Monday, March 26, 2012

This is what happens when you're too busy to eat lunch

Just one more reason why it's awesome having kids: sometimes they hide delicious snacks in your purse for you to find just when you need them most (i.e. 2 pm at work).

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Apparently imagination is a lot like hallucination

First, I want to thank you all for your kind words and encouragement after my last post. It's amazing that there's so much support out there, and I'm so grateful to be in a place where I'm willing to hear it.

So, in the spirit of appreciating the small things, I'd like to share a story with you.  Little Spaghetti is almost two, and he's really started talking.  He's been saying single words for months, but lately he's saying sentences and communicating thoughts.  Watching a child develop language is pretty darn cool.  But sometimes, it's just strange.

There has been more than one occasion over the past couple weeks that - if he was anyone other than my toddler son - I'd have asked him what he was smoking.  Sometimes the words just aren't quite there.  Other times, he's using the words, I just have no idea why he's saying what he's saying.

For instance, sometimes, he stares out the window at night, then looks at me seriously and says solemnly, "guy."  He especially likes to do this on nights when my husband is out of town for work.  Unsettling doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about my son telling me there's a guy (who I never see, of course) outside the window in the dark.

Also, at least four times a day, we have the same circular conversation about something completely nonsensical.  "Motorcycles get you," he says to me.

"No, no they don't.  We are inside; they are outside.  Motorcycles do NOT get you," I tell him.

"Motorcycles get you," he insists. No matter how many times I tell him that motorcycles do not, in fact, "get you," he doesn't listen.  I'm not even sure where he came up with such an idea.  The conversation goes around and around several times, and always ends the same way.  Me getting increasingly adamant that the motorcycles will not get him, and him finally saying, "Cars get you."  Well, who can argue with that?

And then there was tonight, when his talking mostly just made him sound like he was hallucinating.  He was in the bathtub when all the sudden he let out a bloodcurdling shriek. "Eeeeeeeeeeee!"

"What?! What is wrong!?" I shouted, jumping to attention.

"Bugs coming!" he pointed to the faucet.  "Bugs! Bugs coming."

"What are you talking about," I said, my blood pressure normalizing.  "There are no bugs."

"Yes.  Bugs.  Coming."

"Where?"  I asked.  "Where are the bugs."

"Bugs gone," he said, giving me a look that said, "Well, duh, Mom.  They aren't there now."

"Alright," I said, "then nothing is wrong."

"No!" he shouted.  "Bugs COMING!"

Someone older and wiser than me told me to relax, that he's just developing his imagination.  "Imagination" to me has always suggested lands filled with unicorns and magical fairies, not monster motorcycles lurking under beds, bug-infested bathtubs, and creepsters outside the windows.

All I know is that if this is what imagination means, I'm in for a long, bumpy 16 more years 'til this boy goes to college.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Damn you, friends! Why do you always have to be right?

I haven't read a lot of blogs lately, but this morning, I had an urge to check in on a few of my favorites.  So, I figured I'd indulge myself in a couple of them to take a break from my first day back at work. (Thanks, by the way, for all the get-well-wishes.  My knee is doing much better, and I'm getting back into the swing of things.)

Anyway, I got to the blog of my fierce competitor in the final two of Blogger Idol (remember that?), Justin, who writes at Daddy Knows Less.  I was reading his post from today, and all of the sudden, I couldn't help myself.  My throat started to burn, my nose started to tingle, and I could feel my eyes welling up with tears.  Even though I had no idea when I woke up this morning, his message that getting too wrapped up in what's going on at any particular moment in life shouldn't stop us from appreciating the "little wonders" in life was exactly what I needed to hear.  And, even more so, I needed to hear that I am not alone.

The past six months have been hard on me.  I'm not looking for pity (trust me, I've wallowed in self-pity PLENTY recently). I won't give you all the gory details, but the gist of the story is that we we found out six months ago that we had to move. 

At the time I was finally feeling happy and content with my life after a turbulent couple of years with lots of big life changes.  I was getting the hang of mothering.  We were finishing the last project in what had been a grueling 18 months of renovations that turned our first house into my perfect home. (Seriously, one time, I was hunched over grouting tile for so many hours straight that I lost the feeling in three of my toes for the next four weeks).  I was surrounded by good friendships that had been a long time in the making.  I had my family nearby and loved that my son had such deep connections to them.

It was like a bomb blew my life apart when my husband told me he was almost certainly losing his job (stupid recession), and that he was going to have to take a job in another town (which, in Nevada, means hundreds of miles away).  Since then, it's been a whirlwind of figuring out how I'm going to put my life back together.  How I'm going to cope with leaving my beautiful home where my baby took his first steps, said his first words, and had his first Christmas.  How to deal with leaving behind a place that I'd envisioned the next twenty years of beautiful memories with the friends and family I love so dearly.

But I hadn't been honest with myself until now.  Yesterday, my mom offered to help me go grocery shopping.  I whined.  She pestered.  And finally I said, "I don't feel like going.  I'm depressed, and I just want to sit around and do nothing."

Wow.  Depressed.  It was the first time I'd actually said it out loud.  I guess the crying, the general not- wanting-to-do-anything, and the "funk" I'd been feeling for a long time should have tipped me off sooner.

But, this morning, reading Justin's post, I realized that being depressed is the reason I stopped blogging.  I wanted to cut myself off.  I didn't want the help and the support of the friends that I've developed in this community.  I didn't want to read their posts reminding me that my problems are actually relatively minor in the grand scheme of things.  And even if they aren't, I don't have to face them alone.   I didn't want to hear what they had to say because, darn it, you guys are always right.

I know this ordeal is far from over.  My house has been on the market for six months with no good news yet (did I mention how stupid the recession is?).  There's mountains of empty moving boxes in my garage.  There's saying goodbye (or see you later) to friends and family.  And, more urgently at this moment, there's figuring out how to make myself look like I haven't been crying if someone stops by my cubicle.

But I feel a little bit more ready to start to tackle it all.  To be a better wife and to be the mother that my son deserves.  To stop shutting people out.

So, if you want to watch the video that brought me to tears this morning, this is it.  But better yet, just go read Justin's post because he said it all way better than I could.  And Justin, thanks for reminding me that I'm not alone.