It's quite nice to have a sleeping baby on your chest as you read and comment on all your friend's blogs.
He's happy.
I am happy.
Mason's not so happy. He is not a big fan of the blogs and understandably so. His mom spends far too much time in blog therapy. :)
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Scary and rather humiliating
So today I had to go to Hobby Lobby and the grocery store. The food shortage in our house was pretty bad. Last night I ate frozen waffles, mason ate a hamburger bun with a slice of sandwich cheese in the middle and Troy ate freezer burnt boneless buffalo chicken strips and fries. Anyway, I had to go.
I barely dragged myself out of bed as Grant seems to think waking up all night long for little snacks is necessary. I couldn't have coffee because we had no cream. For someone who puts almost as much cream in her coffee as she does coffee, there was no negotiating this. I had no coffee. I got the boys dressed. And then I looked at the mirror.
Mascara raccoon eyes. Greasy hair. Zits. It wasn't pretty. I knew taking a shower would be helpful but I just couldn't make myself do it. It takes so long to shower, blow dry, curl, makeup...ick. ANd who would see me at HEB and Hobby Lobby anyway?
So, I wiped the mascara out from under my eyes with a baby wipe(it works amazingly well) and slapped on just enough make up to keep people from screaming in horror when they saw me. I threw my hair up in a a pony tail that, well, wasn't so hot. I didn't even put on a real bra. I just kept on my sports bra and threw on a shirt and jeans and tennishoes. As I looked in the mirror, I realized that I looked like one of those moms that lets her kids take over her life and never does anything for herself. Oh, well. It happens. And I do have my pretty days...occasionally.
I loaded us up into the car and headed to Hobby Lobby. On the way there I looked in the rear view mirror and realized that Mason's hair probably hadn't seen a brush since before church and had what appeared to be a roosters tail sticking up in the back. "He's a boy." I said to myself like that was justification for letting him out of the house looking like a ragamuffin.
We pulled into the parking lot and as I was unloading the boys I made the executive decision to not get the stroller and instead put Grant's carrier in the basket at HL. So here I am, ragamuffin with crazy hair and stained shirt behind me, sleeping Grant hooked over my arm in front of me and me, greasy ponytail, lopsided boobs from lack of two sided nursing for one feeding, and pimples that could light santa's sleigh. We're walking. I get to the sidewalk, I take a step and somehow I missed it. I dont' know how. And I went flying. Now mind you, I am still carrying grant in his carrier as I go flying through the air. It's amazing how much you can think as you're falling. I had no hands to stop myself because both were holding him and I was also terrified that my collapse to the ground would cause him injury. So somehow I managed to fall flat on my stomach and grant went skidding out in front of me and his carrier fell to the side. He immediately burst into tears. It was terrifying. I thought for sure he got hit. Miraculously he did not. Praise the Lord.
It takes me about 2.3 seconds to start feeling the pain. I ripped both knees out in my jeans and my knees were skinned and bleeding. It was about that time, as I am trying to free Grant from his life saving carrier that a woman rushes up. She's that kind of woman who you just know has never left the house without her Mary Kay makeup applied to perfection. Her hair was perfect. Her clothes and jewelry were perfect. ANd here I am, sprawled out on the sidewalk, bleeding knees with ragamuffin boy who is saying, "mom, you have to watch where you're going!"(as if this happens all the time) and looking like I have just stumbled out of bed into the Hobby Lobby parking lot. Well, she was very nice but treated me like I was far too young to have children and almost as though my falling was caused by something other than clumsiness. I was shaking of course from being scared that I had just scarred my 5 week old for life so she brought me a basket and helped me up.
The three of us went to the girls rest room where I attempted to clean myself up and calm down. Miraculously I didn't cry. This is because me crying from pain makes mason cry. My tears aren't worth it.
I looked at myself in the mirror. It had gotten worse, of course. The reflection, that is. In addition to everything else, I now had the knees ripped out in my jeans and a brown blood stain on one. I had to make a choice. Forego my pride and continue to shop in this condition or go home, repair myself and come back later.
You know I stayed. I already had two boys in Hobby Lobby. THere was no backing out now. So I shopped.
And then I went to heb in my condition. Tons of people know who I am there because troy worked there. Oh,well, we needed food as you could clearly tell from the first paragraph. It was a dire situation.
I, of course, saw one of my students moms. One of the perfect ones. I hope that saying, A smile is your most beautiful accessory or however it goes is true. That's all I had going for me.
So that was the first part of my day. No telling what the rest holds. I am down one pair of jeans. My tennishoe jeans. Great. My knees are quite disgusting. And I still have not showered. But my needs at hobby lobby were met and my pantry has food.
I barely dragged myself out of bed as Grant seems to think waking up all night long for little snacks is necessary. I couldn't have coffee because we had no cream. For someone who puts almost as much cream in her coffee as she does coffee, there was no negotiating this. I had no coffee. I got the boys dressed. And then I looked at the mirror.
Mascara raccoon eyes. Greasy hair. Zits. It wasn't pretty. I knew taking a shower would be helpful but I just couldn't make myself do it. It takes so long to shower, blow dry, curl, makeup...ick. ANd who would see me at HEB and Hobby Lobby anyway?
So, I wiped the mascara out from under my eyes with a baby wipe(it works amazingly well) and slapped on just enough make up to keep people from screaming in horror when they saw me. I threw my hair up in a a pony tail that, well, wasn't so hot. I didn't even put on a real bra. I just kept on my sports bra and threw on a shirt and jeans and tennishoes. As I looked in the mirror, I realized that I looked like one of those moms that lets her kids take over her life and never does anything for herself. Oh, well. It happens. And I do have my pretty days...occasionally.
I loaded us up into the car and headed to Hobby Lobby. On the way there I looked in the rear view mirror and realized that Mason's hair probably hadn't seen a brush since before church and had what appeared to be a roosters tail sticking up in the back. "He's a boy." I said to myself like that was justification for letting him out of the house looking like a ragamuffin.
We pulled into the parking lot and as I was unloading the boys I made the executive decision to not get the stroller and instead put Grant's carrier in the basket at HL. So here I am, ragamuffin with crazy hair and stained shirt behind me, sleeping Grant hooked over my arm in front of me and me, greasy ponytail, lopsided boobs from lack of two sided nursing for one feeding, and pimples that could light santa's sleigh. We're walking. I get to the sidewalk, I take a step and somehow I missed it. I dont' know how. And I went flying. Now mind you, I am still carrying grant in his carrier as I go flying through the air. It's amazing how much you can think as you're falling. I had no hands to stop myself because both were holding him and I was also terrified that my collapse to the ground would cause him injury. So somehow I managed to fall flat on my stomach and grant went skidding out in front of me and his carrier fell to the side. He immediately burst into tears. It was terrifying. I thought for sure he got hit. Miraculously he did not. Praise the Lord.
It takes me about 2.3 seconds to start feeling the pain. I ripped both knees out in my jeans and my knees were skinned and bleeding. It was about that time, as I am trying to free Grant from his life saving carrier that a woman rushes up. She's that kind of woman who you just know has never left the house without her Mary Kay makeup applied to perfection. Her hair was perfect. Her clothes and jewelry were perfect. ANd here I am, sprawled out on the sidewalk, bleeding knees with ragamuffin boy who is saying, "mom, you have to watch where you're going!"(as if this happens all the time) and looking like I have just stumbled out of bed into the Hobby Lobby parking lot. Well, she was very nice but treated me like I was far too young to have children and almost as though my falling was caused by something other than clumsiness. I was shaking of course from being scared that I had just scarred my 5 week old for life so she brought me a basket and helped me up.
The three of us went to the girls rest room where I attempted to clean myself up and calm down. Miraculously I didn't cry. This is because me crying from pain makes mason cry. My tears aren't worth it.
I looked at myself in the mirror. It had gotten worse, of course. The reflection, that is. In addition to everything else, I now had the knees ripped out in my jeans and a brown blood stain on one. I had to make a choice. Forego my pride and continue to shop in this condition or go home, repair myself and come back later.
You know I stayed. I already had two boys in Hobby Lobby. THere was no backing out now. So I shopped.
And then I went to heb in my condition. Tons of people know who I am there because troy worked there. Oh,well, we needed food as you could clearly tell from the first paragraph. It was a dire situation.
I, of course, saw one of my students moms. One of the perfect ones. I hope that saying, A smile is your most beautiful accessory or however it goes is true. That's all I had going for me.
So that was the first part of my day. No telling what the rest holds. I am down one pair of jeans. My tennishoe jeans. Great. My knees are quite disgusting. And I still have not showered. But my needs at hobby lobby were met and my pantry has food.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Gemas delight up and running
Well, my mom and don have been moved to a fancy hotel that apparently has internet access because she is posting again. Just so you all know! There are three new posts!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Just some thoughts...
My boys are so perfect. Not perfect in behavior, or appearance or attitude. Perfect in their own perfect way.
I used to wonder how I could love my second child as much as Mason. I knew it would happen but it's a hard thing to understand. Then Grant came and I not only love Mason just as much, I appreciate and adore him even more. I see him differently.
His eyelashes are so dark and thick. When he laughs, I want to cry it's so cute. Sometimes just the way he says things breaks my heart because it is so precious. The other day he said "blue balloon" and it was just so cute. "Buhlue Ballllooon" And then the things he says. Sometimes he just seems so grown up. I was nursing Grant a few days ago and he comes in, sits down on the floor silently for a few minutes and finally says, "soooo, how are you doing?" in this polite, conversationalist voice.
He got a book for being a big brother from my assistant principal. It's like a nature guide book on reptiles and amphibians. He loves that thing. We found two lizards outside when we were taking out the trash and tried to catch them. We failed(thankfully).When we came back inside he promptly went to his guidebook to identify the lizards.
He is an amazing butterfly catcher. He catches them with his hands. There have been several times when I hear him banging on the front door only to find him with a butterfly in each hand and a huge grin on his face.
Sometimes I am so impatient with him. I am trying so hard. But it is hard. He just wants me so much and I can't be there all the time because of Grant. I have found myself saying things that are rude to him. It's so easy to be snappy with him, and impossible to take back those snappy remarks. Not only does he get hurt by my words, he learns from them. It's an overwhelming task, being a mom.
He was trying unsuccessfully for about three minutes to put on a shirt while Troy and I were talking in his room. Finally, with one arm protruding through the arm hole, and only half his head poking through the top, he says in a sarcastic tone, "Okay, Seriously!"
Grant. Grant is heaven. Do all moms stare at their babies? Just stare at them and wonder how God could make something so perfect. Even when he cries, he is cute(up to a point). I have this instrumental CD of Christmas music and I have been playing it when I nurse him before bed time. It's beautiful music. As I sit there nursing him, I just...just...am overwhelmed with everything. Gratitude. Love. Adoration. Fear. Hope. Every once in a while he will catch my eye and actually stay focused on it. It's like he is looking right into my soul.
Motherhood, the 2nd time around, has been so much easier for me. With Mason, I doubted everything I did. I had no confidence in myself as a mother. None.
This was a completely new feeling for me because, up until that point, things that were supposed to be difficult like marriage and college and living away from home, were easy for me. I just assumed that motherhood, something I had spent my whole life dreaming about, would be natural, maybe not easy, but natural. I was so wrong.
I cried so much with Mason. I felt like a horrible mother because he wouldn't sleep or ate too much or not enough. If he was fussy, it was my fault. If he was clingy, it was my fault. I struggled so much during his first year of life.
I realize now that I was young and that had to be a part of it, but I also had very few friends with babies. And those that had babies had perfect babies. I remember one day having a conversation with a girl in one of my college classes. She had a baby girl a few months older than Mason who was a "difficult" baby. When she told me her baby didn't sleep through the night or that she cried so much people in her church recognized her cry or that she had to be rocked to sleep every night, I can't tell you the relief I felt. It was just so reassuring to know that I wasn't alone in this. Mason wasn't the only "hard" baby in the world and therefore I couldn't be the worst mother out there.
With Grant, things have been so different. I really don't think he is that much different than Mason was. Maybe a little easier, but not totally. The difference is me. When he cries, I don't panic. I finish folding the laundry and then get him. I don't feel like his crying is a bad thing. It's just what babies do. His crying is not a indicator of my abilities as a mother.
He is still far from sleeping through the night. While I desperately want him to do this for my sake, I don't feel like a failure because he's not. I feel like we're normal. I couldn't even really tell you how long he nurses on each side or how often he nurses because I don't care. I nurse him when nothing else seems to make him happy or when he's trying to suck on anything that touches his cheek. I am starting to try to find a routine but that's only for the sake of his future caregiver while I am at work.
Work. This isn't the post for this. I am not thinking about it.
I think another reason I have felt so much better about things this time around is because of this. This blog community. I have heard your weaknesses. I know your children don't always sleep or obey or look perfect. I know you get frustrated. Mommy friends are important. Otherwise you sit in your dirty house with your crying kids and wonder, "Is this what it is supposed to be like or am I just bad at this?"
I can always be a better mother. But I am doing okay. Good. Even great sometimes. And look at those two boys? I am doing okay.
I used to wonder how I could love my second child as much as Mason. I knew it would happen but it's a hard thing to understand. Then Grant came and I not only love Mason just as much, I appreciate and adore him even more. I see him differently.
His eyelashes are so dark and thick. When he laughs, I want to cry it's so cute. Sometimes just the way he says things breaks my heart because it is so precious. The other day he said "blue balloon" and it was just so cute. "Buhlue Ballllooon" And then the things he says. Sometimes he just seems so grown up. I was nursing Grant a few days ago and he comes in, sits down on the floor silently for a few minutes and finally says, "soooo, how are you doing?" in this polite, conversationalist voice.
He got a book for being a big brother from my assistant principal. It's like a nature guide book on reptiles and amphibians. He loves that thing. We found two lizards outside when we were taking out the trash and tried to catch them. We failed(thankfully).When we came back inside he promptly went to his guidebook to identify the lizards.
He is an amazing butterfly catcher. He catches them with his hands. There have been several times when I hear him banging on the front door only to find him with a butterfly in each hand and a huge grin on his face.
Sometimes I am so impatient with him. I am trying so hard. But it is hard. He just wants me so much and I can't be there all the time because of Grant. I have found myself saying things that are rude to him. It's so easy to be snappy with him, and impossible to take back those snappy remarks. Not only does he get hurt by my words, he learns from them. It's an overwhelming task, being a mom.
He was trying unsuccessfully for about three minutes to put on a shirt while Troy and I were talking in his room. Finally, with one arm protruding through the arm hole, and only half his head poking through the top, he says in a sarcastic tone, "Okay, Seriously!"
Grant. Grant is heaven. Do all moms stare at their babies? Just stare at them and wonder how God could make something so perfect. Even when he cries, he is cute(up to a point). I have this instrumental CD of Christmas music and I have been playing it when I nurse him before bed time. It's beautiful music. As I sit there nursing him, I just...just...am overwhelmed with everything. Gratitude. Love. Adoration. Fear. Hope. Every once in a while he will catch my eye and actually stay focused on it. It's like he is looking right into my soul.
Motherhood, the 2nd time around, has been so much easier for me. With Mason, I doubted everything I did. I had no confidence in myself as a mother. None.
This was a completely new feeling for me because, up until that point, things that were supposed to be difficult like marriage and college and living away from home, were easy for me. I just assumed that motherhood, something I had spent my whole life dreaming about, would be natural, maybe not easy, but natural. I was so wrong.
I cried so much with Mason. I felt like a horrible mother because he wouldn't sleep or ate too much or not enough. If he was fussy, it was my fault. If he was clingy, it was my fault. I struggled so much during his first year of life.
I realize now that I was young and that had to be a part of it, but I also had very few friends with babies. And those that had babies had perfect babies. I remember one day having a conversation with a girl in one of my college classes. She had a baby girl a few months older than Mason who was a "difficult" baby. When she told me her baby didn't sleep through the night or that she cried so much people in her church recognized her cry or that she had to be rocked to sleep every night, I can't tell you the relief I felt. It was just so reassuring to know that I wasn't alone in this. Mason wasn't the only "hard" baby in the world and therefore I couldn't be the worst mother out there.
With Grant, things have been so different. I really don't think he is that much different than Mason was. Maybe a little easier, but not totally. The difference is me. When he cries, I don't panic. I finish folding the laundry and then get him. I don't feel like his crying is a bad thing. It's just what babies do. His crying is not a indicator of my abilities as a mother.
He is still far from sleeping through the night. While I desperately want him to do this for my sake, I don't feel like a failure because he's not. I feel like we're normal. I couldn't even really tell you how long he nurses on each side or how often he nurses because I don't care. I nurse him when nothing else seems to make him happy or when he's trying to suck on anything that touches his cheek. I am starting to try to find a routine but that's only for the sake of his future caregiver while I am at work.
Work. This isn't the post for this. I am not thinking about it.
I think another reason I have felt so much better about things this time around is because of this. This blog community. I have heard your weaknesses. I know your children don't always sleep or obey or look perfect. I know you get frustrated. Mommy friends are important. Otherwise you sit in your dirty house with your crying kids and wonder, "Is this what it is supposed to be like or am I just bad at this?"
I can always be a better mother. But I am doing okay. Good. Even great sometimes. And look at those two boys? I am doing okay.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Gemas Delight out of Commission for a while
Just so everyone knows(mainly my family) Mom and Don are in San Diego with the Red Cross helping fire victims. They left yesterday(i think) after getting about an hour to pack for their two week trip to San Diego followed by a two week trip to New York to see DOn's family.
Mom said they had to leave so suddenly that she didn't get to send out her normal email explaining what part of the country she and Don will be in and she asked me to make a post. She and Don are in San Diego at the Petco(?) stadium sleeping on cots with about 500 other red cross volunteers. She said the weather is beautiful but it's a little hazy from the smoke. It sounds like it's a pretty major mobilization of Red Cross, similar to Katrina.
Her cell phone is out of commission so call Don's if you need her. After this Red Cross call they are going to New York the first two weeks of November. So, needless to say, there will be few, if any posts to mom's blog for a while. She's got a pretty good excuse, huh?
Mom said they had to leave so suddenly that she didn't get to send out her normal email explaining what part of the country she and Don will be in and she asked me to make a post. She and Don are in San Diego at the Petco(?) stadium sleeping on cots with about 500 other red cross volunteers. She said the weather is beautiful but it's a little hazy from the smoke. It sounds like it's a pretty major mobilization of Red Cross, similar to Katrina.
Her cell phone is out of commission so call Don's if you need her. After this Red Cross call they are going to New York the first two weeks of November. So, needless to say, there will be few, if any posts to mom's blog for a while. She's got a pretty good excuse, huh?
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
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