Grace in Small Things

1.  Little not-so-much-a-baby-anymore hugs around my legs

2. Babies in tutus

3.  Blue skies, and grey ones too

4.  Rediscovering old pictures that show that she doesn’t look all that different a year later

5.  Laughing

Grace in Small Things

When I was in high school and most of college, I kept a gratitude journal.  Lest you think this was Oprah-inspired, I assure you it was not.  My high school theater teacher had us do one as a writing assignment every day.  It forced me to think about the things that were GOOD in my life.

Schmutzie is doing one too.  I decided to jump on the bandwagon and join in.

My grace in small things.

1.  Coffee.  With one Sweet-n-Low and cream.

2. A dripping, coughing, sleeping baby curled up next to me.

3. That Wall-E doesn’t have much talky-talky.  Makes watching it bearable.

4. My husband.  Who reminds me everyday why I married him.  Especially when he’s ultra-observant.

5. Cool mornings and perfect afternoons spent outside.

I was all by myself.

Do you know what I’m doing right now?  I’m sitting at home, by myself.  JR took Claire to the mall, or the playgound, or somewhere, I don’t care.  I’m BY MYSELF.  I don’t remember the last time I was home alone when I didn’t have to do something.  I mean, sure, I COULD clean, but I’m not going to.  I’m going to sit on the couch and watch TV and revel in the silence.

I haven’t posted in what, a week? because I haven’t had anything GOOD to say.  I’ve been having little conversations with myself, reassuring myself, encouraging myself.  Telling myself that what I’m dealing with is nothing new, women have done it for hundreds of years, I can too.  I’m questioning my abilities as a wife, as a mother, as a PERSON.  I’ve been down, and it’s taking longer and longer to pull myself up.

But, I WILL pull myself up.  I have to.  I keep telling myself that.  Every morning I give myself a little pep talk, and I repeat it all day if I have to.  By 5 or 6 when JR gets home, I’m about ready to crack.  There’s no reason for it.  My life isn’t that bad; in fact it’s pretty good.  But the challenges I face (however mundane and typically unchallenging) everyday are the ones that push me farther down into the hole I’ve been struggling to get out of for 19 months.

I’ve done pretty well, and I will continue to do well.  I won’t let this stop me from trying, everyday, to be a good mother.  If Claire doesn’t eat what I offer, I’ll offer other things.  If she fights me when I try to put her diaper on, I’ll take a deep breath, count to ten and try again.  If she pouts, or cries, or pushes me away, I’ll go back to her.  I know she loves me, I know I love her, and I know this phase will pass.

I will ask for help when things get to be too much (even if other people don’t think they are) and I will seek help for myself.  I won’t be pulled under, and I won’t go down without a fight.

I will be good for her.  I will get better for her.

Anatomy of a post

Most of the time I don’t think my life is very interesting.  I’m home all day with a kid who says things like, “Oom. Et-ee. It daa. Hai mummy. Puppies. Puppies. Pysh ah. Ah! Hahaha! Whoees. Et-ee”   Sure, sometimes she’s funny, but I forget what it is that she did that was so funny, or it’s only funny if you SAW her do it.

I write mini blog posts in my head, all day.  I write because I want to remember this time.  I didn’t write much during Claire’s first 9 months, and I wish I had.  So I’m determined to keep track of the daily happenings.

So, when something that had potential to be a really great post happened last night, I immediatly wrote down some notes about it.  I’ve been trying to twist and turn the events, to get just the right descriptions to accuratly portray the incident.  I don’t think I have it just yet, but I’m going to revisit this post during her naps and keep working on it.

Topic:  Claire sat on my lap while I was pooping.

Here’s where it gets tricky.  Normally, I’d start at the beginning.  I set Claire up with (fucking) Nemo, and tiptoed away to the bathroom.  I thought I had enough time to do my ahem business before she decided to look for me.

I was wrong.  I had maybe 45 seconds to myself before I heard her little footsteps and her small voice ask, “Mommy?”

“Hi, honey.  Mommy’s going potty.  Do you want to go potty?”  I asked, trying to buy some time.  She nodded, lifted up her dress and sat on her potty.  This will give me at least another minute.

But, she’s a smart kid.  She stood up almost immediatly, looked down at her diaper in confusion, and walked over to me.  She played with some of the bath toys, but looked a little sad.

“Mommy?”  She asked, holding up her arms.  “Pee-ee?  Peeese?”  This means “Pick me up, please.”  Not “Can I go pee, too?”  So I did.  I picked her up, sat her on my lap and continued to do my ahem business.

And I’ll tell you, she was silent.  No wiggling, no speaking, she just sat there, stoic.  I haven’t seen her sit that quietly since she learned how to walk.  We practiced some sign language – boat, baby, book.

I finally was done, and we walked out of the bathroom, hand in hand.

So, here’s my dilema.  The funny part about that story is in the middle.  She sat on my lap while I was pooping.  But the part about her being quiet is pretty funny too.  I don’t know.  I’ll look at it later and see what I can change.  There’s always room for improvement.

Bringing it back home

OK, enough of that.  Let’s get back to the funny (I swear I AM funny.  Ask any of my friends.  I think that my type of humor doesn’t translate well to the written word.  Yeah, that’s it).

I took Claire to the doctor yesterday for the first time here in Houston (why do I feel like I’m participating in an open mic night at a comedy club?  “I flew in from Houston and boy are my arms tired!” Ba-Dum-Dum Ching).  My Lovely Sister-in-law takes her kids to this pediatrician, and had nothing but good things to say about her.  The doctor is actually filling in for her regular doctor, who is out on maternity leave.

So we get to the office about 15 minutes early so I can fill out all the paperwork.  The first thing I notice is that there aren’t any toys in the waiting room.  At a pediatrician’s office.  Where there are KIDS waiting.  No problem, I just gave Claire my wallet (then silently – or maybe not so silently – cursed her for taking every. single. card out and throwing them all over the room) while I filled everything out.  We only waited for about 10 minutes before they called us back.

Here’s the second problem.  The nurse practitioner looked like she wasn’t old enough to buy beer, much less know anything about medicine.  Plus, when I told her that Claire was born in Oklahoma, she typed for a second, stopped, typed some more, stopped, the finally asked me how to spell Oklahoma.

Dude.  It’s not like you’re spelling Rhode Island.  There aren’t any silent letters in Oklahoma.  I laughed polietly and spelled it for her.  She commented on Claire’s attire (Her: “Ma-GAN-ta, right?”  Me:  “Sure.”), and her behavior (she was in rare form – well behaved!) then left the room.

Actually, one more thing.  While we were talking about Claire’s medical history, she did this annoying thing.  She kept finishing my sentences with me.

I’d say:  “Claire wasn’t talking very much at all before we moved here.  Then she started hanging out with her cousins and she started talking more.”

And she’d say: “…started talking more.”

I hate that.

Anyway, the appointment as a whole was fine.  Claire’s in the 33rd percentile for her height and 25th for her weight, but the doctor wasn’t concerned.  She’s just a little girl! We’re going to watch her speech and if she can’t use two or three word phrases by June, we’ll look into speech tharepy.  But I’m really not worried.

So that’s that.

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I read something this morning that I’ve been thinking about all day.  In one of the (many) blogs I read, Mr Lady talks about being pissed slightly annoyed at a mother who parked in a narrow, snow and ice covered, no-parking pick-up and drop off lane at her kid’s school.  She got mad, wrote a letter and now is on the PTA, directing traffic and organizing other parents to get behind her on this.

I don’t work, as you may know.  And I  miss it.  I dream about getting up early, showering in the morning (instead of late afternoon, or not at all), getting dressed up, and driving to a job.  I wouldn’t mind long commutes, as long as I have my coffee and a book-on-tape.  I  miss listening to the news in the morning, and being around adults, having adult conversations.

Of course, in my dream, I’m working someplace where I love my job and I’m fulfilled with my career.  That’s the crux of the issue, I think.  I stay home with Claire all day, everyday.  Sure, I see her learning things that I’ve taught her.  I get to see her grow up and change before my eyes.  I’m lucky that I don’t HAVE to work.  But, I’m not fullfilled.  I’m been reading more, which I never had time for when I was working.  And I get to cook now, which I never wanted to do when I was working.  But when Claire learns a new word, it’s me who gets to hear it all day.  It’s “nope” by the way.  I HATE that word, it’s just dripping with blatent disreguard for my rules.

Anyway, after reading Mr. Lady’s words today, I realized that the thing I miss about working is feeling like I’m DOING something.  Feeling like I’m making a difference, and am worth something to the people I work with.  Claire’s not so good with the thank you’s, is what I’m saying.  But, I CAN do something.  I CAN make a difference in some way.

I need to be more like Mr. Lady and FIND the things that I’m passionate about.  I know there are things that I feel strongly about, I just need to find them and get off my (ever-growing) ass and DO SOMETHING.

Of course, as I write this, I’m sitting on my couch, drinking coffee.  Sometimes it’s really easy to stay home and not do anything.

Unanswered questions

I was watching The View this morning (shut up, Claire was taking a nap and to my credit I was also switching back to The Price Is Right) and they were talking about Caroline Kennedy and her experience.  People have been giving her flack for her supposed lack of experience.  The ladies on The View were saying that people needed to look at her whole life’s experience, not just her professional experience.  They were saying that some women take different career paths than men; they’re not as linear as men’s.

They said that some women start their career when their kids are in school all day.  That’s an age when some men are trying to FINISH their career.

I wondered, will I be like that?  I’ve never had a “career.”  I’ve worked since I turned 16, except for the nine months I stayed home with Claire after she was born, and again now.  But I was never doing anything I truely loved.  I’m not even sure what I would do if I have the chance to do anything.  I like planning weddings, but I feel like I need to do that in an office.  I’m not good at working from home.

Will I start a career when Claire’s in school full time?  If so, what will it be?  When will I feel like my life is complete?

Big questions for a Tuesday morning.

A morning in pictures

JR went back to work this morning for the first time in two weeks and, although I would never admit this to him, I miss him being around. If nothing else than for someone ELSE who Claire can climb on.

So, since Claire’s taking a nap, and I’m bored, I decided to take some pictures.

This is the box of books JR bought me at Half Price Books last week.  It’s all easy reading, and I’ve read 2 1/2 already.

Notice the price tag.  $5 for all those books.  Such a bargain shopper!

This is my bathroom counter.  I haven’t even come close to unpacking our room, which means that I keep piling stuff on the counter.  Hey, it takes a lot of work to look this good!  *ahem*

Bonus:  You get to see the pile of dirty laundry that I have to do at some point.  Awesome.

Speaking of laundry, here’s a picture of clean, dry towels in the dryer.  I don’t think there’s anything as nice as a clean, dry towel after a hot shower.  Seriously, this is my life.

Except this:  Gluvine.  It’s a German mulled wine that you drink hot.  It’s delicious on a cold night.  Which we haven’t had much of, because no one told Houston that it’s January.

You’ll notice one of the bottles is empty.  It was from the other cold night we had this winter so far.  Yes, there have only been two.

Claire’s up.  Maybe more pictures will be forthcoming!

Dear Claire: Month 19

Dear Claire,

A few days ago, you turned 19 months old.  I’m sure one day you’ll be reading these, and think to yourself, “Geez Mom, why couldn’t you have written me a letter on my ACTUAL birthday.”  To which I would most certainly reply, “Suck it, Claire of the Future.  You don’t understand what you were LIKE when you were 18 months old.  It was all I could to to just hang on and not hurl myself from a moving vehicle.  And also I love you. And call me, I’m sure I haven’t spoken to you in a while.  And clean your room.”  Because that’s how I roll, yo.

Anyway, December was hard for mommy.  The hubub of Thanksgiving was over, and with it left all the people who were waiting on you hand and foot.  And honey, I love you, but you are more than capable of getting your own water from across the room.  You started walking when you were 10 months old, and haven’t really slowed down since then.  You insist on walking everywhere, in the mall, at the grocery store, around the block.  But if you want something, it’s all “Mommy!  Pease!  Pease!”  And while I love your manners, you can walk two feet to get your cup yourself. 

I’ve tried to make sure that you have a lot of things to do during the day.  It’s important to me that you are involved, that you spend your time with people other than me and your Daddy.  We do Gymboree once a week, and Daddy and I just enrolled you in dance and gymnastic classes which you’ll start in January.  You love to dance, and we always have music on.  You also love to do somersaults, even though you can’t quite get your feet over yet.  You’ll put your head down on the ground, little butt in the air and look at from between your legs.  You also think it’s HILARIOUS if, when you’re in this stance, I say “Upside down?!”  You stayed at your Lovely Aunt Addie and Uncle Dayne’s house for New Year’s Eve and I was told that you and your cousins had a Rockin’ Dance Party until late in the night.  Uncle Dayne even taught you his famed Bootylicious Dance, which I haven’t even seen.  I’m so glad you get to spend time with your family.  Your cousins LOVE you and you love to play hostess when they come over.

We’ve taken you out to the bayhouse a few times and its one of your favorite places.  That’s good because it’s one of OUR favorite places too.  You could spend all day out by the water, picking up rocks and giving shells to your daddy.  The last time we were out there, you picked up two shells; one for you and one for Daddy.  He tried to put his down when you came back inside, but you picked it back up and gave it back to him.  He carried that shell around all weekend, because you gave it to him.  We’re starting a box of all the presents you give us, and one day we’ll look at it and say, “This was the shell that you gave Daddy at the bayhouse.  You would get so annoyed if you had to follow him around to make sure he kept it on his person at all times.”

You’re also trying to sound out words a lot more now.  There’s the old standbys that you use, “Hai Daddy, Hai Mommy.  Puppy. Mo.”  But now if we’re working on your puzzle and I say, “This is a Kitty.”  You look at my mouth and say, “Kit-ty.”  A sheep says “Ah-ah-ah” a puppy says “woof” and you know all this.  You’ve named your Nanny and my dad is now Poppa.  I’m working on “Love you”  and have conned you into saying it a few times.  That’s my favorite.  You give lots of hugs, but are very stingy with your kisses.  A few nights ago, we had just gotten out of the bath and you were laying on the changing table while I put your diaper and pajamas on.  Most nights you fight wearing pants (hey, I can’t blame you.  I don’t like wearing pants either), but that night you put your legs up so I could put your pj’s on.  Then, when I stood you up to put your shirt on, you reached out to me and gave me a hug.  The weight of your head on my shoulder and your hand patting my back made me melt.  Then you pulled away, looked me in the eyes, and gave me a kiss.  I almost lost it.  It’s not that you’re a bad kid.  Far from it.  You just change so quickly, it’s hard for me to keep up.  There are things you like one day and hate the next.  You’re growing up, little grub, and I’m struggling to keep up.  It’s only at night, right before I put you in your crib, when your head is on my shoulder and your arms are around my neck, and I smell the shampoo on your hair, the same kind that we’ve been using your whole life, that I can reach back in my memory – far back past the temper tantrums and beyond the words and your soft voice – and remember you as a tiny baby.  It’s by far my favorite time of day.

Every day I try to be the mother you deserve.  I struggle, but I hope you know that I don’t really know what I’m doing, here.  This is your first time to be a baby, and my first time to be a mother.  If I falter, or miss a step along the way, please be patient with me.  You have taught me so much about myself – you’ve pushed my patience past it’s breaking point time and again, and you’ve stretched my love farther than I ever thought it could go.  Your Dad and I were talking last night about you, the person you’ve become and the person you WILL become.  We talked about what would happen if you came home drunk at 16 18 20, and how we would gain your trust.  We talked about you in middle school, high school, college.  But honestly, I don’t want to think about that.  It’s overwhelming to think that what we do, what we teach you, will help you become who you are.  I just want to think about today, and tomorrow.  I want to be the best for you, and I try every day to live up to what you deserve.  I love you, Claire.  More everyday.  Thank you.

Love,

Mommy

*exhale*

Ok.  So it’s been 4 days since the Day Of Reckoning, and things are a lot better.  Tuesday was spent at home, all day.  We didn’t do any chores, we didn’t run any errands, our main focus was to have fun. And we did.  We played with blocks, and balls.  After a small argument about the necessity of wearing a coat, we went outside and played with the dogs.  I think I handled that one pretty well, actually.  I asked Claire if she wanted to go outside and play.  She said yes, so I put on my coat and held her coat out to put it on her.  She shook her head, and walked away.  So, I said, “You have to wear a coat outside.  If you don’t want to wear it, we’ll stay in.”  Three tries, and she let me put it on and we had a great time.

That was the only hiccup the whole day.  Wednesday JR stayed home from work, so of course Claire was a little angel.  She got in her carseat without even a whimper (at one point while we were driving to get lunch, she was kissing her baby doll.  Making a liar out of me, she is) and we had a lovely lunch.  Thursday was much of the same.

Today’s been a little rough, but I think it has something to do with the fact that Granny watched her last night while JR and I went out to dinner, and when we got home (at 11), she was STILL AWAKE.  Granny said she tried to put her down, but that she wouldn’t sleep.

The one saving grace throughout this whole thing is her naps.  She still takes two, one at 9 or 10 (depending on when she gets up) and one around 4.  Both times I take her in her room, make sure she has her milk, pacifier, blanket and pillow, and she just lays down and falls asleep.  How long she sleeps is another story, but it’s been my one victory that she falls asleep so well.  Of course now that I say that, she’s going to cry and thrash about every time I try to put her down.

The next week is packed with holiday visitors.  My dad is coming in tomorrow afternoon, and staying until Monday.  My mom (assuming she can get off work – please let her get off work!) will be coming in Wednesday and staying until Sunday.  We have Christmas morning at my lovely sister-in-law’s, Boxing Day on the 26th and JR’s old theater troupe is having a reunion at our house on the 27th.

My Christmas shopping is done, save some stocking stuffers for JR and Claire.  I need to wrap everything and ship presents to JR’s dad, but I can do that tonight.

So, things are better.  Much better.  It might be her, but it might also be my attitude toward her.  I was so frustrated on Monday, and she could tell.  I’m not letting myself get frustrated like that anymore.  She’s beautiful and wonderful and yes, a little headstrong, but that’s ME and JR in her.  And I love her; I just have to show her more often.