I miss my family.
I am experiencing some health issues right now and more than anything I want my mom. I want her to tell me that it’s going to be alright, and I want her to go to the doctor with me, and I want to cry on her shoulder.
I’m worried that I’m not being the mom that I should, because I’m so focused on what’s going on with me. It’s been pretty scary. I ended up in the hospital a couple days ago; now I’m not allowed to drive, take a shower when I’m by myself, etc. My work has been wonderful, letting me take all the time that I need, but I don’t want to take advantage of that.
My husband has been right by my side, being the rock I need him to be. He makes me laugh and takes care of me. But again, I’m scared.
I’m going to see a specialist in a couple weeks, it was the first appointment they had available. I’m anxious but also ready to find out what is going on and get this taken care of.
But I really, really miss my family.
A blog is kind of like slipping your skin off and then standing, naked, while everyone judges you. Of course, as the writer I get to choose how much or how little I tell the world. I’ve always tended to tell TOO much to people outside of the computer, and that’s what I brought to the blog as well.
This last year, year and a half, has been hell on my family. And at first, I was blithely writing exactly what was happening, because no one read it anyway. But then someone did, and they left extremely mean comments. In a fit of humiliation and depression, I deleted all the posts that were incriminating, that I felt were more personal and I shouldn’t share. But that meant that everything that was going on in my life was forbidden territory.
So where do you draw the line? Where do I draw the line? I want to be as honest as I can, because isn’t that what blogging is all about? But I feel like I need to protect both myself and my family. It’s a double edged sword. Some bloggers do this so eloquently, so expertly weaving their lives into something that everyone can relate to. I want to be one of those bloggers, but it scares me. My feelings are easily hurt.
Let me know what you think. When is it too much?
My husband had been out of work for a while, and he was getting really discouraged. I can’t tell you how many resumes we sent out and no one was calling back. But finally, through a temp service, he found a job. He is so happy and keeps telling me how much better he feels, now that he’s contributing.
After I pick Cole up and everyone is home, I make sure Cole has a drink and he watches cartoons for a while, and I have one of my favorite things with my husband. No, not that! We meet in the kitchen and talk about our days. It’s not much, just five or ten minutes before we have to go and do something else, or Cole needs dinner, or whatever, but those spare minutes we spend reconnecting are some of the highlights of my day. We used to do this in our old house and I had missed it, and yesterday my husband said, “It’s so nice to be talking about our days again!” Seems so simple, but it gives us a chance to wind down after work. If one of us had something happen, be it good or bad, we share it with each other. We may go over schedules, what we’re doing in the next couple days, etc. What’s important is the talking. As the light dims a little and the kitchen becomes shadowy, my husband and I find each other again, every evening.
It is very nice, indeed.
I have told Cole over and over that he is to STOP growing up, and he continues to defy me. The other night he was eating a bagel and started complaining that his tooth hurt.
“Open up,” I told him, and peered into his mouth. Sure enough, there was a very loose baby tooth in there and behind it, already almost taller than the other tooth, was a huge grown up tooth. It looked out of place in my baby’s mouth.
He immediately started sobbing.
“No, no!” I told him. “This is good news, buddy, it means you’re growing up. AND the tooth fairy will come and leave you money once you lose that tooth and put it under your pillow.”
I attempted to wiggle the tooth and Cole freaked out even more. He screamed at me not to touch it, don’t touch it! So that tooth may be in his mouth forever, who knows. He certainly won’t let Adam or me touch it.
You guys, I’m not READY for him to have real teeth! I look at those tiny baby teeth and think about the excitement (and fever) that came when they first poked through his gums. I think of my sweet little baby and it just makes me a little sad. Of course I’m excited for all the new phases to come, but this was just like a little nudge to remind me that it’s going by so fast.
That night at bedtime I held him for an extra long minute. I told him how much I love him and how big he is getting, and how proud I am for the boy he’s turning into. He hugged me back and told me not to touch his tooth. Ever.
Maybe I don’t need to be sad, because it may be that he will have that tooth for the rest of time.