I’m sad

flesh and blood

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest

Sometimes my job is hard to take.  Everyone’s job is hard to take at times, I know, but since I became a mama my job has gotten even tougher.  See, I work in the field of child welfare.  From the time I get to work until the time I hit the door on the way out, I am bombarded with all of the different ways that parents can hurt, ignore, insult, and damage their own flesh and blood.  Their own flesh and blood. 

It baffles me when I look at the sweet, innocent face of my flesh and blood.  My precious baby is a part of me.  He is a product of the love that his father and I share.  He is a product of the desire that we had to combine our families and allow our relationship to live on through future generations.  He is the reason that we strive to be healthier, drive safer, eat better, and save more.  His little life is already a part of our past and will forever be part of our present and future lives.  He’s who I picture when I think about Christmases and birthday parties in the upcoming  years…soccer games and getting his driver’s license…me crying hysterically when he goes away to college and again when he gets married.  Maybe even again when he becomes a parent himself, because now I understand what an honor and responsibility that is.  So many of my dreams now revolve around who my perfect little baby turns out to be. 

I have a big role in that.  I believe it’s my duty as a parent to make sure my child is confident and kind.  We have to teach him about acceptance and tolerance.  He will learn right from wrong and he will stumble along the way, but he will be given the chance to make decisions and with that, mistakes.  He will look back on his childhood and smile, because he will one day appreciate that his parents gave all they had to give, while fostering independence from an early age.  It’s the way that my husband and I were raised. 

I have heard about the hurtful things parents say to their children.  I know for a fact that it is damaging.  Whether something hurtful was said one time or a million times, hurtful words don’t go away like bruises or broken bones.  I don’t ever want to say something to my baby that he replays in his head years later and still feels a sting.

I have heard about parents that beat or smother their children to death.  I have heard about parents that smack their child in the face every single day.  I have heard about a mother who threw her infant on a concrete sidewalk.  I have heard stories about a mother’s boyfriend who hung her child up on a coat hook for HOURS.  I have heard about mothers who leave their newborn babies in dumpsters to die.  Don’t they know there are people who are dying to take care of and love that baby like their own?  I have heard about parents who starve their children for punishment.  I have heard about parents who force their own precious flesh and blood to have sex with them or perform other sexual acts on them.  I have heard about parents who are so addicted to drugs that they can’t or won’t provide for their child’s most basic human needs.  I could go on and on for days with the stories I have heard. 

It is downright painful sometimes, hearing about parents who fail to take advantage of the awesome opportunity and the at-times-overwhelming responsibility that comes with creating a brand new person and inviting him to live this life under their protective wing.  How could anyone be so cruel to someone so innocent and defenseless?

It really gets me down, when I think about kids today.  So many kids are growing up in these kinds of homes.  What do we expect these children to do with their lives?  What kind of parents do we expect them to be?  What are we teaching today’s babies about who they can trust?  It truly is a shame that it so easy for ignorant people to reproduce.  It’s one of life’s greatest blessings and curses.  It seems like the people who wouldn’t be authorized to parent are the ones that reproduce the most easily and go on to have perfectly healthy babies, only to be abused and neglected.  On the other hand, I’ve seen so many fantastic couples struggle with sick children and infertility who have done everything by the book.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this:  My occupation is a constant reminder of the charge that has been placed upon me to parent my child the the best of my ability.  If it weren’t for my job, I might take that responsibility for granted.  I know that I have been given a gift and I will try my best not to take that gift for granted.

~C~

partly lame, partly awesome Halloween

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest

We knew ahead of time that we were not going to be taking our 7 1/2 month old trick or treating.  Really, what’s the point?  He can’t eat the candy and we knew we’d have plenty left over of our own so it’s not like we needed the temptation to eat poorly just sitting there, taunting us. 

We dressed Theodore in his little bat outfit and when 6pm rolled around, we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I don’t think we had our first trick-or-treater until about 6:45 or 7pm.  And trick-or-treating was only supposed to last from 6-8pm.  It’s not that we were surprised…I guess every year we just hope that there are more kids than the year before.  We had maybe a dozen kids.  And I think the last one came by 7:30pm.  It wasn’t even completely dark.  What in the world has happened to trick-or-treating?  It’s just kind of sad and depressing.

It was SUCH a big deal when I was a kid.  It was always so exciting to wait until dark and then go up and down the streets in your very own neighborhood.  The streets were lined with heroes and gypsies and monsters and princesses.  It was fun seeing everyone else’s costumes.  Comparing candy at the end of the night.  Eating it for the next month and a half ’til all that was left were Smarties and individually wrapped Double Bubble.  Now?  Now, we’re lucky to get a dozen kids.  And in the past it has seemed like half of them were middle schoolers wearing their j.v. football jerseys with jeans and a hoodie.  At least this year, we didn’t have any of those costumes.

We did take Theo to the neighbors’ so they could see him in his not-so-scary bat costume.  They appreciated the gesture so that was fun.  (They had individually wrapped Double Bubble and Smarties.  No lie.)

I don’t know why but I just want to fight back.  But how can you compete with the malls and the churches and all those other “safer” options?  We left our light on until 9pm hoping there were some stragglers, but there weren’t.  The streets were pitch black and it looked like any other chilly autumn Sunday night. 

My mom told me last week that when she was a kid, they did trick-or-treating for two nights instead of one.  She said that my grandma trick-or-treated for a whole week!?!  Now it’s down to 2 hours in the broad daylight.  Is there going to be anything left for Theo by the time he’s old enough to enjoy it?  Or will he just have to envision it through his mom and dad’s memories? 

I try to justify it by saying that our neighborhood is full of mostly-elderly folks and there are very few street lamps so it is dark when the sun goes down.  There are no sidewalks.  The houses are further apart and the driveways are longer in our subdivision than they are in the newer, cookie-cutter editions.  But there are also 100 foot tall trees with leaves cascading in beautiful fall colors.  There are jack-o-lanterns or at least pumpkins on most front porches.  To me, it seems like a traditional, idyllic place to go trick-or-treating in the midwest. 

Apparently I’m in the minority.

Regardless, we had fun playing with our baby bat and letting him “help” us pass out candy to the few cute kids that bothered to dress up and trek around the neighborhood. 

On a random, unrelated note, I was craving meatball subs like mama makes so we went to the store and got the ingredients to prepare them for lunch.  Can’t have them without pickles and Provolone or Mozzarella cheese (I chose Provolone).  Amazing.  We had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.  Equally as amazing.  It hit the spot on a chilly fall day.  I love, love, love comfort food.  Theo also ate the equivalent of about one meatball for dinner, which he enjoyed thoroughly!  (Much more than the green bean pureed baby food we tried to make him eat for lunch).  He might be just about sick of baby food already.  He’s always reaching for our plates.  Can’t say I blame him (although some of those fruity purees are quite tasty).  It’s kind of fun feeding him new things and seeing the expression on his face.  I hope he’s not a picky eater.

Rambling!

~C~

the finger

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest

Last Thursday I was packing up the Highlander for our weekend away in Pittsburgh.  I needed to take Theo to the doctor for his flu shot so I was in a bit of a rush.  The power was out for some mysterious reason, and this didn’t click with me that it was going to be a problem until I hit the button for the garage door opener about 6 times with no results. 

Crap. 

So I had to call the man of the house to find out how to disengage the opener.  Okay, figured that out.  Not so challenging.  Once I got the car out of the garage, I walked up to the door to close it.  No exterior handle.  Well I didn’t THINK I had the time to go inside, close it, lock it, and go out the front door, so I grabbed the door naturally where the sections separate.  Unfortunately for me and 3 of the fingers on my right hand, I didn’t think about the fact that a little pull would cause the door to come flying down at break-neck speed, with my precious little fingertips still between the garage door sections. 

Crap.

I stood there staring at the door, which was all the way down, and my 3 fingers that were lodged between the panels of the garage door.  Then I panicked.  And I pulled them back towards my body.  Not moving.  AT all.  So then I pushed the garage door up with my left hand, careful not to stick my fingertips between the sections this time.  I got the door up and my fingers out.  That is when I saw the horror.  Sheer horror.

Crap.

My ring finger had blood coming out of both sides of the finger nail and the middle finger and index finger had gnarly indentations in them where they were smashed in the door.  Talk about panic.  I was literally pacing around in the garage shrieking in pain, unable to comprehend what just happened and/or what needed to happen next.  I went in the house and tried to turn on the kitchen faucet to rinse the blood off my hand but the electric water pump was dead.  I grabbed a couple of bottles of water dumped them on my hand.  Then I took this picture:

Ouch. 
Then I wrapped my fingers up in band aids, went and got my son from the babysitter, took him to get his shot, and went on a mini-vacation.  Dealing with the fingers were a pain in the butt while on vacation.  If there was anything to be thankful for, at least I didn’t have to go back to work for 4 days and I had reinforcements changing diapers and baby clothes, which was pretty much impossible (as Theo likes to grab at anything and everything these days).  The ring finger is still in pretty bad shape but the other 2 feel almost back to normal.  Just a little sore.  The ring finger is VERY sore and the fingernail is wiggly, like a Lee press-on nail.  Only if I catch it on something, it hurts…bad.  It is only attached about halfway up from the end.  Oh, and clear goo seeps out of it randomly.  Yum.
P.S. Typing is not that fun.  
~C~