My Life With Them

Over at Girl Talk Thursdaythis week they are talking about things they are too scared to do. My list of things that makes me a pansy ass is, well, on the large side. Extra large. With a side of Xanax.

Ahem.

Go on a cruise. I don’t know if I just saw Titanic too many times or what, but the idea of being on a ship with no land in sight just does not excite me. I grew up on the beach in southern New Jersey( NO, not THAT Jersey Shore) and I have no beef with water. Just the big ass boat in the middle of all that water…with no way for me to swim to shore. And sharks. And going nuts from dehydration and drinking the salt water and being sunburned when we get shipwrecked…you get the idea.

Any type of public speaking.  My tum tum hurts just thinking about it. *shudder* I am painfully shy, though if you know me from twitter you may not believe it. This even went as far to bother me when I was a server, I never wanted to take big tables because I didn’t want to have to talk to them. Gah. Me is a wuss for sure.

Have another baby. Because you know…there are only two options here. I will either have a girl…which is scary enough on it’s own. Or I will have a boy, and then I will have THREE boys, which is scary scary shit in my world.

Be near or on a crane. I don’t know what it is, but I have a serious phobia of those hulking machines. Every day on my drive to work as I come over a hill I can see the town I work in. The town they are rebuilding the center of. The town that has not one, not two, not three but FOUR HUGE cranes that laugh in my direction every day. The hair on the back of my neck stands up the second I see them on the horizon. I’m going to stop talking about this now. EEK.

Open the cup I found under the couch. Yep, nope. Not going to happen. Ever.

I may have not gotten all the laundry done.

I may have left dirty dishes in the sink.

I may have had the equivalent of a box of Cheerios mashed into my floor.

I may have played hookey from a meeting at work.

But I didn’t miss this on a beautiful spring like day last week.

It was worth it.

I had a really hard time this year when people asked me what to get Jimmy for his birthday. It is a hazard of having boys 18 months apart I guess. I just had a one year old boy not that long ago. I didn’t really need anything. He ended up with some of the normal stuff…some blocks, some clothes and a cool bike thing that will be awesome for this spring and summer from Mom Mom and Pop Pop.

Then there is his gift from his Aunt Kyley. Kyley is one of those super creative artistic types and always gives the best presents to the boys. This was no exception.

At first glance this looks like a pretty normal plate. A little strange sure, but nothing amazing.

Hmmm…the utensils are kinda neat.  A truck spoon and a truck fork. Is that a bulldozer? I is confused.

Then I looked a bit closer and the plate and HOLY COW I done figured it out. Me is smart I tell you. The little slots? The better to stab food that is trying to get away. Think of all the elusive peas that will meet their doom in this booby trap of wonder. 

Then there is the little groove to set the spoon in. Hmmm…How will the help? I then looked closer and noticed the track leading to said spoon groove. Maybe it…?  No. It couldn’t be.

Oh yes, it is.

It is meant to bulldoze food onto the spoon.

Try convincing your kids not to play with their food after they get a load of this!

It’s been a crazy week, filled with birthday wonderfulness. Jimmy turning one was bittersweet, like I think most first birthdays are. My little baby is getting big so fast, and time goes faster and faster each day. However I adore the little person he is evolving into and I am so proud that he is mine.

We began his birthday on the 27th with a trip to Toys R Us. It is something we did on Chase’s first birthday so we decided it was what we would do for Jimmy as well. Since the whole surprise context doesn’t really come in to play at one, we had a good time walking around and letting the boys mess with stuff. Jimmy was out of his mind happy.

It's Toys R Us time, beeshes!

We ended up leaving the store with a variation of the same gift we gave Chase for his first birthday. We also left with a VERY ANGRY toddler in tow, as he was ticked off he couldn’t bring everything home with us. We got home and set up Jimmy’s present. It was love at first sight.

Look at MEEEE!

Then he danced on Daddy for a bit…

We had dinner and a bath and then…wait for it….

BACK INTO THE BALL PIT! The smile on his face just kills me. He is the happiest little person ever in this thing and it makes the 100 play balls that are now covering my living room at all times completely worth it. Sort of. Well, now that I have made it a game for Chase to put them away. Maybe.

Last night we had dinner and cake with the family, it was a great night and Jimmy had a great time rounding out his birthday the right way.

OH YEAH.

When I learned I was pregnant with Jimmy in May of 2008 I was in serious shock for a while. I literally cried on and off for weeks, I just could not wrap my head around the idea that I was having another baby. I still HAD a baby. Chase was 9 months old when I became pregnant. I was weaning him off the bottle, but now instead of packing them away I was moving them to a higher shelf. I was pregnant.

Right after Chase had his first birthday in July, we transitioned him to a twin bed(which he adored) after he began to climb out of his crib. Instead of taking the crib down, it was simply moved to another wall in the nursery. I was 3 months pregnant.

Fall came and with it came beautiful weather in Pennsylvania. I love fall. Sweater weather is my favorite time of year, just cool enough to need long sleeves but not a jacket. Jim, Chase and I were all in a wedding in October, and Chase was the best little ring bearer ever. Chase loves to play outside and I did my best to keep up with his 15 month old self. He had adventures that needed tending to…I was just along for the ride. I was 6 months pregnant.

The Holidays arrived in a blur of activity that year. I was getting bigger and bigger every day and my February 10th due date was looming. I tried to concentrate on Chase, making this a special time for him. I felt bad that his world was about to be turned upside down, and he just was not at an age yet where I could explain it to him. I was still working weekends as a bartender. I was 7 months pregnant.

New Years Eve Day. I went to my lady bits/baby doctor  because I felt awful. She checked me, not expecting to really find anything. She then informed me I was 3cm dilated and needed to head over to L&D for monitoring. I was 34 weeks pregnant. My girlfriend drove me to the hospital, and the looming threat of a premature birth loomed in my head. I was hooked up to the monitors and luckily sent home, but on bed rest until delivery. Chase was 17 months old and I was on strict bed rest.

January 17th. Chase gets croup and we land ourselves in the ER at 3am for a breathing treatment. I am 4cm at this point and crying because I don’t know what to do if I have the baby before Chase gets better.

January 24th. Chase is 18 months old.

January 26th. I am 5cm dilated but not in labor (whaaaaaaaaaat?)

January 27th, 2009. My baby makes his way into this world and into our hearts. Born at exactly 38 weeks, 6lb 12oz  and healthy.

Happy Birthday James Mason. My Jimmy Jamboree. The Jamster. Jimmy Bo-bimee. Little J. Jimbo Junior.

I love you.

My boys are 18 months apart, almost to the day. It has been a wild ride, one that I wouldn’t change for the world.

The first meeting in the hospital

6 weeks and 19 months

5am, at least THEY are happy

6 months and 2 years

Watching the progression of their relationship has truly been an amazing experience.

December 09 and in a new house

Hey Mommy!

2 1/2 years and 11 months

Oh the brotherly love!

 I think the faces they are making at each other in the last picture really says it all.

This past year has had it’s moments. There has been times when I literally wanted to burn my laptop and never open it again, I just couldn’t handle any more of my friends in pain. I was an outsider on the most part, new to Twitter and blogging (publicly at least) and I hadn’t yet found my “tribe”. At least not here.

However, for the three years I have been blessed to be a member of the most close knit group of friends that I could ever imagine. We met on a message board when we were pregnant with our “big kids” and have been a constant presence in each others lives ever since.

We cry together, we laugh together. We vent about our spouses, we talk about all the gross pregnancy and after baby stuff there is to talk about. Cause dood…men just can’t handle all that.

This week I have felt helpless. Helpless that one of MY girls was suffering and I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, reach through the computer and hug her. I couldn’t ( for many reasons) get on a plane and go be with her after the devastating and unexpected loss of her mother.

I just don’t know how to help her.

I’m helpless.

I fell like I’ve been absent this week. Not just here, this place where I leave bits and pieces of myself out in the open for scrutiny and observation, but also from myself.

I don’t even know if that makes sense, or how to explain it if it doesn’t. I supposed I could sum it up in easy terms with “I’m in a funk”

A massive, panic attack having, screaming, crying, fighting over nothing funk.

I think last week, with my Dad being sick was just the beginning. It has sort of all gone downhill from there. School restarted, with me not a part of it for the first time a couple years. Instead of me feeling as though I am taking a well deserved break, I feel like a failure.

My panic attacks have returned in full force, with no warning. I haven’t had to medicate for one in almost 2 years. I’ve had to 6 times in the past 3 days. Luckily my doctor is teh awesome, and knows me well.

I don’t understand what is going on with my body, and with my head. I needed something contructive to throw myself into. Something to take my mind away from everything.

Luckily I found it.

April 24th.

5 Miles.

Some Tears.

Some laughs.

One preemie in my heart, and hopefully one preemie in her stroller.

For Maddie

For Natalie who I am happy to report is taking names and kicking prematurity’s ass.

For me, a NICU graduate.

This post has been sloshing around in my head for quite some time, but I have been unsure how to approach it. I have started and erased it at least a dozen times. I just can’t quite find a way to convey my point the way I want to, but I am going to try.

Jim and I are a married couple. By law that gives us equal custody of our children. In the eyes of the state we have equal right to our children and the decisions being made for them. More importantly, to us we have equal say in the upbringing of our boys. There is no veto power, we truly make our decisions together. If we don’t agree, we work on it until we find a compromise we are both comfortable with.

*Disclaimer- This is about the only thing we act grown up about so get your jaws off the floor*

Of course there are decisions each of us make on our own. If Chase needs his hair cut I don’t need permissionto cut it. I don’t need to run it by him, I just get it cut and vice verse.

I’m talking about the big stuff. Daycare providers. Private school vs public. Vaccinations. People we have around our children. What’s appropriate and what’s not. These are all things that are discussed between us as the parents of our children. It has nothing to do with our status of husband or wife. Or at least it shouldn’t.

I have some strong feelings about the way the court system (especially in my state) treats Dads. I am not talking about the men who don’t pay their support. I am not talking about the men who don’t try. I am talking about the men who were in the hospital when their children were born, and looked into their new baby’s eyes with love and wonder.

I’m talking about the men who changed diapers, stumbled into the kitchen to make bottles at 2 am and fell asleep with their little ones heads on their chest. I’m talking about the men who made forts and taught how to ride bikes.

Then, suddenly, because these men and their women don’t want to be together anymore they are the second rate parent in the eyes of the state. I will never understand it. Never. Worse, they are second rate parents in the eyes of the mother. The same mother who took a nap while he stayed up with a newborn. The same mother that watched him cuddle their baby, and thought ” This is almost better than holding him myself”.

What is it that makes this OK? I see this attitude in some of my friends. I saw it in my brother’s situation and countless others. Mom decides to send kids to pricey schools without talking to Dad about it…Dad has to pay for half anyway. That decision would have been made jointly if the parents were together, with the budget being taken into consideration. Why is it different now?  How is it possible that a man who has spent years co-parenting a child every day can be given every other weekend and is expected to be happy with that? It angers me to no end to hear Mother’s talk of their children ” visitingtheir fathers”. Never once have I heard the time that a child spends with their custodial parent referred to as visiting. A child lives with both parents, just at different times.

I am so frustrated with the system. I am tired off seeing good guys get screwed but a system that favors the Mother on principle, not on the merit of that woman in particular.

Because you know…just like it takes more than sperm to make a good Dad, it takes a hell of a lot more than the ability to shoot a baby out of your womb to make a good Mom.

* More disclaimer. I understand there are exceptions to the rule and some parents make it work marvelously. *

Dear 2010,

This is not a good start between you and I. I thought we had talked about this sort of behavior and I was confident we had come to an agreement.

Do you not remember the discussion about your bitch ass friend, 2009? I’m fairly sure that 2009 was in cahoots with the insurance companies, with all the co-pays that were reaped from my friends and family in the hospital.

So 2010, starting the year with my Dad being admitted to the hospital with Acute Respiratory Failure and the Exacerbation of COPD was not the proper way to get off on the right foot with me. Seeing his O2 levels dropping lower and lower even though he was on a breathing treatment was not the way I wanted to spend my Monday. Listening to him try to talk, when he was barely getting enough air to survive was not part of the plan.

You are dammed luck 2010, that he is doing better this morning. While he has a long way to go,and this will likely be a long long winter on his weak lungs, he seems to be out of crisis at the moment. Hopefully his heart will be able to keep up with the extra work it is taking him to breathe.

2010? I’ve got your ass on notice. Consider yourself warned.