You Weren’t Looking for a Cohesive Thought Were You? January 30, 2012

Hello, so I have like 50 little things flitting about in my brain that I want to share. Guess what that means? Bullets!

• Aunt C: NOT CANCER!!!!!! Emphysema, but NOT CANCER!!!!! We are so relieved and happy that the news isn’t as bad as it could have been. That said, as soon as we found out she wasn’t dying G went back to not wanting to reach out to her. He is still very hurt by her actions. I am less so. Don’t get me wrong, I was good and pissed at first, but honestly… she’s had 50 years of getting steamrolled by her sister and this was just one more example. So, yes, I think she should be the one to apologize and I think she should reach out to him. But… I think who ever has to do the reaching out, they should talk it out. Baby G and Uncle P should not suffer because of Grandma Psychopants. Also, I think having the incentive of Baby G being allowed to come over more will help them quit smoking. (Obviously, can’t let the asthmatic baby go over there, especially when it’s winter and all shut up, regardless of the relationship stuff, because of the smoke.)
• La Diabla: This crazy bitch is a whole other story. I think part of the reason G isn’t wanting to reconnect with Aunt C is because he’s afraid of it opening the door for more contact with his mother. Since the fight earlier this month they hadn’t had any contact. Until… the heifer followed his truck one day last week while he was meeting one of his guys out on their route. She then got out and IN FRONT OF HIS WORKER acted like a loon (being all giggly and happy and trying to hug on him) and asked him to go get lunch with her. Like, what? He wasn’t at work? So, he politely (remember, his guy is right there watching this whole scene) told her that he was at work, and very busy and he’d talk to her later. So, she stood there next to her truck and watched him and his guy work and openly cried. He was so pissed. Fine, you want to talk? Let’s start with calling off work hours and having a conversation and not being nuts. I don’t know what he told his driver. Anyway, she hasn’t tried to call since, but I’ve gotten a couple of hang up calls (her signature move) and she’s driving by the house several times a day again. You know what she needs? A job. In California. I was going to say Alaska, but I have fantasies of moving to Alaska.
• Asthma: Can kiss my ass. Poor Baby G had a runny nose last Tuesday, and is now in full blown Yellow Zone again. No wheezing so far, but I started the med’s when the night coughing started. Poor baby. At 17 months, one of his words should not have to be “puffy.” At least we know it’s helping, because when he’s having a coughing fit, he looks relieved to see it. IDK if the runny nose triggered him, or if we got exposed to something new/more at Children’s…
• Thankfulness: I am currently making some micro-preemie hats for a friend of a friend’s baby. She was born at 26 weeks and only 1 & 1/2 pounds. I hate pre-eclampsia. But, her story reminds me of how much worse our outcome could have been. Even though Baby G had to come early, he had 12 more weeks than this baby. He was full size, more than 4 times bigger than this little girl. Carried precisely to term. We were lucky. Of course, the other side to that is knowing what an impact our losses have had on Big C. When he heard about this baby, being born and alive and breathing on her own and being a kick ass little miracle for how tiny she is, he wasn’t happy. His response? “I don’t want to hear too much about that baby, because I don’t think she can stay alive too long.” An eight year old should not have to know that babies can die. Of course, I told him all about Bobby & Maya and Ainsley. I told him all about the miracles of modern medicine. I tried so hard to make him believe that I wasn’t thinking the very same thing. I’m pretty sure I failed, though, because I heard him telling his Nana later that he didn’t think that baby could breathe with such tiny lungs. But… she is breathing with those tiny lungs. Nearly a week now. And I’m making her hats. Because I can’t do anything else and I need to do something.
• Speaking of making hats… Baby Hooked Boutique is doing really well! Today is the last day of V-Day design and listing before I move onto St. Patrick’s Day. Also, getting a new website up for it! Will get you the link when it’s ready for visitors.
• Baby G: Other than the asthma, he is doing so great. He is scary smart. He counts to three, you heard all the animal sounds he makes, he knows all of his body parts, he’s naming colors (green & blue he gets every time, the rest he’s getting about 75% of the time) and he is starting to recognize letters. Two and three word phrases are a daily thing. He asks questions. Well, he asks “Where’d he go?” He understands the answers. Scary smart. He still eats crayons, don’t get me wrong. He’s a toddler. He makes messes and puts stuff in his mouth and tests limits and will cut a bitch over his Elmo toys (or just scream and push her down). But terrifyingly smart.
• Banana-Gate: Banana’s are losing some of their power, but here’s a fun poop story! I talked to the pediatrician about the bananas. He said 1/2 a banana a day. 1/2!!!! Yeah, that wasn’t happening. So, I started offering 1 banana with breakfast, and limiting him to 1/2 a banana at lunch and dinner. Wanna know what happened? He got constipated. The nurse informed me the lack of bananas couldn’t possibly be why he got backed up, because bananas are constipating. Three days, no poo and a suppository later I decided he can have as many bananas as he wants. After a couple days getting re-regulated, and having plenty of bananas, no more poo trouble. So… bananas are back on the menu! (He’s eating about 3-4 a day, now. But, he eats plenty of other foods, too, he isn’t only eating bananas.)

Well, I think there was more, but certain people decided to take a short nap (f’ing asthma cough!), so I gotsta dip.

Going Bananas for Bananas January 1, 2012

There are two things that I will openly own being a judgmental bitch about when it comes to parenting. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll judge in private all day long about lots of things, but about two things only will I really be a vocal bitch: healthy 4 & 5 year old’s who still wear diapers and super picky eaters.

 

I get that diapers are a big deal for some kids, especially with pooping. Big C would pee on the potty all day long from 18′ish months, but asked for a diaper and had to go hide and be in a certain position for MONTHS before he finally got to the point where he was all the way out of diapers. But, that was when he was 2. Not 4. When we start getting past three and a half and potty is still an issue, it’s time to talk to the doctor, to make sure everybody’s healthy, then get on the ball. Because you can’t wear diapers to kindergarten. (If you are dealing with a 4-5 year old in diapers, I’m sorry. I get that it’s probably a huge PIA for you and you wish the kid would shit on the pot, too.)

 

The picky eater one, I have always been much less understanding on. Hard to imagine, yes? Here’s my take, you offer kids TONS of variety. Give them lots of healthy options, eventually they will get hungry enough to eat. Little C rocked my world on this hypothesis, a little, but eventually even he came around. See his first nanny would let him eat ANYTHING just to get him to eat. So guess what he was eating? Well, what would you eat if you could eat ANYTHING? Duh, Cool Ranch Doritos and Fruity Pebbles all day! Or, even better, let’s not eat, let’s just drink milk. Gallons and gallons of milk. I did not realize he had been surviving on nothing but trans fat and high fructose corn syrup, so of course when he started coming to my house and was offered things like cheese, strawberries, cantaloupe, apples, broccoli and Cheerios he wouldn’t eat. He was three, and he went two whole days not eating here and only eating at his mom’s. But, eventually, he did try some of my “weird food.” He now eats pretty normally. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a picky eater, but he will try new foods now, and has gotten used to the fact that Aunt Minta just doesn’t let kids eat crap. But see, he was three when we fought this battle…

 

At 16 months those reasoning skills just aren’t there. Likewise… a 16 month will just be a hungry ass until you give them what they want. So, right now, we’re mostly just eating bananas, peanut butter toast and avocados. Because everything else ends up on the floor to screams of “b’NANA!!!!!!!!!!  b’NANA!!!!!!!!!!!” (or, “mmmm st”, that would be mmm toast, which is what I say as I cut it up and put it on his tray, or “CAAAAAAAAAA-do”). Last week, it was eggs. Eggs, eggs and more eggs. Now, eggs are “cucky” and are met with a deliberate head shake and “hunh-uh.” This kid used to bash Indian food like nobody’s business. He was the baby garbage disposal. You needed food eaten? Give it to Baby G, much like Mikey, he’d eat anything. These days, not so much. He’ll eat 7 bananas in a day, or 3 pieces of PB toast in a sitting, sure… But pasta? You must be kidding!

 

Tell me this is just a phase. Tell me I’m not reaping the fruits of my judgement. Lie to me if you have to…

When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Get Benedryl October 8, 2011

 and Eye Drops…

and Pedialyte…

and now Mommy needs liquor…

Aaah, sick season, how I didn’t miss you. You dirty, germy whore. (and I wonder why all my search traffic comes from pervy guys looking for squirty boob porn…)

Right then. So, it’s been raining and pouring ’round these parts for nearly a month now. (Figuratively, of course, the actual rainy weather is curiously MIA.) You know, of course, about The Really Bad Week, but since then we’ve dealt with fun things like An Allergic Reaction to Cinnamon. Cinnamon?!?!?! Specifically cheap Aldi cinnamon. Way to go, Mom, tried to save $1.50, had to spend $2 on Benedryl. (Also, hello! Benedryl is only $2… talk about a good deal.) Thankfully, the reaction wasn’t severe and the pediatrician said just give him some Benedryl and watch him for 24 hours and everything was OK. But, seriously, watching your kids face puff up and turn fire engine red because his breakfast touched it? SCARY AS HELL!

Then things were OK, for 2 or 3 days and I found out that Big C spent a fuck-ton of money ($130 to be exact) on my X-Box live account and X-Box is being very “watch your damn kids better, idiot” about it (understandable). So, that sucks. But Big C is being very, well, Big C about it. Which is INFURIATING. He has clearly not been beaten enough (I do not actually believe in beating children. I do believe in joking about beating them to other grown ups when I am very mad with their actions.). That or he has ADHD and ODD. Fucking labels. I’m not really sure how I feel about the labeling, nor how to properly handle this shit knowing that part of this is out of his control, except, is it? I don’t know. GRRRR. Anyone with ADHD/ODD experience please feel free to chime in and educate my ass. I’m rather at a loss…

Oh right, and the baby’s sick. We officially have our first case of family pink eye! Complete with matching goop! And… because one inconvenient, highly contagious illness isn’t enough… we also have matching poop! You know what’s a lot of fun? Changing, and I shit you not (shit! hah, I’m so funny), 10 poopy diapers for one baby in one day! Just imagine being the poor kid making 10 poopy diapers in one day. Poor guy. Diarreha and toddlers do not mix. Especially toddlers with itchy, goopy eyes. (Technically, eye, I started the drops in both eyes to prevent the spread!)

I know there is good stuff…

I know these are only blips in the grand scheme of things…

But, sometimes, one just needs a good whine.

A Sad Kind of Weekend October 30, 2010

As you all know I’ve been railing on about needing to find a better home for my pug for some time now. Which makes the events of Friday night all the more sad. My puggins was hit by a car. She did not make it. G buried her near our wooded hill. I feel terrible. For all of my frustrations with her, I did love her and will miss her. I had been dragging my feet on finding her another home because I’d miss her, but if I had found her a home, she may still be alive today. Again, I feel awful. Big C is quite upset as well. We’re all pretty upset.

 

In much less depressing, but still sad to me, other news… no trick or treating for us G thought it was too cold and Baby G thought “wwaaaaahhhhh” out loud for about 2 hours. Damned 2 month immunizations! So, because he was feeling “fussy” we decided to stay in. The boys went with G and my sister. They were not enthused, though. They stayed out only an hour and refused to actually ring bells and say “trick or treat.” They still ended up with candy, somehow. Little C shared a banana Laffy Taffy with me. At least it wasn’t black licorice.

 

In “now I’m just whining” news: Baby G has learned how to fight sleep. For the last two days whenever he’s started drifting off to sleep he has starting waving his right arm like mad to wake himself back up. It would be cute if he weren’t also wailing in my ear while doing it. OK, it’s still cute. Tonight when I put him down for bed he was kicking both legs and waving that arm! I ended up strapping him down with a blanket and putting his heartbeat bear right next to his head to get him to pass out. Crazy

Look Who Got Behind August 9, 2010

Right then, so I went and bragged on myself for not missing any days then muffed a whole weekend. I’d like to say it was because I had a baby, but in fact it’s because I did a lot of family stuff this weekend and when I wasn’t with family, I was asleep.

So, this is the “day 7″ post for the 30 Day Blog Journal, a photo that makes me happy.

There are so many, I’m going to have a hard time choosing just one…

This one ranks pretty high.

as does this one…

and this one…

I think it’s safe to say that all of the pictures that make me happiest feature four very special boys.

… and Familiarity Breeds Contempt July 24, 2010

We knew the peace with Big C couldn’t last long, and it didn’t. Today we experienced a little fan/shit collision. Only for once, it wasn’t only directed at me.

Of course this is good and bad. Because, while I was feeling a little sorry for myself that a six year old didn’t like me… Uncle G busts his ass for that kid. I’m really not kidding when I say the situation is more like H and G are his parents. Big C is “G’s boy.” Not biologically, but in the ways that count. (Although, tangent… we did get a comment this morning about how much Big C favors G and how much he must love being outside because he’s so tan! Honestly, people? He’s surely not the first biracial kid they’ve ever encountered…) So, while it’s nice to be able to share the shitty attitude, it really pisses me off when he gives G a hard time, because G does WAY more fun stuff with him.

The bottom line, this kid is spoiled. If he doesn’t get what he wants, when he wants it a string of complaints and insults follows. That’s basically what happened today. We went out for breakfast, but the breakfast place was crowded, so we went to lunch. He was given the choice between a restaurant we all like and one that he loves, G like and I think is OK. He chose his favorite. Which is fine, he was given the choice. Then we had to go return some baby clothes because I just don’t think we’re going to need newborn sized clothes, so we went to Target. I tried on some maternity clothes (more on this to come, but, e-f’ing-gads I really have lost weight!) while the boys looked at toys. They came over for a fashion show (i.e. watch me waddle out in two dresses that were awesome on the rack but just made me look like a well, fat pregnant lady), gave their opinions and were supposed to be heading on to look at something else while I looked at nursing bras. But, when I came out of the changing room, Big C was standing around looking upset.

Turns out he and Uncle G managed to get into a fight while I was changing. The gist of it was C was ready to leave, G told him we had more shopping to do and C said he was never coming to our house again and that we were mean. At this point Uncle G took the toy, told him he wasn’t being good enough to get a reward and continued on to whatever he was going to look at. When I asked Big C if he had apologized he said “No, because it won’t work.” Meaning, he wasn’t apologizing unless he could get his toy. Obviously, Uncle G was angry at his behavior and also hurt. So, he called H and told her C was ready to be picked up.

Honestly, I get spoken to worse than that on a daily basis by this kid. Everyday I experience eye rolling, and “whatever” and a general assortment of disrespect combined with plain ol’ fashioned spoiled self centeredness. Uncle G doesn’t get this kind of treatment, so he took it a bit harder than I do. But, it was also the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. So, I told him he was being a spoiled jerk, and I didn’t care to spend more time than was necessary with him today. Which meant he lost out on going swimming with Uncle G (probably for the whole summer, because G isn’t a swimmer like I am). I also told him that since he doesn’t appreciate the special things we do (like taking him to a restaurant for an after-camp snack 2-3 times a week, and taking him swimming 2-3 times a week), he would be grounded next week after camp. He will come home, he will stay in the yard or in the house, no video games, until his mother picks him up. He will go home with her every night this week (I normally let him stay 1-2 week nights), and he will not be allowed to spend the night next weekend.

Of course, after I laid that down, G asked him what he was thinking and if he had anything to say and he started bawling. But, he didn’t say anything. So, Gar did get in the back seat with him and tell him that he needed to think about his attitude and they would talk about it next week. He actually handled it very well, which I was still too angry to do.

Two steps forward, three steps back…

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder July 12, 2010

or, so seems to be the case…

I had a great day with Big C yesterday. We was just like peas and carrots again. Well, except that neither of us particularly care for peas and carrots. We’re more ketchup and french fries type people, Big C and I.

So what happened?

I hadn’t seen him in a week. The last time I saw him was on 7/4, then I took a couple of selfish days (aka, caught up on laundry and cleaned my house, which has, of course, been completely undone since then). Then his mother and my mother took the C’s “camping.” I didn’t even know they were gone until they were on the way back. (Glad somebody got a vacation this year…)

The first thing Big C wanted upon arrival home? Uncle G, of course. But that was totally cool, because Uncle G was fishing and that is their favorite thing to do together. The second thing he wanted? Minta. Specifically, dinner with Minta, a movie with Minta, to play a game with Minta, for Minta to make his snack then for Minta to start his shower (and sit on the toilet while he took his shower to make sure monsters couldn’t get him). It was the good old days again.

So, of course, I took him to our favorite restaurant, then to see a movie. Then I had to do a lot of housework (story coming) while Uncle G made a snack and set up a game. But, I played a game (Simpsons Clue, aka Who Killed Mr. Burns, which is one of our favorites), and made second snack and got him to bed. Speaking of, Hypnobirthing CD’s are awesome for getting kids to go to sleep! He spent all night trying to roll closer to me. So much so, that I didn’t get very good sleep, but that’s OK.

He spent all of dinner telling us tales of Nana not having any patience and their fighting while camping. The only person he asked for at all other than me and G was Little C (odd! he’s usually only too pleased to be away from his brother). It was a good night.

*******************************************************

The other tail (not a typ-o, we’re now talking about the evil canines that have taken over my home):

My dogs have lost their damn minds. I seriously NEVER thought I’d EVER entertain the thought of being petless. Especially not after being so upset at losing Mean Kitty. But… I’m entertaining the thought.

My Waldo is quite the elderly gent. He’s 13, which is pretty old for a big dog. In the past year his sight has reduced significantly, his hearing has gone completely and he’s gotten more aggressive. The aggression was getting worse, then I started making the dog’s food (it’s SOOO much cheaper, and healthier and they don’t have any gas on the homemade food), which actually increased the aggression about 10 fold. He actually nipped Big C a couple of weeks ago. (OK, explanation, because had it been solely the dog acting out, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, Waldo would already be gone… Big C was teasing (teasing, teasing, waving it around, taunting, teasing to the point that if he hadn’t gotten nipped, he’d have gotten punished) Waldo with a hot dog and Waldo nipped him whilst taking the hot dog.) Which regardless of provocation is something he wouldn’t have done a year ago. He steps on my feet nearly constantly, which again is new. Worst of all, he barks at me CONSTANTLY and whenever I’m in the kitchen he nudges at me. As if my only job in the kitchen is to make his food. The barking and the nudging seem to be directly related to my making the dog food. The rest seemed to have been starting as part of his age.

The pug, is just unruly. I truly thought age would settle her down a bit, but no. She is out of control. She jumps on the boys, she tries to hump the boys, she jumps on me, she refuses to go outside, she is a bad dog. I should have trained her better. But, I tried. She is just SO willful and dominate. I’m the only thing she even close to respects and she does not respect me. 75% of the time she’s a sweet little lap dog, but 25% of the time, I want to kill her. If she scratches my baby, I’m afraid I might.

So, there’s that… then there’s a new issue. Waldo has been having “accidents” in the house. For the first time in literally 12 years. Waldo has toileted in the house less than five times since his first birthday. All five directly related to his being ill. Three of the five, diarrhea. Five of the five… in places that were easy for me to clean (i.e. his bed, the bathtub, the tile floor), never until this week has Waldo ever toileted on my carpet. This week, he has both peed and pooped on my carpet. Within an hour from coming in from outside. Emma has never been awesome with the house training (she makes it 19 of 20 days without a mistake, but you can count on a mistake every 3 weeks or so). But, she seems to think Waldo going in the house gives her a license to pee (or poop). This, I cannot deal with. I cannot deal with a hundred pound dog leaving messes in the area where my baby will play and a 20 pound dog deciding that if he can, she can.

I don’t know what to do. Blind, deaf, arthritic, control issues, these are not good things. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m doing the right thing by not giving Waldo a peaceful sleep now, rather than wait until he’s worse off? G will not discuss putting Waldo down, but I am honestly starting to feel it might be the kinder option for him. It would tear me apart to do it, but honestly, how much worse am I supposed to let him get?

One thing I do know? I’m not making their food anymore. It’s not worth the aggression, or time for the cost savings.

The First Big Kick June 21, 2010

I have mentioned the fact that I have a squirmy baby. I have even tried to get my husband to be patient enough to feel said squirmy moving around. This has ended in a lot of complaints of “I don’t feel anything! Are you sure the baby’s moving or do you just have gas?”

Because I’ve had plenty of gas that physically moves my body… and feels like it’s kicking my ass from the inside out. Yeah, I think by now I can kind of tell the difference.

So, there has been frustration. I’m frustrated that he gives up after 20 seconds of waiting and he’s frustrated that I get to feel all of this movement and he doesn’t.

This all changed on Friday.

As I was getting the C’s ready to go swimming (I love swimming), Lil G went a lil crazy. I think he was trying to kick Little C, probably in retaliation for using his house (aka my belly) as a step up to Minta’s face. Lil G launched a massive, belly shaking kick. Which prompted Little C to look at my belly and say “Baby G hit me!”

This drew the attention of G and Big C.

So, G cautiously placed his hand on my belly for the first time in several days and was promptly treated to a hand moving, belly disfiguring kick. I almost said “Oh my, I’ve got gas” but decided not to screw up his first big kick with sarcasm. He was thoroughly freaked out. He and Big C were instantly full of “eww, did you see her belly move?” and “it was like he’s trying to get out” type comments. Little C? Completely nonplussed. He leaned his back against my belly and watched some TV. When I finally asked if he felt Baby G kicking him he said “mmm hmm” and went back to his show.

The Haps June 7, 2010

So, “vacation” has come and gone and guess what? It ain’t coming back. I’m still pretty bummed about it. Mostly because I was SO looking forward to that last jaunt as us before becoming “US.” But, whatever, I need to get the fuck over it. What else is going on? Glad you asked!

• Mamaw: Actually showing signs of improvement! Huge shocker. She’s still not out of the woods. But… there are positive signs. I am a giant pussy and have not been to the hospital. Two reasons. 1) I hold my uncle who mistreated her responsible, and he’s there a lot and I won’t be able to not say something (I’m sure you’d have never guessed that from reading this blog) and 2) I’m afraid of getting too involved and the stress it will add. Selfish, I know. But, I’m kind of doing the self preservation thing right now.
• Hubs: Still has pins sticking out of his hand.  I still have to clean them every other day. He still hates it when I clean them. Apparently, my lack of occupational therapy training makes my cleanings sub-par. Go figure. The incision is healed, though! He is back at work as of today, on light duty. After speaking with a lawyer and discussing it last night, he has decided to take it up the ass on the vacation thing (they have taken his vacation towards his worker’s comp time, bastards) in order to not make waves. He assures me that he has confirmation that this WILL NOT affect his paternity leave. He also has confirmation that he will receive his worker’s comp payments for the 14 days he was off recovering. Well, you know the first 14 days of recovery. He is still recovering. There are pins sicking out of his hand, afterall.
• Work: On count down! I’m outta here in 86 days. Which is actually closer to 62 working days! On my mother’s advice I will be staying technically employed until after my maternity leave. But, am so looking forward to days with my baby. And, am so grateful for a hubs who wants to be able to provide that opportunity to me and the baby. In the face of the greater things to come, I’m not really worried about the small stuff anymore.
• Family: My brother had a date this weekend!!! First a job, now a date, I’m so happy I could do backflips! My Dad seems to be doing better with his depression. He is putting himself through nursing school (and thus is broke) so, since G and I can’t take care of the lawn right now, I’ve offered to pay him for the service (he does often talk about starting a handyman business, so this is also encouraging his business). He has spent every penny that I’ve paid him on stuff for Lil G and my sister’s daughter. Every penny.
• Big C: Was somewhat better and also somewhat worse this weekend. He bit my head off for asking (JOKINGLY) if he needed help with his cake and ice cream at a birthday party (you know, as in, can I eat it for you… he took it as did he need me to feed him, I guess?). He also snapped at me and his brother while he was fishing because Little C wanted to hold a worm and was in his way or something to that effect (mostly what he said was “Little C(eeeeeeeeeeeee) stop it, Minta can’t you make him stop, UGH!” But not an hour later when he wanted someone to time his handstands (the boy is allergic to having both feet on the ground at the same time) he told his mother that she doesn’t do it right and she should do it like Minta. Her response: “Minta’s right there, have her do it if you like her way better.” He did. And he listened to my pointers and he got his longest hold yet (almost 8 seconds!). And when I clapped and celebrated he looked at her and said “Well…” she didn’t get it. I was asleep when they left, but G says he kissed my head. So, he’s giving me whiplash. But, he’s under a lot of stress right now. So, again, patience, consistency, love the shit out of him and hope he comes ’round.
• Little C: Of the children under 5 at yesterday’s birthday party Little C was…. the BEST BEHAVED!!! This has never happened before. H constantly tried to steal his scooter. She threw a rock at another cousins head and was generally a terror. Little C had one meltdown, and when I asked him what was the matter he said “I want to eat dinner.” So, I got him a plate of food and like magic, sweet boy came back! No fighting, no hitting, no pushing, minimal whining and minimal crying. It was something like a summer miracle. I was so proud. I’m getting all teary just thinking about it!   One more big ol’ plus for the little guy, no accidents! He peed in the pond twice (with permission), but not a drop in his pants!
• G’s Family: All of my pride and all of the boys’ good behavior did not save me from judgment from G’s family. After all, no matter how good the kids are, I’m still flawed (I let them play too close to the water (the shallow pond with a good 5 feet of 1-2 foot water near the shoreline that was 20 feet from where I was standing… and also one of the children swims like a fish… so really it was Little C that needed a close eye… not that I would let either play unattended near water, hence the me standing nearby), also when Little C was still hungry and back talking I didn’t cow tail to his every demand and even told him that Aunt Minta would not get him more food until he asked nicely (yes, I am evil). So, yeah, I got a few dirty looks and lots of comments about starving children and how much they hoped the boys didn’t drown (this must happen on dry land a lot, cause neither boy was in the water).) I was also judged for having not gained any weight. G’s response to all of this? “Forget them, you see how their kids turned out now their grand-kids are going to be twice as bad, and they’re just jealous because they got fat as pigs when pregnant.” He also said at one point that he didn’t care what his aunts thought, we had the best kids at the party. I love my hubs.
• The house: My living room has been transformed! It was a maze of boxes surrounding a couch and a chair and now? It’s a living room! Complete with floor space. Don’t get me wrong, I had been chunking away at the boxes little by little. But Saturday morning G got possessed by a nesting bug and ALL of the boxes disappeared! Some of them to the basement, but whatever, they are now organized and not in my living room. I’m so happy I feel like cooking again! Now, to work on getting that portable dishwasher!

OK, all done. (I better be, right? That was like a weeks worth of words!)

Big C is Mad at Me June 4, 2010

For the first time in his life, Big C is preferring other people to me. It hurts.

This is a child who as an infant would not sleep anywhere but my house. As young as 8 weeks old he showed a clear Minta bias.

This is a child who used to scream when leaving my house, or when I left wherever he was. This same child used to give a shit less when his mother left after dropping him off.

This is a child who used to call me EVERY SINGLE DAY after daycare to say “Minta hold you” or “Tell me Moon & Stars” for months after I went back to work and couldn’t watch him all day anymore.

This is a child who, when given the choice, would take me over anyone else (including his Nana, his Mommy and his Uncle G).

He now asks for his mother everyday. He now refuses to speak to me if Uncle G’s in the room. He now has something akin to anger in his voice about 60% of the time when he does speak to me. He now tells his mother he only wants to be at my house when I’m at work and Uncle G is at home. He tells Uncle G that I’m mean. He tells me that I don’t love him anymore.

He’s breaking my heart.

Last night G asked him point blank if he was mad at me because I was having a baby. He said “Ye… no!” So, I told him that no matter how many babies I have, 1 or 8 or 0, I will still love him the same. I will always love him. His reply “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

On the one hand, this pisses me off. I mean seriously, since he was a tiny baby I’ve cared for him while his mother was out having “me time” and “party time.” I’ve never gone more than 10 days without seeing him and usually I see him every other day. Honestly, the situation with Big C is very much like H is his mother, G is his father and I am the step-mom. The step-mom with shared parenting who’s raised him as her own for half of his life. Why is it OK to drop me like a hot fucking potato whenever he wants?

On the other hand, I’m deeply hurt. I’ve poured so much of myself into him and it’s appreciated so little.

And, on a third hand (I’ll have as many hands as I want. My blog, my rules!) I see that this is a normal part of growing up. I know he’s stressed about two babies coming into his life, and he remembers when Little C was born. His mom basically turned on him like a hungry jackal. He went from being allowed to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to not being allowed to do anything, least of all touch the baby! At least then he had a babyfree zone to escape the insanity. This time he won’t. It’ll never be just Big C again (or so I imagine he’s thinking). His last vestige of only childness is running out. On top of all of that, he is growing up, he is preparing for more independence and while his mother rather lets him run wild, I am more protective, which I’m sure he sees as not trusting and holding him back and most definitely UNCOOL.

All told this makes for one very conflicted Minta. I’m often so proud of his achievements and how well he’s growing up. But… at times like these, I really just want my Baby C that loved me back. Maybe I won’t kick him out of my bed this week afterall. Who knows how much longer he’ll want to be there…