Two

 

Dear Noah,

Happy Second Birthday baby boy!  I can't believe that it's been two years now since you've come into the world, huge and silent and...jaundiced. But we don't like to talk about that even though you did get your own tanning bed for 3 days.



Yeah, you read that right

You've been my snuggle-bug and fiercely independent wanting to go and do everything that your big sister does.  You are very strong willed which I find quite admirable though will freely admit that it would be fine if you chilled out once in a while. 

Your big loves right now are trains and Blue's Clues, books and cars and art.  And Bla Bla, always Bla Bla. 



 Other things you love?  'Hie-seek' and dress up.  You have been a pretty, pretty princess, pretty witch, Super Baby, Wonder Baby, Bat Baby and Brave Knight Noah.  Also *maybe* a fairy but we can't prove anything.*

You have the most mischievous grin that lights up your beautiful dark blue eyes.  You are so ridiculously big (taller than everyone other child in your class and most of the next class up despite being the youngest) yet today you are wearing 12 month shorts as you have no hips to hold up anything larger.  I'm so not even kidding here that one of your many names is The Hipless Wonder.

You started school this past March at 18 months after being watched by Grandma exclusively; Daddy and I worried about your transition but for no good reason.  You have done AMAZING in school - you know all of your colors though you still confuse red and yellow at times, a lot of letters and can count to 12 in English and 10 in Spanish though I tend to credit Dora for that last one.  You seem to pick up new words everyday and combine your words into more and more complex phrases.  My current favorite is 'Where Mommy be?' when we are playing 'Hie-seek'.  You are a very good helper; every afternoon when I walk into your classroom the first thing you do is put away the toy or game you are playing with before running to me even though that is what you want to do in the most desperate way.

You HATE being thwarted or denied and have thrown some magnificent tantrums.  There are times you've gotten mad, thrown a toy and gone to sit on the time-out step before Daddy or I can say anything.  It's so incredibly cute watching this that we have to work very hard to hide our grins and giggles.  You have inexplicably began showing an interest in the potty though haven't seemed to quite grasp the fact that the clothes must be removed before using the potty as evidenced by the time you fell into the toilet twice at school in ONE DAY last week.

You want to do everything that your big sister does but your favorite people hands-down are DaDa and Grandma.  Mommy and Daddy, we're okay I guess but not worthy of the giant thunk of enthusiastic love awarded to DaDa.  You would think that he lines his pockets with chocolate eggs or something. 

You love knock knock jokes though don't really get how they work.  But you'll try your best and we'll laugh right along with you.  You want so desperately to be a part of what's going on around you but please stop trying to grow up so fast.  I'm not ready for it.  Though I am a fan of your bringing your empty sippy cups into the kitchen so hypocrite, thy name is Mommy.

You are my Big Boo, my Boo Boo, my Doodles, Doodlebug, Man Man and Captain Chaos.  You are everything that I ever wanted in a baby boy and more.  I love you so very much Noah.  Happy, happy birthday Sweet Boo.



 

Love,

Mommy

* Actually, yes we can.  You will hate your senior year yearbook. And bachelor party.

Angel Baby

To My Angel Baby,

Today would have been your birthday.  You were a shock and a surprise so I didn't cherish you while I had you; in fact just when I was getting used to the thought of YOU, you left us.  I have always wanted three children and having you then losing you just drove that closer to home.  The day I told your daddy about you, I cried and not tears of joy.  I'm so ashamed of that now; I had a gift, the most wonderful gift in the world and all I could think about about was how we would manage.  Small house, smaller cars, additional child care, the list of concerns grew ever larger.  But of course we would manage, we always have.

We kept you a secret; no one knew about you until after you were gone.  I had strange feelings, that something wasn't RIGHT, something kept me from sharing even though the words were on the tip of my tongue more times than I can count.  We developed a plan, you wouldn't want for anything.  Between your older sister and brother and all of your cousins, clothing and baby gear was covered as this is a family of pack rats and we throw nothing away.  A few days before we found out that you were gone Daddy and I began talking about your name.

You were a girl.  It was much too early to tell, but I just *knew* the way that I knew with your sister and brother. And because the cat wouldn't come anywhere near me. 

Time passed and we both grew used to the idea of you.  We planned how we would announce you to your family.  Christmas time it was difficult to conceal you as I'm well known for my love of wine but the holidays passed without suspicion. 

I talked to you, I wonder if even then you could hear me.  I found myself stroking my stomach daydreaming about holding you; would you have the blue eyes that all of us have?  Would you be the only to inherit your grandmother's thick wavy hair or would I doom you with my eyesight to be forever squinting. Would you be into dance or sports or art?  I was eager to find out.

Two days before we were set to tell the family, I had a sonogram.  The doctor was concerned with your size and lack of heartbeat but at 8 weeks, it didn't seem to be that concerning of an issue; perhaps nothing more than a date miscalculation.  The technician looked all over; we could see where you were supposed to be but there was no movement, no life.  Your little heart had stopped beating a few weeks earlier; we never did know why. 

So my angel, as the days leading up to your birthday have passed, I find myself thinking about you and mourning you all over again.  Still.  I am so sorry.  I am sorry that I didn't fully appreciate you while I had you and that you never got the chance to know your sister and brother who would have loved you like crazy.

We had you buried at a little cemetery near the hospital where you would have been born.  I didn't attend the ceremony; I couldn't find the strength but that doesn't mean I didn't love you.  I love you and always will.  I just have to believe that I'll meet your soul in heaven one day and we can be the family of five I always hoped that we would be.

Happy birthday angel.

Love,

Mommy

How much of the day needs to be in the books before you can call 'mulligan'?

Hooray!  It's Wednesday!  Hump Day!  Half way to the weekend!  What could possibly go wrong on a beautiful day such as this?*

*We call this 'foreshadowing'.

Dylan and I both get up at 5:30 am during the week.  Well, I do, he's a much lighter sleeper and our evil evil cat has cottoned onto this and pretty much makes his life miserable several days of the week, today being no exception.  I slept great except for the disturbing dream right before waking that featured me being at my grandmother's funeral and when I finally gathered up the courage to look in her casket, she looked like she did when she was 70 (she died last year at age 95). Then she sat up and started talking and walking around which no one found the slightest bit odd.  I tried to tell them not to bury her, she was alive but of course no one listened.  Thankfully I woke up then as I pretty sure my subconscious could not handle my grandmother being buried alive.  (I blame this week's Leverage for that twisted little path.)

Ahem.

Anyway, we get up and go about our morning routine; showering, fixing lunches, fanasizing about coffee and get the kids up at 6:30.  It's always a treat to go into their rooms in the morning as we never know what we'll see; Noelle has been found with her feet on the pillow, with books and comic books covering every inch of the floor.  Noah sometimes will be sleeping on Bla Bla, sometimes Bla Bla will be strangling him, a lot of times doing the Baby Butt Salute.  Noah popped right up this morning, happy and chatty.  Noelle tried her damndest to remain dead to the world.  Spoiler alert:  she was not successful.

Now Wednesday has been water play day for Noelle this summer at her school/camp but on her daily report yesterday there was a note that water play had ended for the year thus bringing about Tears and Tantrum (TaT) One lasting off and on for about 15 minutes (Noah pushed out some sympathy tears.  Solidarity and all that.)  Getting this resolved, we herd everyone down for breakfast, Noelle still grumpy and teary, when Noah decides he's not in the mood for eating and GOOD LORD WOMAN, ENOUGH WITH THE FOOD PUSHING.  (For the record, I am not a food pusher.  What I am is not believing him when he says he's not hungry and hasn't finished his milk.) (The boy loves him some milk.  Hence my not believing him.)  Dylan, at this point, gets to escape and I have the fun task of rounding up hungry grumpy children and herding them back upstairs to finish getting ready to leave.  I will spare you the details but suffice it to say that it takes a good 15 minutes to get 2 kids' hands washed, teeth brushed, hair combed and faces washed.  I just...GAH.

But wait, there's more! Now we have to puts shoes on! And argue/fight over the videogame/dry erase markers/comic books/WHATEVER. It is now 7:25.  My goal is to lock the door at 7:15; you can see where this is going.  So FINALLY with three backpacks and assorted and sundry accoutrements, we leave whereby Noah takes off running down the sidewalk.  Used to it, no biggie, we move on.  Relative good moods all around....until we have to get into the van.

I keep a supply of 'pops' in the center console to reward good behavior from the day/bribe for a minute's silence and they know this.  Noah, however, doesn't seem to care that pops are not an appropriate early morning food especially when one has deigned to not eat his breakfast.  I'm sure his teachers would love me for sending him to school on a simple sugar high.  He can also open the center console and procure a pop for himself.  He did.  I took it away.  He grabbed another one and did the old 'bob 'n weave' trying to protect his pop from the evil clutches of Teh Mommy in the rathe confined space of the backseat. (He was not successful either.)  Being relieved of his precious pop set off a swear-to-God 10 minute TaT complete with full extension twisting and turning limp noodle refusal to be buckled into his seat.  I was getting more and more frustrated, sweaty and oh yeah, LATE by the second with him wailing 'Go HOME!' alternating with 'Hugs!' He's finally installed in his seat pop-less screaming and sobbing and hiccuping; if he had thrown up I wouldn't have been surprised in the slightest.

Onto school without further incident unless you count my blood pressure and heartrate being higher that recommended for buckling small children into their carseats but whatever. Not on the same page were they this morning.  He calms down and up she ramps, this time over my snapping at her for her being frustrated about not being able to get her backpack out when I offered to do it originally.  She sulks/pouts 'I can't do it!' which then plucked my last nerve leading me to snap 'Get out of the van!' She immediately starts crying because I was mean to her/hurt her feelings and I just really didn't care at that moment.  She's on the sidewalk, I'm breathing heavily and get him out.  Noah, he's right as rain now...until we walk into his classroom where he dissolved into TaT Three upon sight of his teacher.  So now I have Noelle still upset from my snapping at her, Noah freaking out over being left at school and me on the verge of hysterical laughter.  His teacher comes back in and attempts to take him so I can leave but he has a death grip on my collar.  She keeps saying to me, 'Give him here, I've got him' to which I'm finally forced to respond that yes you do but he also has his fist twisted in my collar and I can't move!

Noelle and I head down the hall listening to absolutely heart-rending screams emanating from his classroom.  If I wasn't so royally pissed off at the both of them, I would have been more moved but I was so I wasn't.

I love my children with every fiber of my being; most of the time I really like them too. This was not one of those times.  Once I got to work and calmed down, my mind was clear enough to review the events of the morning.  There was lots I could/should have done differently but am very glad that I kept my head enough to not snap that I didn't much like either of them even though it was the honest-to-god truth.  It's rare that I'm happier to be at work than with them but I'll own it, I was this morning.

But that doesn't mean that I like it.

Conversations

Though there is so much about the age of 4 that drives me crazy (the attitude, the absoluteness of, well, everything, the whining - ohmigod the whining) what I'm finding that I'm really enjoying is the ability to have actual conversations with Noelle beyond 'what did you do at school/camp today. (Answer:  played in centers.  I don't know why I bother to continue asking anymore.)

Last night we were reading the condensed Disney version of 'Beauty and the Beast' and happened upon this turn of phrase: "...dined together...".  She immediately stopped me and asked, "What's 'dined' mean?"  We were already later in getting her to bed than we liked but for once, I swallowed the flash of irritation and modulated my voice to answer her question.  "It means to eat dinner.  Belle and the Beast were eating dinner together now."  Satisfied, she fell silent taking it all in until we came to another part of the story where Gaston and LeFou set up Maurice to be taken to Mr. D'Arque's insane asylum.  (Yes, I was once able to recite this movie from memory complete with songs.  Your point?)

"Mommy, what's an 'insane aslyium'?"  Have you ever tried to explain the existence of psychiatric hospitals and the history of associated abuse to a preschooler?  I don't recommend it, not without heavily fortifying oneself with wine first.  But I digress.  So I explained that it was a hospital that people were taken to when they were judged to be not right in the head but how that didn't apply to Maurice because we was clearly not crazy since Belle had the magic mirror and could show the townspeople that Maurice wasn't lying or insane.  I resisted the urge to get into the chemistry of the brain so really, go me.  We finished up the story and rather than feeling frustrated that it had taken so much longer with the stoppages for explanation/discussion, I felt strangely elated.  I could really talk to her!  She could take in more information, ask questions, become immersed in the world of words as I do.  Such a heady feeling and when I leaned down to kiss her goodnight, I told her that I really enjoyed our story; that I loved her being involved and invested in the story.  She had the biggest smile on her face as we turned out the light.

A little bit later, she got up to go potty.  Again.  (For the sake of brevity, this was actually the third trip to the potty.)  She was a bit constipated and was finally able to 'get the poopies out.'  She heaved a huge sigh of relief, 'That feels so much better.'  Which of course led to why sometimes poopies are hard to get out, how they get into our bottoms and where they come from in the first place.  I also don't recommend discussing the finer points of elimination after 9 pm but I'm a biologist by education and a food scientist by training so there you go.)

A wonderful end to the day, a glimpse into the future.

Now go the f*ck to sleep.

And so we come to the end of an era

Friends, we gather together today to bid a fond adieu to the faithful, well-worn and much loved purple Jeep.  He's still limping along but the twilight is reaching ever closer to dark blues and smudged greys of nightfall.  This is most bittersweet as 2011 has been the year of loss: baby, grandmother, another faithful car and now my first truly adult purchase. 

Way back in 1999 I was dating a guy who had a Jeep.  And it was so cool that I really, desperately wanted one of my own.  I learned to drive stick as he scoffed at anyone who had an automatic Wrangler, an attitude I adopted as really, why bother?  I saved up $2500 from my first job after graduation, a feat indeed what with paying rent, utilities, food, insurance and the other various and sundry details of life on $12/hour.  My dragged my best friend to showrooms all over Cockeysville looking at Wranglers and one heady, hot May Saturday, gathered my title for the Cutlass Calais and took the plunge on a new Jeep Wrangler.

It was bare boned - nothing fancy as it is a convertible and I am not a complete idiot.  But still when the salesperson asked if I would be putting down half, I truly laughed in his face.  I was proud of my $2500 down payment and had a car to trade - for which they offered my exactly $200 or $50 per tire.  Having not developed any  business savvy, I naively agreed to the full asking price and took possession with a $450 monthly payment at 12% interest.  Not my finest hour looking back.  But I had my first new car!  And it was a purple Jeep! 

My best friend and I had a blast that summer, driving everywhere in it when in stroke of utmost brilliance, I had enrolled in graduate school.  In College Park.  Which is a good 50 minutes away with decent traffic.  I also had accepted a first shift position as I was unaware that the program I would be attending was a day time program and in the same move, lost my shift differential for moving off of second.  I think we can comfortably declare that as my year of Very Poor Decisions.

Anyway, he was mine.  And we made the thrice weekly round trip to College Park for 3 years, survived a spin out on an icy road and an up close and personal encounter with a deer the night of Dylan and mine's first anniversary.  Well over 130,000 miles we've covered together, from North Carolina to New Jersey, Penn State to Ocean City.  It's been a good ride and will be hard to say good bye the final time as I had harbored dreams of keeping him until Noelle and Noah are ready to drive.  But in the end it's time; the gauge cluster doesn't always work, the front suspension is forever loose making highway driving and pot holes exercises in bladder control; one window has been repaired with tape and there are holes in the roof making me cringe with every passing rain shower.  Similar to worrying about an elderly relative behind the wheel of their car, so I worry about whether he'll make it work another day; a worry compounded by the presence of the joys of my existence in the vehicle with me every day. 

I truly wish there was a home or a pasture for past their prime vehicles to go to; the most I can hope for is that I can donate him to a good charity where he'll help someone else out one last time.  So farewell my beloved purple Jeep, thanks for the past 12 years.  It's been an absolute blast and I've loved every minute of it.

Work-Life balance. Wait, what?

My mother in law usually watches Noah during the week but today she needed off so I'm quasi-working from home today.  (Right Mom, a party for your Master Gardener class.  We know you really partied too hard last night for the Super Bowl.)  Because I enjoy a challenge, this also includes having Noelle with us since let's face it, we were at a Super Bowl party last night (we left at 8, it's cool) but they still got to bed late (and no baths, natch) and I really didn't feel like dealing with the drama that comes with waking her up, getting her ready and then getting Noah ready to get her to school then back home to be with the boy.  Instead, I got up early to do some work remotely before the natives start stirring in about a half an hour and will do more when he goes down for his nap.  I'm sure that there will be a lot of TV watched today but whatever because I rock at this parenting gig.

But, this is great!  You can work from home!  Kind of!  Yay for flex time.  Except for the whole part of STILL needing to go into work in the evenings as I can't do the actual evaluation part from here.  But why not just take the day off, enjoy the vacation day, take the kids out and do something?  I would love to but for the fact that I don't have a back-up and BECAUSE it's the day after the Super Bowl (which for my company should be like a holiday since NO ONE wants to come to work...oh wait, that's everyday but you get the point) and we are on a skeleton crew as it is and the other possible person to back me up won't be in til late as she needed to adjust her schedule to cover the people who begged and whined and pleaded to have off, my hands are tied.  That and an over-developed sense of responsibility/work ethic/whatever lead me to this crazy-ass schedule.

I shouldn't complain, I really shouldn't.  My manager doesn't have to allow me to do this.  She could force me to take vacation, burning through my 3 weeks before the end of June.  This way I can save my time for when I need to be away from work COMPLETELY (going to the beach, three-martini lunches with my mom, spa day with my best friend) so I can give a little.  I am grateful for the flexibility and the extra time with the kids.  Being able to make dinner the day off instead of the day before (chicken enchiladas tonight - yum!) and doing some straightening/laundry that we didn't get to over the weekend.  I'm in the plant, I'm in quality so it's not the easiest position in which to make use of opportunity to remote it but they allow me to do it and I take care to not abuse it so as not to ruin it for anyone else who might need the flexibility.

The only downsides to the arrangement?  Carefully scheduling a shower - must get one soon or forever hold my peace until tomorrow at 5:30 am and having to make my own coffee; that just might be cruel and unusual punishment right there.  Also:  almost out of creamer. D'oh!

Some Saturdays make me long for Mondays

Some days are full of happiness, fun, and light.  Today was not one of those days.  I mean, it started well enough, having to go into work aside but that was necessary because I wasn't able to do my own work this week having spent the majority of my time solving everyone else's problems.  But still, it was peaceful and productive so leaving I called home as I usually do to let Dyl know I'm on my way and if I need to stop and get anything since I'm already out.  Nope, everything was good, kids watching cartoons and would be eating breakfast soon.

25 minutes later, I get home and he opened the front door with Noah in his arms looking absolutely stricken.  Noah lunged for me, still wearing my jacket, backpack slung over one shoulder, heaving a great sigh of relief interspersed with hiccuping sobs.  I handed him back to Dyl to divest myself of jacket and bag and oh my lands, the wailing and gnashing of teeth that commenced.  What had set him off?  Dyl turning off the TV to make them breakfast.  What started as a tantrum (hello 18 months!) crescendoed into an out-of-control emotional breakdown for him.  So I took him upstairs to change his diaper because that was a really good idea and the insane freakout continued.  Oh my god, he is sick, he is hurt, he has the worst diaper rash in the history of Desitin...no, none of it.  I wrapped him up in my arms and he finally put his head against my shoulder, small body shaking with the sobbing; rubbing his back and his head whispering over and over 'It's okay, Mama's here' until the sobs spaced out and his breathing deepened into an exhausted sleep. 

And he slept for an hour and a half laying on my shoulder with me enjoying a closeness that we hadn't shared since he was 4 months old.  I dozed a bit but he got heavy and my arm fell asleep.  He finally woke up, looked at my smiled and gave me sloppy toddler kisses.  I'll admit, those were nice.  Poor Noelle though, I had barely been able to say 'hello' to her was barred from the room which did not help matters any.  Dyl was frazzled, hungry and tired, I was bewildered and the kids were...grumpy.  As the afternoon wore on, Noah took on more and more of the bratty little brother role and Noelle's tiredness (hi no nap) manifested as whining.  I can handle tantrums and crying and attitude but the one thing that will set my teeth on edge and make me loony tunes is whining.  And she has perfected it.  Why is it that they can hone in on our red button behaviors?  I'm convinced it's a gift. 

And so it continued both day and night.  Trying to remove Noah from my ankles while attempting to make dinner was a nonstarter.   Have you ever tried to brown ground beef with onions and spices on the stove with one hand while holding your almost 30 pound toddler as he pushes microwave buttons and opens the door to collide with your nose/ear/head with the other?  Not the most efficient way to cook we'll just say.  The afternoon was a battle, dinner was a battle, after dinner was a battle then they both got riled up after baths as Noelle has a new favorite song 'I'm a Banana' or some such nonsense from YouTube.  (I blame Tosh.0 for this one.)  Finally (finally!) we got them to bed after much stalling with a drink and a story and read it again Mommy and brushing of teeth and putting on of slippers and brushing of hair and another bed time story but wait! I need a drink of water and tucking in but where's my doll and FOR THE LOVE OF PETE GOOD NIGHT ALREADY! 

I can't believe that I almost forgot the best part.  My mom called after dinner so I sat down in the family room to talk to her while Dyl, Noelle and Noah played in the living room.  Not 2 minutes into the conversation, Noah comes running in wanting to push the buttons on the phone with Noelle quickly following behind him yelling something and bouncing on the couch, both reaching for the phone and holy crap did I get annoyed with them both, mostly with Noelle who knows enough to not be such a total brat when I'm on the phone.  Bedtime came very quickly after that and not soon enough. 

There is something about rainy winter days that just makes everyone tetchy.  Tomorrow will be better.  It has to be as I don't think that my patience reserves will be built back up enough again to deal with this a second day in a row.  Oh, and a Superbowl party so at least we'll get out of the house for a bit.