The children that were left without one or both parents as a result of what happened.  In an instant, life changed for everyone.  We can’t go back and un-crash the planes.  I can’t un-see it on television and un-hear it on the radio.  I can’t un-feel what I’ve felt for the last 10 years every time I think about it.  I feel so drawn to and connected to this tragedy and I can’t explain why. 

I can’t imagine what it’s like for people who were directly impacted then and those who continue to be affected by it now.  My heart goes out to them today and every day.  I can’t believe it’s been 10 years. 

 
~C~

18 month letter to my big boy

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest
Dear Theo,

Wow.  Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow!  That’s how I feel about you these days.  You are such a big boy now, and I can’t believe how you’ve changed, even just in the last 3 months.  It’s hard to believe a year ago I was looking at my 6 month old baby boy, thinking how big you were.  In the past year you’ve gone from a sweet, happy little baby to an independent, strong-willed, bright little boy.  I can’t believe how much you are talking now.  Just the other night, you pointed at your newborn picture from the hospital with one hand and patted yourself on the chest with your other, saying “Baby? Baby?” as if you were asking if that was you when you were a baby.  We had never even looked at or talked about that picture with you.  How did you know that was you when you were a baby?  You are making new connections every day.

can you say “bbq chicken night?” yum.

You pick up Dexter’s paci or blanket and carry it over to him.  You give the swing a nudge when the batteries are getting weak.  You hand us the baby monitor and say “baby” if we leave it laying on the couch.  You are so smart and such a sweet brother. 

you love dancing to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

These last three months have been hard on you at times.  You are exploring your environment and you want to do it in your own way.  We question and second guess ourselves every day.  Are we giving you too much freedom or not enough?  Are we disciplining you the right way or not at all?  Sometimes after we have sat you in time out, you will happily walk back to the time out corner, sit down, and yell “sit!” while giving us that irresistible chipmunk grin.  Speaking of that toothy grin – you now have 14 little chompers!  All front 8 teeth, 4 molars, and the top eye teeth.  Your bottom eye teeth are on their way, I see them under your gums.  We will be happy to take a break from teeth, as you have gotten lots of them in the past few months.  The molars were almost unbearable for all of us.

18 months old and looking mighty grown up.

You have also been sick a lot since Dexter was born in May.  You are just now getting over croup.  That was a scary night for daddy and mommy, when we had to go to the emergency room because you were coughing and couldn’t breathe.  It has been hard on us, watching you suffer like that.  If I could have taken away the pain and fear you felt, I would have in a heartbeat.  Instead, I held you in my arms and tried to keep you calm.  I kissed your head a million times and told you how sorry I was that you felt so bad as I hugged you to my chest.  As much as I hate to see you sick, I melt at the way you will let me love on you as much as I want. 

I never knew that parenting was so emotionally charged until I had you.  You’ll see what I mean one day.  I don’t know how to describe it but there is an unstoppable love that a parent feels for a baby.  I would do anything to protect you.  I love you and your brother more than anything in the world.  I was just telling a friend how bad I felt the first time I accidentally hurt you.  You were just a few weeks old and I was taking off your bib while you were on your changing pad.  You must have spit up and I quickly grabbed the back of the bib as I was pulling it off to catch the mess and as I did, I scraped the scratchy velcro right across your delicate chin.  The shocked look on your face, that pause, and then the desperate cry of pain broke my heart into a million pieces.  I probably cried longer than you did as I squeezed your small body up to mine, begging for forgiveness.

It was just as bad that night when you were about 9 months old and you were learning to crawl.  You were exploring your bedroom and fell forward, hitting your face on our hardwood floors.  Your tooth cut your lip and it was bleeding.  You cried and cried and so did I.  I hugged you tight and apologized for not being able to catch you in time.  I couldn’t save you then and since, we’ve seen our share of tumbles and bloody boo boos.  I always hurt too when something hurts you. 

You’re such a handsome, friendly boy.  When we are out and about, it’s inevitable that someone will tell me how cute you are.  You wave, smile, and say hi to everyone.  If I see you wave or smile at someone who doesn’t notice or just ignores you, it stings me.  I don’t ever want you to feel rejected, and whether those people are intentionally ignoring you or not, I feel upset inside when it happens.  It’s a part of life, but that’s the mommy way. I long to save you from anything that makes you feel bad.

There will come a day when a kid at school will make fun of your name or your hair or your clothes.  There will come a day when you like a girl who doesn’t like you back.  There might come a day when you don’t get picked for the basketball or football or cheerleading or whatever kind of team you choose.  The thought of you ever feeling isolated or alone makes me ache.  Sometimes I wonder if it’s possible that all mommies love their babies this much.  I think most of them do.

you love your bed. and your kankets.

You still love books, but unless you’re pretty tired, you won’t sit still to listen to a story.  You like interactive books with flaps and textures and songs and buttons.  You figured out how to drive that car Grammy got your for Christmas and you’re even good at steering and backing up now.  You love driving all over the house and get outta the way, because you’re pretty fast.  You still have your favorite blanket that you sleep with every night.  You suck your thumb and we need to talk about that.  I think if you didn’t have your thumb/fingers/hand in your mouth all the time, maybe you wouldn’t keep getting sick.  You see where I’m going with this?  Maybe you should stop soon, because a.) you don’t like being sick and b.) you’ll get made fun of when you get to Kindergarten (remember how I said I don’t ever want you to get made fun of?). 
Sometimes you try my patience.  Nana says you are just like daddy was when he was little.  That means trouble for us but we will all get through it.  If you turn out anything like your daddy has, I’ll have no complaints about the tough times. 

and you love your morning milk.

We haven’t been calling you Peezy Brown much lately, and I don’t know why.  But I’m going to try to bring it back, because that’s who you are.  You’ll always be my little Peezy Brown.  I’m so proud of you.  I can’t wait to see where the next 18 months take us.   

xo forever,
Mommy