Friday, July 10, 2009
I give
As much as I hate doctors its time to go. i feel like red hot acid is dripping down my arm from my shoulder to my wrist. I can't sleep unless I knock myself out with drugs and I cannot concentrate at work. I surely cannot pick up little man. So here I go.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Not so Little
Little man is breaking my back. Literally. My right arm is a mess from carrying him. (Yeah, yeah, I know - just put him down. Easier said than done when the !@#$@!#$!@ airline strands you in the Philly airport from 7:30 PM to 2 AM. Poor guy was a wreck and needed the comfort.)
I have a constant ache in the shoulder blade and neck area, sharp pains in the bicep running to the elbow, and my arm goes pins and needles then numb from about mid forearm down.
He weights a little over 30 pounds these days and has grown an inch and a half in just the last month!!! His feet are huge - he's wearing a size 10 and they barely fit!
This kid is going to be a brute, a brute that is wrapped around his poor little crippled mama's finger.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
And now for something completely different
I decided my last post was way too down. So today I thought I'd comment on the absurd directions folks give around here. They say things like - "you know around yonder from where the old IGA used to be" or "right close to Earl's pond" like I should know where the IGA used to be and who the hell Earl is. (Actually I do know who Earl is but that is a different story).
For awhile I was forced into giving the same sort of directions. I lived in a lovely little raised ranch about 2 miles straight up the side of a mountain with no neighbors anywhere around. There was actually no address for this place. I even called the local rescue squad to see if they had some 911 address for it. Nope. So when I had to give directions to my house for people like - say the Sprint guy to hook up my phone - the conversation went something like this:
So you take rural route xx like forever and then you'll see this little cabin. Don't worry you can't miss it - it has a gorilla on the roof - no, really, its like this 8 foot wooden gorilla. No, I am not shitting you - its a gorilla. No, I do not live in a house with a wooden gorilla on the roof - that's just a land mark. You turn left at the gorilla.
No, I cannot give you directions that do not reference the gorilla. There is no name for my "street". There is no street. Its a gravel track off or rural route xx directly across from the gorilla cabin. You;ll never notice the gravel track - look for the gorilla. Look, I don't have a house number - it is the only house. Well, yes unless you count the gorilla cabin. Yes, there really is an 8 foot wooden gorilla on the roof. Well how the hell would I know why they put it there? You think I am going to stop in and chat with that kind of crazy? Look - if its a local guy you are sending just tell him to hang a left at the gorilla - he'll know where to go.
The scary part is - the local Sprint guy had no trouble finding the place.
For awhile I was forced into giving the same sort of directions. I lived in a lovely little raised ranch about 2 miles straight up the side of a mountain with no neighbors anywhere around. There was actually no address for this place. I even called the local rescue squad to see if they had some 911 address for it. Nope. So when I had to give directions to my house for people like - say the Sprint guy to hook up my phone - the conversation went something like this:
So you take rural route xx like forever and then you'll see this little cabin. Don't worry you can't miss it - it has a gorilla on the roof - no, really, its like this 8 foot wooden gorilla. No, I am not shitting you - its a gorilla. No, I do not live in a house with a wooden gorilla on the roof - that's just a land mark. You turn left at the gorilla.
No, I cannot give you directions that do not reference the gorilla. There is no name for my "street". There is no street. Its a gravel track off or rural route xx directly across from the gorilla cabin. You;ll never notice the gravel track - look for the gorilla. Look, I don't have a house number - it is the only house. Well, yes unless you count the gorilla cabin. Yes, there really is an 8 foot wooden gorilla on the roof. Well how the hell would I know why they put it there? You think I am going to stop in and chat with that kind of crazy? Look - if its a local guy you are sending just tell him to hang a left at the gorilla - he'll know where to go.
The scary part is - the local Sprint guy had no trouble finding the place.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Total Downer Man
I am in a mood. It’s clearly not a good mood but its not a specifically bad mood. Its more alike a perpetually irritable mood. If nothing goes wrong then I kind of coast along in neutral but any little snag and I’m at best slightly grumpy and more likely a raging grouch. The thing is I don’t know exactly why.
My poor husband is catching the brunt of it. Some if it he probably even deserves – but not all. Work, friends, family all seem to set me on edge way, way too easily here lately. The kids seem to be for the most part exempt. I may get irritated OVER them – but not at them. I’m still thrilled with little man – he is the light of my life and Eden is a sweetie. She is doing so well as big sister. She is a little jealous it’s true – but not more than normal and still is very good to her little brother regardless.
Work seems like an unrelenting death march at the moment. There is never good news; just crappy or more crappy. The layoffs, cut backs, and bad news never ends. That in itself is bad enough but the utterly unrealistic expectations also continue to pile on until some days I wonder why I bother to try at all. Nothing we do will be good enough so what is the point.
Going to pick up little man at Preschool after a long day is a bright spot. The hugs and kisses help remind me there is a reason for what I do – even if the only reason is to support my kids. But at home I’m still unreasonably cantankerous as well. There is at least some reason for my darling husband to be catching crap. He was raised to be totally irresponsible. His family liked it that way for a variety of reasons. It carried over well into adult hood. His dad liked knowing he was the “provider” that bailed his son out financially when he overspent. His mom and sister liked totally taking over Eden’s care and schedule. They all loved to complain about how irresponsible he was but the also sabotaged any attempt he made at responsibility.
It was one of the things I noticed when we first met. How he would try to take more of an active role in his daughter’s life and they would get in the way. One of the things he says to me now that never fails to irritate the crap out of me is “I do more now than I ever did before.” That attitude is like fingers on a chalkboard to me – more does not automatically equal “my fair share”. But he should get credit for doing more. Its not like it was all his fault he was not doing it before. And he is doing more now - some at my urging but most because he wanted to be more involved.
I suppose I am guilty some too, at least of enabling. I love him and a big part of who he is – is that great big kid. I don’t want to completely change who he is. Two overly controlling, hyper anal-retentive people are not a recipe for a happy relationship. I love his easy going, relaxed personality and his capacity for fun. I don't want to change that.
Edward is always happiest when he is going racing, or riding his motorcycle, or playing guitar hero, or just hanging out joking with the guys. I want him to be happy, so I tend to take on more or say yes if he asks about doing something when I probably should say “no stay home and help me”. The problem is then I get resentful. I end up feeling “Why am I the only one that has to be responsible?” Which is not an attitude that leads to pleasant moods.
The biggest problem though, I think, is that I can’t tell him exactly what I need him to do differently. Because if I could – I know he would do his damndest to do it. I know he loves me and wants me to be happy too. He might not get it 100% right but he sure would try. But I can’t seem to explain it. There is no one thing I can tell him – just do this. I mean I could say – stop going racing every Saturday. But the thing is – a lot of Saturdays I don’t mind, so why should he give up something he likes so much when most of the time it probably won’t make me feel any better? I could say – you must do all the laundry, or cooking, or dishes, etc – but honestly – I don’t always mind doing those things either. And even if I did and he took it all on – it would not stop me from being irritated when he left his socks I the middle of the living room floor, or let the trash get full to overflowing, or got home early from work and just sat around till I got home then asked – “what’s for supper”. I mean – there is no “just one thing”. I don’t expect that he should do everything. But it seems like he should be grown up enough to look around and see things that need doing and take care of some of them without having to be told like a kid beign assigned chores.
I guess just want to feel like its not all my job. Everything at work seems to be my responsibility, as well as everything at home. Heck it’s even my job to monitor and remind everyone of the things they should be doing (in both places). So they are “responsible” for a task but in the end I’m responsible to make sure they are responsible!! It’s wearing. Not so much tiring as wearing – a grinding down of my better nature till all that is left is the exposed nerves that everyone keeps getting on. And I don’t know how to fix it. I’m tired of being grumpy. I’m not enjoying it more than anyone else but I have no idea how to fix it.
There – now I’ve ruined everyone else’s day – sorry if you came by for a light and amusing story of little man. I’ll try to get you one next post.
My poor husband is catching the brunt of it. Some if it he probably even deserves – but not all. Work, friends, family all seem to set me on edge way, way too easily here lately. The kids seem to be for the most part exempt. I may get irritated OVER them – but not at them. I’m still thrilled with little man – he is the light of my life and Eden is a sweetie. She is doing so well as big sister. She is a little jealous it’s true – but not more than normal and still is very good to her little brother regardless.
Work seems like an unrelenting death march at the moment. There is never good news; just crappy or more crappy. The layoffs, cut backs, and bad news never ends. That in itself is bad enough but the utterly unrealistic expectations also continue to pile on until some days I wonder why I bother to try at all. Nothing we do will be good enough so what is the point.
Going to pick up little man at Preschool after a long day is a bright spot. The hugs and kisses help remind me there is a reason for what I do – even if the only reason is to support my kids. But at home I’m still unreasonably cantankerous as well. There is at least some reason for my darling husband to be catching crap. He was raised to be totally irresponsible. His family liked it that way for a variety of reasons. It carried over well into adult hood. His dad liked knowing he was the “provider” that bailed his son out financially when he overspent. His mom and sister liked totally taking over Eden’s care and schedule. They all loved to complain about how irresponsible he was but the also sabotaged any attempt he made at responsibility.
It was one of the things I noticed when we first met. How he would try to take more of an active role in his daughter’s life and they would get in the way. One of the things he says to me now that never fails to irritate the crap out of me is “I do more now than I ever did before.” That attitude is like fingers on a chalkboard to me – more does not automatically equal “my fair share”. But he should get credit for doing more. Its not like it was all his fault he was not doing it before. And he is doing more now - some at my urging but most because he wanted to be more involved.
I suppose I am guilty some too, at least of enabling. I love him and a big part of who he is – is that great big kid. I don’t want to completely change who he is. Two overly controlling, hyper anal-retentive people are not a recipe for a happy relationship. I love his easy going, relaxed personality and his capacity for fun. I don't want to change that.
Edward is always happiest when he is going racing, or riding his motorcycle, or playing guitar hero, or just hanging out joking with the guys. I want him to be happy, so I tend to take on more or say yes if he asks about doing something when I probably should say “no stay home and help me”. The problem is then I get resentful. I end up feeling “Why am I the only one that has to be responsible?” Which is not an attitude that leads to pleasant moods.
The biggest problem though, I think, is that I can’t tell him exactly what I need him to do differently. Because if I could – I know he would do his damndest to do it. I know he loves me and wants me to be happy too. He might not get it 100% right but he sure would try. But I can’t seem to explain it. There is no one thing I can tell him – just do this. I mean I could say – stop going racing every Saturday. But the thing is – a lot of Saturdays I don’t mind, so why should he give up something he likes so much when most of the time it probably won’t make me feel any better? I could say – you must do all the laundry, or cooking, or dishes, etc – but honestly – I don’t always mind doing those things either. And even if I did and he took it all on – it would not stop me from being irritated when he left his socks I the middle of the living room floor, or let the trash get full to overflowing, or got home early from work and just sat around till I got home then asked – “what’s for supper”. I mean – there is no “just one thing”. I don’t expect that he should do everything. But it seems like he should be grown up enough to look around and see things that need doing and take care of some of them without having to be told like a kid beign assigned chores.
I guess just want to feel like its not all my job. Everything at work seems to be my responsibility, as well as everything at home. Heck it’s even my job to monitor and remind everyone of the things they should be doing (in both places). So they are “responsible” for a task but in the end I’m responsible to make sure they are responsible!! It’s wearing. Not so much tiring as wearing – a grinding down of my better nature till all that is left is the exposed nerves that everyone keeps getting on. And I don’t know how to fix it. I’m tired of being grumpy. I’m not enjoying it more than anyone else but I have no idea how to fix it.
There – now I’ve ruined everyone else’s day – sorry if you came by for a light and amusing story of little man. I’ll try to get you one next post.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Letter to Little Man
Dear Son,
Why are you so obsessed with my shoes? I get that shoes in general fascinate you. You love to put on and take off your own, your sisters, and daddy’s as well as mine. You laugh hysterically as you teeter around in my heels or clomp along in daddy’s work boots. You were so disappointed when you finally managed to get both of daddy’s cowboy boots on and they were so tall that you could not walk once you were in them. All of that is adorable.
Its less adorable how you insist on hiding at least one of each pair of my work shoes. You are very, very good at it I must admit. We cannot find one of my favorite black loafers. I am afraid you may have hidden it in the trashcan since throwing things away in the trash is another new activity you are obsessed with, along with flushing things in the toilet. I’m pretty sure if the shoe had gone into the toilet we would know it. But the trash? Well it may be gone for good. Darn it!
Love,
Mama
Why are you so obsessed with my shoes? I get that shoes in general fascinate you. You love to put on and take off your own, your sisters, and daddy’s as well as mine. You laugh hysterically as you teeter around in my heels or clomp along in daddy’s work boots. You were so disappointed when you finally managed to get both of daddy’s cowboy boots on and they were so tall that you could not walk once you were in them. All of that is adorable.
Its less adorable how you insist on hiding at least one of each pair of my work shoes. You are very, very good at it I must admit. We cannot find one of my favorite black loafers. I am afraid you may have hidden it in the trashcan since throwing things away in the trash is another new activity you are obsessed with, along with flushing things in the toilet. I’m pretty sure if the shoe had gone into the toilet we would know it. But the trash? Well it may be gone for good. Darn it!
Love,
Mama
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
OMG!!!!
Hey, sorry about the unannounced absence but balancing returning to work full time, the baby, and the plague he brought me home from preschool was a bit much. Besides - what are you gonna do - fire me? Its not like this is my paid gig.
Anyway on to important stuff! My baby has his first little girl friend!!!! Her name is Lydia and she has light brown hair and huge blue eyes. I've been replaced - ALREADY! Before any of you tell me I am over reacting - let me tell you - she bats those eyes at him and HE SHARES HIS FOOD WITH HER!!
Little man DOES. NOT. SHARE. FOOD. with any one but Mama. EVER.
I suppose I should be grateful he cannot say her name yet. I have only recently (and only occasionally) gotten him to call me Mama. Usually he just points at me and shrieks - kind of the toddler equivalent of grunting "Hey wench get me a beer." Only in his case it is food or a diaper change he is looking for.
she says his name however. As soon as we hit the door at preschool she is calling for him and off he goes. Sigh.
Anyway on to important stuff! My baby has his first little girl friend!!!! Her name is Lydia and she has light brown hair and huge blue eyes. I've been replaced - ALREADY! Before any of you tell me I am over reacting - let me tell you - she bats those eyes at him and HE SHARES HIS FOOD WITH HER!!
Little man DOES. NOT. SHARE. FOOD. with any one but Mama. EVER.
I suppose I should be grateful he cannot say her name yet. I have only recently (and only occasionally) gotten him to call me Mama. Usually he just points at me and shrieks - kind of the toddler equivalent of grunting "Hey wench get me a beer." Only in his case it is food or a diaper change he is looking for.
she says his name however. As soon as we hit the door at preschool she is calling for him and off he goes. Sigh.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
On Sleep - yes again
But not on my sleep or lack thereof this time. I think my chronic insomnia has had quite enough air time. I'm musing on little man's sleep disturbances at the moment. If you read the posts when we first got him from the baby home you know he fought sleep like a tiger at first - all kicking and screaming and scratching. (There was even some biting too!) Once he was out however, nothing and no one was going to wake him.
Now a days he goes down to sleep much more gently. He still fights sleep by keeping him self on the go go go but when I tell him time to sleep - "para spot" in Russian - he runs right to ma all smiles and snuggles up in bed with no complaint. He still tries to hold it off a bit longer by fidgeting around - first we need to suck these fingers then those no wait these were better. But he drifts off remarkably fast at nap time and while it takes longer at bed time it still is a gentle transition.
Now that bed time is not a battle royal however, he no longer sleeps reliable through the night. Tonight for example he has been up twice so far. Some times his night wakings appear to be bad dreams - he wakes crying and falls back to sleep very quickly with a little comforting. Other times for no discernible reason he slides out of bed and just comes looking for me. Since I rarely sleep anyway I usually hear him and go find him before he makes it much past his door way. Those times he seems to take forever to fall back to sleep. He doesn't fuss or even fidget much - he just lays in my arms looking around the room and sucking on his fingers for as much as 45 minutes to an hour before he goes back to sleep. Its odd.
Very occasionally he will fall out of bed. That usually involves quite a bit of noisy crying but I can't say I blame him - that has to be a very rude awakening. I try to check on him every so often and make sure he has not scooted himself too close to the edge of the bed. He's not usually a traveler in his sleep so its pretty rare.
I wish I understood what was going on in his mind better. I suppose some of it has to be a security thing which is why no matter if I was sleeping or not - no matter how tired I am, I always carry him back and stay with him until he falls asleep. But it seems odd to me that if it was just a security thing he would resist being put in bed with Edward and I. Which I admit to trying upon occasion when I was asleep and he came and found me there. He will have none of that though. Absolutely no falling asleep in mama's bed for some reason.
Oh well. Overall he is doing so remarkably well that this is a small issue. I can't complain when so many recent adoptees have truly horrible sleep issues like night terrors, etc to overcome. I'm sure he will out grow this too. It will be harder to deal with when I go back to work next week and have to be up at a set time but we will manage. It will be no different than when my own insomnia keeps me up all night long.
Now a days he goes down to sleep much more gently. He still fights sleep by keeping him self on the go go go but when I tell him time to sleep - "para spot" in Russian - he runs right to ma all smiles and snuggles up in bed with no complaint. He still tries to hold it off a bit longer by fidgeting around - first we need to suck these fingers then those no wait these were better. But he drifts off remarkably fast at nap time and while it takes longer at bed time it still is a gentle transition.
Now that bed time is not a battle royal however, he no longer sleeps reliable through the night. Tonight for example he has been up twice so far. Some times his night wakings appear to be bad dreams - he wakes crying and falls back to sleep very quickly with a little comforting. Other times for no discernible reason he slides out of bed and just comes looking for me. Since I rarely sleep anyway I usually hear him and go find him before he makes it much past his door way. Those times he seems to take forever to fall back to sleep. He doesn't fuss or even fidget much - he just lays in my arms looking around the room and sucking on his fingers for as much as 45 minutes to an hour before he goes back to sleep. Its odd.
Very occasionally he will fall out of bed. That usually involves quite a bit of noisy crying but I can't say I blame him - that has to be a very rude awakening. I try to check on him every so often and make sure he has not scooted himself too close to the edge of the bed. He's not usually a traveler in his sleep so its pretty rare.
I wish I understood what was going on in his mind better. I suppose some of it has to be a security thing which is why no matter if I was sleeping or not - no matter how tired I am, I always carry him back and stay with him until he falls asleep. But it seems odd to me that if it was just a security thing he would resist being put in bed with Edward and I. Which I admit to trying upon occasion when I was asleep and he came and found me there. He will have none of that though. Absolutely no falling asleep in mama's bed for some reason.
Oh well. Overall he is doing so remarkably well that this is a small issue. I can't complain when so many recent adoptees have truly horrible sleep issues like night terrors, etc to overcome. I'm sure he will out grow this too. It will be harder to deal with when I go back to work next week and have to be up at a set time but we will manage. It will be no different than when my own insomnia keeps me up all night long.
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