Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Preschool pain

So when I took K to preschool for the first time in September I wasn't sure who would suffer more.  Him or me. Turns out, me. Not that I'm too surprised by that fact. I was expecting to suffer more then he did, I just didn't expect his reaction.  AT ALL!

When we went to school that first day I was expecting tears.  I was expecting a little boy to clutch my leg and beg me not to go.  I was expecting to have to stay in the parking lot for the four hours he was there, just in case he needed me.  Boy was I wrong.  There were no tears.  There was no errant clutching of my leg and certainly no begging.  I didn't have to stay in the parking lot all morning wondering if he needed me.  I did however have to stay in the parking lot and wait until the tears flowing down my cheeks stopped.

I wasn't crying because I was said.  I wasn't crying because I'd left him the caring hands of Miss Rebekah.  I wasn't crying because K hadn't cried.  I was crying because I was relieved he was so secure being there.  I was crying because I knew he was safe.  I was crying because I had raised him secure enough in himself that he was ok in a strange environment.

Does that sound strange.  It shouldn't.  Ultimately I was crying because he didn't need me.  I felt utterly un-needed by my almost four year old boy that I couldn't help but cry.  I was so proud of him.  So proud that he was able to be in that room with kids his own age and learn.  My heart was singing his praise as I pulled out of that parking lot.

I rediscovered that feeling of pride and overwhelming sadness this week when I dropped him off at summer camp.  He was going to be there all day.  His first all day at being away from home.  I was scared stiff!  I had my cell phone on me the whole day and kept checking it, just to be sure if the school called I could get to him immediately!

But that call never came.  That call was never made.  K had a blast.  He had so much fun in fact... he didn't want to leave when I came to pick him up.  He started crying - no sobbing is the more accurate word - and yelling that he wanted to stay.  That he didn't want to go.  He curled up on the floor totally distraught.

I was thrilled that he had had such a good time.  I was tickled pink he hadn't needed me.  I was beyond excited to know that he could have such a wonderful time and not want to end that time.

I wasn't sure who hurt more on either of those days.  I know he wasn't traumatized by the experience, but I can't say the same for me.  I just hope when C starts preschool I'll be a little less traumatized.  But... I doubt it!

Tuesday, June 12, 2012


For whatever reason I find myself reflecting on the past.  Reflecting on things that were. Things that could have been.  Things that never were.  Things... People... Places... It's amazing how time can change the way you perceive things.  Change how you remember people.

Although there are times in life when I reflect on the things that I wish had happened and the people I wished they'd happened with, I am always brought back to the present.  To the life I have.  To the life I chose.

I ask myself often, if the boyfriend I had in college were the man I married how would my life have been different.  It would have been very different.  I wouldn't have the house I love, the property I love, the children I adore or the husband who loves me.  I know if I married him I wouldn't have any of those things.  I wouldn't have a husband I could trust, or even my own children.  And although I think of him often and even still love him, I'm not IN love with him.  I miss him.  And sometimes I wonder if that's wrong.  I wonder if that's an affront to my husband.  But it truly makes me love my own husband more.  How strange is that!?!

Now what if I married the boy in high school?  The boy who at the time I couldn't imagine being without.  The boy who I cried many nights over because we'd broken up.  Well I tell you what... I would most definitely not be here.  He's a meth tweeker now so I KNOW I wouldn't be with him anymore.

It seems to me the reason we reflect on life and what we gave up is not so we can wonder what we lost.  What we never had.  What or who we'll never have again.  It's so we can look at what we do have and know it's right where we're supposed to be.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Baby names

Why you might ask am I writing about baby names?  That is simple...

When I was pregnant it was very important to me that my children have names that meant something.  I did not however want everyone and their brothers input.  What I'm talking about is the "what about...." or "I don't like that name..." or "That doesn't sound right, how 'bout...." or "You know that doesn't flow right with your last name." or "did you think about what those initials will spell?" and on and on and on.  Or even better... the look. You know the look that says "wow, you're really thinking of THAT name?!?"  Or how about the laugh followed by "oh... you were serious?!?"

You see I have friends that are currently going through this very problem now.  They aren't sure what they are going to name their daughter so they constantly get name ideas.  You gotta love when people through their two cents in.

So because we didn't tell anyone what we were going to name our sons before they were born we had the "two centers" throwing names in left and right.  Turns out everyone we knew had a different name for our kids before they were born.  They had to call them something because BD1 and BD2 were just not acceptable things to refer to our babies as.

With K, he was our first so people were overly helpful with him.  He ended up with several names.  My dad called him Ishkabible.  I don't know why and I'm pretty sure he made that name up.  Being a huge Bronco fan that I am the name Elway came up.  The Hubz uncle decided to throw out Magwheel.  Of course to be fair he pitched that idea to every baby that has been born in the family (even C).

With C my dad didn't really give him a name.  My mother called him Elam (the homage to the Broncos again).  The Hubz went out of town for a bit when I was nearing my due date with C and I warned him that if I had that baby before he got back I'd call him John Elway or Bono The Edge.  As you might guess another Bronco reference and even better a showing of my love for the best band ever... U2.  Turns out he made it back in plenty of time.  Just to throw people off I called him Seamus (which I really do Love!!!)  Seamus however got "the look" from a lot of people.  A friend of mine at work called him Aaron.

So you see... people come up with names for kids all the time even if the kids don't belong to 'em.

Names are important.  As a parent it's the first gift you give your child.  And hopefully, you've chosen correctly.  Sometimes you don't.  But more often then not, they grow into the name you pick.  What is also important, if it's not your kid... BUTT OUT!  If the parent asks for an idea and you share it but they don't take it... Fine, no biggie... have your own kid and use the name.  No biggie!  I guess my point is you're the one having the kid. You're the one that's going to be up all night.  You're the one - or more appropriately the kid - that has to live with your choice.  So make it.  Embrace it.  Love it.  And don't let others change your mind.  That's the beauty of being a parent.  That's one of the main reasons you get on this ride.

Friday, June 1, 2012

Oral filter

It is true what they say.... kids say the darnedest things.  But let's face reality.  If an adult said the things the kids did it wouldn't be hilarious, we'd just comment about the fact that they had no oral filter.  That doesn't make what the kids say any less funny, just an ironic point I thought I'd make.

Speaking of darnedest things, my kids crack me up.  Now while C can't say much yet - in fact the only words he's ever spoken are mom, dad and no - he still points and says "Ah" with conviction.  We definitely know what he wants when he wants it.  But K... now he's a funny little one that's for sure!

Where do I start?  It seems so many funny things come out of his mouth so often I can hardly keep up.

Yesterday I went to our local dive shop (Eugene Skin Divers) to pick up some stuff.  Well I had K with me.  We went inside, he promptly decided to start playing hide and seek in the dry suits while I got what I needed.  Then we left.  I got him in the car and put him in his car seat and started looking over the stuff I'd ordered (cuz frankly I'd forgotten one of the items and was rediscovering my excitement over it!).  Then my cell phone rang - damn obnoxious thing that it is in life.  I got in the driver seat, got off the phone then looked at K and said "Ready to go buddy?"  His reply, "No mom.  We can't go anywhere!  I don't have my seat belt on!!"  Sure enough in my excitement at my new goodies, I'd forgotten to buckle him into his car seat.  Way to go K for reminding me!

Then the other night my wonderful son was  building with his Mega Bloks.  He loves those things.  This particular time he was building robots.  He even gave each one a job.  There was the Cupcake Robot, Ice Cream/Otter Pop Robot, Coffee Robot and Crane Robot.  Each one made or did exactly what he said it did.  Then he turns and looks at me and hubs and says, "you guys wanna see a show?"
"Sure," we reply.
"Ok then.  Lay down on the couch first."  So of course we do, because he rules our house with an iron fist.  Then he says, "now I need a curtain."  He grabs one of his blankets and holds it up blocking our view of the robots.  "Can you see 'em?"
"No baby, we can't," I replied.
"Ok Robots, Go!" he said and pulled the 'curtain' away with a flourish.  Then he ducked behind the couch.
Now, not wanting K to think we weren't paying attention, and because there was no sound at all in the family room we started making the obligatory "ah", "wow!", "ooooo" to the show.  That's when he jumps up and runs around to me.  "You guys have to be quiet! None of the ooooo's.  You see that sign over there?" Pointing to nothing in particular "it says no ooooooo's.  You can only talk quietly, no ooooo's."
Guess we got a show after all.

One day K and I are driving home from his Nana's house.  He's busily talking on his 'phone', you know the thumb and finger of his hand.  "Who you talking to baby?"
"Uncle K3.  You wanna talk to him?"
"Sure, hand me the phone."  So in an act of pure yoga bendiness, I reach behind me and grab his 'phone' and start talking to my brother.  "Hey there Uncle K3, how are you? Yeah, I'm good..."  I look in the mirror at my son and see him giving me the stink eye and he's holding out his hand - like he wants his phone back.  "What's wrong baby?"
"You're not talking on the phone."
"What do you mean, you handed it to me."
"No," with a tone that says 'you're a retard mom!', "I still have the phone in my hand."
"But you handed it to me."
Again with the retard tone, "no.  I didn't.  Here."

So you see what I mean.  If an adult had said these things we wouldn't find them hilarious. In fact anyone other then my husband and I may not find them that funny, but by God I'm so glad his oral filter hasn't grown in yet.  That kid keeps me in stitches!