Monthly Archives: May 2014

I Scream, You Scream…

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We all know that I love the stuffing out of my son.  He is the light of my life, blah blah blah, all that mushy stuff. That being said, sometimes the kid is so weird that I don’t know where he came from.

Last night we got ice cream as a treat to have after dinner.  We all ate our food and then Cole asked for desert.  My husband presented the ice cream with a flourish.  And…. Cole proceeded to have a complete and utter meltdown because THE ICE CREAM WAS TOO COLD!  He whined about the coldness, he told us it would “hurt” him to eat the ice cream, he implored us to put the ice cream in the microwave because that heats “stuff up and then my ice cream would be eatable!”  At one point he flung himself onto the rug and begged the world at large to tell him why his dad had thought that ice cream would be a good idea. 

We told him not to eat the ice cream, if it was that big of a deal.  That brought on a fresh round of tears, because it was HIS ice cream and he WANTED it, just not COLD. Eventually he took a tiny, miniscule bite of the ice cream.  By the look on his face, you would have thought that he ate actual dirt.  He nodded his head, eyes closed, and carefully placed the spoon back in the bowl.

“It’s good,” he said, “but it IS cold.  I don’t want any more.”

And then my head exploded, because no child of mine would EVER turn down ice cream.  

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I Can!

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My whole life people have been telling me what I CAN’T do.  Some examples that come to mind:

When I told my family that I was going to apply to be a waitress, the laughter and guffaws could be heard for miles.  I was told I was way too lazy to wait on people, I would drop trays all over the restaurant, I would cry and get my feelings hurt… the list went on and on.  I went on to be a waitress for about five years.

When I told people that I would take a year off school and then go back, they scoffed.  No one ever goes back, I was told.  You’ll find a full time job and you’ll be making money and you’ll never want to go back.  I worked for a year, reapplied to college, and went back for another two years.

When I told people that I was going to be a home health aide, again, the laughter.  I was told it was way too gross of a job for me, I would hate it, people are mean, etc.  And guess what?  They were right, all except for the me not being able to do it part.  I was puked, pooped, and spit on.  I was yelled at and accused of any number of ridiculous things.  But I was a home health aide for about four years.

Now a new job has come up at my place of employment, and I would really, really like to get it.  People have told me that I am not right for the job, I won’t like it, I’m used to sitting behind a desk… but I still applied yesterday.  I’m hoping that whoever interviews me has as much faith in my ability to do a good job as I am, because I really think I would be damn good at this position. And if I don’t get it, well, I’ll know it’s not because I CAN’T do it.  No matter what people say!    

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When I was pregnant with Cole, a lot of people gave me lots of nice stuff.  One of the things was a handmade, stitched Pooh blanket.  It came from my employer; I took care of her elderly mother and she signed my paychecks.  But she loved to sew and quilt, and gave me the Pooh blanket right before I gave birth.  You know when you have a baby they have a million blankets, and I would take one out of his drawer and cover him up, not thinking anything about it. But somewhere along the line, the Pooh blanket became *special.* 

You see, there is a very specific ritual of blanket tucking in before bed.  We put the sheet and comforter on first, followed by the Cars fleece blanket, another sports blanket on the side, and then the Pooh blanket over top of everything.  While he is falling asleep, Cole will rub the edge of the blanket in between his fingers.  If he is feeling tired or in need of comfort, a rub from the Pooh blanket will help a lot.  He’s been sleeping with this blanket arrangement for at least three years, and the Pooh one since birth. 

So the other day when he wanted to take the blanket to my MIL because he was still a little sleepy in the morning, I said sure.  And it was fine and we went on with our day, until bedtime, when I realized….

I HAD FORGOTTEN TO BRING HOME THE POOH BLANKET.

The world stopped.  Tears were shed, on both of our faces.  I felt horrible.  Bad mommy moment, that one.  I apologized profusely, and he, pitifully, through his sad sobs, said, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”  That was even more sad than forgetting the blanket, the fact that he was taking it so stoically and reasurring me.  Oh, I felt so bad.  We made a (poor) substitute with another blanket, but we all know that it wasn’t the same.  His fingers were just itching for that blanket.  So today as soon as I get off work I will be going to retrieve the blanket, and the world should be back in alignment before bedtime. 

Never, never forget the blanket at bedtime.  Never.

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Today has quite possibly been the longest day of my life.  I am waiting for something *EXCITING* to happen and it happens tomorrow and I’m worse than a kid on Christmas Eve.  I feel like I’m going on vacation, starting school, and having Christmas all at the same time, and my stomach is cramping in protest to all the excitement.  I will never be able to sleep tonight, which should mean that I have all night to clean the house, but really means I will be up watching bad T.V. and eating my weight in ice cream while I watch the clock numbers s-l-o-w-l-y change.

Cole and I have been counting down the days to this *EXCITING* thing, and he was thrilled to wake me up at 5:30 a.m. and tell me that “TODAY MEANS ZERO DAYS LEFT, MOMMY!” in a non appropriate early morning loud voice.  He then got dressed himself, which we’ve been working on… it’s not that he can’t dress himself, it’s that he would much rather drape himself over the couch and whine about the light hurting his eyes than actually put his clothes on.  But this morning was a nice change, even if he did insist on carrying that loudness all the way up to the time that I dropped him off before work. 

So I’ll just keep wishing this day away and hope that nothing happens to spoil anything tommorow.  Wish me luck!

Bits.

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I’ve been sitting here staring at the white blankness, trying to figure out what to right.  I have been ambivilent about the blog lately; I had some trolls and I made the tough decision to take down some of my most painful and honest posts.  I hated to do it, because there have always been people that supported me and read what I wrote with an open mind, but at this point in my life I just couldn’t take the negativity and bad thoughts from people that claimed to know me.  There is a huge *thing* going on in my life right now that I don’t feel comfortable talking about and I guess that’s one of the main reasons that I haven’t been writing.

Yesterday was my husband’s grandmother’s funeral.  I couldn’t decide if I should take Cole or not; I remember going to a funeral when I was about his age, and he’s been asking a lot of questions about Nana and her passing, so I thought that maybe it would help him to be there with everybody.  He was charming, as always, dressed up in his little suit, making friends with everyone and causing people to smile through their tears.  I think he was a light in the sadness, and I’m glad that I chose to take him.  He asked me where Nana was, and what exactly was she doing up in Heaven?  The classic line of the day was when he turned to me and said, “Mom?  If you want to say Oh my gosh, instead you can just say Oh my Nana Rose, because that’s where she is (enthusiastic finger point to the ceiling), she’s up there with God!”  Now the entire family will forever say Oh my Nana Rose, and in this way her memory can live on. 

The *thing* will be OVER in 6 days, and perhaps then I will find it easier to write.  Right now I am just banging my head into the wall, over and over, and nothing worthwhile is coming about because of it.  Hopefully you’ll stick around and see what happens…