I've packed it around since we left your very first home just three years ago. That big bin stuffed so tightly with your tiny baby things. Your first clothes, the hospital issue hat, onesie and blanket. The outfit you wore home that, even in a newborn size was much too big for you. The outfit you wore for seven week pictures; that was the day I just had to get out of the house so we made quick work of an Off Fifth stop and walk-in Target photo shoot before you needed another feeding. The toy that hung from your carrier that you fell in love with; you would chew the tail incessantly...he was really your first Woobie. It was all there. Folded carefully and neatly with every memory intact. I had never gone through it all before but today I decided to sit down with it, to go through each piece one by one, and to remember your first hours, days and months. I've kept less of your clothing since then. Likely because you're messier now. You're all boy as they say and well, things just don't last the same as they did when you spent your days sleeping and swinging. And the memories are different. These days I keep your drawings. I make a mental note to keep that favorite toy. I write down the funny, innocent, sweet things you say. Those are the things I hold on to today.
Ironically today was also about letting go, yet again. Today, Memorial Day 2012, you broke free of my grasp. Without reservation you jumped into that pool and you swam your little heart out to prove to everyone watching that you are a big boy. You, too can swim. You, too can jump from a diving board. You kicked and paddled and with sheer determination you made it to the other side. The look of pride on your face was one I won't soon forget. My heart exploded. Later, you swam up to Daddy and me, your face pure sunshine and happiness and you said, "I have been dreaming of this my WHOLE life!" We laughed together at your excitement and then you were off again...
Sweet boy, I didn't know what I was in for on the day we met but I could never have dreamed this big.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
He's Just a Baby
Holding him tight and letting him go...that's the balancing act I find myself doing these days. I didn't know it would happen so soon. No one told me I'd one day have to let my four year old make decisions for himself. I thought that came later...much later.
This is all coming from a parenting class I started attending about a month ago...Love and Logic. The ideas make so much sense; let his problems be his problems, let him make decisions, hope he makes the wrong decision, guide him more like a consultant and less like a dictator, shower him with empathy and let the natural consequence be the teacher. It sounds simple and right in theory. My mind is split between "He's just a baby" and "He can play Angry Birds better than you...he's more capable than you think!"
I wonder how little I know of his capabilities because I get in the way of allowing him to do and be. I wonder how many opportunities to challenge him have slipped by due to my own reservations, assumptions and low expectations. I wonder how much of it has to do with me wanting to keep him little. Actually I know the answer to that one.
The power that my influence, opinion, advice and methods have on shaping his being is mind blowing. Or is it the responsibility I have to him that is so overwhelming? It is my greatest obligation that he grow to be a self-sufficient, confident and thoughtful person.
So here we go. Preparation for the Big Bad World has begun and it looks like this. "Evan, breakfast is served until 7:45." That day I actually threw away his breakfast because he chose to play rather than eat. "Evan, the car leaves at 8:45." That day we left without shoes and he was forced to walk into the gym in only his socks.
It sounds so harsh (and on both those occasions it has almost killed me to have to follow through) but what I know for sure is that he gets it. He knows the decisions he should be making...it's just that he doesn't care because he's never had to. Choosing to not put on his shoes was more my problem than his...but walking across rocks in only socks has shown him that his poor choices are, in fact, his problem.
One of the other pluses is that I'm less of a nag. I try to cover my urge to control the situation with aloofness. And I remind myself that I am giving him a gift in every wrong decision he makes.
This is all coming from a parenting class I started attending about a month ago...Love and Logic. The ideas make so much sense; let his problems be his problems, let him make decisions, hope he makes the wrong decision, guide him more like a consultant and less like a dictator, shower him with empathy and let the natural consequence be the teacher. It sounds simple and right in theory. My mind is split between "He's just a baby" and "He can play Angry Birds better than you...he's more capable than you think!"
I wonder how little I know of his capabilities because I get in the way of allowing him to do and be. I wonder how many opportunities to challenge him have slipped by due to my own reservations, assumptions and low expectations. I wonder how much of it has to do with me wanting to keep him little. Actually I know the answer to that one.
The power that my influence, opinion, advice and methods have on shaping his being is mind blowing. Or is it the responsibility I have to him that is so overwhelming? It is my greatest obligation that he grow to be a self-sufficient, confident and thoughtful person.
So here we go. Preparation for the Big Bad World has begun and it looks like this. "Evan, breakfast is served until 7:45." That day I actually threw away his breakfast because he chose to play rather than eat. "Evan, the car leaves at 8:45." That day we left without shoes and he was forced to walk into the gym in only his socks.
It sounds so harsh (and on both those occasions it has almost killed me to have to follow through) but what I know for sure is that he gets it. He knows the decisions he should be making...it's just that he doesn't care because he's never had to. Choosing to not put on his shoes was more my problem than his...but walking across rocks in only socks has shown him that his poor choices are, in fact, his problem.
One of the other pluses is that I'm less of a nag. I try to cover my urge to control the situation with aloofness. And I remind myself that I am giving him a gift in every wrong decision he makes.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Irony of a Day
There are two things no one ever told me before I became a parent; the horrific after effects of childbirth (and I'll just leave that right there) and the fact that parenting is, at times, an excrutiatingly tough job. Excrutiating, I say!
Take yesterday for example. Drop off at school was painful; clinging to my legs like a 2 year old. Yes, Mrs. Teacher, I know I should "just go" but I'm having a hard time peeling this 44 pound kid off my body! I was considerably bummed for the rest of the morning, convinced he was going to have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Turns out he had a great day and all was right with the world again. Then he hit a kid on the playground. It's so hard to go from a happy, we're going to have a great afternoon high to the disciplining mean guy in 10 seconds flat. Cue immediate exit from the playground. Then punishment. Then having to tell Daddy himself why he was in trouble. Then more tears. Total downer.
We filled the first three hours of the quiet afternoon with lunch, hotwheel car races and block towers. And then I had the idea to make some play-doh so that I could hopefully get a little down time to make dinner. So there we were in the kitchen together, dinner on the stove, music playing and Evan sitting on the counter making "cake ball pops" with his purple play-doh...for almost THREE hours. It was some of the best time we've spent together in a while...oh the irony of a day of punishment turning into a cherished memory.
Later in the quiet of night I settled in to read a blog post sent by my much wiser friend, K. A commenter to that post said it best, "We need love the most when we deserve it the least."
Take yesterday for example. Drop off at school was painful; clinging to my legs like a 2 year old. Yes, Mrs. Teacher, I know I should "just go" but I'm having a hard time peeling this 44 pound kid off my body! I was considerably bummed for the rest of the morning, convinced he was going to have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Turns out he had a great day and all was right with the world again. Then he hit a kid on the playground. It's so hard to go from a happy, we're going to have a great afternoon high to the disciplining mean guy in 10 seconds flat. Cue immediate exit from the playground. Then punishment. Then having to tell Daddy himself why he was in trouble. Then more tears. Total downer.
We filled the first three hours of the quiet afternoon with lunch, hotwheel car races and block towers. And then I had the idea to make some play-doh so that I could hopefully get a little down time to make dinner. So there we were in the kitchen together, dinner on the stove, music playing and Evan sitting on the counter making "cake ball pops" with his purple play-doh...for almost THREE hours. It was some of the best time we've spent together in a while...oh the irony of a day of punishment turning into a cherished memory.
Later in the quiet of night I settled in to read a blog post sent by my much wiser friend, K. A commenter to that post said it best, "We need love the most when we deserve it the least."
Evan next to his "oven" where his cake balls are baking...
The finished product...yummy!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Because You're Big Now
Our Little Guy...
Tonight you lie your little head down a brand spanking new four year old. It's been four years since I could hold your whole body on my shoulder. Amazing how that happens...
It won't be long before you're taking my car keys and asking for gas money, not long at all. But today, today you spontaneously told me, "Mommy, I love you." Today your favorite color is blue. Today Lightning McQueen is your hero. Today there was no music but you danced on the countertop anyway. You made voices for your balloon and had a conversation in the back seat. You hugged your new best friend goodbye at school. Today you pulled your socks as high as they would go "because I'm big now". You buckled yourself into your carseat. Today we read books about cars and jets, because those are your favorites. Today you fell asleep on the couch because you don't take naps anymore and you were exhausted. You lined up 23 cars in the bath tub; I know because you insisted I listen to you count them. Today you were my waiter at the playground and you served me a cheeseburger, fries and a "dolt coke". Today you got mad and told me you'd never play with me again. Today you made me walk behind you because you wanted to be in the lead. You held the door for others today; you waved as strangers drove past you on the sidewalk. Today you picked up rocks to "add to the collection". Today you gobbed too much toothpaste on your toothbrush, insisting you could do it all by yourself. You reminded me at bedtime, as you do every single night, that "after your shower I'm going to go potty and after I go potty I'm going to get a little drink of milk." Today you made sure you had all your favorite animals at bedtime; Clifford, Sally, Sparky and Buster. Today you asked me why I always call you baby...
My baby is what you'll always be.
Happy Birthday, Little Guy.
Tonight you lie your little head down a brand spanking new four year old. It's been four years since I could hold your whole body on my shoulder. Amazing how that happens...
It won't be long before you're taking my car keys and asking for gas money, not long at all. But today, today you spontaneously told me, "Mommy, I love you." Today your favorite color is blue. Today Lightning McQueen is your hero. Today there was no music but you danced on the countertop anyway. You made voices for your balloon and had a conversation in the back seat. You hugged your new best friend goodbye at school. Today you pulled your socks as high as they would go "because I'm big now". You buckled yourself into your carseat. Today we read books about cars and jets, because those are your favorites. Today you fell asleep on the couch because you don't take naps anymore and you were exhausted. You lined up 23 cars in the bath tub; I know because you insisted I listen to you count them. Today you were my waiter at the playground and you served me a cheeseburger, fries and a "dolt coke". Today you got mad and told me you'd never play with me again. Today you made me walk behind you because you wanted to be in the lead. You held the door for others today; you waved as strangers drove past you on the sidewalk. Today you picked up rocks to "add to the collection". Today you gobbed too much toothpaste on your toothbrush, insisting you could do it all by yourself. You reminded me at bedtime, as you do every single night, that "after your shower I'm going to go potty and after I go potty I'm going to get a little drink of milk." Today you made sure you had all your favorite animals at bedtime; Clifford, Sally, Sparky and Buster. Today you asked me why I always call you baby...
My baby is what you'll always be.
Happy Birthday, Little Guy.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The 4th One
Today is Scott's 4th Father's Day. It's crazy to think the little guy has been in our lives for only 4 short years. Time is going by so quickly that I literally do have days where I wish I could bottle his sweet smile, chuckle, voice....all of it. And of course there are days where I wish I could screw the lid to that bottle tightly so as not to hear another peep! :) It comes with the territory and I know I'm not alone.
We celebrated Daddy Day at last night's San Antonio Missions baseball game with three of Evan's little friends and their parents. Four three year old boys, half of whom had naps prior to the 7pm game, with enough energy to light the stadium! Once the excitement of Ballpeno, Henry the Puffy Taco and the Kentucky Fried Chicken started to wear off (around the 3rd inning), the mommies hiked the kiddos over to the playground where they could jump on inflatable bouncers and slides to their heart's content. An especially sweet moment came when two older kids high-fived Evan with expressions of "Good job, Little Buddy" when he made one of three baseballs into the cut-out target. He was beaming with pride...I think my heart swelled a bit more.
Just around 9:30, after watching Henry the Puffy Taco lose one more race around the bases (can Puffy Taco ever win?) when the whining hit a fever pitch (heh), we decided to call it a night. Evan was tuckered out by 10:30 when he crawled into bed. I crossed my fingers for a late morning...maybe I should have done my toes, too.
We celebrated Daddy Day at last night's San Antonio Missions baseball game with three of Evan's little friends and their parents. Four three year old boys, half of whom had naps prior to the 7pm game, with enough energy to light the stadium! Once the excitement of Ballpeno, Henry the Puffy Taco and the Kentucky Fried Chicken started to wear off (around the 3rd inning), the mommies hiked the kiddos over to the playground where they could jump on inflatable bouncers and slides to their heart's content. An especially sweet moment came when two older kids high-fived Evan with expressions of "Good job, Little Buddy" when he made one of three baseballs into the cut-out target. He was beaming with pride...I think my heart swelled a bit more.
Just around 9:30, after watching Henry the Puffy Taco lose one more race around the bases (can Puffy Taco ever win?) when the whining hit a fever pitch (heh), we decided to call it a night. Evan was tuckered out by 10:30 when he crawled into bed. I crossed my fingers for a late morning...maybe I should have done my toes, too.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Full-Blown Overload
Here it is almost mid-March and the goal I had of blogging at least twice a month has easily fallen by the way side. Wayside or way side? Hmmm...
In any event, I have found myself in the throes of full-blown overload. Learning we were moving after only two short years back in Texas feels like it was a lifetime ago...that was in January. While I knew we had better get moving on the "to-do" list, I did also feel like we had the proverbial "plenty of time". I'm not feeling that so much these days. On the short list:
1) Work Monday - Wednesday this week (what tha?)
2) Meet the professional house-staging woman on Thursday (which adds more to the list such as Dust Fans, Vaccuum, Make Sure Dirty Underwear and Socks Are Not In View)
3) Bon Jovi concert that same night (cue the list for the babysitter)
4) Squeeze in a play date on Friday (K, L, M - any takers??)
5) Pick up Scott at airport on Saturday (Hallelujah! Did I mention I've been single-parenting it for a week now?)
6) Date night Saturday night (you know, the day before our free meal coupon expires)
7) Flower bed maintenance on Sunday (buyers and their need for curb appeal - bleh)
8) Prepare for garage sale the following weekend
Add to that the fact that the house has been a virtual disaster since Scott left - something in me reverts back to being a sloppy teenager when he's not looking! - so I feel like I'm constantly picking up here and leaving messes there, never really making any meaningful progress. I mean what am I supposed to do when Evan explains that all 82 Hotwheels must stay in the center of the living room facing a turned-over bucket because "they are watching a movie and it's not done yet"? I'll tell you what I did - I left them right there because I didn't have it in me to start the following day with a pre-schooler melt down over why, WHYYY, his cars were moved.
Oh, and my friend-who-runs-crazy-distances-and-enjoys-it turned me on to logging my food intake. I'm not truly dieting but I thought it might be interesting to actually pay attention to what goes into my mouth, no matter what it is. So I took a stab at it yesterday and well, it's just downright embarassing. The calories weren't terrible per se...but the 87 fat grams - holy cow. I mean I knew a red velvet cupcake, hotdog and Sonic burger weren't great choices but EIGHTY SEVEN fat grams...Let's just say I've been more thoughtful about my choices today and I may have even enjoyed a few apple slices - that's right - FRUIT! I even got all dressed and psyched up for a one hour stair climb session at the gym but - woe is me - the childcare didn't open until one today and, well, that just doesn't work for us so I skipped. And I'm terribly sad about it, too.
Here's hoping for a quick week, even if it does include my teen love, Jon Bon Jovi...
In any event, I have found myself in the throes of full-blown overload. Learning we were moving after only two short years back in Texas feels like it was a lifetime ago...that was in January. While I knew we had better get moving on the "to-do" list, I did also feel like we had the proverbial "plenty of time". I'm not feeling that so much these days. On the short list:
1) Work Monday - Wednesday this week (what tha?)
2) Meet the professional house-staging woman on Thursday (which adds more to the list such as Dust Fans, Vaccuum, Make Sure Dirty Underwear and Socks Are Not In View)
3) Bon Jovi concert that same night (cue the list for the babysitter)
4) Squeeze in a play date on Friday (K, L, M - any takers??)
5) Pick up Scott at airport on Saturday (Hallelujah! Did I mention I've been single-parenting it for a week now?)
6) Date night Saturday night (you know, the day before our free meal coupon expires)
7) Flower bed maintenance on Sunday (buyers and their need for curb appeal - bleh)
8) Prepare for garage sale the following weekend
Add to that the fact that the house has been a virtual disaster since Scott left - something in me reverts back to being a sloppy teenager when he's not looking! - so I feel like I'm constantly picking up here and leaving messes there, never really making any meaningful progress. I mean what am I supposed to do when Evan explains that all 82 Hotwheels must stay in the center of the living room facing a turned-over bucket because "they are watching a movie and it's not done yet"? I'll tell you what I did - I left them right there because I didn't have it in me to start the following day with a pre-schooler melt down over why, WHYYY, his cars were moved.
Oh, and my friend-who-runs-crazy-distances-and-enjoys-it turned me on to logging my food intake. I'm not truly dieting but I thought it might be interesting to actually pay attention to what goes into my mouth, no matter what it is. So I took a stab at it yesterday and well, it's just downright embarassing. The calories weren't terrible per se...but the 87 fat grams - holy cow. I mean I knew a red velvet cupcake, hotdog and Sonic burger weren't great choices but EIGHTY SEVEN fat grams...Let's just say I've been more thoughtful about my choices today and I may have even enjoyed a few apple slices - that's right - FRUIT! I even got all dressed and psyched up for a one hour stair climb session at the gym but - woe is me - the childcare didn't open until one today and, well, that just doesn't work for us so I skipped. And I'm terribly sad about it, too.
Here's hoping for a quick week, even if it does include my teen love, Jon Bon Jovi...
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
'Tis The Season
I shouldn't be surprised. I've dealt with this my entire life. A couple of sneezy days and I know to head straight to the pollen count; I'm probably allergic. I remember having some trouble last January, enough that I thought ahead and told myself I should take action ahead of time next time this happens!
I didn't. Misery soon followed.
Not only did the Cedar Pollen blow in and make a mess of my sinuses but it also did quite a number on little Evan's upper respiratory system. It didn't take long to research; the first five days of this year's season were worse than last year's altogether. I knew immediately it was going to be a long battle.
I thought I would tackle it on my own. After several trips to Walgreens and Target and about $50.00 spent on various over the counter meds (well, kind of but try buying two boxes of Claritin-D at a time - I felt like a criminal - "Really, Ms. Pharmacist, I promise I'm not making meth in my kitchen. Look at my swollen face and red eyes; I NEED MORE THAN 15 PILLS FOR MY VERY OBVIOUS ALLERGIC REACTION!") I was defeated. I woke up one Sunday morning, realized I had lost the battle and headed immediately to the nearest urgent care clinic. One steroid shot, a few prescriptions and a couple days later and I was back to normal.
Then there was poor Evan. The continual runny nose didn't alert me; it seems he always has a drippy faucet of varying pressure. But the cough bothered me. It was dry at first then crackly. So, there we were in Dr. Gideon's parking lot; "But I don't want to see Dr. Gideon. My copping is all better. SEE! *cough, cough*." I fully expected a pat on the shoulder and a "It's just a cold but thanks for coming!" Seconds into listening to his chest she gives me a concerned look, "He's wheezing." After a successful in-office breathing treatment she talked to me about two prescription inhalers she'd be giving us. Huh? I've never used an inhaler and neither has Evan. She talked about some contraption that the inhaler fit in, two puffs, four breaths, make sure he rinses after because it can cause thrush...I was getting dizzy trying to keep it all straight. That, plus a new prescription, Singulair, for ongoing allergy relief. So, we have one inhaler for breathing trouble (Albuterol, which luckily doesn't make Evan crazy!) and one for maintenance through the allergy season. The steroid inhaler makes me nervous; I can't just take him off it when we're done. I'll have to call the doctor to come up with a weaning schedule. See, I'm not great about taking medication - prefer not to at all costs - so for my kiddo to be on something that requires weaning kind of freaks me out. That and the fact that steroids can stunt growth among other things...I try not to make myself crazy with these facts.
A little over a week later and we're on the up and up. My symptoms are virtually gone and Evan's coughing has completely stopped. Granted, we're just coming off several days of rain (aka low pollen days). This week will be the real test as the levels rise to very high again.
I called my mom and tried to blame our problems on her; clearly I inherited it from her along with my spider veins and achy shoulders. She says no even though she seems to have a sinus infection at least once a month. There must be a correlation, right? In any case, Evan certainly got it from me and I'm sure I'll get that same call from him in 30 years. You're welcome, Buddy!
I didn't. Misery soon followed.
Not only did the Cedar Pollen blow in and make a mess of my sinuses but it also did quite a number on little Evan's upper respiratory system. It didn't take long to research; the first five days of this year's season were worse than last year's altogether. I knew immediately it was going to be a long battle.
I thought I would tackle it on my own. After several trips to Walgreens and Target and about $50.00 spent on various over the counter meds (well, kind of but try buying two boxes of Claritin-D at a time - I felt like a criminal - "Really, Ms. Pharmacist, I promise I'm not making meth in my kitchen. Look at my swollen face and red eyes; I NEED MORE THAN 15 PILLS FOR MY VERY OBVIOUS ALLERGIC REACTION!") I was defeated. I woke up one Sunday morning, realized I had lost the battle and headed immediately to the nearest urgent care clinic. One steroid shot, a few prescriptions and a couple days later and I was back to normal.
Then there was poor Evan. The continual runny nose didn't alert me; it seems he always has a drippy faucet of varying pressure. But the cough bothered me. It was dry at first then crackly. So, there we were in Dr. Gideon's parking lot; "But I don't want to see Dr. Gideon. My copping is all better. SEE! *cough, cough*." I fully expected a pat on the shoulder and a "It's just a cold but thanks for coming!" Seconds into listening to his chest she gives me a concerned look, "He's wheezing." After a successful in-office breathing treatment she talked to me about two prescription inhalers she'd be giving us. Huh? I've never used an inhaler and neither has Evan. She talked about some contraption that the inhaler fit in, two puffs, four breaths, make sure he rinses after because it can cause thrush...I was getting dizzy trying to keep it all straight. That, plus a new prescription, Singulair, for ongoing allergy relief. So, we have one inhaler for breathing trouble (Albuterol, which luckily doesn't make Evan crazy!) and one for maintenance through the allergy season. The steroid inhaler makes me nervous; I can't just take him off it when we're done. I'll have to call the doctor to come up with a weaning schedule. See, I'm not great about taking medication - prefer not to at all costs - so for my kiddo to be on something that requires weaning kind of freaks me out. That and the fact that steroids can stunt growth among other things...I try not to make myself crazy with these facts.
A little over a week later and we're on the up and up. My symptoms are virtually gone and Evan's coughing has completely stopped. Granted, we're just coming off several days of rain (aka low pollen days). This week will be the real test as the levels rise to very high again.
I called my mom and tried to blame our problems on her; clearly I inherited it from her along with my spider veins and achy shoulders. She says no even though she seems to have a sinus infection at least once a month. There must be a correlation, right? In any case, Evan certainly got it from me and I'm sure I'll get that same call from him in 30 years. You're welcome, Buddy!
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