Reflections, part 1

My life, as with most everyone I know who has kids, revolves completely around family life. My husband and I work as a team doing all the million things that come with having a family. The time that we are all able to be together as a family are precious to us, and we hardly ever trade that time in to go out with our friends. Our self-worth and pride and joy comes from our family, and our home is our safe haven.

I was thinking back to my most significant ex. (Significant in the way that my time with him most influenced every relationship after him) He is now a late 30-something married man who has children, and he spends most of his time away from them. No, he doesn't work that much. He has a social life that probably rivals all the Paris Hilton's of the world. He is always out and about doing something, whether it is seeing the latest underground band play, seeing the midnight release of every awesome new movie, or taking out-of-state road trips for every comic book (not really comic book, but close) convention/vintage sale out there, (just to name a few) and just being generally "cool". I know this because of social media but also because we are still in touch, through text and other old mutual friends. (It's been 20 years, but my circle of friends is still pretty tight.)

Now, I don't know his wife except to know that she does have a career of her own. I am not really sure if she is okay with his wanderlust lifestyle (he would have you believe that she is, and maybe that's true) but I just don't understand that from either side. I don't know of any adult with kids other than actual rockstars (trust me, he is not a rockstar) that are working full time jobs then galavanting the streets all night long. (I know he is because of the weird random group texts he sends out at 2am, and on the group social media invites with bizarre vampire hours listed. That prove that at least 6 out of 7 days he is not with his family) I just know that I wouldn't want to be the woman holding down the place, making and having dinner, sleeping, and parenting alone. I don't know how you do all that and not become bitter and resentful. (maybe she is). I can tell you that he definitely does not have some amazing corporate job or is a professional athlete making billions of dollars where it would be more understandable (although still loath-able) that the wife did it all and didn't care.

The reflecting started with 2 seperate posts I saw from him. One was thanking his wife for doing what she does, because it allows him to do what he does. All I could think of was how shitty to thank her for raising your kids and keeping your bed warm so that you can run around acting 20 again like you have no responsibilities. I would have been pissed if that kind of message had been to/about me.

The second thing I read from him was a post about when he is having a really crappy, beat-down kind of day, he pulls up this video of the "best night ever" and it makes him smile and know everything is going to be alright. And it was a video he shot in some dark underground bar of a band playing. And my first reaction was to be mad about that. Are you freaking kidding me? Then I was sad for his wife and kids...then I was sad for him. To not know the joy and solace you can get from your spouse and kids. To not feel like your family is your pride and joy...the family you CREATED.

I don't understand the need to ALWAYS be elsewhere. I don't know how you could want to be. Even when it's hard (and man, is it ever hard some days!) Thinking back, I remember very vividly how he always had to be somewhere, doing something. He was never content to just BE.

And I wish that the teenage me with a broken heart could know the things I know now, both about him and life. Because the me now could never be happy in a life with him. And that the guy I created a family with, well, he was worth all of it.

Chaos

That is how my life feels right now. A big ball of chaos. Septembers are always that way because of back to school and two of my kids birthdays. Trying to get into the swing of things with a new school year is always a challenge. My lackadaisical personality really struggles with this. Maybe it is from all the sleep deprivation, but I am having a really hard time getting a handle on things this year. I hope I can get it together soon.

Birthdays and Cake Pops

Last night I spent the evening making cake pops for my middle girl's 10th birthday. They love taking in a homemade, fancy treat to share with their classmates on their birthdays. Cake pops are a pain if you do them by scratch like I did. Lots of steps and far more tedious to put together. I love to bake, but I hate the decorating part of the whole process. I much prefer a pie that comes out of the oven ready to go!! Fitting on the night before her birthday I should go through some painstaking baking procedure...

I was remembering 10 years ago on that night...I so wanted a VBAC, and since I had just gone into labor on my own, my doctor, though skeptical, agreed to let me try. Things were starting off pretty good once they started me on the Cervadil gel/tape, but things got pretty painful pretty fast, although I wasn't dilating very fast at all. After two attempts to get the epidural correct with no real pain relief, the head of OB Anesthesia who was working on me said if I was in that much pain this early in labor, then the baby wasn't positioned correctly or the fit was too small, or something. I spent most of the night literally crying in pain with a husband who just wanted me to have a c-section so he wasn't being very comforting, and an African nurse who thought I was being a baby and kept telling me I had an epidural so I shouldn't feel any pain! (I don't respond well to just plain epidurals, I learned this from my first pregnancy.) By the time it got to be about 5am, they informed me that since 12 hours had passed and the Cervadil wasn't doing enough, they would be started Pitocin now, I had had it and lost my shit. I screamed at the nurse to not even think about starting the Pitocin, that I wanted my doctor called and I wanted the C-section. Right as my doctor got there to check on me, my water broke, but I was still only at barely 5cm, so C-section time it was.

I remember falling asleep after the spinal because my body was so relaxed, finally. I woke up when they pulled her out, not knowing if it was a boy or a girl. She didn't cry a lot and I kept asking if she was OK because I couldn't hear her. She was fine, but needed extra suctioning because she swallowed a lot of amniotic fluid. It was about 4 hours until I really saw her, and I was all alone when they brought her to me. I will always remember that time I got to have, just her and I, when I stared at her and watched her sleep. There was about 18 months of trying involved in getting pregnant with her, and I had waited almost 4 years since my first baby to be able to hold her. I just remember feeling so grateful for her, in a totally different way than with my first child. Probably because I knew what I was missing all those years I longed for her existence.

The Green Ball

The best $2.50 I ever spent. I could have saved myself a fortune in baby toys. I bought it for him on a whim while out and about on vacation. Everyone in the house said "Why did you buy him that ball...it's too big for him, he can't even hold it. He doesn't know what to do with it..." and on and on they went. Well, my friends, I am here to tell you...as soon as he saw the ball he knew it was for him. He started by just patting it while he sat up assisted with the ball between his legs. Then he learned to bang hard on the ball, which in turn made it roll away and we played a modified game of rolling catch. Once he figured out how to get his chubby little arms and hands around the ball to hold it, we started an actual game of toss, and he found it hilarious when we would lightly bounce the ball off of his forehead. Then he started crawling, and it's the only toy he needs. Put him and the ball on the floor and he crawls after it, bats it around, and keeps going. He will follow that ball to every room, under every piece of furniture, and doesn't ever get discouraged that he can't catch up to it. A huge plus...it makes him SUPER tired!
Since Blogger is being stupid and won't upload the picture, this is the ball

In the Beginning

There was a tired mom. Whose day started by waking up to the sweet sound of cooing in the crib next to her bed. She got up, peed first, then settled into the rocker to nurse her sweet baby boy. 10 minutes later, she walked down the steps into the kitchen and heard the sweet sound of...bickering. Because the other children didn't get the memo that it is NOT necessary to wake up and immediately start fighting with their siblings over (some semblance of ) breakfast.

It's September. This is how my mornings will sound for the next 10ish months. Only add to that 3 noisy dogs and a loud-ass cat and there you have the soundtrack to my life. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Well...I could do without having to clean cat shit off the floor when the pain-in-the-ass kitty as she is so loving called (by me) decides she didn't like that someone moved her cat box 6 inches to the left and deemed the carpet the only acceptable place left to poop.

But really, what's a little cat dung when I have baby puke, sour milk, and some sort of kid goo on me at some point throughout the day? Forget Fashion Week...it doesn't get more glamorous than this!