on shifting and budding and growth
mother nature is a menopausal bitch right now. granted, i don’t want to piss her off anymore than she already is (hopefully she is not reading this post). i’m fairly certain that everyone is well aware of her wrath and overall disgust at the way we have treated our world and our planet… each other…
no, i’m not stepping on that soapbox…
in fact, i’m doing the opposite, i’m just taking it all in… i watch the news (somedays, and other days i have to turn it off because i get scared and look to paul for comfort and he shrugs his shoulders because just like everyone else, we don’t have all of the answers). i watch my son grow like a goddamn weed whose roots are so embedded into the ground that no matter how much you trim that sucker in an attempt to control it, it’s just going to grow and grow until you just submit. i watch people around me, some interacting with others and some watching on the sidelines. people in the grocery stores going up and down each aisle picking and choosing, people in parking lots trying to find a spot where they belong.
and then i watch our weather change… seriously, by the hour change… it’s wild and frightening at the same time. one moment i look at the temperature and find myself giddy at the opportunity to take jackson outside without having to wear a heavy coat. to enjoy some sunshine. (after all, he is an earth day birthday, a total tree hugger.) but in the blink of an eye or a rumble of thunder, what i saw outside as potential for spring changes entirely. lightening cracks and jackson looks panicked for a moment. temperatures drop and gusts of wind nearly blow the winter hats off our heads.
his cheeks are red, not from growing warm running around the park, but from the cold.
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distractions occur. the television channel changes. phones ring. emails grab your attention. you stumble upon a blog post that resonates so deeply within you. and then you lose yourself for a moment, entrenching yourself in something else entirely.
at some point, you rub your eyes, take a look at the clock and acknowledge how much time has passed. sometimes this can be a gift as you realize that you’ve possibly accomplished a great about of stuff in a small amount of time thereby leaving you with that much more time to accomplish that much more stuff. other times this can really piss you off because it dawns on you that you spent what seems to be an obscene amount of time starting at a black computer screen that is still blank because you don’t know what on earth you want to say.
so you breathe. because, ya know, you can’t not breathe (i mean you could, but that’s another post entirely…). inhale. exhale. reassess. possibly step away and return later. possibly plug on. trying to remember that you really truly want to be present.
**********
i looked out my bedroom window just now and see the slightest glimmer of sunshine. hope.
excitement exuded from my voice as i drove jackson to school this morning and we talked about running around outside on the playground. swinging and sliding and jumping. he thrilled me with stories about yelling outside “but not inside mom,” and i smiled.
shit, he is growing fast.
he is going to turn 3 very soon.
shortly after, i will turn 30.
i cannot wait to begin a new decade. strange as it may sound, there is nothing about aging that scares me at this moment in time. i’m sure that will change, as all things do… mature, learn by experience, and grow. it’s important to me to continue absorbing, allowing myself to be taught by other people and by the world.
as i approach this new decade, softly tuck away my 20′s, i welcome thoughts of what’s to come… good and bad…
…the wanting, trying, working, failing, learning, achieving, resting, and everything in between.
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a special thank you to jen o. from my tornado alley for writing this post that inspired mine. if you haven’t already read it, you must. you simply must.
suggle?
jackson talks incessantly. i’m grateful because i can see and experience him seeing and experiencing, taking everything in and reporting back.
“i’m ok? i fine.”
“phone. call. pops? mahdaddy?”
“cakes. pan cakes. LIKE cakes!!!”
“crying… CRYING… CRYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“dog.”
“TWO dog.”
“all done.”
“yuckies. mom YUCKIES!!!” (tugs at diaper)
“no potty. bath???”
“PLAAAAAAAANE.”
“windy.”
“rain? sun. bright sun.”
“swing. wee. slide.”
“play play play outside.”
“rocks. no throw.”
“dirt. stick. play.”
“baketbawl.”
“soccahbawl.”
“birdie…. CAWWWW!!!!”
“ride? ride? car? NOM NOMS.”
“juice. more juice. more peeeeeeeeas.”
“horn. cow.”
“se-a-me. elmo. ernie. big bird. BIIIIIIIIG bird.”
“moo cow. MOOOOOOOOOOOOO cow.”
“eledents. BIIIIIIIIIG eledents.” (elephant noise)
“i’m ok. i’m ok.”
“mommy up. mommy down. no down.”
“mess.”
“OH NO mess.”
“treat? prize? monkey?” (monkey noise)
“moose. BIIIIIIG moose.”
“foobawl.”
“fubble foobawl.”
“books. frog books. green frogs. jump.”
“suggle??? mom… suggle??? mommy… suggle???”
*heart melts*
“yes baby, let’s go suggle.”
then we lay on the rug in his bedroom and my son crawls and jumps all over me. it’s not exactly “snuggling,” but it works for us.
WTF is that?!?!
i have this patch of hair. it grows in the opposite direction of the rest of my hair. and it’s annoying as hell.
of course it’s right at my hairline too.
right here…
pay NO ATTENTION to the dark circles under my eyes as i have no makeup on. your focus should be on the strange hair patch.
and sure, i’ve parted my hair to that side so that it goes in the same direction as the little patch that irritates me EVERY SINGLE DAMN DAY, but ya know what?
i don’t like parting my hair that way. it just doesn’t feel right. so there hair patch.
THERE.
i also found a grey eyebrow hair a few weeks ago. this was NOT fun.
i had been tweezing because i am at the point where my eyebrow chick has raised her prices and i can no longer afford both her and my hair stylist and quite frankly, styling the hair on my head is of more importance to me than the hair that grows above my eyes.
so the bitch raises her prices and i have since been tweezing.
i know. you’re not “supposed to” tweeze unless you actually know what you’re doing… especially when you have tarantula eyebrows like mine (see above picture if you didn’t get a good look the first go-round.)
whatever, so i am tweezing and growing accustomed to sneezing while doing so because for some reason i always sneeze as i tweeze.
back to the grey eyebrow hair… so i found that…
and then two weeks ago, mom was here and rubbing my head because i was being a baby after putting my own baby to sleep and SHE FOUND A GREY HAIR ON MY HEAD.
LIKE ON MY HEAD.
WTF is that?!?!? i mean really… what is that about?!?!?
i won’t even be 29 until may. c’mon now.
sometimes i wish 30 would just get here so i could say that i’m “in my thirties” because other moms ask my age and it’s occasionally awkward.
i mean, i won a gift bag the other night at a get-together i went to because i was the youngest there.
but the gift bag was cool and has free tickets to a kiddie thing that i get to take jackson to, so that was nice.
it also included 2 hershey bars.
i only ate 1 but that’s because paul stole the other, or else i would’ve eaten that one as well.
and not felt guilty about it.
one of my fave english professors in grad school told me that i needed to write every day.
at some point of EVERY DAY i needed to write in order to become a “good” writer.
WTF is that?!?!
some days, i don’t write.
some days, i read.
THE HORROR!!!
but, this tidbit of knowledge that my professor bestowed upon me did not keep me from torturing my own middle schoolers that i taught for two years.
oh yes, there was designated journal time.
and oh yes, they had to write until i told them to stop… even if it meant writing, “Mrs. White is making me write something and I have nothing to write about and when I have nothing to write about it makes me angry, kinda like the other night when Haley told me that she would meet me at the movies and then texted me that she was going to go to the movies with Jared instead. Yeah, that pissed me off.”
the rant would continue, as you can imagine, and it was those students who ended up groaning when i called “TIME” because they wanted to finish their journal entry.
i’m sure they thought “WTF is that?!?!”
cuz, ya know… i WANTED them to write.
they probably still wonder that now.
no, they probably have moved on to their high school dramas and smoking and making out in the back seat of cars and cool things like that.
i wanna make out in the back seat of a car again.
that was hot.
i wonder if i get no action in the back seat of the car anymore because of my weird hair patch…
no, it’s probably because i am very rarely in a car without my son.
and the backseat of it is filled with a lazy-boy recliner of a car seat, chewed up toys either from my son or the dog or both, and empty drive-thru cups that paul likes to leave under the seat of my car but they always end up rolling around the floor and then i find them and get mad.
oh yeah, and my car is a VW hatchback.
and my husband is 6’6″ and wouldn’t fit in the backseat.
he, on the other hand drives a tahoe…
i mean, the word “ho” is in the name of his damn car.
HELLO!!!!!!!!!!
let’s make out in the back seat.
but then he probably looks at my weird hair patch and thinks, “WTF is that?!?!”
slooooow down, no need for the sex talk yet…
the magoo is not even 2 years old.
say it with me, THE MAGOO IS NOT EVEN 2 YEARS OLD.
this is incredibly easy for one to forget. jackson is a bruiser of a kid. he beats up on his 85 lb dog, scales furniture to the point of reaching windows, and makes forts underneath our dining room table because he likes to “be hiding.”
he is unbelievably verbal, already producing short phrases like “i got it” and “help me mommy.” his favorite word to say right now is “elephant,” a 3 syllable word that is actually recognizable when you hear him say it.
**********
side note: just now, the three of us were sitting on the couch when paul snagged a booger out of jackson’s nose and went to wipe it on my arm as i typed this post.
i threw my hands in the air and said, “DUDE, YOU CAN PUT THE BOOG ON MY SHIRT BUT NOT ON MY ARM.”
jackson climbed out of paul’s lap, turned around at both of us and exclaimed, “DUDE!”
**********
i don’t list out these stats to boast that my child is better and more brilliant than anyone else’s. i already know that.
i list out these stats as a reminder to myself that jackson is still so young. he is not even 21 months yet… 4 more days. he will be 2 in april.
the changes in our son occur so fast and furiously, whether it’s a physical change, leaving us begging his grandparents to ship us larger clothes so that we don’t have to buy them ourselves, or the magoo shocking us with his brilliance, saying “DUDE!”
so perhaps it will come as no surprise to you readers to hear that jackson’s big boy bed is now my nemesis. correction: it’s not so much the bed itself that i loathe, it’s the entire sleeping process that is now on day 7 of SUCKING. it’s the up and down and screaming and banging and unwillingness to get back in bed no matter how exhausted this stubborn child is.
dude, it’s not cool.
i am stronger when paul is around, keeping me from going in and rescuing my son from his torture chamber of a bedroom. given the abundance of diverse feedback i received last week, he and i had a lot to discuss and a lot to experiment with over the long weekend. in fact, we’re still experimenting… because we’re still losing this battle.
we listened to jackson scream and bang on his bedroom door for over an hour last night. the door knob contraption had been removed… a baby gate was put in place outside of his bedroom door. he banged and screamed and scratched and yelled for “DADDDDDYYYYYYYYY” for over an hour. i had to ask paul to turn the volume up on the tv in an attempt to distract myself with the golden globes (and a lot of wine) because it was so painful to listen to. and mind you, i’ve been listening to this for a week.
at 10:30 last night, i went in to check on jackson. opening the door super slowly just incase he had fallen asleep on the floor next to it, i entered his dimly lit room. toys and soft book were on the floor, covering his carpet. i walked over to his bed, found his blankets bunched up.. but found no magoo underneath the blankets or in his bed.
jackson had instead climbed up into the glider and was asleep on his back, legs bent like a frog, in the chair that his dad and i rock him to sleep in every day and night.
my heart sank. he was searching for comfort and i hadn’t provided him with that.
and so this morning, i sit on the couch, sip my coffee, listen to the magoo play with his daddy and sip his milk.
he’s still so young.
so… where does this leave us in terms of our magoo bedroom drama???
hell if i know.
currently we are discussing the option of “regressing” and putting his crib rail back up. perhaps our not-even-2-year-old is not yet ready for the independence a big boy bed provides.
perhaps the college applications need to be put back in the drawer for a while.
perhaps he is still my baby.
dude.
like jail but with door knobs
with jackson now in his big boy bed, we put these suckers on the door knobs…
behold the Safety 1st Twist & Grip Knob Cover a la Babies R Us. we have used 1 out of the 3 pack and it is currently residing on the inside door knob of jackson’s bedroom. he is most definitely tall enough to manipulate and open a door. and tonight was the first time this torturous contraption served its purpose.
yesterday morning, paul found jackson awake and out of his bed, waiting for him at his bedroom door. paul was greeted with the sweet sound of “DADDY!!!!!!!!” and all was well with the world.
this afternoon, when jackson woke up from his nap, he awoke 20 minutes earlier than normal. so, like any other conflicted mother would do, i left him in there. i listened to him whine and “mom… mommmmmm…. MOM…. MOM. ALL. DONE.” but i stayed strong. and when i finally went in there, my magoo met me at the door that he had been shaking and knocking on for 20 minutes while calling out my name.
and then tonight happened.
paul had taken the dog out to do his biznass. jackson had already been put down for bed, and as i tip-toed in our bedroom to put on my feeties to settle in for an evening on the couch with paul, i hear jackson’s bedroom door shake.
then i hear him knock.
then i hear “mom. MOM. MOMMMMMY.”
so i go in. again, he meets me at the door. i lift him up. his head rests on my shoulder. his body is a dishrag. he begins breathing deep. i sit in the glider, snuggling my magoo. i take in the scent of his hair, his baby sweat in his fleece sleeper pjs. and when i feel our breathing begin to synchronize, i lift myself and my son out of the glider and rock him over to his bed.
i lay him down. i position his blankey. i wait.
he’s out.
i softly leave the room. paul returns with the dog. we settle on the couch to watch the tube.
5-10 minutes pass and then i hear the shake. paul doesn’t recognize it at first, but i know what it is. he mutes the tv and comments that he thinks it’s our downstairs neighbors, who sound like a stampeding herd of wild moose on a daily basis.
then comes the whines. the cries. the banging on the door.
the tears. his and mine.
paul and i debate on the couch for minutes while the noise continues.
do we let him just deal with the possibility of knowing he will sleep on the floor next to his bedroom door all night?
do we go in and pacify?
eventually jackson’s cry gets to the point where we realize that he is scared, truly scared of something. paul goes in and finds jackson over at his book shelf, where his sound machine is. apparently jackson had gotten out of his bed, pressed one of the buttons on his sound machine and upon hearing a sound different from the peaceful falling rain, he scared himself.
so paul calmed our son, put him back to sleep, and i sit with a heavy heart… feeling guilty for not consoling my son.
******
are you a ferberizing parent? do you put the ear plugs in and let your child cry it out? do you pacify? do you have a method? why the hell am i still asking these questions when i have a child on the brink of turning 2? UGH!!!!!!!
Have a Sip
