One Perfect Mess

Archive for January, 2011

There are some things that you take for granted now that you really shouldn’t.

Sleep. My God, SLEEP! Sleep whenever and wherever you want. Sleep until three on Saturdays. I cannot stress this enough, I tear up thinking of all the sleep I did not appreciate before.

Which brings a similar point. Free will. Your ability to get off the couch and run to the store if you have a hankering for some Oreos. Go for it now while you can! Because once you have kids every trip will have to be a calculated endeavor. How long has it been since someone had a potty break? Do we have time before naptime? Do we have time to drive to the store all the way across town because they don’t have those damned little child size carts. I remember when the Weebles was first old enough to push that little cart. I thought awwww I love these things. HELL TO THE NO! Didn’t take me long to realize they add a solid forty five minutes to your shopping trip what with shit getting knocked over and melt downs over filling their cart with marshmallows. What fucker is in charge of putting marshmallows on the bottom shelf anyway?

Travel. Go to movies. Window shop at the mall. Watch TV shows that you want to watch. THINK! I haven’t finished a thought in three years. Just the act of thinking is so luxurious these days. Sometimes I lay awake at three AM and just think. Mostly I think about how someone will be waking me up any minute anyway so I might as well not go back to sleep. Then I think about how I’ll be up at six and I start to cry for the tenth time that day.

Enjoy your home in its prebaby state. Because soon enough it will be filled with millions of little plastic pieces that are designed to inflict as much damage on your unsuspecting foot as possible. Your life will be a carousel of picking these pieces up, throwing them in bins and then trying in vain to vacuum all the crumbs off the carpet before it is covered with still more plastic pieces.

Parenthood is the most bipolar state I can imagine. I am constantly pushed to the brink of tears due to exhaustion, frustration and hopelessness at ever getting back my “normal” life. That being said, I couldn’t imagine being happier. These little people are so damn adorable, and smart and amazing to watch. It is a good thing too, or they would have been out on their asses long ago.

Back during the epic battle with RSV of ’10 we had so many medications going on in this house we had to have a chart in the kitchen to keep up with them all. The *first* antibiotic that was prescribed was the basic tasty pink stuff. Everyone rejoiced. Except? It didn’t work. So then we went to a second antibiotic. I didn’t give it a second thought that the kids would both take it without issue. Why, oh why did I not give it a second thought? The Weebles refused it, and I mean REFUSED it. We had what will probably be some of the worst arguments at the tender age of 2 1/2 over that damn liquid medicine. I would freak, convinced my child was going to die because she would not take her antibiotic. So, I called the pediatrician and they said “good news! that same med comes in a chewable pill form!” So we said we’d give it a shot. Enter *third* prescription for antibiotics. At the time, her obsession was sweet tarts and wouldn’t you know it? They looked kind of sort of, if you squinted just right, like sweet tarts. We were so desperate that we whittled the pills down so they were the exact size of sweet tarts. I was pretty damn proud of that effort. Then we mixed them in with a handful of actual sweet tarts. That little turkey was wise to us! She ate every one except the medicine. I tried the “pilling” method we use on the cats… notsomuch. Then, we crushed them up along with candy canes and mixed them into homemade peppermint bark. She took one bite and called shenanigans. We tried a *fourth* antibiotic with a different flavor after that to no avail. She was having none of it. My overtired, teary eyed, stressed and worried beyond belief self had to carry my poor sick baby into the doctor for two huge antibiotic shots that hurt like monkeys all because she wouldn’t take that mother farking medicine. We had to do that three days in a row. Poor Weebles hurt so badly she couldn’t even walk after the shots. I tell you that girl is stubborn…. just like her father.

I remember one day about a year ago, when our family was in the midst of the RSV plague that would not fucking go away, I was taking the tenth hot shower of the day with the Bug to help him breathe a bit. Ever curious, he reached out his little hand and knicked one of his tiny baby fingers on my razor that hangs on the wall. The razor that I had carefully moved every damn time I took him in there. Every time except this one. The little cut it left behind bled and bled and bled. It just would not stop. Already sleep deprived and in an elevated sense of stress due to having two small children with RSV I totally freaked. I called the pediatrician. What do you do if it won’t stop bleeding? Oh my God is my baby going to bleed to death?!?! Of course, he was just fine. Such a tiny little injury seemed to me to be the end of the world.

Today as he woke up from his nap, I went in to see him. Still warm with sleep, rubbing his eyes and rolling about in the middle of our bed, I was overcome with the urge to never let him grow up. I wanted so badly to keep him in his snuggly sweatpants, with his security blanket and stuffed Mickey Mouse forever. His biggest concern to ask where his sister was and could he please go play trains now. That little cut on his finger came to mind. In his lifetime he will have far, far worse injuries. Some physical, some emotional, and all of them exponentially more painful for me than for him. I want so badly to protect my children from everything horrible in this world. But to do so would be to deprive them of everything that is wonderful. Dammit.

Bug*,

You are such an amazing little boy. How can such a small little person be so adorable? So charming? So darn frustrating? You are alllll about testing limits these days and you love every minute of it. You’ll look right at me, give me a huge grin and then upend the cat food dish into your father’s shoe. And I happily watch you do it every time, because I love seeing that smile on your face. The world is in trouble with you my little one.

Your memory really amazes me. You remembered that I keep the Christmas lights in a special place even though it has been weeks since we got them out. Your vocabulary is really amazing too. You can tell me what you want for snack: pretzels, hot dog, strawberries, broccoli… When I tell you it is too cold to go outside you immediately argue that you’ll put on your jacket.

These days your sleeping is hit or miss. Luckily you have quit waking up at five AM every morning, and that has been more wonderful than you will ever know. Naptimes have been challenging of late and I hope that doesn’t mean you are considering giving up naps any time soon. Let’s not be hasty shall we? However, with nursery school looming on the horizon next week I suspect your cute little self will be coming home worn out. *Fingers crossed!*

As for playtime, you are all about the trains. Trains, trains, and more trains. Every so often you’ll take a break and tinker with something else, maybe a puzzle or one of your sister’s dolls, but then it is right back to work. Getting down so you are eye level with the track and carefully pushing along the engines. Still not a ton of interest in art, you’ll give a craft project a token effort but inevitably wander away to the train table after five minutes or so.

You are a good eater but you definitely love your sweets. It is nearly impossible to rein in the treats when your Mana is around because you ask in such a cute way for that popsicle or cookie and she gladly obliges. There aren’t too many foods you won’t try and you are really good with fruits and veggies. Spaghetti is still your favorite though, just like last year.

Julie tends to micromanage your activities and frequently takes the toys you play with. You generally take it well but lately have started to fight back a bit with the scratching and pushing. I hope this is something you two will outgrow… please? Pretty please? I’ll buy you a pony. Hell, two even so you don’t have to share.

Lots of fun stuff ahead for us my little man. Just remember that we’re on the same side.

love, mama

*Peanut has never really felt like you so I’m making the executive decision on changing your nickname.