Juni is not a movie-going sort of kid. He's a play in the mud, work in the garden, rearrange the flower bed sort of kid. But we were heading into week two of a ridiculous heat wave, and I decided it was time to try the movie theater again.
Last fall he made it 40 minutes into the Chipmunk's Squeakuel. I can't say I wasn't relieved. That was just a headache waiting to happen.
This time I brought backup - Juni's best friend and his mom. We met at the theater early to make sure we beat the daycare buses to the free movie. It was 85 degrees and 9:15 am.
It's important to note at this time that i do not wear shorts unless it's more than 100 degrees outside and I'm fairly positive I will not see another human being that day. I hate my legs. With a passion. And so on this given day, I chose to wear jeans. Mistake No. 1.
I'm not sure why the heat bothered me so much. Maybe it was the 314 kids whining and squirming and fussing with each other. Maybe I didn't drink enough water that morning. Maybe it was too much makeup. I don't know. The point is, I began to sweat. A lot.
You may think I'm exaggerating here. Believe me, I am not. People were staring. My friend offered to stand in line while I sat in my car. My eyes were burning from the salt in my sweat pouring into my eyes. My chest was absolutely drenched. My entire shirt was soaked, as were my pants.
I have never seen another human being spew sweat from their glands as much as I did that morning. Juni kept trying to hang on me, and I was so irritated I reverted to what I told Jasen while I was in labor "I love you. But please. Stop touching me!"
By the time we made it into the theater I honestly didn't care what people were thinking. I went directly to the napkins at the concessions and started mopping up what I could. Insane.
So I was uncomfortable going into the movie, Hotel for Dogs.
I was surprised when Juni made it through the entire movie. This is not to say he didn't fidget, or squirm, or say he was ready to go home every 23 minutes.
What did surprise me is that watching a movie with Juni is worse than watching a movie with my redneck husband. Jasen is a mindless movie watcher. If the plot is he least bit intricate he's lost. If there's a flashback, he's out.
It drives me insane. He asks me questions I can't possibly answer. I'm constantly telling him "dude. I've been watching this movie as long as you have. I don't have any more information than you do. Now shut the hell up and watch the friggin movie."
As tedious as watching a move with Jasen is, with Juni it's worse. My child asked me questions the entire movie. He never stopped talking. And it's not like Hotel for Dogs is all that hard to follow. He wanted to know where people were going, what they were doing, what was going to happen, why that was going to happen, why, why, WHY?
Forty-five minutes into the movie I turned to my friend and just started to laugh. I didn't know what else to do. No way in hell could I answer one more question. I needed a serious dose of Tylenol.
Juni reminded me of my little cousin that day. Always asking why. But my friend gave me some insight that her younger brother told her the other day. Her younger brother always asked why, and it drive his parents and sibling crazy. But t also hurt his feelings. Apparently, he really did want to know why.
Kids are curious. And intelligent people naturally want to know why. And so I decided after the movie that I'm blessed to have healthy, smart, curious child that can ask why. And while I may sneak in a giggle or roll my eyes occasionally, I'm going to do my best to answer his why.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
A Conscious Decision
Today I made a conscious decision I've put off for four years. Someone wrote this to me in relation to career vs. parenthood:
"I realized that right now, right NOW, i have a gift. These guys are growing up so fast. They're like these brilliant little flowers. And what I can give them right now will be something they have for the rest of their lives. And hopefully, hopefully, what I give them now will be good stuff."
People have told me for four years to stop obsessing about my lack of career. About feeling like I'm wasting my degrees. But something about the way this was put, and the fact that he is in the exact same position as me, made me realize that childhood is but a blip on the radar.
He made me realize that that self-worth is self-defined. And he sent me a link to this poem:
Always in my heart ...
My dishes went unwashed today,
I didn't make the bed,
I took his hand and followed
Where his eager footsteps led.
Oh yes, we went adventuring,
My little son and I...
Exploring all the great outdoors
Beneath the summer sky
We waded in a crystal stream,
We wandered through a wood...
My kitchen wasn't swept today
But life was gay and good.
We found a cool, sun-dappled glade
And now my small son knows
How Mother Bunny hides her nest,
Where jack-in-the-pulpit grows.
We watched a robin feed her young,
We climbed a sunlit hill...
Saw cloud-sheep scamper through the sky,
We plucked a daffodil.
That my house was neglected,
That I didn't brush the stairs,
In twenty years, no one on earth
Will know, or even care.
But that I've helped my little boy
To noble manhood grow,
In twenty years, the whole wide world
May look and see and know.
Author: Unknown
I realize that explaining to Jasen why the house is a complete mess is something I'll never completely master. He personally doesn't get it. But that's okay. I may not have my name in print everyday, but, really, does that matter?
My son didn't have to puke with a stranger. I got to hold him, and stroke is clammy little head when he cried for me. I got to tell him that everything was all right, and that "Mommy's right here." I got to tell and show my son just how much I love him. It may sound completely ridiculous and disgusting, but the fact that I was there to clean up my son's puke was the greatest gift.
When all was said and done, my son knew I was there for him. That I'll always be here for him. And then we got to play in the pool, string shells we collected on fishing line, and watch Tom and Jerry together. When he's 30 I'm sure he won't remember today. But I will.
I'll remember every day since his birth. I'll remember the sleepless nights. I'll remember the diapers, the spit up, the puke and the boo-boos. I'll remember the kisses that make it all better, the snuggles, the zurberts and the laughs. I'll remember how my heart burns to think of him growing even one day older. And the pride I feel as that one day older passes and I see the person he is becoming.
I've been with my son every day since he was born. And that's something that has changed my life, my being, my soul, forever. That's something that when I'm 90 I will remember and cherish.
Today I made the conscious decision to not waste one more second worrying about working. I have my Redneck Husband to do that for me.
Every day since Juni's birth I've thanked God for him, and for the gift of raising him every moment of every day. Today, I made the conscious decision to let go of the remnants of guilt for not working. Because when it comes right down to it, work can kiss the fattest part of my behind. Raising Juni is the best kind of "work" imaginable. And I deserve every minute of it.
"I realized that right now, right NOW, i have a gift. These guys are growing up so fast. They're like these brilliant little flowers. And what I can give them right now will be something they have for the rest of their lives. And hopefully, hopefully, what I give them now will be good stuff."
People have told me for four years to stop obsessing about my lack of career. About feeling like I'm wasting my degrees. But something about the way this was put, and the fact that he is in the exact same position as me, made me realize that childhood is but a blip on the radar.
He made me realize that that self-worth is self-defined. And he sent me a link to this poem:
Always in my heart ...
My dishes went unwashed today,
I didn't make the bed,
I took his hand and followed
Where his eager footsteps led.
Oh yes, we went adventuring,
My little son and I...
Exploring all the great outdoors
Beneath the summer sky
We waded in a crystal stream,
We wandered through a wood...
My kitchen wasn't swept today
But life was gay and good.
We found a cool, sun-dappled glade
And now my small son knows
How Mother Bunny hides her nest,
Where jack-in-the-pulpit grows.
We watched a robin feed her young,
We climbed a sunlit hill...
Saw cloud-sheep scamper through the sky,
We plucked a daffodil.
That my house was neglected,
That I didn't brush the stairs,
In twenty years, no one on earth
Will know, or even care.
But that I've helped my little boy
To noble manhood grow,
In twenty years, the whole wide world
May look and see and know.
Author: Unknown
I realize that explaining to Jasen why the house is a complete mess is something I'll never completely master. He personally doesn't get it. But that's okay. I may not have my name in print everyday, but, really, does that matter?
My son didn't have to puke with a stranger. I got to hold him, and stroke is clammy little head when he cried for me. I got to tell him that everything was all right, and that "Mommy's right here." I got to tell and show my son just how much I love him. It may sound completely ridiculous and disgusting, but the fact that I was there to clean up my son's puke was the greatest gift.
When all was said and done, my son knew I was there for him. That I'll always be here for him. And then we got to play in the pool, string shells we collected on fishing line, and watch Tom and Jerry together. When he's 30 I'm sure he won't remember today. But I will.
I'll remember every day since his birth. I'll remember the sleepless nights. I'll remember the diapers, the spit up, the puke and the boo-boos. I'll remember the kisses that make it all better, the snuggles, the zurberts and the laughs. I'll remember how my heart burns to think of him growing even one day older. And the pride I feel as that one day older passes and I see the person he is becoming.
I've been with my son every day since he was born. And that's something that has changed my life, my being, my soul, forever. That's something that when I'm 90 I will remember and cherish.
Today I made the conscious decision to not waste one more second worrying about working. I have my Redneck Husband to do that for me.
Every day since Juni's birth I've thanked God for him, and for the gift of raising him every moment of every day. Today, I made the conscious decision to let go of the remnants of guilt for not working. Because when it comes right down to it, work can kiss the fattest part of my behind. Raising Juni is the best kind of "work" imaginable. And I deserve every minute of it.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
PukeFest 2010
Mothers always tell me that their own kid's bodily yuckiness doesn't make them gag. I, personally, find that what comes out of my child's body can be so vile it makes me dry heave.
Last night was no exception. Juni came home from VBS at 9:30 p.m., totally worked up and singing something about God being his hero. Completely adorable. He fell asleep in my bed, and slept in his until midnight. And that's when the fun began.
He woke up, screaming "Mommy!" Let me explain something - my child wakes up screaming my name several times a week. It's insane. And annoying. But every time, I dash into his room, trying to get there before Jasen wakes up. I call him a sleeping bear at night. "Don't wake the Daddy Bear, Juni! He bites!"
I get into Juni's room in time for him to tell me that his tummy hurts. Uh-Oh. Before I can find the puke bucket, he's spewing half-digested mystery food two feet in front of his body. On the bed. On the pillows. On his pants. In his hair. The smell overtakes he room, and me.
It's at this point that I realize I definitely need backup. I wake the sleeping bear for puke patrol. I'm opening windows, tuning on fans, gagging and dry-heaving. Juni is busy sloshing around his bed in his own vomit.
Once he takes a break, Jasen holds him up by his armpits, and I strip him of his sodden clothes. Bits of goo and mush scatter across his carpet. His white, Berber carpet. Ugh.
Jasen takes care of the bath, and I strip his bed and stuff everything into the wash. I'm giving my lungs a workout, holding my breath as long as I can before dashing into the hallway for fresh air. It's 95 degrees outside, the air is pumping full time, and I don't care. I'm basically just trying to preserve my dinner, which was wonderful going down, but would be completely miserable coming back up.
I actually had to vacuum up bits of barf off of his floor. I thought using carpet cleaner and 7th Generation on the bed frame would help mask the smell. Not so much. It smelled like an elementary hallway when a kid looses their lunch and the janitor covers it in that pink saw dusty stuff. (Umm...yeah...I literally just got the nausea lump in my throat).
To sum up a long night, I'd sleep for an hour, Juni would puke. I'd sleep for another hour, Juni would puke. He's such a good kid...much better than me when I'm sick. He'd use his little bucket (the pink rectangular one you get at the hospital when you deliver), take a sip of water, and go right back to bed.
This morning he puked again, but everything after the initial PukeFest 2010 has been nothing but clear fluid. I have no idea what the kid ate that's made his stomach so pissed off, but at this point he hasn't eaten in more than 12 hours. And of course I'm terrified to feed him. And he's feeling fine. He'll hand me the pink puke pail and immediately ask "Mommy, where we going today?"
Oy...
Last night was no exception. Juni came home from VBS at 9:30 p.m., totally worked up and singing something about God being his hero. Completely adorable. He fell asleep in my bed, and slept in his until midnight. And that's when the fun began.
He woke up, screaming "Mommy!" Let me explain something - my child wakes up screaming my name several times a week. It's insane. And annoying. But every time, I dash into his room, trying to get there before Jasen wakes up. I call him a sleeping bear at night. "Don't wake the Daddy Bear, Juni! He bites!"
I get into Juni's room in time for him to tell me that his tummy hurts. Uh-Oh. Before I can find the puke bucket, he's spewing half-digested mystery food two feet in front of his body. On the bed. On the pillows. On his pants. In his hair. The smell overtakes he room, and me.
It's at this point that I realize I definitely need backup. I wake the sleeping bear for puke patrol. I'm opening windows, tuning on fans, gagging and dry-heaving. Juni is busy sloshing around his bed in his own vomit.
Once he takes a break, Jasen holds him up by his armpits, and I strip him of his sodden clothes. Bits of goo and mush scatter across his carpet. His white, Berber carpet. Ugh.
Jasen takes care of the bath, and I strip his bed and stuff everything into the wash. I'm giving my lungs a workout, holding my breath as long as I can before dashing into the hallway for fresh air. It's 95 degrees outside, the air is pumping full time, and I don't care. I'm basically just trying to preserve my dinner, which was wonderful going down, but would be completely miserable coming back up.
I actually had to vacuum up bits of barf off of his floor. I thought using carpet cleaner and 7th Generation on the bed frame would help mask the smell. Not so much. It smelled like an elementary hallway when a kid looses their lunch and the janitor covers it in that pink saw dusty stuff. (Umm...yeah...I literally just got the nausea lump in my throat).
To sum up a long night, I'd sleep for an hour, Juni would puke. I'd sleep for another hour, Juni would puke. He's such a good kid...much better than me when I'm sick. He'd use his little bucket (the pink rectangular one you get at the hospital when you deliver), take a sip of water, and go right back to bed.
This morning he puked again, but everything after the initial PukeFest 2010 has been nothing but clear fluid. I have no idea what the kid ate that's made his stomach so pissed off, but at this point he hasn't eaten in more than 12 hours. And of course I'm terrified to feed him. And he's feeling fine. He'll hand me the pink puke pail and immediately ask "Mommy, where we going today?"
Oy...
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