a heart-broken boy

My son has a blankie. He loves his blankie. His blankie was knit by his great-great-aunt who lives about 2000 miles away....you can probably guess where this is going.

A couple weeks ago, his blankie ripped about 6 inches in the middle. I panicked at first but then I managed to do a temporary fix and had hoped to get it to a friend's mom who knows how to knit (I've tried in the past...and failed...miserably). The problem was finding a day when I could get it to her, she could work on it and possibly even get it back the same day since she lives about an hour away. Plus, my temporary fix seemed to be doing the trick so it went from being a not-so-minor emergency to just something that needed to get done....

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, after the boy's nap, I went upstairs to pick up his room and bring him a snack when I noticed what can only be described as tragic. The temporary fix no longer was in place and the boy's blankie ripped another 8 inches...it looked like the whole thing could just fall apart at any moment. To make matters worse, we're supposed to go out of town for the weekend. And my friend...the one whose mom was kind enough to offer to help, has lost her grandfather (as in her mother's father) so of course I can't and would never call to ask for their help now of all times.

So, last night, the boy slept, more accurately, laid in his bed and cried without his blankie. It was the saddest, most heart-wrenching night. He would fall asleep and be down for a couple of hours and then he'd wake up and whimper off and on for a few minutes. Nothing I did helped. He just wanted his blankie.

The worst part is that I knew this day would come. I knew that no matter what a child attaches themselves to...blankie, stuffed animal, doll, etc...one day it will get ripped or lost or in some other way be totally unavailable to the child. I've told every parent I worked for as a nanny to buy and encourage that special thing in their lives to be something replaceable...something you can buy 3 or 4 of and have extras when the inevitable happens. Did I listen to my own advice? No. And now my sweet boy is the one paying for it. I'm hoping this weekend he'll be so busy during the day that he won't notice it's absence. Oh why didn't I just give him a run of the mill, Disney Store Donald Duck to sleep with at 5 weeks old instead of a one of a kind blanket?!

Tacky? Cute? ...or somewhere in between

So...we're taking the boy back to Disney World in September...it's just kind of our thing and I'm SUPER excited because today I picked up some new sneakers for him and they totally give him the height I was hoping for. See, if he's 35 inches tall, he'll be allowed to ride the children's roller coaster, Goofy's Barnstorner and he's so close it's unbelievable. I don't want to chance him being a hair too short and have to wait another year so I'm "insuring" he'll be permitted to ride (please don't give me crap about the fact that the height requirements are there for his safety, if I didn't think it was safe, I don't care how tall he is, he wouldn't ride).

Anyway, I'm thinking about making a "special" shirt for the boy but I'm not sure if it's a cute idea or just tacky. Ugh. I wanted to upload the Works page I have for it but it's not working so basically it just says "I'm a 2007 Walt Disney World souvenir"  (the Walt Disney World is the typical logo with the Disney font and all that and the I'm a 2007 & souvenir are in Bradley ITC font in case you're ubber attentive to detail).

So, what do you think?

Post-children friendships...

can really, really suck sometimes. Especially when you were friends pre-kids but end up having totally different parenting styles. I don't want to be judgemental...I really don't but at some point different parenting styles do effect friendships. I don't want the boy to be surrounded by kids whose parents have vastly different boundaries for their children (in either direction). Without going into it, I'm in a bit of a pickle with a woman who was at one time my best friend. There are multiple reasons we've grown apart and I believe that sometimes friends come into your life only for a season but this just sucks.

Strong-willed child

I have been absent (totally) from the blogging world for a couple weeks (sorry there wasn't any warning). I won't bore you with the details but Joshua's still not home and the boy is being 2, very 2. Which, I have to remind myself, is a good thing. He's painfully independent (painful for me because he's discovered one of the only two areas in life that children can control-what goes into his body...thankfully he has yet to discover he controls what comes out). He's made mealtime difficult. He's a stubborn child (no idea where he got that from...*sarcasm literally dripping off those words). Every meal, he screams for chips and crackers...that's his idea of junk food and although, it's not terrible, it's not exactly a well-balanced meal. He's even gone on hunger strikes. He went for two and half days without really eating much of anything because all I offered was healthy food. One of the only things getting me through right now is my own stubborn obsession with winning. I will not be beat by a two year old. Besides, I know, eventually he'll break down, eat some healthy food and like it. I've seen it happen and when it does, angels in heaven rejoice...you might be thinking I'm exaggerating but that's probably because you've never had a strong-willed child. I celebrate who my son is and I'm glad that he knows what he wants and that he's creative...like when he pulled the kitchen drawers out like steps to climb onto the counter so he could get to the goodie cabinet. I like that he's not afraid to speak his mind...like every day when he's angry with me because I tell him he's not allowed to give his food to the dog. I like that he loves to be read to...even if it means I have to read the same book ten times in a day and go to bed with "Oh The Thinks You Can Think" repeating itself over and over in my head. I love that he's passionate about the things he's not supposed to do or have because he's equally passionate about positive things too...like when he laughs because we're jumping on his trampoline together or when I'm sitting on the floor and he rushes me like a football linebacker with his arms spread wide wanting nothing more than to hug me. I have a two year old, it's a good thing.

The Boy

First of all, I've been horrible about replying to comments. I'm really sorry. I really do appreciate them. It's nice to know that despite the fact that I blog primarily to stay sane when alone 96.5% of the time with the boy, that there's really someone else out there reading these things.

Anyway, yesterday was the boy's 2nd birthday. I so wanted to write a fun, sweet blog about how much I love that little guy but he was a maniac all day. He's been a maniac for about a week now. He's going through a growth spurt I'm sure because he's sleeping 12-14 hours at night and eating EVERYTHING in sight all day. To top it off, we went to a friend's house for a game night (adults...the kids roamed the house mindlessly while we played cards-happy birthday baby, lol) so we were out REALLY late and as a result, he was a bear again today. Just for the record, we do love the boy and we do believe in celebrating birthdays. We're just waiting for Joshua to come home...besides, the kid's two. He doesn't know what he's missing yet.

He did get his present yesterday (mostly because I needed him to have a new toy to occupy himself for a while and boy did it work). We got him a trampoline.-not a big one in the backyard but a mini one for inside the house. Secretly, I'm hoping having the trampoline will redirect him from jumping on his bed but we'll see. At the very least, it should provide a nice distraction when we're stuck inside this winter. All day yesterday and today he was jumping and jumping and jumping. It was hilarious. He was dripping with sweat at one point and I had to make him stop and read a book with me. Between all the jumping and the growth spurt, he ate three times what he normally would. I kept having flashes of what the teenage years will be like...first all the cooking, then the grocery bill. I have to admit, I was frightened.

After our rather messy dinner tonight...Spanish meatballs and rice, it was bath time. That was the point in the day that drove me to drink. The boy was getting out of the tub and (as per our ritual) he was wearing a towel while I was getting his toothbrush ready. I had my back turned for a second...all bad mom moments start with those words. The boy ripped off his towel and grabbed a bottle from the cabinet

...it was baby powder.

wet toddler + baby powder = sticky grossness (which I'm sure will be funny one day looking back)

In the split second that I had as the boy was about to squeeze the bottle I swooped down and said his name. It wasn't yelling; it was that way only a mom can say your name...barely a whisper but more frightening than any battle cry ever shouted. Unfortunately, it was a bit too frightening and the boy jumped and squeezed the bottle....hard. I reached to grab his arm to keep him in the bathroom and contain the situation.

Didn't work.

He ran out of the bathroom and into the next room...the spare bedroom where we keep the dog kennel and that's just where he went. He ran naked, wet, and covered in baby powder into the dog's kennel, grabbed the door behind himself and shut it. All the while, still squeezing the baby powder and loving every moment of it.

We have a big dog. His kennel is big.

In order to get the kid out, I had to go in. Needless to say I got covered in sticky, gross baby powder paste and to top it off the dog had come into the room to see what was going on with his kennel. Balak, our dog, aka Bubba is very particular about things. He LOVES to sleep and his blanket is to him what a bone is to most dogs. You don't mess with Bubba's blanket. So, he was pacing in front of his kennel whining...panicking really about his blanket being covered in the same goop that we were covered in.

In the end, I kicked the dog outside, gave the kid another bath, put him to bed, washed the dog's precious blanket, cleaned the bathroom, bedroom and hallway floors and poured myself a drink.

My son is two. I can do this.

Father's Day

I'm just going to say it...I'm married to the World's Greatest Dad. It's true, all those coffee mugs, computer mouse pads and cheesy t-shirts were invented with my husband in mind. Let me explain how I know he's the best...

I was raised by a single mom-hardest job in the world but that's for another post. Father's Day in a word, sucked. It was my own personal reminder that my father didn't want me. He left before I was born and every year when Father's Day came around I felt like everyone was watching me...like I was wearing some sort of bastard scarlet letter. Growing up in northern Minnesota, Father's Day was usually just the week or two after school got out so more often than not, the last weeks of school were filled with crafts and cards for Dad. I would make the little gifts, knowing all the while that it would go to my mom (who fully deserved them) or to my Grandfather. It's just not the same. Now, with the benefit of adult wisdom (feel free to laugh at that) or more accurately, 27 years of hindsight, I know that my life was better without my biological father. I met him, Terry H, when I was 19, only 6 months after my mother married my step-dad, Terry R. Yup, both named Terry...apparently she has very specific preferences-actually, she didn't even realize the coincidence until I pointed it out one day. To keep things clear, I generally refer to them as Terry (meaning my step-dad) and bio-Terry (met him second and for much of my life he was a bio-hazard).

For years, I was totally confused as to how I'm supposed to celebrate Father's Day. Things with my step-dad are cordial because I know my mother loves him but I was in college when they got married and he has three kids of his own-all younger than me. Plus, he and I are both loud and stubborn but we're loud and stubborn about very different things. Other than loving my mom, we don't have much in common. As for bio-Terry, when we first connected, I made the decision to forgive him. I knew I couldn't live with hate but then as time progressed, I realized I had decided to forgive a man who had never apologized. It came to a head after the boy was born. I strongly believe in the benefit of having actively involved loving grandparents so I reached out again and to his credit, bio-Terry responded. But, after a visit for his birthday and seeing my 40-something first cousins (they're Irish Catholic) and all the pictures of my father who was there with all of them for every Kindergarten Graduation and birthday party, I left feeling like I had been punched in the stomach. To add insult to injury, at one point, bio-Terry had the nerve to tell me that he didn't hold anything against my mother. Yup, the man who admitted leaving my mother when she was pregnant with me and who didn't even tell his family that I existed until I found him, didn't hold anything against my mother who often worked two jobs to support us. I was furious and as immature as it may be, all I wanted was an apology. Some recognition of the pain his absence caused. So, I avoided him, his calls, his letters. That's my coping technique. I run. Like I said, immature. The worst part is that I love his family. They're hilarious. They're the type of family I dreamed about as a child...big and close. They get together almost every week in the summer for BBQs and pool parties. But it hurts too much to be one foot in that world and one foot out.

Which brings me to my amazing husband and why he is the World's Greatest Dad. His own dad divorced his mom when she was pregnant with him. She never re-married and his family is tiny. By all accounts, he was set up to fail as a father but instead he is the Buzz Lightyear of dads (he goes to infinity and beyond). From the time I was pregnant with the boy, he has been loving, protective and proud. (To the point where he didn't want me near any possible dangerous chemicals...like dish soap, lol...it was great). The first night in the hospital, the boy and I slept like champs while Joshua stood over the bassinet (all night) watching the boy breath. Because the boy was bundled so tightly and Joshua couldn't always see the boy's chest rise and fall, from time to time, he'd poke the boy. Yeah. He poked the sleeping baby. The first month we were home, Joshua let me have the bed to myself. He and the boy slept on the couch. It was a week and a half before I realized that Joshua had the boy sleeping face up on his chest...he had heard everyone at the hospital say that babies MUST sleep on their backs so as uncomfortable as I'm sure it was, he made sure the boy slept on his back. Joshua has loved the boy beyond measure and not just now that he's bigger and more able to do fun things like play catch and go to the park. He's the dad everyone like me, grows up dreaming of.

Have you ever had one of those moments when everything in your heart, everything that you've been thinking and praying about was suddenly and without warning posted on someone else's blog? If not, I can tell you that it's an eye opening experience and it happened to me this morning.

For those of you who don't know, I have a heart condition which in and of itself isn't too serious. It does make pregnancy a bit more tricky and combined with the fact that I have had three miscarriages (all very early thankfully), having the boatload of kids that we want, will probably require adoption. We've talked about the route we should take, international vs domestic agencies vs adoption through foster care and we had a tentative plan in mind...I'm a planner, big time but I recognize life happens and planning for children is near impossible even in the adoption world. The more we looked into our options the more overwhelming it started to seem. I think I forgot what adoption is about and then today while goofing off online, I came across a blog post that my friend JG shared on her facebook page. It wasn't her own post and I'd never read anything by the blogger before but it was one of those wow moments. It's about the true meaning of adoption and I wanted to share it with you all. So, please go to Grace for the Orphan and check it out.