So last night at three am I heard something ring. I wasn't fully asleep so I sat still and listened to see if it was my imagination. It rang again. It sounded like a cell phone. Brad, who was asleep, was silent but had woken up too. He asked if I heard it too. I had, so he got up put his robe on and grabbed the gun from the case. First- we both knew it wasn't our cell phones. We have had ours for a couple years and know all the noises they make and this wasn't one of them. Second- we are rednecks and country folk so yes we own guns. Third- it wasn't a toy. Turner only has a few things that make noise(to keep my sanity) and none of them make noises like this either. So Brad got up to look all over the house.
Was I scared? Yes, but not for the reasons you think. Was Brad scared? I am not sure if my husband has ever been afraid of anything. I was scared because my first thought was someone had broken in to kidnap my son. Utah seems to have a high child abduction rate, maybe because there are so many kids the rates just seem high. I don't really know what Brad's first thought was but I am sure it was along those same lines. What scared me was what could have happened if someone was in our house.
I have never been scared that Brad could be hurt by anybody. I have never seen Brad start a fight. I have seen him finish every one he's ever been around. He was a bouncer when we first dated. He's always been cool under pressure. He has never been manhandled. I was scared last night that some idiot had the stupid luck to pick our house to break into. Brad would kill someone who broke into his family's home and posed any sort of threat. I don't mean "Oh he'd kill someone" and think it might happen. I mean he'd shoot them and they would be dead, period. If he didn't have a gun he would beat someone to death and it would only take a second.
I have seen my husband pick up three grown men and pack them thirty yards. The men were in the bar where I worked, they had said something and Brad heard them. They were speaking Spanish so I had no clue what they were talking about. Brad sat and listened, then got up took his shirt off and grabbed three grown men to cary them outside. He put them down and asked them who wanted to die first. Over reaction, maybe but I still don't know what they said. It took seven men to hold Brad's arms. They held him but couldn't have stopped him. He agreed to let the guys go if they apologized to me and never came back. I was apologized to and the three men begged my then boyfriend's forgiveness and ran to their trucks, we never saw them again. This was the first time I saw the beast that lies behind my husband's beautiful blue green eyes. It was so out of character it startled me. But he said he didn't like what they were talking about and they were up to no good, and I believe he was right.
Brad never found any one or anything in the house last night, thank the heavens. We went back to bed, but not back to sleep. I often compare my husband to things- oak trees, giant apes, gentle giants. He is all of those things but under his sweet, loving, quiet outside there is something very dangerous. I have never feared him. I have never felt threatened by him. I am insane when my temper is spurred. It has only happened a few times but I have actually seen red and been unable to recall what happened when I was set off. My rage is quick and not calculated. I am loud and fear nothing and realize nothing as being dangerous to me. Brad is the opposite. I have felt his hand on the back of my neck so many times. It is when we are in a crowd and he senses something and pulls me close. He slides his huge hand down my arm and holds my wrist and I know to stay close to him. Now we are older and never out at night, in bars, or crowds but he is always watching the people around him.
My husband isn't the quick to explode type. He won't act irrationally over anything I have ever seen. When he thinks someone or something is trying to hurt Turner or I, I see the dangerous side of him. There is a part of him that is scary and I would hate to be at the other end of his gaze when he is in that zone. My life is ultimately more enjoyable because I get to float through and enjoy the good because my husband always has what could be the bad in his sights. Today Brad is being compared to a watch dog. I had to think what breed would be most like him. The obvious is the Rottweiler. They are massive, can be mean, but they are too clumsy and a little goofy. Then I thought of the Doberman Pincer. They are trained and calculating, but they are too much of a light weight and have never struck me as the loyal above all else type. Then I thought of the German Shepherd. They are built for stealth, loyal, and deadly, but also able to lay and let children crawl all over them, all the while watching for predators. That is my husband.
Like dogs men can sense who among them is dangerous. Dogs give a wide berth to the dominate males. Likewise, people have always given Brad plenty of space and not challenged him. He's never been a bully, on the contrary he'd rather diffuse a fight than have to start one or break one up. I love him. I love the silly him that only I see. I love the gentle him who handles new babies with such care and concern. I love the Brad who teaches my son new games and how to do things. I love the Brad who snores at night but can still hear the smallest noise that is out of place. I love the Brad who'd put himself between a moving train and our son. I love the Brad who would kill a man for coming in his home and threatening his wife and children. He'll always be my oak, my Clyde, my shepherd. I'll always be able to stop and smell the roses because Brad will be standing and watching making sure Turner, Tate and I are safe.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
World's best
I got treated to a movie and dinner on Sunday with my two favorite guys. Brad came home from work on Sunday early and wanted to go get his and Turner's hair cut. Turner got excited and said he wanted to go to the movies too. Sounded like a good idea to us, so we headed out for the mall.
The haircuts went well, we purchased our movie tickets, and then we had an hour to kill before the show started. Brad took Turner into Sears on a mission, Turner needed a wallet. They found a perfect little boy's wallet and I picked up a few things for the baby. It wasn't that long ago that I was buying onsies for Turner, not anymore, now he has a wallet. He is Papa's little man. Turner wants to be just like Brad. So Brad put a few bucks in the wallet and let him carry his movie ticket. My baby was so proud of himself for having a wallet just like Papa. Turner is literally growing up before my eyes.
I could barely pay attention to the movie. I was having a hard time not staring at my son sitting with my husband. In the soft glow from the silver screen I saw the two most beautiful people. They have the same haircut, the same deep blue/green eyes, the same profile, and they both have all of my heart. Seeing the man I fell in love with with our son makes me fall deeper for him everyday. I love watching the two of them.
I wonder if this will happen with Tate? Will she look like me in miniature? Will brad see all the good things from me in her? I know I see everything wonderful from my husband manifest in our little boy. Our dynamic is about to change, three will become four. I can not wait.
This pregnancy is different, I guess it's supposed to be. I am less aware of the time passing now, I have Turner to keep me busy. When I was pregnant the first time I got to sit around and stare at my stomach, watch it move. I read every pregnancy book, journaled every little change, not this time. Turner is special, he's my first, we got to do all of it together for the first time. Now Turner is experiencing me being pregnant from the outside. Turner pays so much attention to my stomach. He kisses my belly any time my shirt gets pulled up. He puts lotion on me every morning. He talks to Tate and tells me what she wants to eat. He shares his toys by bringing them over and sitting them on top of my growing midsection. I am so lucky he's such a sweet little boy.
I am curious how he'll react when there is actually another person to have to share with. Right now it's just mom talking about a baby and he's always shared with mom, so it's no big deal. I don't have the fear of not having enough love for two kids. I had such great role models in my parents. They love my sister and I beyond measure and I don't think either of us ever felt slighted. I know we'll be great with one more of us.
I wonder how it'll go in the beginning. I have one particular day that I remember, Turner was a month or so old. It snowed the biggest most beautiful snowflake for a whole day. I sat holding my little boy for hours, just looking at how incredible he was. Just he and I curled up on the couch by the picture window watching the quiet world. On that day I knew it was one of the most perfect days that I would have in my life. I look forward to that feeling with a new person to get to know. I know it won't be as quiet, but loud is beautiful too.
Now I will have someone here after all the family leaves and Brad goes back to work. I had Turner but no one else to see the miracle that was him all day long. Turner will get to see Tate's first smile, hear her laugh and coo, and be there for all the wonderful things that happen in your first year. I am so excited to share that with my boy. Tate won't know what it's like to have mom to herself. She'll come into this world having a big brother. I'm glad and thankful to be having one of each. We'll get to experience the up s and downs of both. This way Turner can stay "The World's Best Boy" and I can add "The World's Best Girl" to the family.
The haircuts went well, we purchased our movie tickets, and then we had an hour to kill before the show started. Brad took Turner into Sears on a mission, Turner needed a wallet. They found a perfect little boy's wallet and I picked up a few things for the baby. It wasn't that long ago that I was buying onsies for Turner, not anymore, now he has a wallet. He is Papa's little man. Turner wants to be just like Brad. So Brad put a few bucks in the wallet and let him carry his movie ticket. My baby was so proud of himself for having a wallet just like Papa. Turner is literally growing up before my eyes.
I could barely pay attention to the movie. I was having a hard time not staring at my son sitting with my husband. In the soft glow from the silver screen I saw the two most beautiful people. They have the same haircut, the same deep blue/green eyes, the same profile, and they both have all of my heart. Seeing the man I fell in love with with our son makes me fall deeper for him everyday. I love watching the two of them.
I wonder if this will happen with Tate? Will she look like me in miniature? Will brad see all the good things from me in her? I know I see everything wonderful from my husband manifest in our little boy. Our dynamic is about to change, three will become four. I can not wait.
This pregnancy is different, I guess it's supposed to be. I am less aware of the time passing now, I have Turner to keep me busy. When I was pregnant the first time I got to sit around and stare at my stomach, watch it move. I read every pregnancy book, journaled every little change, not this time. Turner is special, he's my first, we got to do all of it together for the first time. Now Turner is experiencing me being pregnant from the outside. Turner pays so much attention to my stomach. He kisses my belly any time my shirt gets pulled up. He puts lotion on me every morning. He talks to Tate and tells me what she wants to eat. He shares his toys by bringing them over and sitting them on top of my growing midsection. I am so lucky he's such a sweet little boy.
I am curious how he'll react when there is actually another person to have to share with. Right now it's just mom talking about a baby and he's always shared with mom, so it's no big deal. I don't have the fear of not having enough love for two kids. I had such great role models in my parents. They love my sister and I beyond measure and I don't think either of us ever felt slighted. I know we'll be great with one more of us.
I wonder how it'll go in the beginning. I have one particular day that I remember, Turner was a month or so old. It snowed the biggest most beautiful snowflake for a whole day. I sat holding my little boy for hours, just looking at how incredible he was. Just he and I curled up on the couch by the picture window watching the quiet world. On that day I knew it was one of the most perfect days that I would have in my life. I look forward to that feeling with a new person to get to know. I know it won't be as quiet, but loud is beautiful too.
Now I will have someone here after all the family leaves and Brad goes back to work. I had Turner but no one else to see the miracle that was him all day long. Turner will get to see Tate's first smile, hear her laugh and coo, and be there for all the wonderful things that happen in your first year. I am so excited to share that with my boy. Tate won't know what it's like to have mom to herself. She'll come into this world having a big brother. I'm glad and thankful to be having one of each. We'll get to experience the up s and downs of both. This way Turner can stay "The World's Best Boy" and I can add "The World's Best Girl" to the family.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
The places you'll go and the things you'll see
I've been places I never thought I'd go-i.e. the men's bathroom at Walmart on a busy Saturday afternoon. Turner and I made our weekly menu yesterday, we wrote out our shopping lists, and headed to the store. I can't even blame this one on Little Monster, Turner was so good the whole trip.
Walmart on a Saturday is a crazy, busy place. The isles are crowded and no one knows proper buggy etiquette. In spite of the shopper influx Turner and I had a great trip. Of course when you have stopped in at you local Baskin Robbin's and gotten a chocolate blast to share, what could possibly go wrong? We got everything on our list, more even. Turner got a cute new pair of Elmo sandals, groceries were overflowing the cart, and no potty accidents. We headed to the check out area. As per typical Saturday style almost all of the registers were manned, but there were still lines.
After half of a chocolate blast my bladder was screaming for relief. My plan was to park the buggy, run to the women's restroom for a pit stop, then return to steak out a place in line. I shared my battle plan with my head sergeant. He listened, got his orders and took off. One of the downfalls of the rapidly developing toddler mind-they skim over details, men's room/women's room it's all the same. Turner took off like a bolt of lightening. He zigged and zagged through the people standing in line at the check outs, I pushed the cumbersome buggy as fast as I could trying to keep up.
Turner knows where the bathrooms are, if your mom was pregnant you would too. I could see he was heading in the right direction as I was parking our rolling wagon of gypsy treasures. I saw it happen from the corner of my eye, he was heading in the wrong door. Oh crap! There are roughly three hundred people in Walmart at this particular time, so maybe the hundred and fifty men all have bladders of steel and it's a vacant men's room, oh to be so lucky. I yelled STOP! but Turner never checked up. So I took off behind him. I ran combat style, crouched down, eyes averted and head first into enemy territory. I see a flash of Turner's stripped shirt as I round the corner and sprint head fist into what I can guess was the urinal area. My first sergeant was shell shocked upon embedding himself in the hostile territory, happens to a lot of soldiers on their first mission to foreign lands. Turner stops, sees four or five men milling around and says loudly "Hey Mama these boys pee pee!" He's so observant, yes there are men in here and there are typically only girls when he and mommy go potty together. His stunned state allows me to catch up, grab him by the shirt and drag him out before we see anything we shouldn't. One grandpa aged man falls out laughing, having seen the whole incident from the beginning. He had followed us in to the bathroom. He saw me running and failing trying to grab at greased lightening.
I have never been in a men's bathroom at Walmart. The floor was nice, not too dirty and the men in there had on clean shoes, that's all I saw, thank goodness. Turner and I went to the much more familiar women's side and did our business, the whole while discussing why mamas and papas don't pee pee in the same bathroom and the importance of holding Mommy's hand.
I won't say that our little excursion to land of the stand up urinators made the shopping trip bad, we still had a great day. I laughed harder than I had all day and got a little cardio workout from the quick sprint. After pottying we checked out and rolled back to the truck. Turner helped unload our goodies and we sang on the way home. Life is good, it's good because it's funny and full of unexpected adventures. How boring would my day have been if I had been by myself? I'd have gotten everything in half the time but I would have had only one onehundreth of the enjoyment. My little man makes the ordinary an adventure. He shows me the new in things that I take for granted. And sometimes he leads me into room full of urinating men, but you take the good with the embarrassing and it makes for a really wonderful life.
Walmart on a Saturday is a crazy, busy place. The isles are crowded and no one knows proper buggy etiquette. In spite of the shopper influx Turner and I had a great trip. Of course when you have stopped in at you local Baskin Robbin's and gotten a chocolate blast to share, what could possibly go wrong? We got everything on our list, more even. Turner got a cute new pair of Elmo sandals, groceries were overflowing the cart, and no potty accidents. We headed to the check out area. As per typical Saturday style almost all of the registers were manned, but there were still lines.
After half of a chocolate blast my bladder was screaming for relief. My plan was to park the buggy, run to the women's restroom for a pit stop, then return to steak out a place in line. I shared my battle plan with my head sergeant. He listened, got his orders and took off. One of the downfalls of the rapidly developing toddler mind-they skim over details, men's room/women's room it's all the same. Turner took off like a bolt of lightening. He zigged and zagged through the people standing in line at the check outs, I pushed the cumbersome buggy as fast as I could trying to keep up.
Turner knows where the bathrooms are, if your mom was pregnant you would too. I could see he was heading in the right direction as I was parking our rolling wagon of gypsy treasures. I saw it happen from the corner of my eye, he was heading in the wrong door. Oh crap! There are roughly three hundred people in Walmart at this particular time, so maybe the hundred and fifty men all have bladders of steel and it's a vacant men's room, oh to be so lucky. I yelled STOP! but Turner never checked up. So I took off behind him. I ran combat style, crouched down, eyes averted and head first into enemy territory. I see a flash of Turner's stripped shirt as I round the corner and sprint head fist into what I can guess was the urinal area. My first sergeant was shell shocked upon embedding himself in the hostile territory, happens to a lot of soldiers on their first mission to foreign lands. Turner stops, sees four or five men milling around and says loudly "Hey Mama these boys pee pee!" He's so observant, yes there are men in here and there are typically only girls when he and mommy go potty together. His stunned state allows me to catch up, grab him by the shirt and drag him out before we see anything we shouldn't. One grandpa aged man falls out laughing, having seen the whole incident from the beginning. He had followed us in to the bathroom. He saw me running and failing trying to grab at greased lightening.
I have never been in a men's bathroom at Walmart. The floor was nice, not too dirty and the men in there had on clean shoes, that's all I saw, thank goodness. Turner and I went to the much more familiar women's side and did our business, the whole while discussing why mamas and papas don't pee pee in the same bathroom and the importance of holding Mommy's hand.
I won't say that our little excursion to land of the stand up urinators made the shopping trip bad, we still had a great day. I laughed harder than I had all day and got a little cardio workout from the quick sprint. After pottying we checked out and rolled back to the truck. Turner helped unload our goodies and we sang on the way home. Life is good, it's good because it's funny and full of unexpected adventures. How boring would my day have been if I had been by myself? I'd have gotten everything in half the time but I would have had only one onehundreth of the enjoyment. My little man makes the ordinary an adventure. He shows me the new in things that I take for granted. And sometimes he leads me into room full of urinating men, but you take the good with the embarrassing and it makes for a really wonderful life.
Friday, March 9, 2007
WTF?
Why do people insist on sending me the "You won't wake up one day " emails? No shit Sherlock, we're all gonna die one day. I try to not look at most emails that start with cartoon smiley faces or phrases like "If I were to die today..."
Crap people, it's email. I will not forward your chain mail. I will not send this back to you to prove our friendship is true. What is wrong with people?
My mother-in-law is a nice, God fearing person. She is good to me and not too bad as far as mother-in-laws are concerned. But a couple weeks ago she sent me a lovely email. She was so in to the site that she called to make sure I'd read it and to tell me we could discuss it later. She thought it would be relevant to me and went so far as to send it to Brad also. It was a link to a site that has the end of the world predicted to take place this June. I just thought I'd let anyone know in case they want to tidy up the house a bit before the anti-Christ comes a knocking. Why in the hell would my husband's mother send me such lovely stuff? I have no clue. I did particularly enjoy the passages that referenced the Bible and loosely related it to current events. What was even better was the warning to "Those with child and who nurse little babies" about how our children will starve after fire(nuclear warfare) rains down from the heavens. Loved it, loved every last effing word of the virtual crap she emailed me.
Thanks, like I don't have enough on my mind, lets add eminent doom and destruction to the list. This goes in my WTF? category. I'm not a religious zealot, truth be told I'm not really that religious. Spiritual yes, religious no. I loved my church at home. We've been to churches out here in Utah, but belong to none of them. I am comfortable with my relationship with God. I pray with my son everyday. I talk to God everyday myself. Praying works for me. Helps me deal with crazy people(mother-in-laws), crazy events(what ever is on the nightly news), and the general craziness of my life. But in my ongoing dialog with God he has never mentioned that I need to pencil in Armageddon for June 2007. Isn't the end of the world supposed to happen when not a soul on earth can predict it?
So I am just in a pissy mood and wanting to bitch. I have not a thing wrong in the world but the emails and chain letters have gotten under my skin. These are not exclusively email, no they sneak into Myspace's bulletin board. I will not re-post some random line of crap so a homicidal clown will spare slaughtering me and my loved ones. Come on, a man under my bed will eat me if I don't re-post your message in two-hundred seconds with the title "Guess who's pregnant"? I'm an adult. I believe in karma, you keep sending this crap out- a homicidal clown just might track you down. I believe in God, I also believe that Jesus won't turn his back on you for not re-posting bulletins that try to make you question your own faith while at the same time undermining God's importance in life. I do not believe in chain mail, if I read a bulletin/email and do not follow it's cryptic instructions and delete it, nothing will happen to me as a consequence.
So if you agree re-post this with the title "Guess what I got caught in my zipper" and do so with in the next three minutes or your phone will ring and when you answer you'll be told the time and date of your death and the caller will be your future murderer.
Crap people, it's email. I will not forward your chain mail. I will not send this back to you to prove our friendship is true. What is wrong with people?
My mother-in-law is a nice, God fearing person. She is good to me and not too bad as far as mother-in-laws are concerned. But a couple weeks ago she sent me a lovely email. She was so in to the site that she called to make sure I'd read it and to tell me we could discuss it later. She thought it would be relevant to me and went so far as to send it to Brad also. It was a link to a site that has the end of the world predicted to take place this June. I just thought I'd let anyone know in case they want to tidy up the house a bit before the anti-Christ comes a knocking. Why in the hell would my husband's mother send me such lovely stuff? I have no clue. I did particularly enjoy the passages that referenced the Bible and loosely related it to current events. What was even better was the warning to "Those with child and who nurse little babies" about how our children will starve after fire(nuclear warfare) rains down from the heavens. Loved it, loved every last effing word of the virtual crap she emailed me.
Thanks, like I don't have enough on my mind, lets add eminent doom and destruction to the list. This goes in my WTF? category. I'm not a religious zealot, truth be told I'm not really that religious. Spiritual yes, religious no. I loved my church at home. We've been to churches out here in Utah, but belong to none of them. I am comfortable with my relationship with God. I pray with my son everyday. I talk to God everyday myself. Praying works for me. Helps me deal with crazy people(mother-in-laws), crazy events(what ever is on the nightly news), and the general craziness of my life. But in my ongoing dialog with God he has never mentioned that I need to pencil in Armageddon for June 2007. Isn't the end of the world supposed to happen when not a soul on earth can predict it?
So I am just in a pissy mood and wanting to bitch. I have not a thing wrong in the world but the emails and chain letters have gotten under my skin. These are not exclusively email, no they sneak into Myspace's bulletin board. I will not re-post some random line of crap so a homicidal clown will spare slaughtering me and my loved ones. Come on, a man under my bed will eat me if I don't re-post your message in two-hundred seconds with the title "Guess who's pregnant"? I'm an adult. I believe in karma, you keep sending this crap out- a homicidal clown just might track you down. I believe in God, I also believe that Jesus won't turn his back on you for not re-posting bulletins that try to make you question your own faith while at the same time undermining God's importance in life. I do not believe in chain mail, if I read a bulletin/email and do not follow it's cryptic instructions and delete it, nothing will happen to me as a consequence.
So if you agree re-post this with the title "Guess what I got caught in my zipper" and do so with in the next three minutes or your phone will ring and when you answer you'll be told the time and date of your death and the caller will be your future murderer.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Mommy's Boy
Turner and I went to the gym yesterday, like every other Monday. Nothing unusual about it at all. We got up at 5:50, saw Papa for a second before he left for work, had breakfast together, got dressed and headed out the door. I dropped Turner at the gym playroom and did an hour of cardio. The thing that bothered me yesterday happened when I picked Turner up from the playroom.
The daycare ladies were nice, the place was not over crowded, Turner was smiling and ran to give me a hug. When I bent down to kiss him two little boys came running up. One pointed and said "That's the mommy's boy". Now I have no idea what the four year old meant by this, but my heart sank. Lots of slightly older kids think Turner is older because he's their size. My two year old wears a 4T, so he's bigger than the average boys running around here. He's always been big for his age. His height and weight are proportionate so I never worried about it, I like big boys after all. I figure Turner is going to be blessed with his Papa and Uncle's size, which is great. Maybe the little boy just thought Turner was older and not playing like the other big kids.
So why did that little snot make me so sad when he called my baby a mommy's boy? Well, I thought we were a ways off from snide remarks. "Mama's Boy" has always been a put down, one that implies weakness. Daddy's girl just means that a girl is close to her dad, so why is being close to your mom so awful? Boys aren't supposed to be close or loving, they're made of snails and nails and puppy dog tails. Well, Turner is a Mommy's boy. What choice does he have? We're together every minute of everyday, he's my best friend. I want him to be tough, strong, intelligent, but still be kind and and caring. I always thought of mama's boys as sissys, but now it means something completely different.
I am in love with my beautiful little boy. It's what I was made for. I have never felt more at home in any roll I've had in my life than I do just being a mom. I have the theory that boys are a heartbreak waiting to happen. They are close as can be with their mom's until they grow up and find girls. My husband loved his mom when he was little, he still does, but he's not as close to her as he once was. I know Turner will always love me but I also know he's only going to have me as his best friend for just a short while. He'll have a wife, she'll be the one who takes care of him, it's how it's supposed to be. I want to enjoy every minute of being the number one gal in his life, I just don't want him to be called a mama's boy by four year old boys.
I am going to have a really hard time with all the things that my kids will have to go through. I want all the best and happiest for my kids, what parent doesn't? So Turner's is a Mama's boy, but I'm the only one who should be able to call him that. Because when I say it I mean he's mine. I made him, he grew in me, he's one of only two people who'll ever know what my heart sounds like from the inside. So if someone has a problem with it, come talk to me. I won't fight my kid's battles, but I will protect them. When he's old enough he can respond in any fashion he wants to the ignorance of others. But while his only worries in life are what time does Elmo comes on and how can he get Mommy to give me more Coco Crispies I will keep a watchful eye on Mommy's Boy.
The daycare ladies were nice, the place was not over crowded, Turner was smiling and ran to give me a hug. When I bent down to kiss him two little boys came running up. One pointed and said "That's the mommy's boy". Now I have no idea what the four year old meant by this, but my heart sank. Lots of slightly older kids think Turner is older because he's their size. My two year old wears a 4T, so he's bigger than the average boys running around here. He's always been big for his age. His height and weight are proportionate so I never worried about it, I like big boys after all. I figure Turner is going to be blessed with his Papa and Uncle's size, which is great. Maybe the little boy just thought Turner was older and not playing like the other big kids.
So why did that little snot make me so sad when he called my baby a mommy's boy? Well, I thought we were a ways off from snide remarks. "Mama's Boy" has always been a put down, one that implies weakness. Daddy's girl just means that a girl is close to her dad, so why is being close to your mom so awful? Boys aren't supposed to be close or loving, they're made of snails and nails and puppy dog tails. Well, Turner is a Mommy's boy. What choice does he have? We're together every minute of everyday, he's my best friend. I want him to be tough, strong, intelligent, but still be kind and and caring. I always thought of mama's boys as sissys, but now it means something completely different.
I am in love with my beautiful little boy. It's what I was made for. I have never felt more at home in any roll I've had in my life than I do just being a mom. I have the theory that boys are a heartbreak waiting to happen. They are close as can be with their mom's until they grow up and find girls. My husband loved his mom when he was little, he still does, but he's not as close to her as he once was. I know Turner will always love me but I also know he's only going to have me as his best friend for just a short while. He'll have a wife, she'll be the one who takes care of him, it's how it's supposed to be. I want to enjoy every minute of being the number one gal in his life, I just don't want him to be called a mama's boy by four year old boys.
I am going to have a really hard time with all the things that my kids will have to go through. I want all the best and happiest for my kids, what parent doesn't? So Turner's is a Mama's boy, but I'm the only one who should be able to call him that. Because when I say it I mean he's mine. I made him, he grew in me, he's one of only two people who'll ever know what my heart sounds like from the inside. So if someone has a problem with it, come talk to me. I won't fight my kid's battles, but I will protect them. When he's old enough he can respond in any fashion he wants to the ignorance of others. But while his only worries in life are what time does Elmo comes on and how can he get Mommy to give me more Coco Crispies I will keep a watchful eye on Mommy's Boy.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Pass the Klenex
I should be let into prisons to cough all over the inmates, to worsen the punishment of law breakers. I have the same cold that Brad and Turner had a week or so ago. I usually am spared but not this time. I am so tired. I couldn't sleep because I was coughing so much and can't breathe through my nose. I got out of bed last night and laid on the couch in attempts to let Brad have a little sleep. I don't know how mouth breathers do it. If I am forced to breathe through my mouth I'll do it to survive but if this was everyday I'd have to get something done.
Other than being yucky I have been productive as of late. I'm making baby gifts, because everyone in Utah is pregnant. No really, even the men here are knocked up. I have taken out my sewing machine and taught myself how to make baby slings, high chair covers, aprons, and even clothes for Tate.
I feel bad, I didn't make clothes for Turner. Boy clothes are hard. A sundress is basically a sack made out of pretty material and requires little or no brain power to complete. I did make Turner his own apron to wear for crafting or cooking. I'll finish the matching one for Brad today if Turner takes a good nap. Perhaps I am nesting. Perhaps it's a last ditch effort to take up a hobby before the baby gets here and I barely have time for teeth brushing.
I work well on little sleep. I have energy to do things, just no energy to think clearly. I told Turner to get in his sink and get buckled up yesterday. You know the new sink car seats that came out last month? They're great, just strap your child in right above the drain and potty train as you drive. Yes delirium is setting in. Speaking of potty training, Turner seems to be all finished up. He uses the potty reliably and only wears a pull-up to sleep in because mom's not ready to have to change sheets should an accident occur.
I think the recent wave of craftiness is helping by keeping my busy when it's quiet around here. If I am busy I can't get pissy about not knowing where we'll be moving. Which is helpful when I am trying to not kill my husband. Mr Bradley is working today. I wish he were off, he's been rather enjoyable lately. I have decided that I wasn't meant to meet Brad when he was a teenager, I would've hated him. I met him when he was twenty six. Still wild, still temperamental, and sexy as all get out. I liked him in his twenties, we found someone to run wild with in each other. But my favorite is definitely his thirties. I love him so much more as a thirty something. He's settled, sure of himself, less temperamental, and still sexy as hell. He's still the most handsome man in any room. I can't wait for Brad to be in his forties. A little more grey, a little more laid back, and all mine.
I'm turning twenty-nine this year. I have a love/hate relationship with my birthday. Love the presents, hate getting older. I know there's nothing wrong with getting older. Every year my life gets better. I don't feel any older than I did at eighteen, except I can't party all night(nor do I want to). Who knows, maybe my thirties will be just as great as I think Brad's are. For now I have a wall scaling, mess making super hero to keep my mind off of it.
Other than being yucky I have been productive as of late. I'm making baby gifts, because everyone in Utah is pregnant. No really, even the men here are knocked up. I have taken out my sewing machine and taught myself how to make baby slings, high chair covers, aprons, and even clothes for Tate.
I feel bad, I didn't make clothes for Turner. Boy clothes are hard. A sundress is basically a sack made out of pretty material and requires little or no brain power to complete. I did make Turner his own apron to wear for crafting or cooking. I'll finish the matching one for Brad today if Turner takes a good nap. Perhaps I am nesting. Perhaps it's a last ditch effort to take up a hobby before the baby gets here and I barely have time for teeth brushing.
I work well on little sleep. I have energy to do things, just no energy to think clearly. I told Turner to get in his sink and get buckled up yesterday. You know the new sink car seats that came out last month? They're great, just strap your child in right above the drain and potty train as you drive. Yes delirium is setting in. Speaking of potty training, Turner seems to be all finished up. He uses the potty reliably and only wears a pull-up to sleep in because mom's not ready to have to change sheets should an accident occur.
I think the recent wave of craftiness is helping by keeping my busy when it's quiet around here. If I am busy I can't get pissy about not knowing where we'll be moving. Which is helpful when I am trying to not kill my husband. Mr Bradley is working today. I wish he were off, he's been rather enjoyable lately. I have decided that I wasn't meant to meet Brad when he was a teenager, I would've hated him. I met him when he was twenty six. Still wild, still temperamental, and sexy as all get out. I liked him in his twenties, we found someone to run wild with in each other. But my favorite is definitely his thirties. I love him so much more as a thirty something. He's settled, sure of himself, less temperamental, and still sexy as hell. He's still the most handsome man in any room. I can't wait for Brad to be in his forties. A little more grey, a little more laid back, and all mine.
I'm turning twenty-nine this year. I have a love/hate relationship with my birthday. Love the presents, hate getting older. I know there's nothing wrong with getting older. Every year my life gets better. I don't feel any older than I did at eighteen, except I can't party all night(nor do I want to). Who knows, maybe my thirties will be just as great as I think Brad's are. For now I have a wall scaling, mess making super hero to keep my mind off of it.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Where oh where has my Hibister gone?
Life is funny, but life's hilarious with kids to share it with. I am tempted to fill my truck up with gas, load up my little back seat driver, and follow the directions he yells out. Turner has a good sense of direction. He knows what turns lead us to the gym, which store is Walmart, and where the library is. Every car ride is spent with him pointing out land marks or yelling "No not that way Mama!" I should give in and see where we'd end up.
Today we had a few errands to run so me and my little helper struck out to town. I had told him we'd go to Albertson's and pick up mom's medicine. He started talking about "Hibisters". I could not figure out what he was saying, but what ever it was was serious. We are at the pharmacy counter and he points in the direction of the lobster tank and asks if the "Hibisters" are back. On our last trek into Albertson's Turner's beloved lobster tank was empty. I told him they would probably be there next time and thought nothing more of it.
Well, low and behold there is not a hibister one in the tank. We ask the butcher when there will be more but he lets us know not til tomorrow. This is no conciliation for a two year old intent on seeing the hibisters. Turner wailed all the way to the car, he continued to sob the whole way home. Once the truck was pulled into the garage his cries got louder. He now was not only sad about the lobster shortage, but was determined to stay in the truck forever in protest. It's all of twenty-five degrees today, so he had to get out of the truck even if not under his own power. I peel him out of his seat and deposit him on the floor in the door way. I take a split second to take off my coat and hang it up. That slick little sucker had sprung up, and with cat like reflexes was clawing his way back into the damn truck!
I grab him and get him out once more but this time I keep my hands on him. I strip his coat off-not what he wanted me to do apparently. He cried and screamed while I got our bags out. I walked right past him and up the stairs to the kitchen. Turner knows that Mommy is mean and will not come get him when he's pitching a fit. So he came almost all the way up the stairs, after all what good is a temper tantrum with out an audience to watch it? My poor little guy pitched and wailed, screamed and kicked, yelling the whole time about "Hibisters" and "my coat" for about twenty minutes. This whole time I busy myself in the kitchen. I unload groceries, I clean up the breakfast dishes, I get a head start on chopping my vegetables for tonight's supper. I never look at Turner, I will not give him attention while he throws a fit. He starts winding down. Good, I figure he'll get up and go play. It gets really quiet so I chance a look. My baby's passed out on the stairs, snoring away. His head is on the top stair, his body the next, and his feet dangle off the third. It is the sweetest display. So of course I take pictures, then a short video, and end it by snapping a pic with my cell to send to anyone who has a camera phone.
Turner's really a toddler. He wore himself out and fell asleep in the middle of it. I scooped him up and brought him to bed. He never made a peep. I pulled off his shoes and pants, put a pull up on him and shut the door. It must be hard to be so little and so unable to control the world around you. Part of the tantrum comes from the fact that I heard him talking this morning at quarter to five. He never went back to sleep either. I was up, but just sat and listened to him. I walked by his door to smell for poop, but there wasn't any so I lay back down and waited on Brad's alarm. We all got up together. I think Turner was excited to see Papa.
Last night we taught Turner how to play Hide-n-Seek. He counted to ten and we all took turns hiding, even Turner. He was so full of joy, but bed time came. So the first words out of his mouth this morning? "You go hide!". I feel for him, when I'm excited I can't sleep either.
I know we'll have a lot more days like today. When excitement over a new thing learned leads to lack of sleep, then the inevitable tantrum. But none of it was bad. I actually wasn't bothered by it today. He was as sweet as an angle sleeping on the stairs. I knew he was tired, but I also knew that this was a part of him growing up. The terrible two's aren't all that terrible all the time. With the emotional crying fits and battles of will come all the new accomplishments. When he counts to ten or sings his alphabet I am over joyed. When he makes the connection between concept and concrete I am amazed. He's my Little Monster and I wouldn't trade him for anything in all the world.
Today we had a few errands to run so me and my little helper struck out to town. I had told him we'd go to Albertson's and pick up mom's medicine. He started talking about "Hibisters". I could not figure out what he was saying, but what ever it was was serious. We are at the pharmacy counter and he points in the direction of the lobster tank and asks if the "Hibisters" are back. On our last trek into Albertson's Turner's beloved lobster tank was empty. I told him they would probably be there next time and thought nothing more of it.
Well, low and behold there is not a hibister one in the tank. We ask the butcher when there will be more but he lets us know not til tomorrow. This is no conciliation for a two year old intent on seeing the hibisters. Turner wailed all the way to the car, he continued to sob the whole way home. Once the truck was pulled into the garage his cries got louder. He now was not only sad about the lobster shortage, but was determined to stay in the truck forever in protest. It's all of twenty-five degrees today, so he had to get out of the truck even if not under his own power. I peel him out of his seat and deposit him on the floor in the door way. I take a split second to take off my coat and hang it up. That slick little sucker had sprung up, and with cat like reflexes was clawing his way back into the damn truck!
I grab him and get him out once more but this time I keep my hands on him. I strip his coat off-not what he wanted me to do apparently. He cried and screamed while I got our bags out. I walked right past him and up the stairs to the kitchen. Turner knows that Mommy is mean and will not come get him when he's pitching a fit. So he came almost all the way up the stairs, after all what good is a temper tantrum with out an audience to watch it? My poor little guy pitched and wailed, screamed and kicked, yelling the whole time about "Hibisters" and "my coat" for about twenty minutes. This whole time I busy myself in the kitchen. I unload groceries, I clean up the breakfast dishes, I get a head start on chopping my vegetables for tonight's supper. I never look at Turner, I will not give him attention while he throws a fit. He starts winding down. Good, I figure he'll get up and go play. It gets really quiet so I chance a look. My baby's passed out on the stairs, snoring away. His head is on the top stair, his body the next, and his feet dangle off the third. It is the sweetest display. So of course I take pictures, then a short video, and end it by snapping a pic with my cell to send to anyone who has a camera phone.
Turner's really a toddler. He wore himself out and fell asleep in the middle of it. I scooped him up and brought him to bed. He never made a peep. I pulled off his shoes and pants, put a pull up on him and shut the door. It must be hard to be so little and so unable to control the world around you. Part of the tantrum comes from the fact that I heard him talking this morning at quarter to five. He never went back to sleep either. I was up, but just sat and listened to him. I walked by his door to smell for poop, but there wasn't any so I lay back down and waited on Brad's alarm. We all got up together. I think Turner was excited to see Papa.
Last night we taught Turner how to play Hide-n-Seek. He counted to ten and we all took turns hiding, even Turner. He was so full of joy, but bed time came. So the first words out of his mouth this morning? "You go hide!". I feel for him, when I'm excited I can't sleep either.
I know we'll have a lot more days like today. When excitement over a new thing learned leads to lack of sleep, then the inevitable tantrum. But none of it was bad. I actually wasn't bothered by it today. He was as sweet as an angle sleeping on the stairs. I knew he was tired, but I also knew that this was a part of him growing up. The terrible two's aren't all that terrible all the time. With the emotional crying fits and battles of will come all the new accomplishments. When he counts to ten or sings his alphabet I am over joyed. When he makes the connection between concept and concrete I am amazed. He's my Little Monster and I wouldn't trade him for anything in all the world.
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