Holy moses, you're starting to turn into a little boy right before my very eyes.
You move so fast nowadays! You're all over the place - up, down, across the room, up again. You have been trying to stand on your own, but never last very long. We feed you the same thing we feed ourselves, garlic and all. You've stopped actually getting "tired" and have begun to just go and go and go until we realize it's way past the normal time you typically fall asleep, and we have to put you down.
You sleep so well, you're always smiley and giggly and happy. The favorite part of my day is when I go to pick you up from Lauren's. I love how much you're learning, but I hate how fast you're learning it because it means that time is going too quickly.
I love the face you make when we pick up the baseball. You're starting to really giggle and laugh - big belly laughs! You are ticklish on your neck and love your stuffed drill that vibrates when you pull the cord. You also love anything that isn't really a toy - like our tube of antibiotic ointment, our three-hole-punch and of course, the printer. You still love the printer.
I have so many expectations for this coming summer. I can't wait to take you places, to the park, on walks, to the pool. I can't wait to see you experience all those new things you have no idea are out there yet.
You're so much fun. You react to everything, you tell us when you want more, you tell us when you're done. I love it when I have to work at night and your daddy is watching you, and you crawl over to the ottoman, and then up to me like you want me to play with you. And I always do, because I can't help those little blue eyes looking at me over my computer.
You take everything in stride, and I'm so thankful and lucky. I love being a mom!
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Goodbye SEP
Well, I took a new job. I'm incredibly excited about it and it was a needed change. I feel like I not only got an injection in the arm regarding teaching, but also regarding life. I feel like I'm back to normal.
With my leaving, I'm also leaving all my students that I've formed such awesome relationships with. I will miss them, but like someone wise once said, "Your kids will be your kids anywhere you go. So true."
So here are some things from my facebook posts that I want to keep, but need to clean off in order to become friends with my kids.
People blog all the time about their feelings, right? Isn't that what writing a note on facebook is like? Blogging my feelings?
My dad died tonight. The person who raised me to fight for what I believe in, the person who made me as strong as I am. The person who commanded respect when he walked into the room, not only because he was a huge guy, but because his personality and laughter were contagious. My dad was a wonderful person.
Is it really stupid that I'm afraid to delete his number from my cell phone? It's not that I'm sad to delete it. I'm literally afraid to delete it because that was how I last talked to him. What if I forget that conversation? And why the fuck didn't I tell him I loved him at the end of it?
It was weird coming to the part of someone's death when you get to go into the emergency room and talk to them. I kept thinking he was going to wake up. And the funny part was I didn't feel stupid talking to him at all. I felt like every time I ended my part of the "conversation" he was going to wake up and start in on his part. I made sure to cover his foot when I left because that and his arm were the only things not covered by the blankets. And his head. I didn't want him to be cold.
I guess he just dropped dead in the field he was working in. Which is better than taking the long way out of this world, I suppose. But god damnit, why? I keep looking around my parents' house and seeing all the things that remind me of him. I'm sitting in the stupid, beautiful kitchen he re-did all himself this past year typing on my parents' computer. At 1:43 in the morning. Because everytime I close my eyes, tears come out. When I'm awake and doing something, it's not so easy to cry.
I had my major breakdown in the parking lot of a hotel off Oralabor Road in Ankeny. I knew something was very wrong when my mom called during our Vocal Music meeting to say "Dad went down in a field, he's on his way to the hospital." I called Eric, who was luckily already home, to get things packed, we were heading home as soon as I could get there.
I hadn't heard anything from my mom after about 30 minutes, so I called her. It seemed like we could not drive fast enough. It didn't help we were battling rush hour traffic. She answered, but not really. All I could hear were sobs and then the call was lost. I called again and again, the call was lost. Finally, on the third try (dad, was that you?), a nurse named Barb answered the phone. She asked if I was the daughter. What kind of fucked up question is that? I thought. I answered yes, she asked me where I was. I told her pulling onto I-35 from Des Moines, we'd be there in two hours. She asked if I was driving - I said no, my husband was. Looking back, I see exactly where that was headed. I didn't at the time, I just remember feeling like my heart was going to explode and I might throw up all at the same time. When she told me I needed to pull over, I wanted to smash my fist through the fucking windshield. The only thing I could think of saying to her was, "Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" I felt bad, but I was so mad at her at that moment. So Nurse Barb from the emergency room, if you ever read this, I'm really sorry I swore at you.
Someone else got on the phone and told me I needed to take some deep breaths and calm down. At that moment, it seriously felt like I had a split personality. All of a sudden, a wave of calm came over me and my tears instantly stopped. I knew she was right - if the news was what I had assumed, I was going to have to be there for my family. And that meant NOT being such a basketcase. So Eric finally pulled into the hotel parking lot, I got off the phone with nurse Barb (or whoever it was at that point) and took a deep breath.
When Allan answered the phone, it was like swimming underwater and you can't quite hear everything clearly. I remember asking him how he was doing, I remember nodding my head and grabbing the door handle to step out of the car to have a private moment with my brother who is 1000 miles away. "Allan? Dad just died" were my exact words. I got off the phone with my brother and lost it. I've never known myself to sob like that before. I now truly know the meaning of "sob." And that sucks.
If anyone is reading this (dad, I know you are, so I'm sorry there are so many f-bombs), I hope you realize how much my dad meant to me. We may not have talked often, we may not have said much in each other's company, but I loved him wholly and deeply. I also hope you don't feel sorry for me - my dad wouldn't have wanted that. He would be proud that I'm doing something to get past this. It's going to be a long, tough road, but my dad always said "don't sweat the small stuff. What's the problem with that? It's ALLLL small stuff."
I loved you dad. I hope you know that.
My dad died tonight. The person who raised me to fight for what I believe in, the person who made me as strong as I am. The person who commanded respect when he walked into the room, not only because he was a huge guy, but because his personality and laughter were contagious. My dad was a wonderful person.
Is it really stupid that I'm afraid to delete his number from my cell phone? It's not that I'm sad to delete it. I'm literally afraid to delete it because that was how I last talked to him. What if I forget that conversation? And why the fuck didn't I tell him I loved him at the end of it?
It was weird coming to the part of someone's death when you get to go into the emergency room and talk to them. I kept thinking he was going to wake up. And the funny part was I didn't feel stupid talking to him at all. I felt like every time I ended my part of the "conversation" he was going to wake up and start in on his part. I made sure to cover his foot when I left because that and his arm were the only things not covered by the blankets. And his head. I didn't want him to be cold.
I guess he just dropped dead in the field he was working in. Which is better than taking the long way out of this world, I suppose. But god damnit, why? I keep looking around my parents' house and seeing all the things that remind me of him. I'm sitting in the stupid, beautiful kitchen he re-did all himself this past year typing on my parents' computer. At 1:43 in the morning. Because everytime I close my eyes, tears come out. When I'm awake and doing something, it's not so easy to cry.
I had my major breakdown in the parking lot of a hotel off Oralabor Road in Ankeny. I knew something was very wrong when my mom called during our Vocal Music meeting to say "Dad went down in a field, he's on his way to the hospital." I called Eric, who was luckily already home, to get things packed, we were heading home as soon as I could get there.
I hadn't heard anything from my mom after about 30 minutes, so I called her. It seemed like we could not drive fast enough. It didn't help we were battling rush hour traffic. She answered, but not really. All I could hear were sobs and then the call was lost. I called again and again, the call was lost. Finally, on the third try (dad, was that you?), a nurse named Barb answered the phone. She asked if I was the daughter. What kind of fucked up question is that? I thought. I answered yes, she asked me where I was. I told her pulling onto I-35 from Des Moines, we'd be there in two hours. She asked if I was driving - I said no, my husband was. Looking back, I see exactly where that was headed. I didn't at the time, I just remember feeling like my heart was going to explode and I might throw up all at the same time. When she told me I needed to pull over, I wanted to smash my fist through the fucking windshield. The only thing I could think of saying to her was, "Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" I felt bad, but I was so mad at her at that moment. So Nurse Barb from the emergency room, if you ever read this, I'm really sorry I swore at you.
Someone else got on the phone and told me I needed to take some deep breaths and calm down. At that moment, it seriously felt like I had a split personality. All of a sudden, a wave of calm came over me and my tears instantly stopped. I knew she was right - if the news was what I had assumed, I was going to have to be there for my family. And that meant NOT being such a basketcase. So Eric finally pulled into the hotel parking lot, I got off the phone with nurse Barb (or whoever it was at that point) and took a deep breath.
When Allan answered the phone, it was like swimming underwater and you can't quite hear everything clearly. I remember asking him how he was doing, I remember nodding my head and grabbing the door handle to step out of the car to have a private moment with my brother who is 1000 miles away. "Allan? Dad just died" were my exact words. I got off the phone with my brother and lost it. I've never known myself to sob like that before. I now truly know the meaning of "sob." And that sucks.
If anyone is reading this (dad, I know you are, so I'm sorry there are so many f-bombs), I hope you realize how much my dad meant to me. We may not have talked often, we may not have said much in each other's company, but I loved him wholly and deeply. I also hope you don't feel sorry for me - my dad wouldn't have wanted that. He would be proud that I'm doing something to get past this. It's going to be a long, tough road, but my dad always said "don't sweat the small stuff. What's the problem with that? It's ALLLL small stuff."
I loved you dad. I hope you know that.
And:
Yesterday I needed a baseball bat and something to beat the shit out of. Today I need about 10 shots of Bailey's. Tomorrow I'll probably feel like sky-diving and I hate it when I'm not in control.
The first time I drank Bailey's was with my dad. My grandmother, his mother, had died on my first day of college. He offered me some Bailey's and I said yes. Now I love Bailey's, but rarely drink. However, today would be nice. Just to take the edge off.
Last night, my brother and I looked through my dad's wallet and billfold. He had written a check out to Krieger's Flowers the day before he died. It was to buy my mom flowers for Valentine's Day - to be delivered the day after we bury him. Isn't that crazy? But that's dad - always showing up randomly when you're least expecting it. He did that once when Eric and I lived in the ghetto our first year in Des Moines. Then he left $40 on the endtable and we didn't find it until later that night. Always showing up when you least expect it.
Today is a lot harder than I ever imagined it. We go to the funeral home in less than 2 hours. My mom's mom is coming and my dad's brother, Steve. Steve's a great guy - he reminds me a lot of my dad.
I'm numb. But it's going to get better. I know that because my dad would never let it get worse.
The first time I drank Bailey's was with my dad. My grandmother, his mother, had died on my first day of college. He offered me some Bailey's and I said yes. Now I love Bailey's, but rarely drink. However, today would be nice. Just to take the edge off.
Last night, my brother and I looked through my dad's wallet and billfold. He had written a check out to Krieger's Flowers the day before he died. It was to buy my mom flowers for Valentine's Day - to be delivered the day after we bury him. Isn't that crazy? But that's dad - always showing up randomly when you're least expecting it. He did that once when Eric and I lived in the ghetto our first year in Des Moines. Then he left $40 on the endtable and we didn't find it until later that night. Always showing up when you least expect it.
Today is a lot harder than I ever imagined it. We go to the funeral home in less than 2 hours. My mom's mom is coming and my dad's brother, Steve. Steve's a great guy - he reminds me a lot of my dad.
I'm numb. But it's going to get better. I know that because my dad would never let it get worse.
The Cardinal
I love having the windows open. Absolutely LOVE having the windows open. You will find that I will suffer through 85 degree heat in our house if that means that I can leave the windows open.
I will open the windows if it's 60 degrees out and Spring is approaching, even if it means that I have to leave the heat on (don't tell your dad).
When we lived in an upstairs duplex while I was in college (and your dad and I were living together before we were married - gasp), I put our bed directly underneath our bedroom windows. When I would wake up to rain, I would lay in bed for as long as possible and listen to it. When it was sunny, I would lay in bed as long as possible and watch the birds in the giant oak tree directly outside our window. When it was cloudy and cold, I would burrow under the covers and listen to the cars drive by and the wind blow through the trees. I loved that bedroom.
In our house, your dad won't let me put the bed under the windows, but that doesn't mean that I don't love having them open. I made sure that I slept on the side of the bed closest to the windows. I am pretty sure we have an overabundance of comforters for the sole fact that I love sleeping with the windows open, even when it's 45 degrees.
I have finally figured out that I just love the sound of the outdoors. I love being outside. I played outside all the time when I was younger. Went to the pool every day. Actually enjoyed mowing the lawn - although when I got older, it was more of an excuse to be outside for 2 hours getting a tan.
Rural Iowa Summers were the best times of my life. Running around our huge lawn, catching fireflies, having bonfires, hanging with friends, no coats. I love the outdoors in Spring, Summer and Fall. So I want to bring as much of the outdoors inside as possible.
I want to instill this in you as well. I didn't think much of it, but once you were born, I wanted to keep the windows open as much as possible. First and foremost because I just love walking into a room where the windows are OPEN. It just feels like you're outside. Secondly, I didn't want you to be allergic to all things dust related because you're never exposed to it.
So I left the windows open. The day you turned a month old, I walked into your room to feed you and there was a cardinal sitting on the branch directly outside your window. I just remember it being so bright red and LOUD. And it was right there! Again, just reaffirming why I love having the windows open.
I fed you and walked back into my bedroom and there was the cardinal again. I had been having some doubts about my parenting, and wasn't quite sure if I was doing things right. I just felt as though this cardinal was more than just a cardinal, but it might just be my dad telling me it was all right. I never wrote about that cardinal again, but it stayed all summer and chirped and danced and hopped through our back yard. Kinnick tried with all his might to get it, but every time, the Cardinal would allude our poor cat.
Each time he showed up, it was when I was doubting my parenting. Was I doing things right for James? Should I take this new job to have summers off with my son? Should I be a full time mommy? So many things that I would question and every time, that cardinal would show up.
I would always think it was my dad, showing up in some way, not to necessarily guide me to the right answer, but to just get my MIND off of things! He was always good at doing that, and there it was. I would start doubting myself, the cardinal would show up, distract me and before I knew it, I was past whatever was bothering me.
Fast-forward to Christmas. Eric and I decorated our door with two wreaths - one that wraps around the door frame and another, traditional circle wreath that we hung on the light. True to only your good-ole parents, we forgot about the circular wreath and it's still there as I write this. But there's a reason.
One night, we heard one of the stray cats that roams our neighborhood outside meowing. At first, we thought it was there for Kinnick, as they love to romp and play and pick on each other. Probably more the latter than the former... but then the cat jumped up and off our door straight at our light! It was kind of weird, but we didn't think much of it.
Until Eric came home late from work that next week. He said he was getting sick of birds being in that wreath, dive-bombing him every time he came home from work. I laughed and didn't think much of it until James was being fussy one day.
I had no idea what was wrong with him. No new teeth, no runny nose, no fever, fed, bathed and changed. He just seemed really unhappy, and I was getting really frustrated. What on earth did I need to do for this child? Why can't we communicate???
I picked him up and walked him around, stopping by the door so James could look out the window. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as I looked at the wreath and saw not one or two, but three juvenile cardinals, stashed in that wreath.
We watched them fly to the ground, grab sticks, and then fly back. We watched them dance, hop, and chirp at each other. I could not believe it. I bet we stood there for 10 minutes.
Although our window is different types of glass, I know James saw them as he started laughing and watching them. It was fascinating to see something I didn't think I would see again, multiplied by three. We just stood there, staring. It was an amazing sight.
Needless to say, I cannot wait to watch these Cardinals with James all Spring and Summer. I cannot wait to take him outside to do it. I can't wait to keep the windows open, with hopes that these cardinals will land right on the branch outside his window. I can't wait until their chirping wakes him up in the morning. I can't wait until he becomes fascinated with them as much as I am.
I will open the windows if it's 60 degrees out and Spring is approaching, even if it means that I have to leave the heat on (don't tell your dad).
When we lived in an upstairs duplex while I was in college (and your dad and I were living together before we were married - gasp), I put our bed directly underneath our bedroom windows. When I would wake up to rain, I would lay in bed for as long as possible and listen to it. When it was sunny, I would lay in bed as long as possible and watch the birds in the giant oak tree directly outside our window. When it was cloudy and cold, I would burrow under the covers and listen to the cars drive by and the wind blow through the trees. I loved that bedroom.
In our house, your dad won't let me put the bed under the windows, but that doesn't mean that I don't love having them open. I made sure that I slept on the side of the bed closest to the windows. I am pretty sure we have an overabundance of comforters for the sole fact that I love sleeping with the windows open, even when it's 45 degrees.
I have finally figured out that I just love the sound of the outdoors. I love being outside. I played outside all the time when I was younger. Went to the pool every day. Actually enjoyed mowing the lawn - although when I got older, it was more of an excuse to be outside for 2 hours getting a tan.
Rural Iowa Summers were the best times of my life. Running around our huge lawn, catching fireflies, having bonfires, hanging with friends, no coats. I love the outdoors in Spring, Summer and Fall. So I want to bring as much of the outdoors inside as possible.
I want to instill this in you as well. I didn't think much of it, but once you were born, I wanted to keep the windows open as much as possible. First and foremost because I just love walking into a room where the windows are OPEN. It just feels like you're outside. Secondly, I didn't want you to be allergic to all things dust related because you're never exposed to it.
So I left the windows open. The day you turned a month old, I walked into your room to feed you and there was a cardinal sitting on the branch directly outside your window. I just remember it being so bright red and LOUD. And it was right there! Again, just reaffirming why I love having the windows open.
I fed you and walked back into my bedroom and there was the cardinal again. I had been having some doubts about my parenting, and wasn't quite sure if I was doing things right. I just felt as though this cardinal was more than just a cardinal, but it might just be my dad telling me it was all right. I never wrote about that cardinal again, but it stayed all summer and chirped and danced and hopped through our back yard. Kinnick tried with all his might to get it, but every time, the Cardinal would allude our poor cat.
Each time he showed up, it was when I was doubting my parenting. Was I doing things right for James? Should I take this new job to have summers off with my son? Should I be a full time mommy? So many things that I would question and every time, that cardinal would show up.
I would always think it was my dad, showing up in some way, not to necessarily guide me to the right answer, but to just get my MIND off of things! He was always good at doing that, and there it was. I would start doubting myself, the cardinal would show up, distract me and before I knew it, I was past whatever was bothering me.
Fast-forward to Christmas. Eric and I decorated our door with two wreaths - one that wraps around the door frame and another, traditional circle wreath that we hung on the light. True to only your good-ole parents, we forgot about the circular wreath and it's still there as I write this. But there's a reason.
One night, we heard one of the stray cats that roams our neighborhood outside meowing. At first, we thought it was there for Kinnick, as they love to romp and play and pick on each other. Probably more the latter than the former... but then the cat jumped up and off our door straight at our light! It was kind of weird, but we didn't think much of it.
Until Eric came home late from work that next week. He said he was getting sick of birds being in that wreath, dive-bombing him every time he came home from work. I laughed and didn't think much of it until James was being fussy one day.
I had no idea what was wrong with him. No new teeth, no runny nose, no fever, fed, bathed and changed. He just seemed really unhappy, and I was getting really frustrated. What on earth did I need to do for this child? Why can't we communicate???
I picked him up and walked him around, stopping by the door so James could look out the window. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as I looked at the wreath and saw not one or two, but three juvenile cardinals, stashed in that wreath.
We watched them fly to the ground, grab sticks, and then fly back. We watched them dance, hop, and chirp at each other. I could not believe it. I bet we stood there for 10 minutes.
Although our window is different types of glass, I know James saw them as he started laughing and watching them. It was fascinating to see something I didn't think I would see again, multiplied by three. We just stood there, staring. It was an amazing sight.
Needless to say, I cannot wait to watch these Cardinals with James all Spring and Summer. I cannot wait to take him outside to do it. I can't wait to keep the windows open, with hopes that these cardinals will land right on the branch outside his window. I can't wait until their chirping wakes him up in the morning. I can't wait until he becomes fascinated with them as much as I am.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
9 Months!
So many things seem to be happening all at once!
We have learned that baths are for the birds. Showers are what you prefer. Your daddy showers before he goes to bed and viola, in you go. Saturday mornings I wake up, and into the shower we go. You love every second of it. You play with the water going down the drain, you slither around on your belly, and you stay that way well after I have shut the shower off and gotten out. I usually am able to brush my teeth, put on my moisturizer and get dressed by the time you start to complain about the temperature. Then I whisk you to the bed to moisturize you and dress you. You seem to love it!
Changing tables are overrated. We used a regular, short bookshelf as your changing table for awhile. Then you started rolling over. Now, we just change you regularly (unless you poop...) after you wake up in the morning and after naps. We don't really have huge problems with diaper rash, so it seems to be working fine. Sometimes, if you've had a lot of juice, we have to change you before the nap too, but otherwise, I don't know why I ever made a big deal about wanting a changing table.
You've graduated to size 4's. FOURS. That's huge, in my eyes. I'll be anxious to see what your stats are at your 9 month check-up, that I will, once again, have to miss. They seem a little bulky for you, but at least they hold all of your pee.
You've figured out how to unscrew your bottles. That's made for some really interesting surprises for mommy.
You love pears, applesauce, strawberry yogurt, and your puffs. And really, anything that we are eating. Tonight you had bowtie pasta (made out of veggies), with Ragu sauce and parmesan cheese. You didn't seem to mind it. Some people freak out about giving children too many "grown-up" foods before they're one. I figure, if there's no allergic reaction and you're ok with it, it doesn't matter. Although after our cereal incident, where I fed you some Berry Berry Colossal Crunch that has twenty-eight grams of sugar per 1/2 cup, I check the nutritional information of what we're eating. Needless to say, after that incident, you didn't sleep all day. Mommy fail!
You're pulling yourself up on everything. Even if it's not stable. We've run into a few mishaps because of that, especially with your stand-n-play table thing, but otherwise, it's been fun to watch you work so hard. You're getting better at it, and before long, you'll probably be cruising all over the place. I can't wait to see that.
We've invested in baby gates. Finally, we had had it with digging in the cat food (and eating some of it too, let's not lie). They are a pain in our ass. Our friends have the ones with the swinging door gate that you walk through. We're cheap, so we got the typical baby gates that you have to step (trip) over. We won't be having them for long, so it will be fine.
We never really had to baby proof. We have let you get into everything, except the cupboard under the sink. You love exploring and I figure we might as well let you. I read somewhere that if you try to keep your baby from exploring something they want, they want to explore it that much more. Then it becomes a battle of wills. That will not be happening in this house because rule #1: Mommy always wins. So, under supervision, I've let you get into the cat bowl (and then I turned my back to stir the pasta or something stupid and into your mouth it went), I've let you "make copies" on the touch screen printer and laughed when you laughed as it shot paper out after making said copy. I've let you splash around in the cat's water bowl. I let you try and figure things out yourself. If it's dangerous, I take it away and give you something else. Like the cord you tried to chew on yesterday, but otherwise, you're all good.
I love watching you learn. I love walking into your room in the morning because you giggle and laugh and bury your head in your covers and then check to make sure I'm still there. It's like I'm that thing you always dream of and you can't believe I'm there for you. Let me tell you, I can't believe you're here for me.
You love your bouncy swing that hangs from the doorway between the dining room and living room. You have learned how to squeal. You wrinkle your nose when you think something is really funny. I clap my hands together, you clap them together too.
Sometimes, I think you're the cutest thing I have ever laid eyes on. And then I change your diaper. That's usually the nastiest thing I've ever laid eyes on.
But all in all, it's pretty awesome to have you as my little man. What ever did I do to be this blessed?
We have learned that baths are for the birds. Showers are what you prefer. Your daddy showers before he goes to bed and viola, in you go. Saturday mornings I wake up, and into the shower we go. You love every second of it. You play with the water going down the drain, you slither around on your belly, and you stay that way well after I have shut the shower off and gotten out. I usually am able to brush my teeth, put on my moisturizer and get dressed by the time you start to complain about the temperature. Then I whisk you to the bed to moisturize you and dress you. You seem to love it!
Changing tables are overrated. We used a regular, short bookshelf as your changing table for awhile. Then you started rolling over. Now, we just change you regularly (unless you poop...) after you wake up in the morning and after naps. We don't really have huge problems with diaper rash, so it seems to be working fine. Sometimes, if you've had a lot of juice, we have to change you before the nap too, but otherwise, I don't know why I ever made a big deal about wanting a changing table.
You've graduated to size 4's. FOURS. That's huge, in my eyes. I'll be anxious to see what your stats are at your 9 month check-up, that I will, once again, have to miss. They seem a little bulky for you, but at least they hold all of your pee.
You've figured out how to unscrew your bottles. That's made for some really interesting surprises for mommy.
You love pears, applesauce, strawberry yogurt, and your puffs. And really, anything that we are eating. Tonight you had bowtie pasta (made out of veggies), with Ragu sauce and parmesan cheese. You didn't seem to mind it. Some people freak out about giving children too many "grown-up" foods before they're one. I figure, if there's no allergic reaction and you're ok with it, it doesn't matter. Although after our cereal incident, where I fed you some Berry Berry Colossal Crunch that has twenty-eight grams of sugar per 1/2 cup, I check the nutritional information of what we're eating. Needless to say, after that incident, you didn't sleep all day. Mommy fail!
You're pulling yourself up on everything. Even if it's not stable. We've run into a few mishaps because of that, especially with your stand-n-play table thing, but otherwise, it's been fun to watch you work so hard. You're getting better at it, and before long, you'll probably be cruising all over the place. I can't wait to see that.
We've invested in baby gates. Finally, we had had it with digging in the cat food (and eating some of it too, let's not lie). They are a pain in our ass. Our friends have the ones with the swinging door gate that you walk through. We're cheap, so we got the typical baby gates that you have to step (trip) over. We won't be having them for long, so it will be fine.
We never really had to baby proof. We have let you get into everything, except the cupboard under the sink. You love exploring and I figure we might as well let you. I read somewhere that if you try to keep your baby from exploring something they want, they want to explore it that much more. Then it becomes a battle of wills. That will not be happening in this house because rule #1: Mommy always wins. So, under supervision, I've let you get into the cat bowl (and then I turned my back to stir the pasta or something stupid and into your mouth it went), I've let you "make copies" on the touch screen printer and laughed when you laughed as it shot paper out after making said copy. I've let you splash around in the cat's water bowl. I let you try and figure things out yourself. If it's dangerous, I take it away and give you something else. Like the cord you tried to chew on yesterday, but otherwise, you're all good.
I love watching you learn. I love walking into your room in the morning because you giggle and laugh and bury your head in your covers and then check to make sure I'm still there. It's like I'm that thing you always dream of and you can't believe I'm there for you. Let me tell you, I can't believe you're here for me.
You love your bouncy swing that hangs from the doorway between the dining room and living room. You have learned how to squeal. You wrinkle your nose when you think something is really funny. I clap my hands together, you clap them together too.
Sometimes, I think you're the cutest thing I have ever laid eyes on. And then I change your diaper. That's usually the nastiest thing I've ever laid eyes on.
But all in all, it's pretty awesome to have you as my little man. What ever did I do to be this blessed?
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Dear Dad
I am dreading tomorrow. Dreading it. I dread it every year. I get so anxious looking at the approaching date, and sometimes send myself into a tailspin. You probably laugh at me every year, because that's how you were.
At Christmas this year, one of your sisters told me that your eulogy at your funeral that I wrote was so accurate in describing the person you were.
You were an amazing dad. Sometimes, you were tough. Sometimes, I didn't like you all that much. But I always loved you. Now that I'm older, I so much appreciate everything you taught me. You were always so proud of me.
I'm an amazing wife because you taught me to be a good person. I look at the way I teach, and I can't help but think you were probably the exact same. I feel like I was and am so much like you, but I can't be as good as you were. I'm taking the time to love my son, because your death taught me that time is important.
I miss you when I wake up, when I go to bed, when I'm stressed, overtired, happy. I miss you when I talk to mom, when I see my brothers, when I'm watching Fox News - haha! I miss you when I step in front of my students every day. I miss you when I talk about you with others, I miss you when I come home from a long day at work and I just want to talk to you about it.
I miss you every second of every day of my life. I just miss you.
I miss you.
At Christmas this year, one of your sisters told me that your eulogy at your funeral that I wrote was so accurate in describing the person you were.
You were an amazing dad. Sometimes, you were tough. Sometimes, I didn't like you all that much. But I always loved you. Now that I'm older, I so much appreciate everything you taught me. You were always so proud of me.
I'm an amazing wife because you taught me to be a good person. I look at the way I teach, and I can't help but think you were probably the exact same. I feel like I was and am so much like you, but I can't be as good as you were. I'm taking the time to love my son, because your death taught me that time is important.
I miss you when I wake up, when I go to bed, when I'm stressed, overtired, happy. I miss you when I talk to mom, when I see my brothers, when I'm watching Fox News - haha! I miss you when I step in front of my students every day. I miss you when I talk about you with others, I miss you when I come home from a long day at work and I just want to talk to you about it.
I miss you every second of every day of my life. I just miss you.
I miss you.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Dear 16-Year-Old Laura
My cousin posted this on her blog, and even though mine isn't public like hers, it has really made me think. So here's my letter to my 16 year old self...
Dear 16-year-old Laura,
Some trees can grow their roots more than 16 feet deep. Your roots are much deeper than that. Always remember what made you who you are, even the negative. Those negative moments will allow you to grow much more than the positive.
Roots branch off into many different directions. So will your life. But they are connected to a tree that will stay rooted. The tree will change. It will become scarred. Some years it will bloom and other years, it won't. But always remember, the tree will always be there because of those roots. Come back to it once in awhile.
Some trees grow more than 100 feet tall. They sprout branches that thicken with time. So will your skin. You will weather storms that you may not feel you will survive. But eventually, the sun will come out to heal the wounds. Remember that there's always tomorrow. And it can't possibly be any worse than today.
Some trees have a lot of branches. Some trees, only a few. Whatever the number of friends you have in your life, the ones that are closest to the trunk are the strongest. Those bonds are hard to break, even after several years of silence. Keep those bonds with those people, whoever they may be. They are the ones that helped shape you, helped you to grow, and eventually, will protect you when you need it the most.
Keep yourself rooted in what is important. Because your roots are where it all began. That's what's most important.
Much love,
30-year-old Laura
Dear 16-year-old Laura,
Some trees can grow their roots more than 16 feet deep. Your roots are much deeper than that. Always remember what made you who you are, even the negative. Those negative moments will allow you to grow much more than the positive.
Roots branch off into many different directions. So will your life. But they are connected to a tree that will stay rooted. The tree will change. It will become scarred. Some years it will bloom and other years, it won't. But always remember, the tree will always be there because of those roots. Come back to it once in awhile.
Some trees grow more than 100 feet tall. They sprout branches that thicken with time. So will your skin. You will weather storms that you may not feel you will survive. But eventually, the sun will come out to heal the wounds. Remember that there's always tomorrow. And it can't possibly be any worse than today.
Some trees have a lot of branches. Some trees, only a few. Whatever the number of friends you have in your life, the ones that are closest to the trunk are the strongest. Those bonds are hard to break, even after several years of silence. Keep those bonds with those people, whoever they may be. They are the ones that helped shape you, helped you to grow, and eventually, will protect you when you need it the most.
Keep yourself rooted in what is important. Because your roots are where it all began. That's what's most important.
Much love,
30-year-old Laura
Saturday, January 12, 2013
8 Months and A New Year...
As I write this, I am in Decorah at an Honor Choir. I am staying at the Cooley-Whitney Inn, and if whoever if reading this is every in Decorah, I recommend it! It's a beautiful place.
But back to the reason I'm writing in the first place. I went to Wal-Mart tonight to grab some food, just as the sun was going down. And once I came back out, it was dark and snowflakes were just beginning to lay themselves on the ground.
It was incredibly magical and transforming. All of a sudden, I was in a parking lot surrounding by huge snowflakes. It was so eerily similar to the movies, where the snowflakes are big and wafting down out of nowhere, I couldn't help but stand in awe for a few moments, taking it in.
It was beautiful. And I couldn't help to be thankful that at that moment, on this day that I have officially left my 20's behind, my life is completely different from what it was only 5 years ago. Even though, tonight, I am in the exact same place.
5 years ago, I was in the second semester of my first real, "grown-up" job. I was at this same honor choir, in this same town, however I stayed at a different Bed and Breakfast. However, that B and B had the same magical, charming feeling that this one does. It was still decorated for Christmas, it was still snowing, and I was stressed out. I worked hard for my students, and they rewarded me this weekend, 5 years ago with a birthday cake.
5 years ago, I was concentrated on my job, my career, and how I wanted to people to know me in my profession. I lost touch with friends because I threw myself at my job and my students, sacrificing time with my husband and my friends. 5 years ago, one of my very best friends told me that she felt like she called and called and called me, but I never called her back. So I vowed to change it. And I did.
4 years ago, I was back at this honor choir. Staying at another B and B. Again, my students bought me a cake and I ate it while taking a bubble bath in my room. It was glorious. 4 years ago, a blizzard moved in and I had to leave the honor choir early. I remember grabbing my students, taking one to her scholarship audition and then leaving. The blizzard was moving in quickly, and by the time we got on the road, the visibility was worsening. So how did I handle that crisis? Called my dad. My dad told me to drive south first to get out of the path of the storm, since it wasn't slated to hit the Des Moines area. He told me what roads to take and off-and-on, I was on the phone with him, or my student was texting him back and forth. That was the second to last time I ever talked to my dad. When we were about to hang up, he wished me a happy birthday and told me he loved me. A few weeks later, he called me to tell me to throw hot water in the air outside, being that it was -24 degrees, and watch the water freeze in the air. I told him it was a stupid idea. I was tired, stressed out about my job, trying to catch up on the day we had off from school because it was so bitterly cold, and didn't want to mess with something so childish and stupid. There is not one day of my life that I don't regret that phone call. A few weeks later, he died.
3 years ago, I was, again, here in Decorah, staying at the same Bed and Breakfast I had stayed at my first year here. It was, again, my birthday weekend, and true to form, my students bought me a birthday cake. I was dreading the upcoming anniversary of my dad's death and trying to continue holding it together both mentally and physically, even thought it had been almost a year. I was depressed, losing weight and trying to also battle the fight for my career, which was being jeopardized by a disgruntled student. I was stressed out, but happy to just have a weekend to relax.
2 years ago, I found myself in a different job. I was 10 pounds lighter from stress and hardly ever eating. I was hosting a show choir competition and having to look in the faces of co-workers who despised me, although I had done nothing wrong. Co-workers who were conspiring against me. Co-workers who I thought were my friends. I was still reeling from my dad's death. Rather than neck-deep, I was now only knee-deep in what my counselor called, "Post-traumatic stress disorder." Or when you finally come to grips with the fact that someone traumatized you that badly, you call it PTSD. It's slang for "pretty fucked up." I was just coming out of a deep depression, on anti-anxiety meds, hardly sleeping, wearing a size 6 pant and a hole in my heart.
A year ago, I was at home, in my yoga pants and maternity shirt, anticipating the arrival of my baby boy. We were getting the nursery put together, I was really starting to show, and I was happy with my mediocre job. It didn't necessarily give me happiness, but I was happy with the low-key, non-stress job that allowed me to concentrate on my pregnancy. I was going to be a mom!
And now, here I am. Thinking about how far my life has come in just 5 years. Life from here, looks much different than life did from there. I have a baby boy, who is my entire life. I have an incredibly happy marriage, with one of the most loyal, kind-hearted, simple people I have ever met. Every day, he makes me laugh, smile, or angry. Usually, more of the former than the latter, but either way, I love him wholly and deeply.
Today, I was driving my high school senior to this honor choir, and my mom called to wish me a happy birthday. We talked about a myriad of things, but the last part of our conversation turned to my dad. When we hung up, I thought about this honor choir 4 years ago, and the blizzard. And I put myself on auto-pilot and thought about how my students surprised me with a cake, and how I ate it in a bubble bath, of all places! When I tuned back into the road, out of nowhere a bald eagle swept down right in front of my car, and proceeded to do it's dips and dives over a bare field. It was beautiful and I started to cry. I felt so stupid because here I was, driving down the road, with my student sleeping in my passenger seat. Luckily she was sleeping!
I couldn't help but feel that was my dad. It was incredible. We saw another eagle alongside the road, eating something. At that point, my student was awake and I asked her if she had ever seen a bald eagle before. She said she hadn't, and then exclaimed how cool it was to see one that close up. I almost laughed out loud, wanting so badly to tell her that was my dad. Just like he always showed me things I had never seen before, he was showing her too. I can't wait for him to show James in these same ways that make me laugh.
And now, as the snow leaves it's crystal mark on the world tonight, I'm thinking about my son. My beautiful, beautiful baby boy. With his toothy smile and huge baby blues. And as I leave my 20's behind, I can honestly say that, for the first time in a long while, I am truly happy with my life. Which is not a perspective I have had before. I am happy with what I have, not necessarily getting what I want. I am thankful for everything, including a loving husband, and beautiful, perfect baby boy and a wonderful life. I have truly been blessed.
Saying hello to my 30's was daunting, but now that I'm here, this day has allowed me to reflect on my 20's. Someone once told me your 20's, you spend trying to figure things out. Your 30's is where you finally do. And I would have to agree with that.
Hello, 30.
But back to the reason I'm writing in the first place. I went to Wal-Mart tonight to grab some food, just as the sun was going down. And once I came back out, it was dark and snowflakes were just beginning to lay themselves on the ground.
It was incredibly magical and transforming. All of a sudden, I was in a parking lot surrounding by huge snowflakes. It was so eerily similar to the movies, where the snowflakes are big and wafting down out of nowhere, I couldn't help but stand in awe for a few moments, taking it in.
It was beautiful. And I couldn't help to be thankful that at that moment, on this day that I have officially left my 20's behind, my life is completely different from what it was only 5 years ago. Even though, tonight, I am in the exact same place.
5 years ago, I was in the second semester of my first real, "grown-up" job. I was at this same honor choir, in this same town, however I stayed at a different Bed and Breakfast. However, that B and B had the same magical, charming feeling that this one does. It was still decorated for Christmas, it was still snowing, and I was stressed out. I worked hard for my students, and they rewarded me this weekend, 5 years ago with a birthday cake.
5 years ago, I was concentrated on my job, my career, and how I wanted to people to know me in my profession. I lost touch with friends because I threw myself at my job and my students, sacrificing time with my husband and my friends. 5 years ago, one of my very best friends told me that she felt like she called and called and called me, but I never called her back. So I vowed to change it. And I did.
4 years ago, I was back at this honor choir. Staying at another B and B. Again, my students bought me a cake and I ate it while taking a bubble bath in my room. It was glorious. 4 years ago, a blizzard moved in and I had to leave the honor choir early. I remember grabbing my students, taking one to her scholarship audition and then leaving. The blizzard was moving in quickly, and by the time we got on the road, the visibility was worsening. So how did I handle that crisis? Called my dad. My dad told me to drive south first to get out of the path of the storm, since it wasn't slated to hit the Des Moines area. He told me what roads to take and off-and-on, I was on the phone with him, or my student was texting him back and forth. That was the second to last time I ever talked to my dad. When we were about to hang up, he wished me a happy birthday and told me he loved me. A few weeks later, he called me to tell me to throw hot water in the air outside, being that it was -24 degrees, and watch the water freeze in the air. I told him it was a stupid idea. I was tired, stressed out about my job, trying to catch up on the day we had off from school because it was so bitterly cold, and didn't want to mess with something so childish and stupid. There is not one day of my life that I don't regret that phone call. A few weeks later, he died.
3 years ago, I was, again, here in Decorah, staying at the same Bed and Breakfast I had stayed at my first year here. It was, again, my birthday weekend, and true to form, my students bought me a birthday cake. I was dreading the upcoming anniversary of my dad's death and trying to continue holding it together both mentally and physically, even thought it had been almost a year. I was depressed, losing weight and trying to also battle the fight for my career, which was being jeopardized by a disgruntled student. I was stressed out, but happy to just have a weekend to relax.
2 years ago, I found myself in a different job. I was 10 pounds lighter from stress and hardly ever eating. I was hosting a show choir competition and having to look in the faces of co-workers who despised me, although I had done nothing wrong. Co-workers who were conspiring against me. Co-workers who I thought were my friends. I was still reeling from my dad's death. Rather than neck-deep, I was now only knee-deep in what my counselor called, "Post-traumatic stress disorder." Or when you finally come to grips with the fact that someone traumatized you that badly, you call it PTSD. It's slang for "pretty fucked up." I was just coming out of a deep depression, on anti-anxiety meds, hardly sleeping, wearing a size 6 pant and a hole in my heart.
A year ago, I was at home, in my yoga pants and maternity shirt, anticipating the arrival of my baby boy. We were getting the nursery put together, I was really starting to show, and I was happy with my mediocre job. It didn't necessarily give me happiness, but I was happy with the low-key, non-stress job that allowed me to concentrate on my pregnancy. I was going to be a mom!
And now, here I am. Thinking about how far my life has come in just 5 years. Life from here, looks much different than life did from there. I have a baby boy, who is my entire life. I have an incredibly happy marriage, with one of the most loyal, kind-hearted, simple people I have ever met. Every day, he makes me laugh, smile, or angry. Usually, more of the former than the latter, but either way, I love him wholly and deeply.
Today, I was driving my high school senior to this honor choir, and my mom called to wish me a happy birthday. We talked about a myriad of things, but the last part of our conversation turned to my dad. When we hung up, I thought about this honor choir 4 years ago, and the blizzard. And I put myself on auto-pilot and thought about how my students surprised me with a cake, and how I ate it in a bubble bath, of all places! When I tuned back into the road, out of nowhere a bald eagle swept down right in front of my car, and proceeded to do it's dips and dives over a bare field. It was beautiful and I started to cry. I felt so stupid because here I was, driving down the road, with my student sleeping in my passenger seat. Luckily she was sleeping!
I couldn't help but feel that was my dad. It was incredible. We saw another eagle alongside the road, eating something. At that point, my student was awake and I asked her if she had ever seen a bald eagle before. She said she hadn't, and then exclaimed how cool it was to see one that close up. I almost laughed out loud, wanting so badly to tell her that was my dad. Just like he always showed me things I had never seen before, he was showing her too. I can't wait for him to show James in these same ways that make me laugh.
And now, as the snow leaves it's crystal mark on the world tonight, I'm thinking about my son. My beautiful, beautiful baby boy. With his toothy smile and huge baby blues. And as I leave my 20's behind, I can honestly say that, for the first time in a long while, I am truly happy with my life. Which is not a perspective I have had before. I am happy with what I have, not necessarily getting what I want. I am thankful for everything, including a loving husband, and beautiful, perfect baby boy and a wonderful life. I have truly been blessed.
Saying hello to my 30's was daunting, but now that I'm here, this day has allowed me to reflect on my 20's. Someone once told me your 20's, you spend trying to figure things out. Your 30's is where you finally do. And I would have to agree with that.
Hello, 30.
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