So the Bugg has invited Big Papi and I out for New Year’s Eve, very exciting. A new character to the Caveman and Alien universe, the Bugg is actually one of the ministers at our church, and he happens to be our age.
The age thing freaks me out.
Seriously, how can someone my age be a whole minister who is allow guide people? Or doctor or lawyer- insane! Or maybe I just feel this way because I have still not figured out what I want to be when I am a grown up.
The Bugg is a very interesting guy if you look past what he does for a living; I mean how many people do you know who collects a paycheck from Jesus? He is single ladies, and very adorable and well spoken and well read (he actually knows who Whitman is, and not the candy company). Also he seems to like polar plunging.
Polar plunging is an event where seemingly normal adults go into freezing cold water for fun. Many times it is to raise money for charity, which is awesome. However tonight Big Papi and I will be surrounded by people who want to jump into the Chesapeake Bay just for the fun of it.
Maybe it is the mommy in me, but I don’t see how jumping into the Chesapeake Bay in January while it is 26 degrees outside with winds blowing northwest at 20-30 miles per hour seems like a good idea. Yet, the woman who desperately wants to break free from always appearing like someone’s mommy kind of wants to be silly and take a big jump into the Bay.
It has been a long time since I have had the chance to try something daring, well besides giving birth. I have never been one to take chances, and I think that is a problem in my own life. When you are afraid of taking chances you live life with regrets. I don’t want to walk away from tonight wishing I had jumped.
Yet the grown up in me sees that if I jump into the water I could catch cold, and man do I sound old. Yet even as a kid I have been this way. During swimming lesions when all the other kids were learning to jump into deep water I held back, something inside me held me back.
As an adult I want to try new things. 2008 represented the end of a cycle for me, I was in a funk but I am starting to come out of it. 2009 represents for me new start, as I want to focus on actually living my life instead of just surviving it.
I won’t know until later this evening if I’ll be dripping wet from the cold water, but I do know that it is progress on my part that I am even considering it.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
This holiday season has been an exciting one for the Alien and Caveman filled household. Well the Alien not so much because she is really a baby and doesn’t know what is going on. The Caveman, however, discovered the following this season:
1. The Pretties- I think this started at his preschool when they hung Christmas lights (he attends a Christian preschool which allows for said activities). Since every time he sees Christmas lights the following conversation has happened: “Oh mommy look! The pretties! I love the pretties! I love my pretties!” Then he adds, “I see blue, I see pink, I see green, I see red.” Even if you do not celebrate Christmas the lights are an ideal way to help your caveman learn colors. Also it reminded me that when the lights go on the houses the world seems brighter even in our darkest days. There is something magical in the power of the “pretties.”
2. Christmas equals mommy bakes- Yes I love to bake but the only time of year I get to do it properly is around the holidays. People never want homemade chocolate chip cookies in August because we are all still trying to look awesome in bathing suits. The Caveman not only experienced mommy’s amazing chocolate chip cookies but also the grasshopper bars (really the best thing you could put in your mouth) and the five-minute fudge. The one thing I wish I had the time to do this holiday was to make rice crispy treats with the Caveman. I want him to know the power that comes from understanding how with a few ingredients and a little time, love and patience you can create something amazing that can be shared. Think if more little boys were taught those things when they were cavemen how different the world would be.
3. Santa is not awesome- I am sure this will change but the picture says it all.
1. The Pretties- I think this started at his preschool when they hung Christmas lights (he attends a Christian preschool which allows for said activities). Since every time he sees Christmas lights the following conversation has happened: “Oh mommy look! The pretties! I love the pretties! I love my pretties!” Then he adds, “I see blue, I see pink, I see green, I see red.” Even if you do not celebrate Christmas the lights are an ideal way to help your caveman learn colors. Also it reminded me that when the lights go on the houses the world seems brighter even in our darkest days. There is something magical in the power of the “pretties.”
2. Christmas equals mommy bakes- Yes I love to bake but the only time of year I get to do it properly is around the holidays. People never want homemade chocolate chip cookies in August because we are all still trying to look awesome in bathing suits. The Caveman not only experienced mommy’s amazing chocolate chip cookies but also the grasshopper bars (really the best thing you could put in your mouth) and the five-minute fudge. The one thing I wish I had the time to do this holiday was to make rice crispy treats with the Caveman. I want him to know the power that comes from understanding how with a few ingredients and a little time, love and patience you can create something amazing that can be shared. Think if more little boys were taught those things when they were cavemen how different the world would be.
3. Santa is not awesome- I am sure this will change but the picture says it all.
4. Church is fun during Christmas- Being new to a church a great way to get involved is to participate in the services and activities. My church exploded with activities from the Hanging of the Greens (a fancy way of saying decorating the church) to Santa’s house (we did not participate in this particular event because of said outing to the mall Santa above). My favorite holiday is the one hosted by Pastor Bugg (that is his real name I promise) in which grown up gets to drink and be merry. The Caveman and Alien will be safely at their non-crazy grandma’s (Big Papi’s mom).
The holidays have been quick this year- and way lower keyed than in the past for myself. I only entered a mall once and it was to visit Santa on a Tuesday and it was like a ghost town. I realize that this is the effect of the economic slowdown affecting our country but I still think it is a good thing for the most part. One of my favorite Christmas songs is “Have yourself a merry little Christmas” and it reminds me that this time of year is really about the people you surround yourself with not the things you buy. It is also a time of year to be reminded that miracles happen even if it is as simple as watching my two-year old look in amazement every time he happened to see Christmas lights twinkling, burning bright into the dark sky.
The holidays have been quick this year- and way lower keyed than in the past for myself. I only entered a mall once and it was to visit Santa on a Tuesday and it was like a ghost town. I realize that this is the effect of the economic slowdown affecting our country but I still think it is a good thing for the most part. One of my favorite Christmas songs is “Have yourself a merry little Christmas” and it reminds me that this time of year is really about the people you surround yourself with not the things you buy. It is also a time of year to be reminded that miracles happen even if it is as simple as watching my two-year old look in amazement every time he happened to see Christmas lights twinkling, burning bright into the dark sky.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Worry gives a small thing a big shadow- Swedish Proverb
So the Alien went to the doctor today and thankfully Big Papi had the opportunity to attend because he is usually working when the kids go to the doctor.
I think fathers have figured out ways to get out of the haircuts, doctors, dentists appointments. Well I really shouldn’t say that because Big Papi is always willing to help out if I ask. I think that is the bigger problem; I am the one who has to arrange for things.
I am the concierge of my household if it is a reservation I am the one making it happen. Now, I know I could ask Big Papi to do the arranging but again I have to ask. This is a huge gap between fathers and mothers, because fathers really only care that the kids are breathing (and even that is questionable when in the middle of the night I will stay awake a creep over to the crib to ensure that the Alien is still breathing while Big Papi snores away dreaming of Angelina Jolie). Big Papi is also very concern that the Caveman is not messing with the Big Papi’s stuff (I have to remind Big Papi that the Caveman is a boy, and therefore his DNA is imprinted with the desire to play with things that light up and have buttons).
I, on the other hand, am a constant bundle of nerves, concerns and issues over my children. Are they eating enough? Are they eating enough of the good things? How much television is okay for the Caveman? How can I convince the Caveman that mommy and him do not have to listen to endless cycles of “Skinnamarink” in the car on the way to pre-school? If the Alien is warm is she getting sick? Will my children look back on their childhoods and have more happy memories than sad ones?
The thoughts are constantly streaming across my mind and get worse when someone mentions another kid screwing up. I want to ask them, where did you make the wrong turn. Did it start when you let them watch too much Sesame Street? Do you indulge your child too much before realizing that you shouldn’t? Or was it when you started to not watch their every move and let them go on their own? These are the things I worry about as a mother.
I wish I could be more like Big Papi, relaxed and calm- but I think for a good parenting relationship you need someone who is awake in the middle of the night checking to see if the Alien is still breathing.
I think fathers have figured out ways to get out of the haircuts, doctors, dentists appointments. Well I really shouldn’t say that because Big Papi is always willing to help out if I ask. I think that is the bigger problem; I am the one who has to arrange for things.
I am the concierge of my household if it is a reservation I am the one making it happen. Now, I know I could ask Big Papi to do the arranging but again I have to ask. This is a huge gap between fathers and mothers, because fathers really only care that the kids are breathing (and even that is questionable when in the middle of the night I will stay awake a creep over to the crib to ensure that the Alien is still breathing while Big Papi snores away dreaming of Angelina Jolie). Big Papi is also very concern that the Caveman is not messing with the Big Papi’s stuff (I have to remind Big Papi that the Caveman is a boy, and therefore his DNA is imprinted with the desire to play with things that light up and have buttons).
I, on the other hand, am a constant bundle of nerves, concerns and issues over my children. Are they eating enough? Are they eating enough of the good things? How much television is okay for the Caveman? How can I convince the Caveman that mommy and him do not have to listen to endless cycles of “Skinnamarink” in the car on the way to pre-school? If the Alien is warm is she getting sick? Will my children look back on their childhoods and have more happy memories than sad ones?
The thoughts are constantly streaming across my mind and get worse when someone mentions another kid screwing up. I want to ask them, where did you make the wrong turn. Did it start when you let them watch too much Sesame Street? Do you indulge your child too much before realizing that you shouldn’t? Or was it when you started to not watch their every move and let them go on their own? These are the things I worry about as a mother.
I wish I could be more like Big Papi, relaxed and calm- but I think for a good parenting relationship you need someone who is awake in the middle of the night checking to see if the Alien is still breathing.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
People who say they sleep like a baby usually don't have one. ~Leo J. Burke
The Caveman is really fighting me on the sleeping in his own bed thing. Today Big Papi and I decided that we would work on getting him into his own bed.
After a fun filled evening of touring the Norfolk Botanical Garden’s Christmas lights (the Caveman loves Christmas lights- he calls them pretties. Lately it has been “Oh my goodness look at all my pretties!”). We came home and the Alien was completely knocked out so I brought the Caveman into his room, changed him into pajamas and then let him pick out a book. Then I put him into the bed and all hell broke loose.
The heavy breathing tipped me off that this was not going to be easy. Like a volcano about to explode, the Caveman built up to the biggest cry I have ever heard, with one little tear falling onto his face. He was horrified that I would actually send him to bed in his own room. I sat with him as he cried, pleading mommy let me sleep where I like. After ten minutes I kissed my crying baby and told him goodnight.
Currently a half hour later he is still screaming his eyes out.
Before becoming a parent I would catch that “Super Nanny” show and wonder how those idiotic parents got to the point that they needed the help of a reality show nanny. Come on, how hard could it be to get a two year old to bed?
Ignorance is bliss- a parent of a two year old who refuses to sleep in his own bed said this.
When you long to be a parent you only see the fun things never the long nights, the constant contact with bodily fluids, or the sheer torture of endless singing of “Skinnamrink.” While I was pregnant with the Caveman I had visions of cookie making, little league and school plays dancing in my head. No one or thing can prepare you for the challenge of disciplining your child for saying a bad word while trying not to laugh at the sheer hilarity of a tiny voice saying “oh s***.”
It’s been forty minutes and he is still at it.
The other thing no one tells expectant mommies is that daddies are never affected as deeply when your child is upset over not going to bed. Currently Big Papi is asleep, snoring and probably dreaming of relations with Angelia Jolie, how nice. I on the other hand have no plans to fall asleep until I know my Caveman is safely asleep.
Forty-five minutes- still crying.
Who decided that kids this age should sleep in their own rooms anyway? Oh I remember dads who want to sleep with their wives. That is one more thing to consider when thinking of adding a caveman or alien to your household, sex. Sometimes if we happen to have a moment where both kids are asleep I know Big Papi would like to have some “sexy time” and I try but the thought of the Caveman walking in freaks me out. So you’re thinking lock the door well the thought of a two year old let loose in the house without any grownups is the most disturbing thing in the world. Do you know what a two year old can do to a house in two minutes if you let it? I’m just going to let your mind wander on that one.
Oh wait- I think I hear something- could it be that he has finally fell asleep.
NO! It’s been an hour now and now he is calling for his Crazy Grandma and the crying is more a screeching.
This whole process is awful by the way, I can see why rich people pay other people to take care of their children because then the nanny has to deal with the screeching “I want” cries.
Now the silence has spread across the house. Has this actually worked- did I finally stand my ground and my Caveman is going to sleep in his cave? Thanks to God and the sandman and whomever else handles sleep. Now I think I’ll go to sleep myself…
Never mind, the Alien just woke up.
After a fun filled evening of touring the Norfolk Botanical Garden’s Christmas lights (the Caveman loves Christmas lights- he calls them pretties. Lately it has been “Oh my goodness look at all my pretties!”). We came home and the Alien was completely knocked out so I brought the Caveman into his room, changed him into pajamas and then let him pick out a book. Then I put him into the bed and all hell broke loose.
The heavy breathing tipped me off that this was not going to be easy. Like a volcano about to explode, the Caveman built up to the biggest cry I have ever heard, with one little tear falling onto his face. He was horrified that I would actually send him to bed in his own room. I sat with him as he cried, pleading mommy let me sleep where I like. After ten minutes I kissed my crying baby and told him goodnight.
Currently a half hour later he is still screaming his eyes out.
Before becoming a parent I would catch that “Super Nanny” show and wonder how those idiotic parents got to the point that they needed the help of a reality show nanny. Come on, how hard could it be to get a two year old to bed?
Ignorance is bliss- a parent of a two year old who refuses to sleep in his own bed said this.
When you long to be a parent you only see the fun things never the long nights, the constant contact with bodily fluids, or the sheer torture of endless singing of “Skinnamrink.” While I was pregnant with the Caveman I had visions of cookie making, little league and school plays dancing in my head. No one or thing can prepare you for the challenge of disciplining your child for saying a bad word while trying not to laugh at the sheer hilarity of a tiny voice saying “oh s***.”
It’s been forty minutes and he is still at it.
The other thing no one tells expectant mommies is that daddies are never affected as deeply when your child is upset over not going to bed. Currently Big Papi is asleep, snoring and probably dreaming of relations with Angelia Jolie, how nice. I on the other hand have no plans to fall asleep until I know my Caveman is safely asleep.
Forty-five minutes- still crying.
Who decided that kids this age should sleep in their own rooms anyway? Oh I remember dads who want to sleep with their wives. That is one more thing to consider when thinking of adding a caveman or alien to your household, sex. Sometimes if we happen to have a moment where both kids are asleep I know Big Papi would like to have some “sexy time” and I try but the thought of the Caveman walking in freaks me out. So you’re thinking lock the door well the thought of a two year old let loose in the house without any grownups is the most disturbing thing in the world. Do you know what a two year old can do to a house in two minutes if you let it? I’m just going to let your mind wander on that one.
Oh wait- I think I hear something- could it be that he has finally fell asleep.
NO! It’s been an hour now and now he is calling for his Crazy Grandma and the crying is more a screeching.
This whole process is awful by the way, I can see why rich people pay other people to take care of their children because then the nanny has to deal with the screeching “I want” cries.
Now the silence has spread across the house. Has this actually worked- did I finally stand my ground and my Caveman is going to sleep in his cave? Thanks to God and the sandman and whomever else handles sleep. Now I think I’ll go to sleep myself…
Never mind, the Alien just woke up.
Finally a real decision
I have made a major decision. I am going for the big girl degree from UVa in the fall- and I am so excited. For those who know me this has been a journey since I was 14 to get to this point. When I announced my decision to my family my step father, UVa alum, said “this time you’re ready.”
This made me think, are we ever ready for what life throws at us? A year ago, while I was barely pregnant with the Alien if you had told me I would be a full time student and a writer I would have laughed. Then if you added that I could be attending UVa I would have called you a liar and cruel.
For me the biggest regret in my life was not going to UVa the first time. Like my step dad said, I wasn’t ready. I had the grades, but not the attitude or the drive to make it. Now at almost 30 I am trying for the right reasons.
I realize I could attend a very good local college, a college where I could train in specific writing to make me more marketable. That isn’t what I want, I want to be a Wahoo; I want to walk the lawn. I want no regrets in my life, so come August- if I keep getting the grades I’m getting I’ll be an official Wahoo! Now if only I could get the Caveman to pee-pee in his potty, then life will be perfect.
This made me think, are we ever ready for what life throws at us? A year ago, while I was barely pregnant with the Alien if you had told me I would be a full time student and a writer I would have laughed. Then if you added that I could be attending UVa I would have called you a liar and cruel.
For me the biggest regret in my life was not going to UVa the first time. Like my step dad said, I wasn’t ready. I had the grades, but not the attitude or the drive to make it. Now at almost 30 I am trying for the right reasons.
I realize I could attend a very good local college, a college where I could train in specific writing to make me more marketable. That isn’t what I want, I want to be a Wahoo; I want to walk the lawn. I want no regrets in my life, so come August- if I keep getting the grades I’m getting I’ll be an official Wahoo! Now if only I could get the Caveman to pee-pee in his potty, then life will be perfect.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
The way the cookie crumbles
I love to bake.
There is nothing better than taking recipe for cookies or cake and actually accomplishing something crave-able.
I have perfectly perfected my chocolate chip recipe: the secret is to let the dough rest for 24 hours in a fridge and then bake them. The other major secret is to cool on the sheet on a cooling rack for 1 minute and then get the cookies off the baking sheet onto the cooling rack by themselves. If you don’t do this then the cookies will continue to cook and will not remain chewy.
I am getting better with cupcakes- I’m not into baking a whole cake, maybe when the kids are older. Also I can do bread when I am patient and have good yeast- one Thanksgiving the yeast was old, though I had just purchased it that week, and it never reacted to the sugar and flour to rise the bread.
Also I am working on my macaroons- I think they are almost perfection. I love to dip mine in chocolate because chocolate and coconut is yummy.
My fudge is smooth and creamy- though I realize that there is no baking involved but still.
So after doing all these things- why can’t I make sugar cookies?
Seriously every Christmas I try various recipes and techniques to make a delicious and decorated cookie to give to people for the Holiday season. Alas every year they never work. Completely frustrating the entire process becomes. Even the pre-maid sugar cookie dough doesn’t work for me.
I think this happens a lot in our lives. There are always things you wish you could do but just can’t for various reasons. I would love to be able to quote passages from books- but I have never been able to remember the exact line. Even my favorite book, The Great Gatsby’s famous green light line I can remember exactly. I am a terrible speller without a spell check (seriously how did the world exist before spell check, and yes I know what a dictionary is thanks.) My house never stays clean and I am a really bad stay-at-home mommy. I never know when to stop a conversation; I think people find it annoying.
All of these things are minor in the large scheme of life, but it is still frustrating when something that other people do so well, so easily is something that eludes you. Like that girl you know who always looks amazing- she gets the shoes and the hair and the jewelry right on. Those people frustrate me.
In our culture of practice makes perfect when does it comes to the point where you realize no matter how many time you try something it will never work out? I could probably make every sugar cookie recipe on the planet but it will never been quite right. Is it this moment that I realize I can quit trying to make sugar cookies and move on to oatmeal? Or do I keep going towards the goal of a perfect cookie?
This cookie metaphor mirrors what is going on in my decision making about my upcoming bachelor’s degree. I realize that I am getting my associates in August but I really need to decide quickly because I have to actually apply to schools and also financial aid. It is becoming a real obsession because I don’t want to make the wrong decision. I actually spoke to one of my pastors yesterday about my concerns. He told me I could make no wrong decision about this I just have to make one. Other people I have told me I should go where my passion is.
I’ll keep everyone informed. It seems like such a silly problem with so many in our world right now.
There is nothing better than taking recipe for cookies or cake and actually accomplishing something crave-able.
I have perfectly perfected my chocolate chip recipe: the secret is to let the dough rest for 24 hours in a fridge and then bake them. The other major secret is to cool on the sheet on a cooling rack for 1 minute and then get the cookies off the baking sheet onto the cooling rack by themselves. If you don’t do this then the cookies will continue to cook and will not remain chewy.
I am getting better with cupcakes- I’m not into baking a whole cake, maybe when the kids are older. Also I can do bread when I am patient and have good yeast- one Thanksgiving the yeast was old, though I had just purchased it that week, and it never reacted to the sugar and flour to rise the bread.
Also I am working on my macaroons- I think they are almost perfection. I love to dip mine in chocolate because chocolate and coconut is yummy.
My fudge is smooth and creamy- though I realize that there is no baking involved but still.
So after doing all these things- why can’t I make sugar cookies?
Seriously every Christmas I try various recipes and techniques to make a delicious and decorated cookie to give to people for the Holiday season. Alas every year they never work. Completely frustrating the entire process becomes. Even the pre-maid sugar cookie dough doesn’t work for me.
I think this happens a lot in our lives. There are always things you wish you could do but just can’t for various reasons. I would love to be able to quote passages from books- but I have never been able to remember the exact line. Even my favorite book, The Great Gatsby’s famous green light line I can remember exactly. I am a terrible speller without a spell check (seriously how did the world exist before spell check, and yes I know what a dictionary is thanks.) My house never stays clean and I am a really bad stay-at-home mommy. I never know when to stop a conversation; I think people find it annoying.
All of these things are minor in the large scheme of life, but it is still frustrating when something that other people do so well, so easily is something that eludes you. Like that girl you know who always looks amazing- she gets the shoes and the hair and the jewelry right on. Those people frustrate me.
In our culture of practice makes perfect when does it comes to the point where you realize no matter how many time you try something it will never work out? I could probably make every sugar cookie recipe on the planet but it will never been quite right. Is it this moment that I realize I can quit trying to make sugar cookies and move on to oatmeal? Or do I keep going towards the goal of a perfect cookie?
This cookie metaphor mirrors what is going on in my decision making about my upcoming bachelor’s degree. I realize that I am getting my associates in August but I really need to decide quickly because I have to actually apply to schools and also financial aid. It is becoming a real obsession because I don’t want to make the wrong decision. I actually spoke to one of my pastors yesterday about my concerns. He told me I could make no wrong decision about this I just have to make one. Other people I have told me I should go where my passion is.
I’ll keep everyone informed. It seems like such a silly problem with so many in our world right now.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Getting what you want
The end of my first semester happened this week and overall I did really well- four As and one F. The F was because I was silly thinking I could take economics online- I don’t recommend that. Yet even with that F I still have a 3.15 GPA, not bad at all.
I have already signed up for classes next semester, 18 credits (yikes). The majority of those are subjects that I am really looking forward to dive in: yoga, US government, and the second section of US history. Also on my plate in college algebra (yuck) the second section of biology (there are body parts involved in this section not exactly looking forward to the lab) and retaking economics (in a classroom this time).
I realize with my budding writing career, my two children and marriage that I am asking a lot of myself. This college experience is all about me, a strange place to be in because for 28 years I have done everything for someone else.
The path towards college this time started because I wanted to prove to my children you should finish what you start, but now I know that I am really doing it because want to finish. I started down the path of a college degree 10 years ago, a path towards something I thought I wanted in a place I did not want to be. My college experience this semester has been a joy and a stress but it has been mine. When I am on campus, I am not a mommy but an actual person. My ideas and thoughts are valued and I am challenging my mind.
I will complete my associates in social sciences in August- but after that I still haven’t decided. I could attend a local college and get done as quickly as possible- or I could get a degree from the school I have been in love with since I was 14. My dream was to attend this one school and I actually have a chance to accomplish this.
So why am I so afraid of actually getting what I want?
I have already signed up for classes next semester, 18 credits (yikes). The majority of those are subjects that I am really looking forward to dive in: yoga, US government, and the second section of US history. Also on my plate in college algebra (yuck) the second section of biology (there are body parts involved in this section not exactly looking forward to the lab) and retaking economics (in a classroom this time).
I realize with my budding writing career, my two children and marriage that I am asking a lot of myself. This college experience is all about me, a strange place to be in because for 28 years I have done everything for someone else.
The path towards college this time started because I wanted to prove to my children you should finish what you start, but now I know that I am really doing it because want to finish. I started down the path of a college degree 10 years ago, a path towards something I thought I wanted in a place I did not want to be. My college experience this semester has been a joy and a stress but it has been mine. When I am on campus, I am not a mommy but an actual person. My ideas and thoughts are valued and I am challenging my mind.
I will complete my associates in social sciences in August- but after that I still haven’t decided. I could attend a local college and get done as quickly as possible- or I could get a degree from the school I have been in love with since I was 14. My dream was to attend this one school and I actually have a chance to accomplish this.
So why am I so afraid of actually getting what I want?
Monday, December 15, 2008
What to do when the Caveman refuses his cave
So the Caveman has decided that he would rather sleep in the Man Room and not in his cave. His cave is adorably decorated by the Crazy Grandma, the theme is all little things little boy with trucks and animals. I believe it is a wonderful room for the Caveman to spend his nights.
Yet the Caveman refuses to sleep there! Somehow he has gotten into the habit of sleeping on the couch in the man room, and I realize that it was Big Papi and I who started it but still I want him to sleep in his room so that Big Papi can sleep with my in our bedroom. The whole situation started because the Alien slept with Big Papi in the Man Room simply because she was waking up in the middle of the night to drink a bottle. Big Papi seems to be able to sleep a few hours and still function while I am a nightmare if I do not get my eight hours.
The Caveman used to sleep in his room- but I think he realizes that nighttime can be scary and that the Alien was getting a lot of attention at night. So why not join in the party in the Man Room. We would let the Caveman fall asleep on the couch, but he started to wake up when we moved him. Now if we even mention the word bed the following conversation happens:
“Caveman would you like to sleep in your bed?”
“No, couch”
“But your bed is so nice, let’s try mommy will stay with you until you fall asleep.”
“NO! Couch, tv, daddy!”
I then proceed to pick up the Caveman who proceeds to scream with all his might (I swear the neighbors must think we are abusing him) and kick as I try to move him into his room. When I place him on the bed, he reaches up to me “Mommy up, I want up!” It just breaks my heart.
This whole situation reminds me that there are no perfect parents. Before I had my own children, when I would catch a talk show about spoiled children I would just think the parents should stand up to their child. Yet, when you are the parent and your baby is crying hysterically because all he wants is to sleep where you are I challenge any parent to stand up to that.
I worry that James and I will never be in bed together again, but I also worry that my child is in need of some mommy time because this all started when I went back to work. I guess this is the constant challenge of mommies, the need to be all to everyone- a sexy woman to your husband, while wearing baby throw up- a teacher and role model to your children- and not to mention the pressure to leave the house with makeup on and a clean outfit- there are days where I simply amaze myself that I made it that far.
Someday, when the Caveman is all grown up, maybe in a cave of his own, I’ll reach out for the little hand and realize that my little guy is a grown up. That is the real reason I am not fighting harder to get the Caveman or the Alien in their own beds. Society today demands that our children act more sophisticated and worldly; I just want my little ones to stay little and silly for as long as possible. So maybe mommy is being silly but I have no problem sharing my cave with my Caveman.
Yet the Caveman refuses to sleep there! Somehow he has gotten into the habit of sleeping on the couch in the man room, and I realize that it was Big Papi and I who started it but still I want him to sleep in his room so that Big Papi can sleep with my in our bedroom. The whole situation started because the Alien slept with Big Papi in the Man Room simply because she was waking up in the middle of the night to drink a bottle. Big Papi seems to be able to sleep a few hours and still function while I am a nightmare if I do not get my eight hours.
The Caveman used to sleep in his room- but I think he realizes that nighttime can be scary and that the Alien was getting a lot of attention at night. So why not join in the party in the Man Room. We would let the Caveman fall asleep on the couch, but he started to wake up when we moved him. Now if we even mention the word bed the following conversation happens:
“Caveman would you like to sleep in your bed?”
“No, couch”
“But your bed is so nice, let’s try mommy will stay with you until you fall asleep.”
“NO! Couch, tv, daddy!”
I then proceed to pick up the Caveman who proceeds to scream with all his might (I swear the neighbors must think we are abusing him) and kick as I try to move him into his room. When I place him on the bed, he reaches up to me “Mommy up, I want up!” It just breaks my heart.
This whole situation reminds me that there are no perfect parents. Before I had my own children, when I would catch a talk show about spoiled children I would just think the parents should stand up to their child. Yet, when you are the parent and your baby is crying hysterically because all he wants is to sleep where you are I challenge any parent to stand up to that.
I worry that James and I will never be in bed together again, but I also worry that my child is in need of some mommy time because this all started when I went back to work. I guess this is the constant challenge of mommies, the need to be all to everyone- a sexy woman to your husband, while wearing baby throw up- a teacher and role model to your children- and not to mention the pressure to leave the house with makeup on and a clean outfit- there are days where I simply amaze myself that I made it that far.
Someday, when the Caveman is all grown up, maybe in a cave of his own, I’ll reach out for the little hand and realize that my little guy is a grown up. That is the real reason I am not fighting harder to get the Caveman or the Alien in their own beds. Society today demands that our children act more sophisticated and worldly; I just want my little ones to stay little and silly for as long as possible. So maybe mommy is being silly but I have no problem sharing my cave with my Caveman.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The re-brith of R
The Alien is getting baptized tomorrow. There are times when I find the whole notion of baptism strange to do for a baby- I have always felt that baptism is a rite of rebirth and acceptance that you choose to follow the Christian faith. Yet in my newly adopted Lutheran faith, baptism is a necessity for salvation and it is something a parent has done to their child. Big Papi and I had the Caveman baptized after debating it for almost a year, with a lot of pressure from Crazy Grandma (my mother) to get it done already.
There is something special about knowing that the church I was married in is also the church that my children are growing roots in. My younger sister, R, also had roots in this church and will be the Alien’s godmother. R has had a rough year, and right now she is going through a re-birth herself.
It is hard to see someone you love go through not only one hard time but over and over again get knock down by life. In one year R has been laid off from her job, been in a major car accident, and is just now getting out of a very abusive relationship. The hardest thing for me as an older sister is I had no idea that R’s girlfriend (yes she’s gay folks it isn’t a big deal) was threatening R, wanting to know where she was at all times. Finally the relationship turned violent and R seemed to wake up and realize that this isn’t love.
But, the one thing I have discovered as a love one of a domestic violence survivor is that it is the months after the end of the relationship, where the bad memories start to become fuzzy and the happy memories shine like beams of light. In those months the abuser often pops in or the victim reaches out. In the months following the last episode, the incident which was so bad that it finally prompted the victim to leave, starts to fade.
My hope for my sister is that she realizes in the next months that this relationship was not based on love, but on fear. Fear does funny things to people, but to her abuser, Rs independence represented that R could leave at any time. The abuser is too insecure to realize that to plant a beautiful garden you can only till so much.
To R, who tomorrow accepts an enormous responsibility to guide my daughter, especially at times I cannot I hope that the Alien’s baptism reminds her that she is now facing a re-birth, and that I am rooting for her.
There is something special about knowing that the church I was married in is also the church that my children are growing roots in. My younger sister, R, also had roots in this church and will be the Alien’s godmother. R has had a rough year, and right now she is going through a re-birth herself.
It is hard to see someone you love go through not only one hard time but over and over again get knock down by life. In one year R has been laid off from her job, been in a major car accident, and is just now getting out of a very abusive relationship. The hardest thing for me as an older sister is I had no idea that R’s girlfriend (yes she’s gay folks it isn’t a big deal) was threatening R, wanting to know where she was at all times. Finally the relationship turned violent and R seemed to wake up and realize that this isn’t love.
But, the one thing I have discovered as a love one of a domestic violence survivor is that it is the months after the end of the relationship, where the bad memories start to become fuzzy and the happy memories shine like beams of light. In those months the abuser often pops in or the victim reaches out. In the months following the last episode, the incident which was so bad that it finally prompted the victim to leave, starts to fade.
My hope for my sister is that she realizes in the next months that this relationship was not based on love, but on fear. Fear does funny things to people, but to her abuser, Rs independence represented that R could leave at any time. The abuser is too insecure to realize that to plant a beautiful garden you can only till so much.
To R, who tomorrow accepts an enormous responsibility to guide my daughter, especially at times I cannot I hope that the Alien’s baptism reminds her that she is now facing a re-birth, and that I am rooting for her.
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