Our Summer Start

So being the awesome cool mom that I am, I planned our Summer vacation out. I did this about 2 weeks ago and decided that we were going to have fun and the kids were going to enjoy every.single.second. Uh, well can subtract the times that they were poopy, hungry, tired or otherwise discontent with my choices of venue? Ok, so for our fabulous 20 minutes..... No really, they did enjoy the first venue but at the end, mama was not happy.

But let me tell you why. Do you care? Well you should, because you're still reading... (Hi Kim!) Our outing started off a little shaky. Prior to our excursion, I had taken the kids to the playground one morning so I would not strangle someone and my little angel Ian had clearly decided to empty half of the playgrounds pea gravel into the bottom of the stroller. Great. Fabulous. It would have been ok had I remembered and emptied it out prior to folding up stroller and emptying rocks all over the van and into Chris's grass. Uh yeah, Chris's grass. As in he's obsessed with the grass in the lawn. Murder. It.was.awesome. So after listening to that for about 10 minutes on the way and making sure my lungs and voice were working well, we got there. Where you ask? The zoo. The Capital of Texas Zoo.

Here's the thing about zoos: I think they're only one level up from circus's. I don't like circus's or rodeo's. Hate is a better word I'd say because you would not and could not pay me to go to either of them. Ever. Something about containing wild animals in small tiny inadequate "enclosures" (like that, Kim?) irks me.  This zoo clearly was no different. It was tiny and run down and even though Ian was just flabbergasted with the animals, I felt sad.  I felt sad for the snakes in the obviously too small cages, the tiny little wallaby's that looked like they had been forgotten and the horse that looked starved. Don't even get me started on the macaws and monkeys that also seemed lonely and forgotten. Then we got to the Zebras, Tigers and Lions, OH MY. Don't Zebras live in grasslands or Savannah's? Uh, well here they live in rocky hillside... One deer got his head stuck trying to get to the grass just outside his cage.  Maybe it's the animal lover inside of me or the notion that these majestic animals just don't belong in cages where they can't run and hunt and do whatever it is that wild animals do. And don't camels live in the desert? Not here, friends. They live in grassy hills. Away from the other animals, surrounded by junk.  Now here's the thing, I love that some zoos are actually here to help with programs such as rehabilitation, breeding etc. but this place just seemed wrong to me. Inadequate. It was a bit disheartening.

All in all, we had fun. I did not or will not let my feelings about the animals show to my kids but I just felt like this zoo did not have the love or funds really to keep up a place like this. The kids liked it and I do like seeing the animals but I can never shake the thought about what they feel or what they think about their new home. Do they remember the wild? Were they ever actually IN the wild to remember it? Do they miss their family or place?

I'm not anti-zoo but I do feel like something as majestic as a lion or bear or monkey should at least have a place to run and call their home that is not a thrown together shack... Clearly my heart is bleeding...let me go put a band-aid on it. ;) 

I didn't see that one coming...

Well here we are, Amelia is 13 months and is all girl. Ian has just turned 4 and is thoroughly, with every ounce of his being, boy. I know surprise, right. Everyone knew I had one girl and one boy but here is what I mean: Amelia is dainty, yet wants to be into everything all the while not letting anyone forget about her and that she is there. She explores everything, cautiously, mischievously, but still waiting for me or some other worthy adult know what she's about to do: good or bad.  She's an attention hog. She's a diva and she's a baby. Can't wait for those wondrous teen years to bless us with their presence. Now Ian on the other hand is for lack of a better expression "balls to the wall". He's a 100% at everything. He can be utterly engrossed into a certain something and he will eat, sleep and dream about this certain "daily" item. Iron man, Spider-man, Monster Trucks, Spiders, Bears.... all have graced us with Ian's complete attention and need to completely understand them. Of course, we have to become knowledgeable about said items so that when ambushed with his barrage of forty zillion questions, we come out slightly unscathed and our brain still attached.  Oh and did I mention rough? Ian is either 100% cute boy who loves to inch his way next to you on the couch and end up just about on your lap or he is trying to judo chop your face and thinks he truly is Spider-man jumping off the top of the stairs. It's great. It's like having mini heart-attacks all.day.long. Keeps you on your toes right? Well hell, I bet I could be a great ballerina at this point. Well except that I'm not ballerina size. Ugh. Anyways, back on track.

The night before last, we were doing our normal bath routine and I should probably say that Amelia hates bathes. She hates the entire process and usually ends up standing at the edge of the tub the entire time. Seriously. So, you would think that she would just endure the last part of the washing part just to get it over with and get out. Oh, well she is one, guess she hasn't got that reasoning skill yet. Damn. Well I was shampooing her hair and next thing I knew, we had a soldier down. Big time. She was crying, I was yelling for Chris, Chris was getting yelled at and everybody was having mini heart attacks. Well closer inspection of my sweet little girl revealed two chipped front teeth. Great. I'm all about the Mom of the Year awards here. They are slowly piling up in my closet of guilt.  It's actually starting to get full in there. Bummer. Maybe I can start over next year... So fast forward to the Dentist office the next day and basically he tells us that she's fine and it's a very minor chip. Now hear this truth right now, she does not look like some country bumpkin that fell off the ugly truck but these "new" teeth are simply not hers and I wish with all my soul that I could get her beautiful perfect baby teeth back because they just don't fit her perfect little angel face. Obviously, I'm still getting used to it.  Anybody other than Chris and I probably wouldn't notice but clearly, I'm a little obsessed about my children's teeth. No thanks to my own mother who was obsessed about my teeth.

Uh, did you read the part about my son being 4 and thinking he's Spider-man sometimes? Did I also mention that he's very rough(clearly, with practice from daddy)? Did I also mention that he has done some very deliberate and mindless "stunts"? Often including hard pavement or hard floors? Did I also mention that he, in fact, has perfect chip-less teeth? Seriously.  Amelia was the last one I thought was going to get a chip in her teeth, no thanks to Super Mom here.

I wasn't expecting that one. I wonder how many times I will hear this come out of my mouth again. Oh boy.

Death, Retirement and Walkers...already?

Death. What do you think about when you think about death? Is it the saddening reality that you will ultimately leave everything familiar and enter that which you have never experienced? Well let me tell you, I've read the blog about baby Avery's Bucket List, and my mind just explodes with about a million what if's and I need to's and I seriously think my head will self-destruct while sobbing and carrying on in front of the computer while my husband just shakes his head.  However, as serious and saddening as this blog and death are, this not what I'm talking about. Ian is at the stage where he thinks it's funny to shoot people with his imaginary "shooter" and play dead. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this, I honestly thought we had bypassed this whole thing with the isolation of violent movies and violence in general. Seriously. I know, he's a boy and he does go to school, which is where he learns some the most wonderful things...ahem. It's not going to be life-altering or a major thing, it's just one of those things that I wish I could have bypassed had I had the chance.

Retirement. Well since we've moved on from any chance of you taking me seriously, check this one out. My daughter is 1 year old. Seriously. That is some serious business. Already she is  beginning her attempts of talking and has already given me a taste of what is to come (read: her attitude is atrocious). She flops her body back and stomps her foot (often losing her balance and falling right onto her bottom which then causes even more drama). It's great. I thought I had some more time before this happened. Apparently, I knew nothing. This makes me sad and very emotional. The icing on this drama filled cake, (I'd rather have some Bavarian creme filled something actually...) is that I had to retire my breast-pump and begin weening her. Sadness. When I first had Amelia and started to get into the sleep-deprived, constant crying groove, I was counting down the months until her first birthday and when I could ween her. Now, I want to rewind and do it all over. Remember, you're not taking me seriously... I'm crazy. But here we are weening and she's getting big and I'm sad all over again. Bummer. But I'm proud of my baby girl and all of her accomplishments and milestones, however emotional they make me.


Walkers. Whenever I think of walkers I think of those awful metal contraptions that old people use to walk that have tennis balls and make that creepy scrapping sound when it scootches on the floor. Well my walker does not make any creepy sounds (although some pretty awful smells come out of it occasionally) and it seems to follow me everywhere and always wants some food placed into it's mouth like it's a baby bird as if I'm the mother bird. Oh wait, I guess I am the mother bird and well my "walker" is my daughter. And, yep, you guessed it. I'm sad about that too. She isn't even walking anymore, it has graduated to a slow jog which makes me nervous and proud all at the same time.  I can't even believe this is where my life is right now. I mean that in a good way. I see her doing all these things, Ian doing all of his Ian things and feel completely stressed out but also very calm in knowing that this is exactly where I'm suppose to be.


So you see, students, death, retirement and walkers are not just for old people anymore. Definitely not. And in the words of my Ian,  "I wish you could take apart my head and see how it works, mama". Uh, me too, Ian. Me too. More than you actually know.

Bon Qui Qui Flight Attendant

Cantaloupe and Orange Juice

Memories. The things we hold most dear to us when we need something to remind us of the good...or in some cases, the bad. But what if you just can't dig up those memories that you once held dear and for the life of you, can't seem to find them in the depths of your brain. Babies. Parents. Moments. Achievements. Emotions. Gone.

I was holding Amelia today after I nursed her and rocked her to sleep, simply because I wanted to be close to her. I do this from time to time because the entire feeling of holding her like this will soon be just a memory that I hold dear. I found myself smelling her. Taking it all in and hoping, praying really, that I can remember that smell and how she feels, until the very last second of my life. It occurred to me that not too long ago, my son was this age and of course we have pictures of him and I vaguely remember nights holding him, but I just can't find the file in my brain with his smell. I fear that it's gone. My brain has simply let it slip away into the depths of the never returning along with many of my other memories that I held so incredibly dear. I have extreme trouble with this and finally I realize that my anxiety of fearing that I will forget, ultimately makes me forget. Another cruel and completely awful parenting moment that I am neither proud of nor completely accepting about.

I was talking with an older woman who has three grown boys, two married with kids. We were talking about their (the grown boys) preschool/school days and she couldn't remember their schooling details- if they went, where they went and she seems to always tell me the same few random stories...over and over. Of course, I listen as if I haven't heard them before but the point is, when did her memories slip away. How does your brain decide what is valid to keep and what to throw away? What does that feel like? After these conversations I feel sad for her but sad also to know what may ultimately be coming for me.

I'm almost ashamed to say that I can't quite remember many childhood memories of my mom. She's a big part of my life and despite our ups and downs, she remains a major inspiration to me. I know that we had some good times when I a kid but why can't I remember them? I remember things about my dad, other people that I knew and my grandparents. Ah yes, my grandparents. Perhaps, the memories need to be stuck in your brain something significant like cantaloupes and orange juice. I would frequently visit my grandparents house and it seems that after my grandpa got his thrills with putting worms and snakes in my boots down in the garden and I was done tearing up the yard with the 4-wheeler it was time for the evening show complete with buttery popcorn in our own wooden bowls. My grandma would have already set up for the church communion for the morning service so then we'd all call it a night. She'd tuck me into the crisp white sheets with the fancy lace comforter and I'd be left in my small room looking at seashells from various vacation spots, old books, a newly purchased keyboard and random other objects from a lifetime of collecting. But in the morning, I was greeted without fail, a slice of cantaloupe and a small glass of orange juice. It was the sweetest, most succulent cantaloupe and always the best orange juice in a fancy nice glass. I was probably about 9 or 10 and I remember them and their fancy orange juice and cantaloupe like it was yesterday. If I'm lucky and get a sweet cantaloupe at the store, I'm instantly transported to my grandparents house and the memories I have there. Some of the best I have.

Here's to hoping that my memories are like cantaloupe and orange juice, for the rest of my life.

Just a little something to think about...

CHILDREN LEARN WHAT THEY LIVE

Dorothy Law Nolte

If a child lives with criticism,
he learns to condemn.

If a child lives with hostility,
he learns to fight.

If a child lives with fear,
he learns to be apprehensive.

If a child lives with pity,
he learns to feel sorry for himself.

If a child lives with ridicule,
he learns to be shy.

If a child lives with jealousy,
he learns what envy is.

If a child lives with shame,
he learns to feel guilty.

If a child lives with encouragement,
he learns to be confident.

If a child lives with tolerance,
he learns to be patient.

If a child lives with praise,
he learns to be appreciative.

If a child lives with acceptance,
he learns to love.

If a child lives with approval,
he learns to like himself.

If a child lives with recognition,
he learns that it is good to have a goal.

If a child lives with sharing,
he learns about generosity.

If a child lives with honesty and fairness,
he learns what truth and justice are.

If a child lives with security,
he learns to have faith in himself and in those about him.

If a child lives with friendliness,
he learns that the world is a nice place in which to live.

If you live with serenity,
your child will live with peace of mind.

With what is your child living?

Boogers, Boogers...Everywhere.

Two in one day. It's a record. This one though is dedicated strictly to boogers. Before I had kids, I would look at other people's snot nosed kids and think "OH MY GOODNESS, get a stinking Kleenex, for the LOVE OF GOD." But now, it's not really a big deal...until today. My good friend Kim and I have worked together for almost two years. In those two years we've learned a lot about each other. (I'm sure she's learned things about me that she'd rather not have known but hey, whatever.) But one thing I've learned about Kim is that she despises boogers. Snot. Walters. Whatever it is you call them, she hates them. When she has to wipe a nose, she shutters, closes her eyes and hopes to sweet baby Jesus that it all gets on that Kleenex. I swear she wishes she'd have brought a hazmat suit to work and God forbid that a wondering tongue should come out of a mouth and sneak a lick or a finger pulls away a gob of goo that is still connected to the child's face. I swear I've seen her turn green and I know she's almost thrown up...a few times. It is definitely gross to see a child gain pleasure from eating this florescent green yuck that comes out of that nose. Bubbles, streaks, strands, in the hair, down the shirt, on our clothes...we've seen it all.

The point is, my sweet Amelia is getting four teeth at the same time in her mouth. Getting teeth does some weird things to the body that is neither here nor there but alas, it happens. Poop, snot, drool and usually all at the same time. My poor girl had snot running out her nose all day and it wasn't a cute runny nose that just wiped away. No sir, it was green snot that she would wipe all across her face and rub on my shirt. I have dried snot globs on my shirt and my pants and probably my hair but I'm afraid to look. Kleenex just weren't cutting it. Seriously. She would cry and the breathes out the snot would be bubbles and she'd breath in and it would suck back into the depths of her head. But, that's not the best part. The best part is trying to use that booger sucker. Who invented that thing? They were possessed by the devil and shown the light by Jesus all in the same day. It works wonders when your child lets you use it. Seriously. I'd have to hog tie my child for her to let me use that thing. And cry, holy mother of God. I swear our neighbors think I torture my children. I now despise boogers. Not for the fact that they make me squeamish or nauseous but the simple fact that they are hard to get rid of, cause lack of sleep and quite frankly, piss me off. The end.