It made me think.

Before I start, I will say that I am still working on what I want to say about that new ABC show.  I know what it feels like to be reunited with a biological parent and such and how it feels to have an adopted child.  I just don’t have my words in some sort of coherent fashion.  I’ll get to it soon. 

I just read this article.  You see, I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.  It deals with the backlash against mothers.  I’m not going to get all political here, but it’s an interesting topic.  I just want to know how it is that something that women have been doing forever has become a hot button topic.  It’s almost a bit odd.  Some days it feels as if no matter what I do as a mother, it isn’t the right decision.  Thank goodness I don’t parent for other people, or I would consistently disappoint.

I’m going to think on this one more.  I am curious what you think though.

Awkward

I have a love/hate relationship with Fa.ce.bo.ok.  It’s great to keep up with my cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends.  However, there are times it makes me want to run screaming for the hills.  Yesterday I had a very awkward moment.  I was chatting with an old friend of mine.  I fell out of touch with him six years ago.  We were great friends throughout high school.  He was the guy who was strictly a friend.  We spent hours just talking under the stars, because we were bored and neighbors.  I was the girl next door.

As a woman, I have never been shy about topics such as s.ex.  I’ve taken a nervous girlfriend to the n.ovelty shop to pick herself up a t.o.y.  I am not ashamed of my se.xu.ality, but I also don’t feel that it needs to be flaunted.  I think it’s an important part of a healthy relationship. I’m pretty open, but even I have limits.  He started off saying how hot he always thought I was.  Thanks.  Always nice to hear.  He followed it up with how hot I am now.  Again, thanks.  I appreciate that.  He then kept on with how he has always loved me.  I shift in my chair.  All I could say was that I never knew.  Then, I make the whole, isn’t it interesting how life just has a way of working itself out.  You seem happy, and I’m happy for you.  Alas, it didn’t stop the chatter.

Things took a turn for the worse, when he said his marriage was s-xless.  I know how that feels.  My first marriage sucked so very very badly in that department.  I even let him know that.  I know how hard that can be.  I’m sorry.  He then shifted to the what would life be like if we were together.  I opted for humorous responses.  Then, it went to hell.  Our s*x life would be great I bet.  Then it got dirtier and dirtier from there.  It got to the point where I was extremely uncomfortable.  That, my friends, takes A LOT.  I mean, I can talk about s-x with my parents over the dinner table.  We are very open family like that.  We obviously aren’t graphic, but I can go into a n.ovelty shop with my mom and talk about the H.us.tler store with my dad.  So, when I say I was uncomfortable, you can only imagine.

I know people always wonder about the one who got away, but I never realized until recently that I was that one for two of my guy friends.  One took a really cute approach, “Please keep me in mind if things go wrong.” The other was dirty, and it made me feel as such.  It was out of line.  Regardless, both made me look at my marriage, and become quite thankful in some ways.  I have a good relationship.  My husband can be a royal pain in my ass, and he’s far from perfect.  However, neither am I.  He fell in love with me at over 200 pounds, saw me through infertility and adoption hell, and he loves me for who I am. 

Shhhh…

It’s really quiet right now.  It’s just me in my house all by myself.  The children gleefully departed the house to go to the Land of Spoiled Rotten (AKA their grandparents’ house.)  The sunshine is pouring in through the kitchen windows, the laundry is quietly tumbling in the drier, and the floor needs sweeping.  I’m forcing myself to sit, as I have been running around like a crazy woman putting laundry away, picking up blocks and burp cloths, and rinsing cups and bottles.  I couldn’t have imagined a moment like right now a few years ago if I tried.

I clicked open my email a few moments ago, and while trying to determine what to respond to a friend with, I had an odd moment.  It’s one of those moments where  you get a bit weirded out.  Where you feel out of place, like you got a glimpse of your life as an outsider.  Hmm, no better explanation coming.  In the movie The Ch.ristmas C.arol, you know how Sc.rooge gets plunked around and he looks at things with new eyes.  Yeah, that kind of feeling.  That’s what happened.  It was odd.

So, I sat there and just looked around.  The remote control to the television is on the floor.  There is a toy train by the couch, a pirate piggy bank on the end table, and a bottle with an ounce of formula on the coffee table.  Not to mention a toy box parked directly in front of the gas fireplace.  This is where my life is at.  So often, I get caught up in the cleaning, emptying, moving, shuffling, paying, and lifting, that I forget to slow down.  I forget to let the dishes hang out in the sink, and to enjoy playing with that train on the floor.  I forget to let the laundry accumulate in the baskets, and to play a couple more minutes of peek a boo.  This isn’t to say that I don’t play with the kids, because I know I do.  I’m just saying that I need to remember how special those moments are and to let them linger a bit longer.

As I look at all these things, I get a bit emotional.  I remember walking into B.abie.s R U.s, with Blue in our arms.  What a shock the call for him was.  With only a four hour warning, we didn’t have the fluffy stuff.  We filled up four shopping carts worth of things that night.  I cried silent happy tears as I walked with him through the store.  I stubbed my toe on that train this morning and cursed it under my breath, and moments later Blue came over and kissed my foot.  I look at that bottle, and think back to the first tiny little two ounce bottles we used in the NICU for Pink.  Wow.  It all just blows my mind.  What a journey we’ve had.

So, I am going to tear a page out of my husband’s book (Heaven help me!) and slow down a bit.  Back to listening to my stomach growl.  See what happens when I slow down!

Not Going to Watch It and Best Enemies

Find My Family

I’m sure it’s a given that they will do an adoption reunion piece.  I will hold out hope that they get it right this time.  Although, I’m not betting on it.  Wouldn’t it be nice if they did though?  Having been through a reunion myself, rest assured it’s not sunshine and daisies.  It’s tough.  No 10 minute piece on a reality show will do it remotely any justice.  I have visions of hearing the words “real mom and dad,” and my blood begins to boil.  So,k I will just sit here and hope they don’t send the public the wrong message.  I will hope that they do get it right, but mostly I will sit here and hope it never makes it to air.

On to other things.  Do you have a person in your life you aren’t really allowed to not like?  If you were to actually not like them publicly, it would cause quiet the family scene?  Yep, I have one of those.  I have a cousin a few years younger than me.  She got pregnant during the throes of our infertility, married a loser, had another baby still during our crappy infertility run, and then recently divorced.  I have heard to no end how difficult her life has been for several years now. 

Many in the family were of the philosophy that her hurt was worse than mine.  You see, yes she had children, but was in a very crappy marriage.  At least I had a wonderful husband, and that clearly trumped everything else.  I was not allowed to be in pain, hurt, etc, because she had a monopoly on it in our family.  I resent that.  We both were hurting.  Regardless, that’s not why I begrudge her.  She has always been very shy and difficult to get next to, but hell I’ve tried my hardest.  I made it nowhere.  However, she is very close to my brother.  She is very cliquey.  I’m friends with him.  I keep his secrets.  I can’t be friends with you.  “It’s called loyalty,” I was told one day when I asked about my brother’s girlfriend.  She wouldn’t divulge anything.  Pissed me off royally.  The next day I got all the details I wanted from my brother.  Fuck her and the loyalty she road in on.  Ugggh.

Anyway, all I hear about is how hard her life is, poor poor Cousin.  So, my grandparents bought her house, pay her mortgage, pay her cell phone bill, and on and on.  She goes out and parties all the time, and yet all we hear about is how wonderful a mom she is.  I’m starting to wonder who they are trying to sell that to, me or themselves.  Either way, I’m expected to like her.  I’m expected to say nothing but nice things about her.  The reality is, I can’t stand her.  She annoys me.  I guess that must be a normal feeling when you are really nice to somebody, but they treat you like the scum off the bottom of their shoe.

In My Head

Has this ever happened to you?  There you are talking with somebody or reading their email, and they say something that totally rattles your cage.  They get you quite angry, and you don’t say what you really want to.  Either you feel you can’t or don’t have the right words at the time.  Then, hours later, you find yourself arguing in your own head with an invisible opponent?

I have decided that I’m wasting my energy in some circumstances.  What I really want to say will never be said to keep harmony and peace.  Other times, I find it quite productive.  Those are usually the times I come up with my best responses to our unique looking family.  Regardless, it is kind of an annoying habit.

However, that’s not nearly as bad as the anticipated argument.  The kind where you have been both judge and jury that has convicted an offender before the crime has even been committed.  For example, you know you are leaving the dishes in the sink.  In your head you have already convicted your husband of not doing them, and are already arguing with him in your head.  Ummm, guilty from time to time.  This happens most often when I have PMS, but I’ve made a conscious effort to not do this.  What a pain in the ass I can be.  I discussed this with my husband, and we decided it’s just plain old easier for me to just ask him to do it.  On his part though, if he says  he will, he really needs to do it.  Nothing irritates me more than somebody telling me they will do something, and then they don’t.  Other than being really late of course (without a call.)  You know me!

So, are you as crazy as me?

Uggghhh

So, there I was at B.arnes and N.oble (as you probably read on my other blog,) and I was watching my son play with the T.hom.as trai.n set they had. There were two other children playing as well. Blue gets timid around other children, and we do our best to put him in situations where he gets to interact with his peers. So, I stood back, determined not to hover, and let him learn on his own. A child took a toy away, and I let him dangle. It was only a few seconds before one of the other parents corrected their child. “Junior you must let that little fella play with a train too.” I was thankful they are teaching their child to share, but it would have benefited my son to allow him to ask to play with one of the trains.

It was just a few minutes later the helicopter dad swung by me and asked how old my son is. I told him two and a half, and then politely asked him how old his was. He was a full year older than Blue. He started rocking back and forth on his heels, making me supremely uncomfortable. It was as if he had something to say but didn’t dare. It was a giant elephant in the room. Here is where I wonder…is it because my child is so timid around others or that he’s not white? I have pretty good gut feelings about these things.

“He gets a bit timid around other children. He enjoys playing with trains,” I say. “Oh, does he go to daycare?” was his response. Since this isn’t the first time somebody has said this to me, I knew exactly where this conversation was going. All I simply said in response was, “No.” “That’s the problem,” he continued. At which point I tuned him out completely. As if daycare would somehow magically erase a character train in my child. Yes, it would familiarize him with children. However, he would be seeing the same children day after day. He does amazing with children he knows. It’s new children that have the biggest effect. So, take your day care is best philosophy and shove it. I’m in no way saying anything negative about sending children to day care. It’s all person choice, and neither choice is better than the other. Every family has their own unique set of circumstances.

So, it feels like to the we stay home with our children camp has bruised the we send our children to daycare camp, and they in turn have decided to send sucker punches back. Enough already. I’m tired of hearing that I need to send my kids to daycare. I have heard this more times than I can count. I heard it twice just yesterday. How should I respond to this? I refuse to spit back that they are doing anything wrong by sending their child to day care, because it’s a low blow. Not to mention, that I don’t think it’s wrong. It’s just a matter of preference, family situation, etc. So, why do people not see that about my decision? *sigh* I’m getting fed up.

Trauma

I know that Mel had a post a while back on preemies and NICU experiences.  As far as preemies and NICU stays, ours was brief and pretty uneventful.  Then, why oh why, did I seriously have a bout of anxiety as I entered the  elevator to go and visit Sharah at the hospital today?  It was so odd. 

Let’s go back to Mel’s post on the subject that I am far too lazy to actually link to because it would require me to put forth effort to go and locate it.  *sigh*  Just not enough energy in one day.    So, if we go back to that article, if the NICU is equated to a war zone, then the parents could be considered soldiers.  I guess while our family was never hit with a bullet, our fellow soldiers were.  We sat there watching them hunkered down, fighting for life, and we simply hoped and prayed to make it out of the mess in one piece safe and sound.  It was the longest week of my life.  Yet, we had it monumentally easier than so many who find their way there.  If that’s the case, then why was it so difficult for me?  I don’t have an answer.  I’m just head scratching here.

After watching yesterday’s Grey’s Anatomy, I caught the preview for next week, and started flailing my arms around.  “No, nope.  Not going to watch that one.  Just can’t,” and then I left the room.  Seriously?  I know it’s not real.  I consider myself rational, put together, and don’t feel traumatized.  However, perhaps deep deep down, there is a part of me that really and truly was affected by having our Pink just a bit too soon.  I just never realized the subtle ways it has affected me. 

I mourned the loss of rooming in.  It helped to have friends who could have chosen to room in, not do so.  Sleep is sleep, and you get it where you can.  I guess what I was more sad about was that I had to trudge down a very long hallway to see my child at the hospital’s convenience, not mine.  It was letting go of control.  I had no control over this one, and for me that’s tough.  It was one more thing that didn’t go as planned.  Then, the hardest hit, was being discharged without my baby.  I kept telling myself that at least she is alive, growing, and safe.  All so true, but I still felt deeply saddened. 

I had my regular yearly checkup the other day, and asked my doc what we would do to prevent an early delivery in the event I happen to use my frozen embryos.  Looks like she had a game plan all worked out for me in my chart.  Hmm.  Interesting.  Progesterone suppositories to week 10, from week 17 on weekly progesterone injections, more frequent checks, etc.  Until we make that decision, I’m just going to continue processing all that has occurred during this journey and keep enjoying my two little people.

Honesty

One of my girlfriends called the other night.  She’s been married for a year, and her husband made her promise that she wouldn’t ask for babies until they had been married for two.  She underestimated how much she would want a child and is experience incredible baby fever.  She said she is hyper sensitive to watching families out in public. 

I listened with the phone supported by my shoulder and hurried around the house picking up toys, stirring dinner, and moving kids as needed.  She found it interesting how most mom’s look harried and dad’s look overwhelmed.  “Is that how it is?” she asked.  I wanted to mutter crap.  There is no right answer to this.  “Sometimes,” was my attempt at being honest.  How does one explain parenting without sounding insane.  It’s a crazy thing to explain.  “Some days are amazing, some suck.  One minute your child might have a halo and then sprout horns the next.  There are moments when the baby is little and you just want to scream because they are screaming,” I continued.

That’s when it happened.  She sighed and thanked me.  “For what?” I asked.  She was thanking me for my honesty.  Her younger sister just had a baby and feels very alone.  Her sister told her that nobody talks about the crappy parts of parenting.  They talk about how beautiful the baby is, how much they love their child, and they simply can’t remember their life before baby.  So true.  Sometimes a good bit of honesty can go a long way.  I don’t think we are doing anybody good if we can’t tell them that your child will drive you insane.  This doesn’t mean that you don’t love them.  It’s just a matter of how things are.  No child is perfect.  No parent is perfect.  We all have our days. 

I told her that one of the best bits of parenting advice I ever received was that it was ok to let my child cry.  Sounds crazy, but as a new parent you jump at every whimper.  Well, there are those times when you really just need to set your child down, go into the other room and breathe.  It’s just the way it is.  Sanity.  I told my friend to tell her sister that there will always be times when she needs to give herself a few moments to breath, she isn’t the only one who has moments like this, she’s perfectly normal, and should definitely not feel guilty.

Could it be we all just a little too, “Look what a beautiful perfect family we are over here?” for fear we will be judged?  Food for thought.

That’s it!

The next jackass who says to me, “So you are just a mom?” is going to get their arms shoved so far up their ass they won’t walk for weeks.  Seriously.  Enough already.  This has happened three times since last Saturday.  Each incident happen to be a man.  Ok, I get it.  Men can be quite stupid.  Understood.  However, they also don’t tend to mince words.  Regardless, I’m not going to analyze it.  I just wish they would say things differently.  Not to mention, it’s also insulting when they follow-up with, “Well what did you actually do before that?” or worse “What was your real job before?

I posted on my site before this one about the show T.he F.or.got.ten last night.  Anybody watch?  How about their comments about the adopted child?  I hate when people refer to biological families as the “real family.” Not much can piss me off more.

Weekend Away

I so need a break from everything in my life.  I wish this break involved a beach, a margarita, and some quiet time.  Alas, no vacation get away for me.  I know you think I just went on a vacation, but what I really crave is some time away from the children.  Ooooh, I know.  I so desperately wanted them, and now I want to leave them!  What I really just need is to recharge my batteries.  I spend 24 hours a day with them, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.  I just need a moment of quiet is all.  My head needs it.  I will have to settle for heading with the entire family to visit my brother this weekend.

We are all going to the zoo for a Halloween festival.  Should be fun!