Dear Jacob: May 2007

The things you're doing:

Packing random bags full of random things to go to random places. Grandma tells me that I used to do this to go on even quick errands. But I'd pack extra clothes, an activity and a snack. You pack completely random things: Blocks, books, too many extra pairs of socks, shoe laces, and lately it's been Daddy's tie and his painting hat. You miss him so much these days that taking little momentos like that helps you to feel closer to him.

Getting up in the morning and going to your dresser, pulling out underwear, socks, pants and a shirt. Getting dressed all by yourself. You've been able to mostly do this for a long time, but now you can perfectly get that shirt over your head! The other day you picked out an outfit for me to wear (complete with socks and underwear) to put on so we could go to soccer.

Touchpoints: I just realized that's what your regressive behavior is about and I feel so bad because suddenly it is clear that you just have other things on your mind, you are learning, becoming a big kid, and you simply can't hear me when I tell you to go do something. You're about to take a big development step and all your energy is focused on that so whatever you've learned in the past about following rules or listening, is out the window. Now I feel terrible for all the yelling. Since I reframed it like this in my mind, I've been a lot more calmer and patient with you and I can tell you're appreciative of the understanding and compassion.

Always going to a 'job' with Bob or one of the others from the 'crew'. Always. Last week you said to me, "Hey Mommy. You know what? I got a new job doing such-and-such. What do you think of that?" Whenever I tell you what we have planned for the next day, you answer back that you won't be able to go because you're doing construction with Bob that day. I tell you back that Bob is working you too hard and I'm going to call him to and tell him there is absolutely no way you can work that day.

Been more clingly than in the past. You want to always go places with me again. This has been fine with but the other day I was about to lose it and I finally had to send you off against your will with Grandma. I felt awful. I hope I never have to do that again.

Asserting yourself more. At soccer the other day you walked up to people as they were leaving and waved and said goodbye. This is something I always tell you to do to be polite so it was such a treat to see you doing it on your own, being polite, but also, approaching them on your own in a confident way.

Always with the addition...above all else, you will choose to help your daddy on the addition, it is by far your favorite thing to do. Even more than watch the Gilmore Girls! Speaking of which, he is not just 'Daddy' anymore, you always say 'My Daddy', not when addressing him, but when referring to him in conversation, to further emphasise how proud of him you are and how much you love him.

Well, that's what I can think of now. Tomorrow is June and I will start a whole new list for next month!

Monday, Monday

I'm glad we ended up not going away this weekend because Jacob got to do a lot of different things by staying home. Saturday and Sunday were kind of slow with Zach painting at his Dad's all weekend, but on Monday we went down there with him for part of the time. Before that though, we went to the park to say goodbye to one of our 'couple' friends. By 'we' I mean me and Jacob, and by 'couple' I mean another mother and son. They're moving several states away...one more person to say goodbye to.
We'll miss you guys!

After the park (which we had beautiful weather for), Jacob and I headed back towards home and met up with my mom to go see a local parade. It was nice, it was a parade. Exciting for Jacob...what can I say? The one stand-out part of it was that we got candy thrown at us. I haven't been to a parade in quite a few years, so I don't know how long it's been like this, or if it was just our town. Pretty much every person marching in the parade who wasn't holding an instrument or otherwise engaged with their hands, had a bucket of candy and they were tossing it to the crowds. We were in a shady spot off to the side so there weren't really any other spectators nearby and the people just kept throwing handfuls of candy.

This is the only picture I have from the parade because my camera battery is so good that I don't have to charge it enough that it becomes a regular thing, so I totally forget to even check the charge on it. It died just as my mom was taking a picture of Jacob sitting on my lap shaking Uncle Sam's hand, with all of us smiling at the camera. Damn.

As if that wasn't enough for one day, Jacob and I headed an hour south the visit Chris and Pop. Jacob got to do the two most exciting things: Ride a horse, and ride on the tractor with Pop.

Because I don't write enough already...

I just have to stop to giggle about all the funny searches that have been getting people to my blog...Sleeping in urine house - yuck! Runny yellow poop - gag! Oh my God I have to pee - Oh my God, go find a bathroom, the computer isn't going to help you with that one. How do I get dried pee out of a mattress - oh please tell me if you find an answer! And my favorite - washing sheets with urine - no moron, you wash them in water...

To the point, lady! Oh yeah...I started a new blog. That's the link to the home page, and here is a link to the post that will explain what it's about. I waited a while to post about it to see if it was going to take or not. I don't really get into my freakishly Earth friendly/green/eco-consicious ways here, so maybe this other place will be conducive to that, if you're into that kind of thing.

Happy reading.

Of the wake-up call variety

Speaking of electronic devices, water damage, phone karma and good luck, something happened to my computer a few weeks ago that I never got around to writing about. It was the day of my sister's wedding rehearsal. Zach was upstairs giving Jacob a bath and I was supposed to be getting myself ready but I just wanted to figure out the double-charge I'd gotten on paypal when I was buying Jacob's electric toothbrush (I didn't have any luck finding one with replacable heads in the store). Zach was hurrying me and I was frustrated because the computer had been eating at my soul for several hours by then. The longer you are there at the computer, the more of you it's got a hold on, so naturally it's harder to pull yourself away. I finally finished and tossed the computer onto the little shelf-thing where I usually keep it. And then, it came right back down. It landed on it's side from a 4 foot drop and crashed there at my feet.

I went about the business of applying electronic cpr but nothing was happening. I got on the phone and called the computer place just before it closed and the one guy there who had any ability to talk to humans answered, thank God. If it had been anyone else they would have told me to bring it in, but this guy remembers me, and dare I say likes me, so does nice things. He asked me what kind of computer I have and I paused. I don't know that kind of information, so instead I told him, "This is Stacey...the one who always comes in with the little boy." This statement served two purposes: It let the guy know that he was dealing with an idiot, and by identifying myself, he knew from memory what kind of computer I have.

He talked me through removing the battery and rebooting, and that was all it took. After the computer turned back on (of course with a funky psychedelic appearance and concave screen) I had this rush of emotion as I realized what had almost happened. Everything, all my files and pictures and all that, not to mention, getting a new one wouldn't really make financial sense right now. But here's the thing, after that rush of emotion, I realized that I hadn't felt all that when I actually thought the computer was broken. Here's the one and only emotion that was pulsing through me in the ten minutes I thought my computer had gone to a better place: RELIEF.

I've got to get away from this computer - at least for a day. I've thought about packing it up and sending it to work with Zach some day. We were going to go to camp this weekend and it was scary, yet exhilarating to think about being away from the computer for a few days. Even though I knew it would be tough to deal with the withdrawal symptoms - the foaming at the mouth, hallucinations, uncontrollable shaking, I was looking forward to getting a part of myself back.

We didn't end up going, but I was better about staying off the computer during the day. Saturday I didn't get on the internet until the late afternoon! For a while I thought that could be the day - the computer free day. What am I afraid of happening if I leave the computer alone for a day? That things will change irrovocably? That I will lose my place and never be able to get it back? What would be so bad about that? I don't know...I just love the internet.

The Power of Suggestion?

We've been having a lot of cell phone drama this week. On Monday I got a free upgrade on my cell phone because we were renewing the contract. I'm keeping my old one as a backup incase anything happens to the new one. Zach's phone is from the college and a different plan so I started thinking that might be cool to give him my old one and he could be on my plan instead. Before I was even able to go pick up the new cell phone though, Jacob tossed Zach's into the baby pool. Yup. Just like that. Now Zach just got this one as a replacement from the college not too long ago because his original one was ruined due to water damage also. I laughed about how it was perfect timing because now we have backup. A day sooner and it would have really sucked. Things just always seem to even out that way. We quickly set to taking the phone apart and let it dry out that way, and by the next day it was as good as new.

Before we even knew if Zach's phone was going to be ok, I guess I dropped mine in the yard and didn't notice. I drop things all the time, but I always pick them back up. I don't know how I missed the fact that it fell. In the morning Zach found my brand-new phone on the edge of the driveway, all covered with dew. I had a partial panic attack before I tested it and realized it was fine.

The very next day Andy was at our house and Zach told him about the near-miss with the phone. Well later on I guess Andy was over at someone else's house opening their pool, and bam, his phone fell into the pool. His phone, however, did not survive.

Then just last night I e-mailed a friend to ask her to give me her number because we haven't talked in a long time and I wanted to make sure I had a current number for her. Today I see a mass e-mail from her stating that she dropped her phone, it broke and she in unable to retrieve any of the contact information, could everyone please send her their numbers.

That all sounds a little too ironic...but we've been lucking out, could it be that we just have good phone karma?

Miss Ginger

I was supposed to write about this on Mothers' Day but I must have still been all caught up in the sleep stuff? I don't know. Last year we brought the dogs home on Mothers' Day and I can't even remember now if it was the 12th or the 14th...and I'm too lazy to go look it up. All along I'd known that I was going to get Ginger a new collar for Mothers' Day this year. She came with a stripy primary colored one that was provided by the shelter and I couldn't wait to get rid of it. I spent much of the last year oogling all the collars I'd see in the store and wondering what we'd end up with. I know this sounds stupid for a friggin dog collar, but for some reason it represents more to me that just that. And I have this thing with colors; I love them and am just so attracted to certain colors, I sometimes make decisions based purely on color options. Colors have meaning to me is basically it.

We were going to go on Mothers' Day to the store to pick one out (all of us together), but others things came up and it was Sunday so the store closed early. We ended up going on Monday (which might be the actual homecoming anniversary, but I don't know that for a fact without the calendar) and as it turns out they were sold out, in Ginger's size, of the one I'd really had my eye on and had been the first choice. Mango has this greenish one with little ladybugs on it so I thought we could go to the little pet shop down the road and get a butterfly one I'd seen there before to match. That was only available in small or large as well. I really wanted to do right by Ginger but I knew how stupid it was to make such a big deal out of a collar so we just ended up with another striped one (which I think is befitting because it's just a step away from what she had before, and I think it sort of honors what she came from). It's brown, green and orange (kind of the color orange you might even refer to as 'ginger'). I think it suits her, all dignified-like. Butterflies would have just been too silly for our girl.

OK, with the boring collar story out of the way (I can't believe I am making public these obsessive, childish thoughts that run through my head) I can move on to the hip problem. Here: read this for some background on the dogs. Actually, I don't think I got into the hip there. Gosh, maybe I never wrote about all the health issues with Ginger? Well she has a bad hip and also, we found out after an x-ray last year, a bullet in her pelvis. Our vet, the one we love to death and who disappeared last month, decided that she'd leave the hip alone - it might hurt Ginger more than it would help to try to operate. Well, so here we are a year later, and it turns out that she's going to need the surgery after all. I don't know what to make of this. I don't know if we'd get a different answer from our beloved vetrinarian, or if she would agree that now is the time to operate. I'm confused and really missing the good old doctor because whatever she would have said about this, I know I could trust it.

Well, so that's where we are. Ginger limps around all the time now. Sometimes she's in pain and we give her a little $3 pill to ease the discomfort. Why is it you can buy a whole bottle of human pain reliever for that much, but it only gets you one pill in the dog world? We're going to wait til after our trip to have the surgery because even though the recovery isn't supposed to be that bad, something could go wrong and I need time to research all the factors involved anyway. We need to find someone we approve of to do the surgery. Hey, we need the money too. We'll be able to afford it one way or another, but you know, it would still be nice to send Jacob to college. We're looking at up to $2000 for the surgery (that's just the actual surgery) and, to be honest, that's way less than I thought it would be. Last year our vet tried to get grant money, but she had no luck because a lot of the Katrina money was being used for things with more of an immediacy to them, and I think so much of that was still so new. Maybe this year we'll have better luck, but boy I wish she was here on this ride with us.

So as not to end on a depressing note, here's this little nugget: Last week when we were in the 'big pet store', I saw a jumbo pack of super-absorbent puppy training pads...and it gave me pause. Are you thinking what I'm thinking??

On the Brink

My mom just talked me down off a ledge. Thank God for moms like her. I try to be cautious about calling my mom too much for things like this because I know she's ever so willing to give everything she's got and completely put aside her own needs. I have to monitor how much I ask of her because I know she has trouble doing that for herself. But she always knows the right thing to say.

If you don't have a mom like that, or a husband who is available and good with stuff like this - 'this' being the ledges that we we mothers often find ourselves on, hovering over the brink of where sanity meets insanity - who do you turn to? Who do you turn to that isn't already over-burdened with their own stuff? I know a lot of people, but I can't really see calling them up and saying 'Please come take my child away from me right now because I think I might actually follow through on one of those I'm gonna kill him threats.'

I'm thinking now that I should start a business, kind of like a nanny service, but different in that it would be a place you could call up when you're about to lose it and they will come and save you. They will, like I proposed, come and take your child away until it's safe for them to return. Once people get past the initial stigma of admitting they need a service like this, I bet it'll be a hit!

Anyway, the problem is that Jacob is doing all these little things, these little misbehaviors that are not that bad, but I am freaking out on him about it. I'm trying to analyze the problem in an intellectual way so that I can understand what's happening, but this seems to be more of a walk a mile in his shoes matter. He's not listening. I give him simple directions, repeat them a dozen times even, but he's still off in his own world, not doing the thing I asked him to do. I flip out at this non-listening despite and in spite of the fact that it's a simple request. If it's such a little thing, why am I letting it get to me? Because, it's such a simple thing, that I can't understand why Jacob just won't do it.

I tell myself it's because he's tired. Jacob is tired and he just can't behave then, he's lost the ability to follow directions. I know this is a rule of young children, I know this, but I can't understand it. I can't feel it. I stand there berating him, trying to get an answer that my childish self can understand. I know what I want him to say; I want him to confirm what I suspect is going on. "Mommy, I know I didn't listen, I'm sorry. I really don't know why I did that, I do know better, but it's just that I'm so tired right now I can't tell up from down." My mom told me that's not realistic. No shit. And therein lies the problem. I need that to get over the anger I'm having at my child, but I'm never gonna get it. So there I stand slowly giving him a life-long complex, not being the 'gentle parent' that I know is in there. It's striking me now that what I'm really looking for is to have Jacob admit that he is as clueless and as helpless as I am in the situation. At least we'd be in it together.

So on the phone with my mom I was telling her if I could just get inside Jacob's head, just witness his train of thought is in those situations when he won't listen, really experience what it is like to be so tired that you can't act the way you should even though you want to so badly, then I could understand it. I could let him be the three year old that he is and not expect him to be perfect all the time and not beat him up (figuratively speaking) about those little slip ups. And before the words were even out of my mouth, I realized I was already there; that both my questions had the same answer.

And that, Danielle, is the short version of how Jacob's shoe got in the recycling bin.

Just Call Me Tracey

I was reading on another blog last night about a mom who has this neighbor, who after two years still calls the son by the dog's name...hehe. So I mentioned last week that Stella calls me Tracey. She's never called me by my actual name. In the beginning it was clear that she really didn't realize my name is Stacey. It made me mad and I tried all the time to correct her, in subtle ways. She knows my name is Stacey, she's got to. I'll call her up and Identify myself, or Zach will reference me in conversation. Who the hell does she think is Stacey if not me? And what's up with Tracey? To all you people who aren't named Stacey, it might sound like pretty much the same thing, just a wee bit different. To me though, it evokes a completely different image, a completely different person, not remotely like who I am.

Anyway, it doesn't bother me anymore. I like it now. It's endearing and it's our 'thing'. It's just funny when she introduces me to people, as she did yesterday with one of our other neighbors. This lady, Ann, looked at me and said, "Hi Tracey, nice to meet you." and it was totally weird. That lady is always going to think of me as a Tracey and I feel like it's going to change the way people look at me. What must she think about me? Tracey is just such a random name (random in a good way, incase anyone reading this is Tracey, or Tracy, or Tracie...). So here I am as Tracey, random, boring, blah. Weird. And don't tell me that you don't draw an immediate impression of someone based on their name. It's interesting though, I can completely reinvent myself if I want. I can go with the Tracey thing and be different than I am. I can ask myself each step of the way, "What would Tracey do?"

Back to Stella though...where is she coming from with this? What is her point in mis-naming me? Maybe she has some hidden wisdom, and she's trying to give me the gift of a second identity, one I can escape to when the stay-at-home mom woes are too much to bear. Perhaps Tracey is the name of the daughter she always dreamed of having, so rather than creating an alternative universe for me, she living out one of her own. Or might there have been a Stacey she grew up with who was a bitch? It could be she doesn't approve of my name, just like she won't give her blessing to the vegetarian thing or the homeschooling thing. Maybe she's just testing me, seeing how long she can get away with it, sitting at home right now, laughing and wondering how, in almost four years, I haven't yet realized she's been calling me Tracey.

May the force be with you?

I'm just back from moms' night out. Our group does this once a month, and while I try to go as often as I can, it usually ends up being that I miss it more than I make it there. I dragged my feet about it all weekend long and didn't end up actually making a decision until it was 15 minutes past the start time and I found myself dropping off an unconscious Jacob at home with Zach and then pulling out of the driveway in the general direction of a mexican restaurant I know existed out there someplace. I want to want to go, I guess is how I should put it. I force myself to go every once in a while to maintain the part of me that is not totally anti-social...not that I am anti-social in general, I just don't do as well in a big group like that. Yet I want to remain part of the group.

But it was nice arriving there. Everyone seemed happy and surprised to see me, and it was a warming feeling. The first half of the evening, when the margaritas where magically appearing at the table one after another, I had a great time. There were nine of us, so two or three conversations were going at once and I could drift in and out of any of them at will. I was happy being there with these women I adore.

At some point it changed. I changed. My buzz wore off, or all those loner thoughts started drifting into my head. The jokes weren't that funny to me anymore...and there was only one joke going at a time by then. Everyone was drunk enough that one of our voices could be heard by all at the long table, so there was no need for multiple conversations. If a subject got uncomfortable for me, there was no other end of the table to escape to, no other topic to turn to blur out the other voices.

There was the breastfeeding conversation and how a certain one year old's persistent demands were getting to be too much. There was no place for me in that conversation. I'm not feeling offended, but anything I could have said would have been a conversation killer. If I were to laugh and confess that a year was a hardly a dent into the nursing relationship I endured, there'd be nowhere to go with that because everyone would realize I'm the same as the mom they were cringing over. But why does that make me so lame? I know that the mother to my right nursed both of her children for over two years. She was having a good time and laughing though, what makes her so cool, and leaves me feeling 'square'?

Things in my head started to get really bad when the topic turned to the sniper shootings four years back, September 11th, and all the other masacres since. Here's something about me: I don't watch the news, I run screaming from the room if the news is on. I don't want to hear about it. The bad stuff already happened, I feel awful about the people who suffered, but there's nothing I can do about it. I try to repress things like that, things reported in the news, because if I don't, then I become crippled by fear and living a normal life becomes a real challenge to me. I probably just should have left. But I couldn't. I kept thinking the upswing would happen any minute and then it would be fun, everyone would pack it up to leave and I could end the night feeling like a part of the group. Like a socially functioning adult.

I needed the topic to turn good again like you need the lights on after a scary movie. I didn't want it to end on a bad note because I wanted this pushing myself to go out and be part of something to be reinforced. And I didn't want to be the first one to leave. But I was, and now I'm home, back here at the computer.

After I posted those pictures on Thursday, I realized Jacob and I were both coming down with something. We spent the whole weekend at home, being sick. It was like the one weekend Zach was actually home so there should have been plently of time to get everything pending done. But it's the beginning of the week again and I'm back to making excuses that there is never enough time to do everything. What the hell? Is it that I spend so much time putting off things that have to get done, that the actual procrastinating is what's eating my time? When I say that there's never enough time, is that really just code for, 'I don't wanna'? And what am I saying? I'll wake up tomorrow with a too-full plate of things to be done and wish I'd bit my tongue just now about all this. I guess it just all comes at me in uneven amounts. Once I get used to a high-level of activity and bustling about doing errands, I'll have a day where things slow down and I completely forget what it felt like to be so busy I could hardly breathe. Part of the problem has got to be that I'm the kind of person who needs the pressure of a deadline, that kind of thing. I don't have enough reserves of self-discipline to keep me going when there's any kind of leeway.

Well, admitting it is the first step. I'm just going to have to really work on pushing myself to do the thing I should be doing in any given moment, rather than what might feel good. That includes going to bed when I don't want to. Wouldn't that also be considered setting a good example for Jacob? Duh. So I made myself go out tonight, and even though I want to categorize it as a waste of time, at least it got me out of this house and away from the computer. I'm going to make it be my starting point on this quest for self-discipline. I'm still confused about tonight though. If I wanted so badly to let go of my uptight self and enjoy being where I was, what was stopping me? Why can't I loosen up?

Playing

The Last Act

I'm not sure what's happening here, but I think it's a good thing? It's eerily odd though, like I'm sitting here dum-de-dum, enjoying this peacefulness, completely oblivious to the disaster that is just around the corner. Jacob has been pretty much perfect since Sunday. The last time he 'acted out' was Saturday night, and I'm sorry about Danielle's ears because she was on the other end of the phone when I discovered this:

That's Jacob after having emptied the entire bottle of baby powder on the floor. Then he got some water - I'm not sure how he actually transferred it to the bedroom floor - and dumped it all over the baby powder. Then he rubbed it in with his hand, and that's what he's doing in the picture. I'm not sure why I ran and got my camera instead of stopping Jacob from doing that. I guess I thought the worst had already happened so why not capture the visual image? After that, Jacob was either dumped into the bathtub with a few drops of lavender oil, or just changed into PJ's and tossed into bed. I can't remember, the nights have been a blur.

Ahh, but they've been a different kind of blur. These blur of nights have been defined by all the nice book time we've had, the hugs and kisses, gentle petting, rocking, etc. We've been leaving him to fall asleep on his own after he tells us, "It's ok, you can go now." On Tuesday night Jacob decided that he wanted to go to sleep in the Little Bed. He made it all up cozy for himself and even put a couple layers of blankets under himself incase he leaked through! I sat up there and kept him company and then he just fell asleep. Just like that. Weird. Then, like a bazillion hours later I went to bed. I've been doing that again, I think I'm shutting down from all this long-term house stress. I just sit up at night, mostly here, on the computer, sometimes just starting at it. I was pretty fried after two nights of that so hopefully I've got it out of my system now.

Anyway, that night, Tuesday night, Jacob stayed in that bed for eight hours without waking up! I don't think he knew where he was when he did wake up so I sent Zach in to retrieve him. It was 6am so we got another couple hours of sleep and the rest of the day was so pleasant.

Naptime, or the lack of it has been improving too. I think Jacob's had maybe two or three real naps in the last week and a half, and only fallen asleep prematurely twice. I was feeling really low about the whole nap thing last week because it was hard keeping him awake. Past a certain point in the middle of the day, Jacob just got crazy and stayed that way til the end of the night. I was asking myself, "What kind of life is this for him? If he's so tired and we're just getting through the day, killing time, is that really living?" I think it's kind of evening out this week though.

It's always a trade-off though, whatever way you spin it, something doesn't get done. I'm concentrating all my efforts on this sleep thing and the house is staying messy, dinner isn't getting cooked. No meals are getting prepared really, I just keep feeding Jacob snacks throughout the day. It's the later half of the week now, I can tell because I'm feeling so much more optimistic about things...if it were a day before I have to work, or a day I'm working, then things would feel shitty. This feels so much better. Three days in a row now I've played with Jacob and tickled him and been silly. In the evenings for three days in a row I've taken him for a walk in the real stroller that's on loan to me. This is nice stuff for us to do. I've gotten upset a few times, but then I am able to cool off...I forgot that was an option, that I didn't have to go over the edge each time something little happened.

Oh yeah, there's the thing with Jacob not wanting to leave my side. I was all set to have half a day to myself in Vermont last week, but then Jacob decided he wanted to go with me. Since I never really want to be away from him I didn't care. And it happened again on Sunday, then it was really bad Tuesday when I was going to leave him at my mom's so he didn't have to come to work with me for 5+ hours. It was so bad that even though I really needed the time that I day, I conceded. I felt really good about myself then though, it didn't feel natural to leave him like that, so I didn't. That's me as a mom in a nutshell. And he was great after that, really appreciative I think. That was probably the defining moment that brought us to this happy place again. I offered Jacob this huge slice of trust and now he's trying to earn my trust back. Even though my mom is back in town now, I've still only had one time away from Jacob and that was the birthday party I worked last weekend. It's not that I need to be away from him, I just need the alone time. I think that's why I'm staying up so late...I'm tired, but I'm alone for God's sake! I'm trying to to get too neurotic about him not wanting to leave my side. I'm pushing back the questions that come from my own mind about if this is leading to a problem. Instead of over-analyzing it like I usually do I just really trying to enjoy being friends again.

The phone rang this morning...

"Hey Tracey!" It was Stella. She wanted to know if I was mad at her for bringing Zach food all the time. Ha! She does though, she brings him food like once a week. She says it's leftover stuff that she's got to get rid of, but I think she just likes having someone to cook for. Oh what was it the other day...stuffed cabbage, he loved it. And I didn't have to cook for him so that was great for me. Neither one of us could have been happier about it.

I guess she came by over the weekend to say hi and probably check up on how Zach liked the cabbage. We were in the backyard, fighting loudly, like we sometimes do...I waved at Stella and gave her an exasperated look but I was too frustrated to notice that she never ended up coming through the gate to join us. So today she called all concerned about it. She thought I was mad at her and that it might be because she brings Zach food...hehe. We talked about it for a few minutes and I assured her that I was not, nor have ever been mad about that. It was so cute that she was all concerned about that.

I feel bad that she spent a couple of days worried about that though. Is this what is in my future? After 80 years of living will my female relationships still be rought with themes like 'the desperate need for approval', 'longing for validation', intimidation, jealousy, and 'the fear of not being liked'?

It's fine that Stella supplies meals for Zach, but what's a little annoying (mostly funny though) is when she tries to make me eat the stuff she makes. A couple months ago she called up and told me to bring a big pot over so she could fill it up with this soup she'd made. She swore it had no meat in it. I got over there and saw that in addition to barley, beef should have been in the title. "No, no, that's not meat," she tried to convince me. "Liar!" I half joked. "If that's not meat," I said pointing to a huge chunk of brown mush, "what is it?" Stella actaully said, "Oh that? That's just steak." What does she think, just because I don't eat meat, that I can't identify it? Other times she'll bring something over and say, "You can have some too." I remind her of my still-unchanged lifestyle choice and she says, "Oh, well, you can just pick it out." Doesn't matter. Animal flesh was still in there to begin with, swimming around with the other ingredients, contaminating them with its juices.

I don't expect this to change anytime soon, but just like her calling me 'Tracey', this feigned obliviousness is our special dynamic, I guess.

The Good Mother

I was reading a post over on Girl's Gone Child yesterday and it really got me thinking. Read it if you get a chance, but if you can't, here's some exerpts:

"...I’m so tired of all of us thinking it’s necessary to wax poetic every week about how much we suck at being mothers and how hard it is and how afraid we are that we are fucking up our young. Day after day. Blog post after blog post. Memoir after memoir....Admitting we are shitty parents isn’t progressive. Cynicism is one thing but hopelessness is a bummer....Claiming to be bad parents is the new “I’m fat” for even the thinnest of women..."

And I thought I was so original in my honesty ;-) But seriously, have we come too far around the corner from when it was risque to even show Lucille Ball's expanding pregnancy on television? Did the pendulum swing so far into 'putting it all out there' that it's time for it to make it's way back to what is good and decent? Or perhaps what is being called for now is different in that we're not being asked to hide the bad parts, we're just needing to know that good is still possible too. I don't know...I think it's important to talk about the *bad* parts because mothering is the hardest job in the world, but to believe that, we need to keep sharing the hard parts. I think we can simultaneousy embrace the things we like about ourselves as parents and recognize the areas where there's room for improvement. In this way we can truly appreciate the good things about ourselves.

The thing that most holds me back from sharing the parts I get right, the mom I'm happy with and proud of, is that I think by saying those good things about myself, other mothers will look at me and believe I am judging them. They will say, "Oh, so if you are doing it right because you are a (mostly) stay-at-home-mom (or insert characteristic of choice), then I am wrong to go to work everyday?" My success is not your failure. As long as you are doing what you feel is best, aiming to do your best, or wishing you could do better, as long as you are trying, then you are doing your best. And that is never wrong.

I think I agree that it has become too easy to self-disclose down to the bare bones of your existence on the internet, in real life though, I'm not sure we're completely there yet. But at least here, in this venue, I think we could use a little cheering up. So I will do my small part toward re-awakening a culture of good parents. Happy Mothers' Day!

I am a good mother. Here are some reasons:

~ I never lie to Jacob.

~ I set the tone for our relationship to be one of equal respect.

~ I was listening to the Laurie Berkner song Victor Vito and the humor was lost on me because Jacob has eaten all of those *yucky* foods (beans, rutabaga, collard greens) and loved them. Swiss chard, kidney beans, anything fruit are some of his favorite foods - but he also sometimes gets ice cream for breakfast!

~ I do the best I can.

~ I try to make the world a better place for him and the rest of our posterity by the decisions I make...I always keep the health of our planet in mind.

~ I am mindful of Jacob's feelings.

~ After I found out I was going to be a mother, I settled down and made a life for us that we could live. And I stayed. I don't regret one bit of it.

~ I come home after I've been away. And I show up for the job. Everyday of his life.

Who's the garbage picker?

That would be me...

I had to work today. A birthday party. I do a lot of them, and it is sooo hard to sit there and be witness to all the waste. Wrapping paper that, if you're anything like me and wrap the gift in the car at traffic lights and finish up the bow in the driveway or parking lot of where the party is, has been manufactured for the purpose of being torn off an hour later goes right in the garbage (side note: I reuse old wrapping paper or have Jacob paint the paper they crumple up and put in shipping boxes for padding or brown paper bags). Paper plates, napkins, cups, plastic utensils go to the garbage too. The food waste is another matter altogether. These huge chunks of cake get portioned off for little two and three year olds. They eat two bites and in the garbage goes the rest. Drink boxes are the worst. A kid takes a sip, puts it down next to half a dozen identical drinks and it's either forgotten or discarded because no one can identify who it belongs to.

Ahhh! It makes my skin crawl. Anyway...today tops all the other times, including the time that a mother dumped this giant, 1/3 eaten sheet cake right into the garbage right in front of my very eyes. I couldn't believe my eyes, and if you know Seinfeld and you rememeber George and the eclair...well, that's all I'll say about that. So today I was cleaning up in the kitchen where the kids ate. I always wipe down the 'disposable' tablecloths and fold them up for future use. Sometimes the parents are really happy about this and take them home. This pleases me immensely. Other times they turn their noses up at them, so I say, "OK, I'll stick 'em in our birthday party box for someone else to use." Other times though, some helpful bystander will come along and in one quick motion wrap up the tablecloth and everything on it, and toss it right into the garbage. They don't even notice all the unused, uneaten things that could be saved.

But today, while I was cleaning up, the birthday mom took entire piles of unused plates, napkins and bowls and dumped them right in the garbage. Like a dozen of each. Like they probably should have just stayed wrapped in the cellophane and could have been returned to the store. I almost had a heart attack. I look at stuff like that and all I see are the natural resources it takes to manufacture them and the places they'll go to sit and decompose for God knows how many years.

I'd already picked four empty pizza boxes out of the garbage by then, so what was a little more? I couldn't wait much longer than the time it took her to take five steps out of the room. In I went and out of the garbage came all the paper goods. Hey, they were just sitting there on the top, totally clean. I also saved half a pizza, two orders of untouched bread sticks, half a bowl of fruit salad, half a veggie platter and three drink boxes - before they made it to the garbage.

There you have it. I'm a big, fat garbage picker.

The Long-Awaited Wedding Pictures.....

Waiting...

Flower Girl

Out of all the guys, Jacob looked the best in his tux.

Sooo glad I didn't have to wear that dress.

Playing

Formal introductions

Eating watermelon

Dancing

Leaving his mark on the cake.

Me and Jacob

Dance floor effects

Family Shots

Bottoms up!
(that would be my mom doing a shot)

More Dancing

I Lied

OK, I know I said I was done writing about the sleep, but here's one more installment in the 'Sleep Saga', as one of my friends put it yesterday. I just have to write about this because it's too damn funny not to share. I can't guarantee it will be funny to you though and I can't guarantee this will be the last of the sleep stuff. It is bound to become the Sleep Epic one of these days because, well, that's the story of my life, right?

Thursday (still today) morning Jacob woke me at 8:30 and I told him to go back to sleep because he'd been up late. He didn't fall back asleep, but I guess I did because 30 minutes later I bolted up in bed out of a cold, dead sleep when I heard the front door open ever so gently. It was just Zach, home from an early meeting at work to finish up the sheetrocking real quick before Andy stopped by to start taping an spackling. But it's nice to know I have such awesomely honed mothering instincts. Just try to come in this house and take my kid. Drop a pin and that's the end of it.

I didn't know it, but after I fell back asleep Jacob had gone downstairs. When I was jolted out of sleep and ran downstairs as fast as I could, I found Jacob naked, except for a diaper, and laying under the covers on the couch. Zach and I thought this was just hilarious. He was just hanging out on the couch. No TV, no messes, no evidence of him freely rummaging through the cupboards for the chocolate he must know by now I always have hidden.

Later on I asked Jacob about the morning and he told me that he came down off the bed, down the stairs so I wouldn't hear him, then played for a while, got on the couch and wrestled with Baby Tigger and then layed down for a little rest. I can't get over this. But did you catch the funny part? He wrestled with Baby Tigger. WTF? Can you just picture that? I'm trying to and it's the funniest damn thing I can imagine. I would have never guessed kids actually did stuff like that out of the pure pleasure of it, I thought for sure it was strictly put on for an audience.

I wish we had survielance cameras.

Pictures!

OK. I am done writing about all this sleep stuff. Here's some pictures for a change of pace. We went to the little amusement park we've got here over the weekend. It's been around for generations and hasn't changed much. Refreshing. Later, I'll post some more pictures, and then soon - wedding pictures!

Wednesday

Jacob got to bed on time last night, but I was up til 5am. Not sure why I feel the need to do that to myself about once a week. I was exhausted but I just didn't want to go to sleep, I wanted to stay up and tool around on the computer. Gee, that's a familiar scenario. I wonder where Jacob got this weird personality trait that he never wants to sleep. So I was the one sleeping in this morning. Jacob woke me sometime around 8:30. He was so cute and sweet, "Let's go downstairs now Mommy. You open this shade and I'll open that one."

We did our usual slow-to-wake morning stuff and then got ready to go to an area town park that has the best playground in the area and a bike path. My sister's on her honeymoon so Marisa is staying with my mom and Jamie this week. We've done something with them everyday this week. So they picked us up here and we adults rode the bikes while I toted the kids in a bike trailer on the back of mine. It was a fantastic day and the only thing that could have made it better was if I hadn't forgotten my camera. I was so pissed because I've been good about saving it for important stuff and not taking it with me everywhere. The whole time I kept pointing out all the different things I would have been taking pictures of, but never did I want it more badly than when Jamie fell off his bike. We ended up in this sandy/cement dust kind of place dirt bikes must frequent. It was all hilly and choppy and generally hard to navigate on the soft surface with a road bike. The kids were marching around actually believing that we were in the 'deserd', as Marisa kept calling it. Jamie went to follow them, and instead of just hooving it like my mom and I recommended, he insisted he could ride. We watched him go down in slow motion and all the while I was just dying to take a picture.

Later on in the day was gymnastics, and on the way there Jacob fell asleep in the car. I eventually was able to wake him but he missed half the class. Nap, no nap, there's always a downside. Bedtime wasn't so bad tonight, but it happened over an hour later than it was supposed to. How is it that everytime we try to enact a bedtime, within days it has stretched well past what is possible?

Anyway, it's 1am. I'm think I'm packing it in for the night. Zach is still up finishing the walls. He's been sheetrocking since Sunday and he's bound and determined to get it done tonight.

Repairing the Damage

Tuesday Morning:

The sleeping lasted all night and didn't end until 30 minutes after I'd gotten out of bed this morning. Yippee! Oh God, that reminds me of the days (not too long ago) when we were struggling to get Jacob to sleep through the night. Note to the Universe: Don't take this as my being cocky and go causing a relapse in the actual Sleeping Through the Night. Please.

It was a day of testing. When Jacob woke up he opened the shades (like he always does), turned off the Sleepinator, and came downstairs to find me getting my simultaneous caffeine and computer fixes. He snuggled up on my lap (like he always does), but it felt like it was the first time, as if we didn't already know the perfect way we fit together. Same nooks, same arms, same bend of the knee, yet there was something very vulnerable about it.

At music class the testing turned a little rough when the gentle hair playing quickly morphed into hair pulling and escalated with a swift kick to my leg during the goodbye song. A quick trip to the same library that ended in disaster back in February to return some homeschooling books that, come to think of it, I got on that Valentine's excursion, cost me $3.20 in late fees (I'd maxed out my renewals and then some) and the rest of my patience. I took Jacob to the bathroom at the library but he skipped out before washing his hands and totally ignored our safety word, "Stop!" What is it about that bathroom that causes children to go running from it and all the way down the hall away from their responsible adults?

Anyway, it's pretty clear: He's asserting his independence. I get it, but it still hurts. All day long, anytime I had to *speak* to Jacob about something and instruct him to either stay in one place or do something, say pick up his mess, he would assert, "I don't have to...I can get up if I want to." But he'd do what I'd said anyway. He wants to behave, but he also wants me to know he has a mind of his own and he's looking for confirmation by my reaction that he does, infact, have some control over his life. So I've got to just bite my tongue and let him have his little moments of defiance.

Jacob came to work with me and the plan was to have my mom come by with Marisa halfway through, let them play a little, and then she would leave with both of them. When it was time for them to leave my work, Jacob didn't want to go. He wanted to stay with me. I felt so honored. So when I'd closed up and all the cleaning was done, I surprised Jacob by running up the slide and catching him, pulling him back down with me. He was so thrilled with this and begged me to play more. We ran around the place playing chase for another 10 minutes.

Back at home we went for a nice walk, all of us, and then I got Jacob ready for bed. And guess who he wanted to put him to bed. ME. I read books, rocked him to sleep and then layed him in bed. It seems our day-long slow dance back into each others' good graces had a happy ending.

Baby Steps

So you want an update? Well, my mother came over on Sunday night to help with the bedtime thing. I don't really know what I hoped to accomplish at the time with her being here and all. Actually, no, I wanted to go running with Zach. It would remove us from the house so bedtime could take place and get us some alone time, something healthy to boot. We used to run together all the time when we were dating. Occassionally someone will suggest we go to a movie or go to dinner; a movie is nice, but it's not what we need, and dinner, well we've never been 'dinner' people. Sometime in the mid-late winter it occurred to me that a good run together is what we need to connect. I haven't managed to make it happen once since then, but that's a whole other story about how we're just too damn busy.

Oh look, another tangent...anyway, we did go for a five minute walk with Mango. My mom stayed much later than she should have in order to get home for the show she wanted to watch, but by God that child was going to be asleep when she left here if it killed her. She handed him off to me and he opened his eyes just long enough to mumble, "Mommy..." and fell back asleep. Zach and I watched The Celestine Prophecy and he stayed awake the whole time. I read the book years ago, and it's one of my top 5 favorites. Zach really liked the movie, but of course it could never do the book justice. I've been wanting to re-read it lately so I finally picked it up last night and read maybe two pages before I fell asleep. I think my fast-paced life this last year and audio books have ruined me for reading. My whole life I've been a book worm, but lately I haven't been able to slow down enough to read an entire book. As you can see from my constant and lengthy posts, I'm more in 'output' mode now.

Looking back a day later, I think what my mom's visit did was give us a clean break, a chance for a fresh start with the bedtime thing. There was just so much stress for all of us involved with bedtime, that to have a brief respite from that reduced the tension a great deal. I'm not saying that one day solved everything, but I think I was able to step back and regain some of that lost perspective. Obviously change takes place best when it's enacted slowly, so baby steps it is. I moved the rocker back upstairs into the bedroom this afternoon while Jacob was napping. I think for now Zach is going to be the main player in bedtime because, well, Jacob needs to be around him more. As the time stretches away from that worst of all nights, it's becoming more clear that the root of it was Jacob needing some time with Zach. And so the first rule will be that Jacob is rocked to sleep and then placed in the bed. I think it will be easier for him to sleep in the vaste expanse of bed without one of us there, if one of us was not there to begin with.

Another thing I've got to work on is picking up on Jacob's tired cues. The behavior has gotten out of control and I guess tiredness is to blame? Today he actually admitted to being tired at one point. He took a two hour nap, from which he was easily woken, so maybe the napping will continue but we'll play it by ear from day-to-day whether he needs one or not.

So it took about an hour for Jacob to fall asleep tonight, but there was no crying. Zach came downstairs to spend time with me and even though he was tired, he listened to me go on for 30 minutes about how horrible Jacob was today and we brainstormed some ideas. I hate that I am talking about Jacob that way though. I want to only love him. I think that part of the blame of all of this lies with me. I certainly don't make things easier by being so emotionally involved...if I could just step back and chill, things might go more smoothly. I think that Jacob and I were definitely on edge with each other today. We've got some healing to do this week.

Thanks, everyone, for your concern and kind words.

Here's the kicker:

After I got Jacob bathed this morning, we went into the bedroom to get him dressed. I pulled up the sheets to look for his t-shirt and there, in the middle of the bed, was a big, wet spot. Pee. Do you realize last night we finally put the sheets back on the bed? All week without them. I triple-folded a towel and put it under Jacob. All night long I made sure it was still under him. Two diapers, remember. Two diapers, triple-folded towel - and he still leaked through!

This is the biggest contributing factor to my feeling as if I've been hit by a bus. To have the opression coming at you from home base is one thing, but to have the universe spit in your face like that, it's just the icing on the cake.

The Outcome

Things got far worse before Jacob finally fell asleep. He slept and so did we. It is the next day, but here I am in this beautiful day, still resenting my beautiful child. Last night I got on the phone with my mom and cried about it for a while. She brainstormed ideas for me, but I just shot them all down. It's not going to help to send him away for a night. I want the whole problem solved, not just one night of sleep. Besides, I won't be able to sleep with Jacob not here. I've never had a night away from him. And that won't take care of the anger either. I'm angry because I want him to be obedient.

I have absolutely no idea what I should be able to expect from a 3 1/2 year old. When I was a teenager I had the uncanny ability to nail down the age of any given child I encountered. Now that I am a parent myself, I find I can't tell anymore. I compare kids I see to Jacob and try to estimate their ages, but he is the skinniest, shortest 3 year old I've ever met so my image is skewed. So I repeat what I said last night, becoming a parent causes you to lose all perspective. I think that it is reasonable to expect a child to go to bed on his own, is it not? Other peoples' kids go to bed on their own. Unless they lie. Well that's why I'm writing so honestly here. It's hard and it sucks.

After I got off the phone with my mom I realized that even though Zach was asleep in the bed with Jacob, it was the first time my boy had seen his father all day. Jacob wasn't about to waste that time with him by sleeping; once he fell asleep, morning would come in a flash and Zach would be gone again. I knew what I had to do. I went upstairs and explained to Jacob that Zach would be home all day today and he would have lots of time with him. Zach being there was preventing Jacob from falling asleep, so I gave him 5 minutes in which to fall asleep or I was making Zach leave the bed. That, of course, didn't work so Zach was soon downstairs with me. Jacob resumed the hyperventilating and neither one of us had any idea what to do. We sat on the kitchen floor in anguish. Of course we just wanted to go up and hug him, but I couldn't reinforce what was happening.

We were totally stuck. There was no way Jacob was going to go to sleep, but we couldn't back down. Even now I just don't know what to say about it. It was pure Hell. I tried to explain my position to Zach, and by then Jacob was at the top of the stairs listening in. At this point I had to idea that we needed to ignore the fact that he was out of bed. He eventually came downstairs and started to play. How was I supposed to integrate the ignoring part then? Change of tactic. I went in the calmly talk with Jacob. He still wouldn't admit that he was tired. Crazy, crazy kid. If he couldn't admit that he was tired, then he just doesn't know what tired is. So I told him he was and tried to explain how his body was feeling and that that equals tired. Nothing. So I took him upstairs. I checked back in every couple minutes to ask Jacob, "Are you ready to admit that you are tired?"

Here's the part where Zach compared me to Sayid. I wasn't trying to torture Jacob, I was trying to teach him about sleep and put words (one in particular - tired) to the way he was feeling to convince him that what he really needed was some time in the Land of Nod. I counted up the hours and realized that Jacob had slept 10 hours out of the last 36 hours. That is insane! It's not nearly enough sleep for a fully grown adult, much less a child.

On one of my visits upstairs Jacob started using my words against me. He took all the things I said while in the kitchen with Zach and changed it around to make a point to me. You're telling me a kid who is capable of that, is not capable of understanding the concept of sleep?? "It's my time with Daddy! This is my time with Daddy. I want to be close to him. He has to go to work in the morning and I won't see him (not true)." Way to put an arrow through my heart. I am the worst person in the world. I called Zach upstairs and he snuggled with Jacob. 3 hours of struggling down the drain. And I guess that's the reason I'm still angry today, because it's unresolved.

Jacob didn't go to sleep til at least an hour after that. How is this physically possible? How? He woke up this morning and came into the next room to find me. He eyes were all puffy from crying last night, and mine are still burning from the same thing. How is it I can still be this angry at him? He's sitting next to me, asking me if I want him to rub my arm. I'm ignoring him but he does it anyway. He is the sweetest kid in the world right now and I just want to love him to death, but even with all those feelings right there, the resentment is getting through. I'm actually mad at him that he seems to be over it. I feel like I've been hit by a bus, and what is left of me is just this pile of emotional reckage. I think this has gone beyond the point of finding a solution. I don't think there is one. I think I will spend the rest of my life in this moment of opposing emotions and helplessness. I think we are in desperate need of help, someone to tell us what to do. Because I am at a loss.