So, my friend Liz was talking about her blog the other day and asked if I had a blog. Well, I tried for a while and got lazy, but I think it is a really great way to journal so that I can look back and remember all of the crazy and wonderful days that I have had as a Mommy and Wife. So, I am going to try this again. I think I will start by adding the old blogs. The ones I started the first time. I was thinking it was just a few months ago and then I looked at the dates and realized it was 2 years ago!! How time flies when you have 2 toddlers! Well, here it goes...
Oct. 10, 2006
Don't know what ya got…
Why is it that you never appreciate the people you love until they are not around? I don't mean not around like gone forever, but like gone for a little while or a few days.
Bryan left on another business trip today. Even though he goes every other week, sometimes more, you think I would be used to it by now, right? Wrong. Whenever he is getting ready to leave I get this heavy feeling in my heart and it feels like there is a rock in my stomach. I can't hug him hard enough or kiss him long enough.
And most people at this point would be thinking "Oh, how sweet." No, it's not sweet. Sweet would be if I always felt that way about him. I love him. Shouldn't I always want to hug and kiss him? Why do I always love him more when he is gone? Shouldn't I appreciate him while he's here? Is there something wrong with me?
I have a pretty good routine. I can handle my kids and day to day life on my own. I manage while he is gone. It's not easy, but I can do it. The first day, the kids are in pretty decent moods. They still have a little of Daddy's love in their system. They aren't too hard on me. I am thinking about him and how much he helps me to do all this stuff while he is here. I am thinking about how lucky I am to have him and how when he gets back I am going to just grab him and hug him and smooch him.
The second day is a little harder. The kids are o.k. but they are starting to get a little irritated that Daddy's not here. And who else do they take that frustration out on? There is no one else, so Mommy gets the prize. Yeah me. So, I get them in bed and call him and tell him how much I miss him and can't wait to see him. Smooch, smooch, blah, blah.
So, I keep our house running and our kids fed and clothed and so on. Then, I wake up the day he is suppose to be back and I am so excited. I make out a little plan in my head on how we can get the kids to bed early and spend time together, talking and catching up….
The kids spend the day figuring out ways to drive me insane. I give up on keeping the house clean. I don't remember ever speaking to another adult. (Even though it probably has only been a few hours.) I am holding on by a thread and then….
Before you know it I hear the key in the lock and the little chime of the alarm letting me know that he's here. The kids can hear him coming in the door no matter where they are in the house. (The same kids who, so conveniently, never hear when I am asking them to do something . They can hear these little "daddy is home sounds". They run to the front door screaming "Daddy!" and they jump into his arms. He comes into the room with a kid in each arm, smiling at me. He's looking all refreshed, and showered and well fed. (I am usually still laying on the floor, where just a few minutes earlier kids had been crawling all over me. My hair is greasy, I have baby puke on my shirt, I can't remember the last time I peed, and I don't even want to know what that is on my jeans.)
He looks down at me and says "Hey Babe!" I close my eyes, throw my arm over my face and whisper "hey".
Boy, do I appreciate him then.
Tuesday October 10, 2006 - 05:46am
If only I had wings…
Day two of Bryan being out of town this week. I am reminded of a line from Forest Gump.
"Dear God, make me a bird, so I can fly far, far away."
Tuesday October 10, 2006 - 05:40am
He's a charming little psycho
Let me start off by saying that I adore my son. He owns a big part of my heart. But there are days when I truly believe that he has a screw loose somewhere.
For instance, when he gets upset, he walks into the breakfast room and beats his precious little head on the concrete floor. If he is unable to get to the concrete floor, he will pick something up and smack himself with it. And if there is nothing in his reach, he will use his hand and slap himself upside the head.
I'm not talking a little tap here either. I am talking about the kind of smack that makes people in the grocery store jerk around to glare at you because they probably think you did it. Regardless of the fact that they are the same people who were glaring at you when your child was throwing a psycho screaming fit two seconds earlier.
"OH, You want him to shut up, but you don't want me to smack him to make him stop? Any suggestions on how to do that you know it all busy body? You probably don't even have kids of your own, and if you do they are probably just as psycho as mine. But for some reason when someone else's kid is doing something you don't like, you think you will make the situation better by staring, huffing and rolling your eyes.
Sorry, got a little carried away and off the subject but don't those people just bug you?
Anyway, back to my boy.
To make it worse, he is the biggest charmer I have ever met. (And I have met some of the worlds best in my time, let me tell you. But that is a story for another day.) For example, this morning he hauls off to smack me. Yes, smack me. Not a love pat or and accidental swinging of the arm that just happens to connect with my head. No. He tried to smack me. So, I grab his arm right before it connects with the side of my face and say "NO!, You do not hit Mommy." And do you know what he does? I will tell you. He looks at me with those big beautiful eyes and he says "I la you", which in Luke speak means I love you. And then he gives me a big kiss right on the mouth.
Now, what am I suppose to say to that? I have a history of letting the charmers get the best of me. So what am I suppose to do now that my son has become one of them?
I'm in big trouble.
Monday October 9, 2006 - 01:45pm
He shoots! He scores!
Why is that a man loves to "shoot things into baskets" unless it is a laundry basket? You give a man a basketball and show him a goal and he will shoot for hours. Ball up a piece of paper and show him a can, instant entertainment. But give him a pair of his smelly socks or nasty underwear and he instantly forgets all about the fun of shooting baskets. I mean, we even call it a laundry "basket" to make it seem like he is getting a chance to play.
I have even moved mine around the house. Maybe he doesn't like the lighting or the angle of where the hamper is sitting. Maybe those things throw off his game. I know that kind of failure is hard for a man. I can be sympathetic.
So, I moved it into the laundry room. Hey, it worked out great for me. No more lugging huge loads of laundry from one end of the house to the other. (And why is it that his nasty underwear always end up on the top of the pile closest to your nose? Your hands are full so there is nothing you can do about it unless you want to drop the whole pile and move them. I guess that's a whole other subject.) And I thought it would work out for him because the laundry room is on his way out the door so he could just run by and shoot them in on his way out, right? Wrong.
The clothes ended up on the floor, in the spot where the hamper used to be in my room. So, I moved it back and also tried other spots in my room. If I was lucky the clothes ended up on the floor right beside the laundry basket.
Maybe I should paint a backboard on the wall and install a scoreboard to show him his accomplishments…
Or maybe I will just do what I usually do and walk through the room where he is watching cartoons with the kids. I will have the "psycho" look in my eyes with a pile of his clothes in my arms mumbling about how I might as well be wearing a maid uniform because nobody cares about me or this house! Then when he asks what is wrong I will turn to him with that psycho look and say "NOTHING! Absolutely NOTHING!"
That is when he usually jumps up and pitches in to help clean the house.
Smart man, my husband.
Sunday October 8, 2006
I am no longer cool.
When did that happen? I thought I was still cool, but everytime I am in public with my 7 years
old she convinces me otherwise. Just the other day we were out somewhere (I can't remember where- big surprise) and I started dancing. There was music playing, what else was I suppose to do? And it wasn't all out dancing, just a little movement of the hips. And I get the huge eye roll accompanied by "Mommy! Stop!". Why? I asked. "People can see you!" And that's when it hit me. I am no longer cool.
It wasn't too long ago that my daughter thought everything that I did was cool. If I said something, well then, it was the gospel. Her Mommy knew everything! When I did something, she wanted to do the exact same thing. When did this change take place? And when will I become cool again? Will I ever?
It brings back memories of my teenage years. I, unlike my daughter, always thought my Mom was cool. I never minded my Mom hanging out with my friends. But even so, there were times when I gave her the huge eye rolls and said "MOM!" in not the nicest way. It made me want to go back and just hug her and make her feel cool, because I realize now what she must have felt. Here is this child whom you have loved and adored and showered with affection. You have given her everything under the sun to make her happy and done everything in your power to make her feel accepted and worthy and "cool". And to have that same child, the one who you would give a limb to keep from every feeling sad or being hurt. To have that child roll those big beautiful eyes at you and make you feel... uncool... well, for lack of a better term, it just sucks.
So, I'm sorry Mom. You are cool. And you know what, I am too.