Our day together began at 7:15 this morning. Daddy was already gone, off to a conference that lasts today and tomorrow. Mind you, this is the start of our second six-day week. In a row. These weeks are challenging for Harrison and I because, by the Thursday or Friday of it, we've honestly had enough of just the two of us time. Not to say we don't still adore each other (will have to say more about HD's sudden separation anxiety another time), because that love still comes out in small moments, even on the worst days. The lizard days. Days like last Friday.
Perhaps my worst parenting moment to date occurred Friday morning when it took 45 minutes to get Harrison to sit for 1 minute in time out. On facebook, I equated this, at 8 months pregnant, to running 5 miles. Physically, it was that exhausting. Emotionally, it was even worse. At least after a run, I always felt a warmth, a sense of accomplishment. After that epic battle I felt spent, like I wanted to curl up in a cave and hand this whole parenting gig over to someone far more patient and qualified. But then, you get the small moments. The little hand resting on your leg as you read a story together. The intoxicating smell of baby lotion after a bath. Some days, these small moments are the only thing getting me through the ups and down of toddlerhood.
Today we took a different approach to the start of our second long week. I walked in at 7:15 and asked Harrison, straight off, if he'd like to go on an adventure. (Sidebar: we are big PBS fans, which means The Cat in the Hat is a favorite. Hence the show's theme song and one of our favorite ditties to sing: "Here we go, go, go go on an adventure!") It is a good thing, in retrospect, that he agreed immediately and wholeheartedly, because we were going either way, but I figure it is always nice to give the kiddo some buy in power when I can. When he found out that said adventure meant we were headed to his see his three-month-old baby cousin, Trevin, be baptized, he was thrilled. The whole way through breakfast and into the van and down the highway, all I heard was how we were going to see Baby Trevin. Of course, seeing the rest of Ben's family was a big bonus incentive as Harrison loves, loves, loves his cousin and his grandparents and their farm.
Normally I am not so brave. I do not travel long distances (anything over 20 minutes) with Harrison and without Ben, mainly because my back hates me a lot at times which makes travel (alone) with a toddler difficult. Seeing as we were headed to a family-filled event and then to Ben's parent's house for the rest of the day, though, I decided it was worth the experience, the time together, and just the plain old factor of getting out of the house to see other people.
Turns out I was right. Harrison had a great time seeing Trevin this morning. He even lasted the entire church service in the pew with us. Granted, he bounced from my lap, then to Grandpa's, and then to Grandma's about 50 times, and ate a lot of Kix and a bag of fruit snacks, but still - no crying and no tantrums. I'll take that any day! And with extra eyes to watch and arms to lift, we sailed through the morning like we are old pros at this. Amazing. Is my back sore after the long day? Yes. Is the baby moving in ways that make me both uncomfortable and anxious as I check the calendar to see just what date it is? Yes. But wouldn't this have been the case if we had just stayed home today and done the same old, same old? I'd have to guess, Yes!
Perhaps I need to propose more adventure days. Maybe we don't even need to go anywhere outside of city limits to have these adventures. Perhaps just starting the days off right - with a little fun, a little excitement, a little mystery - would set us down the path of having more adventures and discoveries and less crawl-in-the-cave moments. One could only hope, right?
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Hair Crumbs
In the last year or so, Harrison has had a handful of haircuts. There have never been major tears or tantrums, but some appointments have gone better than others. Yesterday's appointment was a dream!
First of all, HD sat beautifully in his daddy's lap the whole time and entertained himself by making faces in the mirror and at Mama. He followed directions by looking down at his shoes when asked and even said, "Again?" for the spray bottle of water to be spritzed on his head. But the best part? The hair crumbs.
As the hair dresser (a temporary new one for our family, as ours is out for her own maternity leave) trimmed away the little blond curls and wisps, lots of hair fell down, naturally, on Harrison's lap and smock. He loves the smock, by the way, because it is covered in colorful "fishies." Apparently, though, he does not like the fishies to be covered by his hair because he kept trying to shake, blow, and wipe away the strays. And then, all of the sudden, he surprised all three of us by proclaiming that he was getting rid of the "hair crumbs" - a true example of the power of words when applied to a toddler's train of thought. The hair dresser said she'd never heard that one before, and we all laughed as he continued to point them out to us throughout the rest of the cut.
I love HD's hair after a trim, just as I love it when it is longer and curly. He looks more like a little man with it short, but clearly that fits because that's exactly what he is, what with his knowledge of hair crumbs and all.
First of all, HD sat beautifully in his daddy's lap the whole time and entertained himself by making faces in the mirror and at Mama. He followed directions by looking down at his shoes when asked and even said, "Again?" for the spray bottle of water to be spritzed on his head. But the best part? The hair crumbs.
As the hair dresser (a temporary new one for our family, as ours is out for her own maternity leave) trimmed away the little blond curls and wisps, lots of hair fell down, naturally, on Harrison's lap and smock. He loves the smock, by the way, because it is covered in colorful "fishies." Apparently, though, he does not like the fishies to be covered by his hair because he kept trying to shake, blow, and wipe away the strays. And then, all of the sudden, he surprised all three of us by proclaiming that he was getting rid of the "hair crumbs" - a true example of the power of words when applied to a toddler's train of thought. The hair dresser said she'd never heard that one before, and we all laughed as he continued to point them out to us throughout the rest of the cut.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
9/11 + 10 =
In the grand scheme of things, my experiences on 9/11 were nothing grand. Yet, today, on the 10th anniversary, I feel compelled to remember the day and what it was to me, for me. A friend posted on facebook about how kids under the age of 16 really have no concept of the attack, unless, of course, they lost a loved one. While that makes sense, it amazes me because I can't imagine not knowing, not feeling the weight of this day. I feel it all the time, am reminded all of the time of that day and its impact on our nation - our world.
When I really sit down and think, I don't remember much from the actual morning of 9/11. While I remember very clearly about first learning of the towers falling, the rest of the day is blur. I was a sophomore at Doane that year and had gotten up to do to a Taebo workout in my dormroom before heading to class. & yes, I remember that detail specifically. I also remember that prior to starting the tape (yes, vhs), my TV was set to CMT. When I finished the routine and switched back to the normal television screen, I did not see a country music video. In fact, what I did see confused me so much, I thought something had gone wrong with my cable. I was watching a war zone; at least, that is it what the smoke filled streets and running people made me think of as I tried to piece together what on earth was going on. After that, I don't know how it all came together. I'm sure I spent a lot of the day talking with my dormmates and calling my family. I'm guessing I went to class and lunch and supper. I do remember, vaguely, attending a candle-lit vigil that night but somehow it didn't mend the hole that had been ripped in my sense of America or my sense of security as an American.
A week later I remember going shopping with my roommate, thinking the whole time - we are at war (even though, technically, that hadn't happened yet)...how important is it that I buy new clothes? But life carries on and so did we, in every small way we could. If my grandparents could come through WWII and go on to have families and lives, I figured we too would find a way to grow up and grow old, even though I also knew that something in the world had changed.
Perhaps the biggest direct impact 9/11 had on my college life came through the sudden spike in fear that my family had about my plans for the following school year, the fall of 2002, when I was set to travel to Africa for an entire semester. They balked at the idea of me traveling abroad, and really, those of us in the Africa semester group did wonder for some time if we'd be allowed to go. My argument to my parents? There are no guarantees, not even here, so why not explore and learn in every way possible? While I can't say they were ever 100% behind the idea, they let me go.
On the one year anniversary of 9/11, I was in Arusha, Tanzania. I remember sitting in a tiny cafe eating supper that night, listening to the radio broadcasting the news, and all of the sudden, there was W.'s voice, snippets of his speech from the memorial that was taking place halfway around the world. It was surreal to be so far away from home and yet so connected to a day I know I'll never fully understand.
Ten years later and I feel the same way. I still don't get it. I don't know why people hate or why they mistrust and take out their own fears and frustrations on others who have done them no harm. I also don't know how we can still be fighting wars over this, but that's not to say that I think those lives lost weren't worth defending. I do know that I am grateful. Grateful for the brave men and women in our armed services who tackle the most difficult tasks each day - something I would never have the strength or courage to do. Grateful for the education, travel, and experiences I've had in the last ten years that have taught me much about the world as well as tolerance and acceptance. Grateful for my loving family, kind husband, beautiful son, and the sweet little one about to join us. For all of these reasons, I am so glad that we have found a way to carry on beyond the terror and fear of that day ten years ago. All that being said, I hope we never forget and never let that gratitude go. We cannot live this life alone. But perhaps we can find a way to live it together with more joy and more peace.
When I really sit down and think, I don't remember much from the actual morning of 9/11. While I remember very clearly about first learning of the towers falling, the rest of the day is blur. I was a sophomore at Doane that year and had gotten up to do to a Taebo workout in my dormroom before heading to class. & yes, I remember that detail specifically. I also remember that prior to starting the tape (yes, vhs), my TV was set to CMT. When I finished the routine and switched back to the normal television screen, I did not see a country music video. In fact, what I did see confused me so much, I thought something had gone wrong with my cable. I was watching a war zone; at least, that is it what the smoke filled streets and running people made me think of as I tried to piece together what on earth was going on. After that, I don't know how it all came together. I'm sure I spent a lot of the day talking with my dormmates and calling my family. I'm guessing I went to class and lunch and supper. I do remember, vaguely, attending a candle-lit vigil that night but somehow it didn't mend the hole that had been ripped in my sense of America or my sense of security as an American.
A week later I remember going shopping with my roommate, thinking the whole time - we are at war (even though, technically, that hadn't happened yet)...how important is it that I buy new clothes? But life carries on and so did we, in every small way we could. If my grandparents could come through WWII and go on to have families and lives, I figured we too would find a way to grow up and grow old, even though I also knew that something in the world had changed.
Perhaps the biggest direct impact 9/11 had on my college life came through the sudden spike in fear that my family had about my plans for the following school year, the fall of 2002, when I was set to travel to Africa for an entire semester. They balked at the idea of me traveling abroad, and really, those of us in the Africa semester group did wonder for some time if we'd be allowed to go. My argument to my parents? There are no guarantees, not even here, so why not explore and learn in every way possible? While I can't say they were ever 100% behind the idea, they let me go.
On the one year anniversary of 9/11, I was in Arusha, Tanzania. I remember sitting in a tiny cafe eating supper that night, listening to the radio broadcasting the news, and all of the sudden, there was W.'s voice, snippets of his speech from the memorial that was taking place halfway around the world. It was surreal to be so far away from home and yet so connected to a day I know I'll never fully understand.
Ten years later and I feel the same way. I still don't get it. I don't know why people hate or why they mistrust and take out their own fears and frustrations on others who have done them no harm. I also don't know how we can still be fighting wars over this, but that's not to say that I think those lives lost weren't worth defending. I do know that I am grateful. Grateful for the brave men and women in our armed services who tackle the most difficult tasks each day - something I would never have the strength or courage to do. Grateful for the education, travel, and experiences I've had in the last ten years that have taught me much about the world as well as tolerance and acceptance. Grateful for my loving family, kind husband, beautiful son, and the sweet little one about to join us. For all of these reasons, I am so glad that we have found a way to carry on beyond the terror and fear of that day ten years ago. All that being said, I hope we never forget and never let that gratitude go. We cannot live this life alone. But perhaps we can find a way to live it together with more joy and more peace.
Friday, September 9, 2011
How Does He Know?
Today I have to take HD w/ me to an appointment in Grand Island. Silly mommy-brain...I didn't leave enough time for Ben to make it home so I could make the trek alone like I normally do. This is OK; he's gone with me to this same place before and handled it just fine. What I thought we would do though, for kicks, was hit up Khol's for a little shopping prior to my appointment. Remember my restlessness and desire to shop? Yeah, still dealing with that. But all I'm looking to buy is a cardigan - something that will work post-baby-body as well as in the present time, promise.
So. Here I sit, waiting almost, for Harrison to wake up from his nap. How does he do this? When I want to take advantage of nap time by also sleeping (which has been happening a lot since I entered my third trimester of pregnancy), he barely sleeps an hour and fifteen minutes. Today, when I would like to hit the road sooner than later, he snoozes and snoozes and snoozes. I would like to think that if I just pretended each day that I had some really important (OK, Khol's is not that important, but still), maybe I could lure him into napping for these long, glorious chunks of time. Chunks of time that would allow me to decompress, too.
But I know my son and he is so much smarter than that (and me). He would know, without fail, that I was trying to trick him. And he would, no doubt, be awake in no time.
So. Here I sit, waiting almost, for Harrison to wake up from his nap. How does he do this? When I want to take advantage of nap time by also sleeping (which has been happening a lot since I entered my third trimester of pregnancy), he barely sleeps an hour and fifteen minutes. Today, when I would like to hit the road sooner than later, he snoozes and snoozes and snoozes. I would like to think that if I just pretended each day that I had some really important (OK, Khol's is not that important, but still), maybe I could lure him into napping for these long, glorious chunks of time. Chunks of time that would allow me to decompress, too.
But I know my son and he is so much smarter than that (and me). He would know, without fail, that I was trying to trick him. And he would, no doubt, be awake in no time.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Give to Mama
Friday, September 2, 2011
Restless
It started yesterday afternoon and has yet to cease. I have no idea what I want or want to do but I cannot shake this feeling - this urge - to want and to want to do. But with no answers or even ideas (other than shopping, and really, at 8 months pregnant? What is the point?), I sit here feeling stuck.
My darling husband suggested last night that maybe I should clean. Did he not get the memo about being 8 months pregnant? When I gave him the raised, incredulous eyebrow look, he quickly recanted and said that he meant, "you know - nesting stuff." OK. Nesting I could probably get behind, but I've kind of already done a lot of that with the whole painting the basement, organizing the kitchen cupboards, and going through the storage containers to find newborn gear. And really, after getting through the first two weeks of Ben being back to teaching, I'm a little bit sick of the house. Even now he is at the high school football game while Harrison sleeps soundly in the room next to me, which is quiet and peaceful, but the fact remains that it's just me and the dogs and the house and this extreme sense of not knowing what to do.
I haven't hit the ready-to-be-done-with-being-pregnant wall quite yet and that is a good thing seeing as I have 7ish weeks left to go. So if I know it isn't that, then perhaps it has a bit to do with knowing that we've hit the so close, yet so far away stage of the pregnancy. I cannot begin to fathom what life will be like when BWNo.2 arrives, but I seem to be itching to get there (don't worry, Mom. I'm not actually itching!). That, or I just really want to go shopping.
My darling husband suggested last night that maybe I should clean. Did he not get the memo about being 8 months pregnant? When I gave him the raised, incredulous eyebrow look, he quickly recanted and said that he meant, "you know - nesting stuff." OK. Nesting I could probably get behind, but I've kind of already done a lot of that with the whole painting the basement, organizing the kitchen cupboards, and going through the storage containers to find newborn gear. And really, after getting through the first two weeks of Ben being back to teaching, I'm a little bit sick of the house. Even now he is at the high school football game while Harrison sleeps soundly in the room next to me, which is quiet and peaceful, but the fact remains that it's just me and the dogs and the house and this extreme sense of not knowing what to do.
I haven't hit the ready-to-be-done-with-being-pregnant wall quite yet and that is a good thing seeing as I have 7ish weeks left to go. So if I know it isn't that, then perhaps it has a bit to do with knowing that we've hit the so close, yet so far away stage of the pregnancy. I cannot begin to fathom what life will be like when BWNo.2 arrives, but I seem to be itching to get there (don't worry, Mom. I'm not actually itching!). That, or I just really want to go shopping.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Coming Back
Today, for the very first time, Harrison and I tried out a MOPS meeting. We hadn't gone previously because the meeting time conflicted with HD's morning nap, and if you know anything about us, you know we are crazy about honoring the almighty nap. (Side note: wonder what BWNo.2's naps will be like. How will we ever be as good at getting those in as we were for Harrison?)
The overall impression was a good one. It was amazing to see just how many women were there and really nice to hear that I'm not the only one who has ups and downs with parenting. But I'll say more about that another time. For now, my mind is on just how heartbreaking it was to leave Harrison with the childcare providers and walk myself up to the meeting room to start the morning.
Honestly, I don't know how moms (and dads) do this every day at daycare. I guess it must get easier, but this was our first experience of leaving Harrison in a strange, new place with strange, new people and it was a tad bit dramatic (and traumatic!). When we first walked into the 2-3 yr. old's room, it was just fine. There were crafts, colors, and some young girls floating about looking over the growing herd. One little girl, though, was whimpering. And soon another one started. And then another. And then I tried to focus Harrison's attention on his football coloring sheet so I could scoot out the door and wouldn't you know it - he joined the chorus of criers! The big fat tears, the clinging to my neck - it was all just too much for me. So I sat. & I colored. & I looked at the other moms coming and going and wondered if I'd even make it to the darn meeting.
Soon a mom I know came in with her son and I decided it was a now or never moment. Along with another new mom who was struggling to detach, we more or less just bolted. Of course I gave HD a kiss and told him I'd be back, and then I left him with the teenager who was standing there ready and willing to distract. Now, in my defense, I can blame what happened next on the fact that I'm pregnant and that, as I've come to learn, makes a girl a bit emotional. But just like my little man, I started crying! OK, maybe not full on crying, but I got totally teared up as I walked (ran) from that Sunday school classroom with the other moms. It was so hard to leave him feeling so confused and because I'm with him ALL the time, we just have no experience at how to handle this. Knowing that a little social interaction would be good for both of us, though, I did my best to hold back the waterworks. & seeing as no one ever came to get me to say that my child was a total basketcase, I guess he calmed down as well. Full disclosure? I have a feeling this scene (tears for both) would have played out even if I wasn't full of pregnancy hormones.
When we got home a couple hours later, and I was helping Harrison from the carseat, he told me, "Mama came back!" This, along with big, hiccupy hug that I got when I went to pick him up, made my day. By some sort of divine intervention, we checked out Llama Llama Misses Mama last week from the library and have been reading it a lot ever since. In the story, Little Llama misses his mama when he goes to school for the first time, but they ultimately have a happy reunion ("Mama Llama! You came back!!!") at the end of the day. How fantastic to know that my son is not only learning from the books we read together, but also to see that he knows his own mama loves him to pieces and will always come back. Too bad I won't always have the excuse of the baby bump when his growing up makes me choke up in the future.
The overall impression was a good one. It was amazing to see just how many women were there and really nice to hear that I'm not the only one who has ups and downs with parenting. But I'll say more about that another time. For now, my mind is on just how heartbreaking it was to leave Harrison with the childcare providers and walk myself up to the meeting room to start the morning.
Honestly, I don't know how moms (and dads) do this every day at daycare. I guess it must get easier, but this was our first experience of leaving Harrison in a strange, new place with strange, new people and it was a tad bit dramatic (and traumatic!). When we first walked into the 2-3 yr. old's room, it was just fine. There were crafts, colors, and some young girls floating about looking over the growing herd. One little girl, though, was whimpering. And soon another one started. And then another. And then I tried to focus Harrison's attention on his football coloring sheet so I could scoot out the door and wouldn't you know it - he joined the chorus of criers! The big fat tears, the clinging to my neck - it was all just too much for me. So I sat. & I colored. & I looked at the other moms coming and going and wondered if I'd even make it to the darn meeting.
Soon a mom I know came in with her son and I decided it was a now or never moment. Along with another new mom who was struggling to detach, we more or less just bolted. Of course I gave HD a kiss and told him I'd be back, and then I left him with the teenager who was standing there ready and willing to distract. Now, in my defense, I can blame what happened next on the fact that I'm pregnant and that, as I've come to learn, makes a girl a bit emotional. But just like my little man, I started crying! OK, maybe not full on crying, but I got totally teared up as I walked (ran) from that Sunday school classroom with the other moms. It was so hard to leave him feeling so confused and because I'm with him ALL the time, we just have no experience at how to handle this. Knowing that a little social interaction would be good for both of us, though, I did my best to hold back the waterworks. & seeing as no one ever came to get me to say that my child was a total basketcase, I guess he calmed down as well. Full disclosure? I have a feeling this scene (tears for both) would have played out even if I wasn't full of pregnancy hormones.
When we got home a couple hours later, and I was helping Harrison from the carseat, he told me, "Mama came back!" This, along with big, hiccupy hug that I got when I went to pick him up, made my day. By some sort of divine intervention, we checked out Llama Llama Misses Mama last week from the library and have been reading it a lot ever since. In the story, Little Llama misses his mama when he goes to school for the first time, but they ultimately have a happy reunion ("Mama Llama! You came back!!!") at the end of the day. How fantastic to know that my son is not only learning from the books we read together, but also to see that he knows his own mama loves him to pieces and will always come back. Too bad I won't always have the excuse of the baby bump when his growing up makes me choke up in the future.
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