Our little guy is one year old today. Kind of weird to think about. A year ago I was getting tugged apart and barfing into the hands of a very nice anesthesiologist. And then I had a baby boy.
I have to confess, I wish my birth experience had been more picturesque. I think all new moms anticipate the same kind of thing-some pain, a supportive partner, pushing and breathing, and voila! baby and you're holding it and you smile and your partner kisses you and it's very Lifetime Original Movies.
So when it doesn't happen like that, it can be hard. I got to see my kid for approximately thirty seconds before they took him to the NICU. I was still totally flabbergasted by the whole experience, people weren't telling me what was going on, I hadn't gotten to hold him, he was gone, and I was back in the pre-delivery room, wondering whether or not we should call our families, and ordering Ben to go and be with the baby, because I was fine (as fine as you can be after people root around in your insides for what feels like a really long time).
It just wasn't anything I had imagined. And then when he finally got to me 24 hours later, he wouldn't nurse, and man, after nine months of reading about breastfeeding, THAT can mess with you. I won't ever go all evangelical on breastfeeding because it didn't work for us. I did it, but I never produced enough for Henry, and that in and of itself made me feel terrible. I stopped because one, he was getting maybe 3 ounces a day from me, and two, I had to start a new job when he was three months old, and I didn't know how pump-friendly they'd be. (Turns out, very, but I was new, so I was squeamish). I gained a new perspective on asking women about that, though. You'd be amazed how many people will ask you if you're breastfeeding. And if you say no, they'll act like you're slapping your newborn openly and with glee.
Here's an etiquette tip. Never ask people if they're planning to have kids, because maybe they've been trying for years and it's not happening, or maybe they've gone through a miscarriage-you never know. And never ask new moms about the state of their boobs. Because again, you never know.
Come to think of it, maybe never ask anybody about their boobs or genitals or the potential occupants of their reproductive organs, because it's really none of your business!
I don't really know what the purpose of this post is. This day, certainly is a wonderful day for me. But I guess I had to express how things didn't go the way I wanted them to at all-and it was still ok. Despite needing a C-section, being separated from my newborn son, and being unable to produce enough milk for him, we all made it. And we formed a wonderful, very happy family. Although Ben was bummed that the post-partum giant breasts didn't stay around that long. And that I wouldn't let him take pictures.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
MINE.
We've reached an interesting milestone with our little angel-the one where his day care teachers point out that "his favorite thing is grabbing toys from other kids" and ask me if he's throwing tantrums at home. Um....yes. The toy grabbing is bothering me. I mean, from what I read, and from what they tell me at day care, there's really not a whole lot you can do at this age, because they don't understand sharing. So we do what day care does-when he grabs something, we take it from him, tell him no, give it back to the kid he grabbed it from, and try to distract him with something else.
This cycle repeats until the kid who had the toy in the first place gets tired of it and abandons the damn thing, at which point, Henry decides he doesn't want it, either.
So we're doing what we can, but nobody wants to have the kid that grabs toys. At least he's not biting. Feel free to give advice in the comments section, because I'm really at a loss here. Or at least assure me that by the time he goes to kindergarten, he will understand what we're trying to say to him. As Ben put it, "You can't really teach a kid when he doesn't understand the words coming out of your mouth." But you also don't want the jerk kid that all the other parents talk about who progresses to clocking kids with toys and, I don't know, pushing them into mud puddles.
We've also told the teachers to feel free to put him in a crib or off somewhere during the tantrums to let him thrash it out. I've assured them that he doesn't get everything he wants at home, and we certainly aren't the kind of parents who let a kid show their ass and act up and just say "OH, isn't that DARLING, he's asserting his independence!" Um, no. But I'm not sure they believe us. Honestly, I think he gets his way more at school than at home, because, despite his occasional crabbiness, he is a pretty funny kid and finds a way to be absolutely adorable right when you're at the point where you curl up into the fetal position amongst the laundry he's thrown out of the basket (again) and cry. The other day he wrecked the house, then crawled over to me and gave me a hug.
Which is what assures me that though he may look like me, he got his dad's personality 100%. That's basically the same technique Ben used to get me to forgive him for fights when we were dating.
In other news, you've all read about this rapture thing. I posted what I felt was a very funny picture involving Randy "Macho Man" Savage on my facebook page, and was told by more than one person that it was NOT FUNNY. I don't know, I still think it is. And I like to think God has a sense of humor, or else he probably would have put an end to this whole mess called Earth already. Let's face it, as a species, we can really be assholes. But I make fun of pretty much everything, including (and most often) myself. Ah, well. People don't appreciate that photoshop, and I don't understand how people on my friends list "like" Sarah Palin. To each their own.
This cycle repeats until the kid who had the toy in the first place gets tired of it and abandons the damn thing, at which point, Henry decides he doesn't want it, either.
So we're doing what we can, but nobody wants to have the kid that grabs toys. At least he's not biting. Feel free to give advice in the comments section, because I'm really at a loss here. Or at least assure me that by the time he goes to kindergarten, he will understand what we're trying to say to him. As Ben put it, "You can't really teach a kid when he doesn't understand the words coming out of your mouth." But you also don't want the jerk kid that all the other parents talk about who progresses to clocking kids with toys and, I don't know, pushing them into mud puddles.
We've also told the teachers to feel free to put him in a crib or off somewhere during the tantrums to let him thrash it out. I've assured them that he doesn't get everything he wants at home, and we certainly aren't the kind of parents who let a kid show their ass and act up and just say "OH, isn't that DARLING, he's asserting his independence!" Um, no. But I'm not sure they believe us. Honestly, I think he gets his way more at school than at home, because, despite his occasional crabbiness, he is a pretty funny kid and finds a way to be absolutely adorable right when you're at the point where you curl up into the fetal position amongst the laundry he's thrown out of the basket (again) and cry. The other day he wrecked the house, then crawled over to me and gave me a hug.
Which is what assures me that though he may look like me, he got his dad's personality 100%. That's basically the same technique Ben used to get me to forgive him for fights when we were dating.
In other news, you've all read about this rapture thing. I posted what I felt was a very funny picture involving Randy "Macho Man" Savage on my facebook page, and was told by more than one person that it was NOT FUNNY. I don't know, I still think it is. And I like to think God has a sense of humor, or else he probably would have put an end to this whole mess called Earth already. Let's face it, as a species, we can really be assholes. But I make fun of pretty much everything, including (and most often) myself. Ah, well. People don't appreciate that photoshop, and I don't understand how people on my friends list "like" Sarah Palin. To each their own.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Crying it Out: Part Deux
We're getting over another double ear infection and cold over here, and I'm faced with another round of breaking bad sleep habits. Henry had a fever and was just in general feeling pretty crappy, last week I don't think he slept for two hours straight at any point. Of course, this led to massive exhaustion on my part. When a coworker talks to you for five minutes and then says "What do you think?" and after a brief pause, you respond "Um....what?" it may be time to get some rest.
But of course, now Henry is in the habit of me coming to get him every time he cries, whether it's to administer ibuprofen, change him, feed him, whatever. He seems to feel fine, so I know we're just going to have to tough it out for another few days and let him work it out. Today I laid him down for his nap, and he started wailing. I went to take a bath, and to shave various areas of myself. Don't want to get too detailed about my personal hygiene, but I think I was in danger of being mistaken for a Sasquatch, shot, stuffed, and placed in the Natural History Museum.
He wailed the entire time. And he's really worked on his lung capacity-just when you think they can't get any louder, they do. Finally settled down and, aside from some sniffling, seems to be down for the count now.
In other news, it's wedding season and I'm dress shopping, and I have to say, what the fuck is wrong with people who design clothes? I just want a normal dress. A NORMAL DRESS. The few I've found online are sold out, and everything else looks like a freaking peacock mated with an army tent. I don't really get empire waist if you're not pregnant. Because quite frankly, they make you look pregnant even if you're super slim. And given the slight (maybe not slight) muffin top I'm still rocking, the last thing I need is something to make that area look bigger. But damn near everything is empire waist-or so short that I may as well just rock a shirt and no pants and call myself fashionable. (Nobody wants to see that).
Oh well. I may have to suck it up and actually head out to a store to look for something. I hate shopping, but here we are. Online can only get you so far. At least I can give Henry a chance to test out the screaming on his dad for an afternoon. Pretty sure he gets that from his side of the family anyway.
But of course, now Henry is in the habit of me coming to get him every time he cries, whether it's to administer ibuprofen, change him, feed him, whatever. He seems to feel fine, so I know we're just going to have to tough it out for another few days and let him work it out. Today I laid him down for his nap, and he started wailing. I went to take a bath, and to shave various areas of myself. Don't want to get too detailed about my personal hygiene, but I think I was in danger of being mistaken for a Sasquatch, shot, stuffed, and placed in the Natural History Museum.
He wailed the entire time. And he's really worked on his lung capacity-just when you think they can't get any louder, they do. Finally settled down and, aside from some sniffling, seems to be down for the count now.
In other news, it's wedding season and I'm dress shopping, and I have to say, what the fuck is wrong with people who design clothes? I just want a normal dress. A NORMAL DRESS. The few I've found online are sold out, and everything else looks like a freaking peacock mated with an army tent. I don't really get empire waist if you're not pregnant. Because quite frankly, they make you look pregnant even if you're super slim. And given the slight (maybe not slight) muffin top I'm still rocking, the last thing I need is something to make that area look bigger. But damn near everything is empire waist-or so short that I may as well just rock a shirt and no pants and call myself fashionable. (Nobody wants to see that).
Oh well. I may have to suck it up and actually head out to a store to look for something. I hate shopping, but here we are. Online can only get you so far. At least I can give Henry a chance to test out the screaming on his dad for an afternoon. Pretty sure he gets that from his side of the family anyway.
Friday, May 6, 2011
We're Back. And I Mean it This Time.
Ok. So school is over for the semester, and I actually have the summer off. From classes, anyway. I'll hopefully be posting more often. And things are getting more interesting, so it all works out! The only thing that doesn't is that now naps have gotten less frequent, and moving is becoming....more alarming. The days of "oh, I'll just set him here and do some dishes" are OVER.
I don't really get why people freak out about the first few months of motherhood. I mean, yes, it's a big change and a big family adjustment. But...the kid can't DO anything. If you leave them in the crib, chances are, when you get back, they'll still be there. Not that I'm advocating leaving your kid in the crib for an extended period of time, like for a run to the grocery store or Vegas. I'm just saying if you wanted to do a load of laundry, you could.
Not anymore. Henry is on the cusp of walking, and is getting into everything. He has little interest in his toys, and strength that makes me concerned that he's doing Pilates or something in his crib. The other day he broke a plastic coat hanger in half, and has thrown his baby gate and his scooter admirable distances.
He's figuring himself out, and we're struggling to keep up. Here comes the issue of discipline-he's at the age where he could really cause himself a lot of harm if he gets into the wrong things (which he loves to do) but doesn't understand the warnings. And yes, I understand babyproofing and we've done what we can, but this kid has no bounds, and I think the safest thing would be to remove everything from the house altogether.
Except that he'd still find a way to pull himself up and bang his head and fall down, and we've got to learn to deal with that ourselves. Life takes some knocks. And I always said I wanted any child of Ben and myself to live a little more like their dad-he's always been much more open to new experiences and choices, even when they've knocked him on his ass a time or two. My husband has plenty of scars, but I doubt he regrets them much. Getting beat up is the price of living a full life, and I want my son to have a full life.
Don't you just hate when the world gives you exactly what you wish for?
I don't really get why people freak out about the first few months of motherhood. I mean, yes, it's a big change and a big family adjustment. But...the kid can't DO anything. If you leave them in the crib, chances are, when you get back, they'll still be there. Not that I'm advocating leaving your kid in the crib for an extended period of time, like for a run to the grocery store or Vegas. I'm just saying if you wanted to do a load of laundry, you could.
Not anymore. Henry is on the cusp of walking, and is getting into everything. He has little interest in his toys, and strength that makes me concerned that he's doing Pilates or something in his crib. The other day he broke a plastic coat hanger in half, and has thrown his baby gate and his scooter admirable distances.
He's figuring himself out, and we're struggling to keep up. Here comes the issue of discipline-he's at the age where he could really cause himself a lot of harm if he gets into the wrong things (which he loves to do) but doesn't understand the warnings. And yes, I understand babyproofing and we've done what we can, but this kid has no bounds, and I think the safest thing would be to remove everything from the house altogether.
Except that he'd still find a way to pull himself up and bang his head and fall down, and we've got to learn to deal with that ourselves. Life takes some knocks. And I always said I wanted any child of Ben and myself to live a little more like their dad-he's always been much more open to new experiences and choices, even when they've knocked him on his ass a time or two. My husband has plenty of scars, but I doubt he regrets them much. Getting beat up is the price of living a full life, and I want my son to have a full life.
Don't you just hate when the world gives you exactly what you wish for?
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Delaware, Aquariums, and Pageants. Among Other Things.
We've had an exciting few weeks. The weekend before last my dad and I ran the Monument Ave. 10k, very, very slowly. Ben went to Atlantic City and has only recently stopped coughing up stripper glitter. Just kidding, I have yet to spot a speck of glitter. Maybe strippers are using something new now. I don't know, not my field. Last weekend Henry, my mom and I packed up and headed to Delaware for one of my cousin's bridal showers.
There are a few things you need to understand about my family to make any of my posts about them make sense. One is that there are a lot of us. My dad has eight brothers and sisters, and they all have at least two kids. Now it's come about that the kids are having kids (not together, we're Delaware, not West Virginia). So there are even more of us, and some more on the way, and weddings are always happening and always very, very fun, though they can produce epic hangovers.
But this was the first time that the extended family got to meet Henry, so I was excited. He was a total charmer, grabbed lots of boobs, and ate anything anyone placed near his mouth. And of course, everyone talked about how cute he was. That happens a lot when you have a kid and I'm never sure how to feel about it. Not because I don't think he's cute-I do, I think he's the cutest kid to ever be born, but I know that every mom feels that way. His day care teachers are pushing me to put him in "cutest baby" contests, but I just can't, for many reasons.
1. I think those contests are pageanty and creepy.
2. I'm pretty sure for what I pay them a week his day care teachers are contractually obligated to tell me my kid is the cutest kid that ever was.
3. If he didn't win, then someone would be implying that he ISN'T the cutest kid who ever was, and I'd have to punch someone.
I don't know, I've managed to get this far without a felony and a prison tattoo, I think I'll just keep that trend going.
So we saw the family for not enough time, because my mom got jumpy and wanted to get moving. We had decided to take Henry to the National Aquarium in Baltimore on Sunday. We showed up and wandered through, he loved it-particularly the dolphins. We were sitting by the tank watching them swim by and play when a family sat down next to us.
The mom of said family started asking "Why do they go to the surface? I mean, they're fish! Why are they jumping?"
The husband offered a few lame explanations and they basically got into a fight about fish and how they live.
I generally do not get into other people's conversations but I felt the stupidity of this one was reaching a point where it might affect MY kid. I mean, even he was looking at them like they were stupid. I finally said "Dolphins are mammals. They breathe oxygen, they have to go to the surface."
The mom looks at me and says, I swear to God, "If they're mammals, why do they live in the ocean?"
And then proceeds to ask if they can hold their breath longer than humans and if that's "why they live so close to the surface."
I don't know how she is allowed to get a license or vote, because I was pretty sure this was one of the things covered in third grade science, but she really kept asking these questions. Every time I answered her, the husband would repeat what I'd just said, like he'd known the answer all along.
Ben and I debated who'd seen more stupidity-me in that scenario or him in Atlantic City. Pretty sure I won.
But now we're home, and on Sunday, Henry seemed to sense that there was no longer an audience to impress with good behavior. Ben put him in his high chair and he looked at us, screamed, and kicked the tray off onto the floor. His expression said "There's no company to impress now. Show's over, bitches."
The sad thing is, he's so good around other people that no one ever believes me. Not Henry, that perfect angel!
Right.
There are a few things you need to understand about my family to make any of my posts about them make sense. One is that there are a lot of us. My dad has eight brothers and sisters, and they all have at least two kids. Now it's come about that the kids are having kids (not together, we're Delaware, not West Virginia). So there are even more of us, and some more on the way, and weddings are always happening and always very, very fun, though they can produce epic hangovers.
But this was the first time that the extended family got to meet Henry, so I was excited. He was a total charmer, grabbed lots of boobs, and ate anything anyone placed near his mouth. And of course, everyone talked about how cute he was. That happens a lot when you have a kid and I'm never sure how to feel about it. Not because I don't think he's cute-I do, I think he's the cutest kid to ever be born, but I know that every mom feels that way. His day care teachers are pushing me to put him in "cutest baby" contests, but I just can't, for many reasons.
1. I think those contests are pageanty and creepy.
2. I'm pretty sure for what I pay them a week his day care teachers are contractually obligated to tell me my kid is the cutest kid that ever was.
3. If he didn't win, then someone would be implying that he ISN'T the cutest kid who ever was, and I'd have to punch someone.
I don't know, I've managed to get this far without a felony and a prison tattoo, I think I'll just keep that trend going.
So we saw the family for not enough time, because my mom got jumpy and wanted to get moving. We had decided to take Henry to the National Aquarium in Baltimore on Sunday. We showed up and wandered through, he loved it-particularly the dolphins. We were sitting by the tank watching them swim by and play when a family sat down next to us.
The mom of said family started asking "Why do they go to the surface? I mean, they're fish! Why are they jumping?"
The husband offered a few lame explanations and they basically got into a fight about fish and how they live.
I generally do not get into other people's conversations but I felt the stupidity of this one was reaching a point where it might affect MY kid. I mean, even he was looking at them like they were stupid. I finally said "Dolphins are mammals. They breathe oxygen, they have to go to the surface."
The mom looks at me and says, I swear to God, "If they're mammals, why do they live in the ocean?"
And then proceeds to ask if they can hold their breath longer than humans and if that's "why they live so close to the surface."
I don't know how she is allowed to get a license or vote, because I was pretty sure this was one of the things covered in third grade science, but she really kept asking these questions. Every time I answered her, the husband would repeat what I'd just said, like he'd known the answer all along.
Ben and I debated who'd seen more stupidity-me in that scenario or him in Atlantic City. Pretty sure I won.
But now we're home, and on Sunday, Henry seemed to sense that there was no longer an audience to impress with good behavior. Ben put him in his high chair and he looked at us, screamed, and kicked the tray off onto the floor. His expression said "There's no company to impress now. Show's over, bitches."
The sad thing is, he's so good around other people that no one ever believes me. Not Henry, that perfect angel!
Right.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Ow.
Well, we finished the 10K! And yes, while I may have been passed by several tree sloths and an injured turtle, I ran the whole way. Now on to the Lynchburg half-marathon, and all I can say is, good thing it's four months away. I also started a weight training DVD, and all I can say is OW. My legs have never been so sore. It didn't help that the video has some....questionable moves and sound effects from the instructor, which were making Ben a little amorous. Let's put it this way-if your DVD instructor has you doing squats while she grunts "Give me a good hard one!" your husband is going to giggle like a schoolgirl and you're going to lose your balance.
In baby news, we have definitely reached the tantrum milestone, Henry has decided that he gets to have everything he wants exactly when he wants it, and if you disagree, then God help you. Since I tend to disagree on certain things, like whether or not he should be able to chew on the dog bowl or crash glass objects together, we are entering a new phase of the parenting roller coaster. And this kid is dramatic. He completely throws himself over backwards, kicks his feet, does that one scream and then holds his breath for the next one, which you know is going to be window-shattering....yeah, it's fun. At least today he learned that it's not a stellar idea to throw yourself over backwards when there is not a person sitting behind you and you've misjudged the placement of your boppy. CLUNK. I swear, this kid has a head like a battering ram.
He's also exhibiting some worrisome feats of strength. I got to day care the other day and his teacher was sitting and talking to him about why one should not lift up the playmat (which is about 10x10 feet and thick, it's like a gym mat) and attempt to toss the other kids off of it. He also picked up his baby gate and threw it a good four feet last weekend. I'm a little worried that he's been doing my weight DVD when I haven't been looking.
When he's in a good mood, he's all sorts of fun now. Finding new things, eating new things (hopefully not just dirt, but actual food) and spending more time with his extended family. This weekend Mom and I are taking him up to Delaware to meet all the aunts and uncles and cousins. I think he's going to have a ball, but I"m worried that my Uncle Joey will corrupt him and get him to join the Bad Boys Club, which consists of him and a few of my male cousins, not to mention my nephew Chase. From what I gather, the Bad Boys Club does a lot of talking about boobs. Not sure what else.
Well, Henry's quite fond of grabbing those, regardless of how well he (or I) knows the owner of said boobs, so he'll probably fit right in.
In baby news, we have definitely reached the tantrum milestone, Henry has decided that he gets to have everything he wants exactly when he wants it, and if you disagree, then God help you. Since I tend to disagree on certain things, like whether or not he should be able to chew on the dog bowl or crash glass objects together, we are entering a new phase of the parenting roller coaster. And this kid is dramatic. He completely throws himself over backwards, kicks his feet, does that one scream and then holds his breath for the next one, which you know is going to be window-shattering....yeah, it's fun. At least today he learned that it's not a stellar idea to throw yourself over backwards when there is not a person sitting behind you and you've misjudged the placement of your boppy. CLUNK. I swear, this kid has a head like a battering ram.
He's also exhibiting some worrisome feats of strength. I got to day care the other day and his teacher was sitting and talking to him about why one should not lift up the playmat (which is about 10x10 feet and thick, it's like a gym mat) and attempt to toss the other kids off of it. He also picked up his baby gate and threw it a good four feet last weekend. I'm a little worried that he's been doing my weight DVD when I haven't been looking.
When he's in a good mood, he's all sorts of fun now. Finding new things, eating new things (hopefully not just dirt, but actual food) and spending more time with his extended family. This weekend Mom and I are taking him up to Delaware to meet all the aunts and uncles and cousins. I think he's going to have a ball, but I"m worried that my Uncle Joey will corrupt him and get him to join the Bad Boys Club, which consists of him and a few of my male cousins, not to mention my nephew Chase. From what I gather, the Bad Boys Club does a lot of talking about boobs. Not sure what else.
Well, Henry's quite fond of grabbing those, regardless of how well he (or I) knows the owner of said boobs, so he'll probably fit right in.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Crawling, Wrecking Shit, and Caffeine.
Yeah, I really can't keep apologizing for slacking on the posting....sorry, it just happens. Honestly, lately's been a pretty down time in our household. Ben's dad passed this time of year, just two years ago, so he's been feeling pretty bad. Add that to all the wonderful news in the world these days, and it's enough to make us not want to get out of bed. But that's no way to live life, and now we've got a kid to set a good example for. I've been known to get into funks and pretty much make it to work and home, and remain incommunicado for a while til I shake myself out of it. Not really an option anymore. It's a good thing, how depressed can you really get when you get up in the morning, look in the crib, and your adorable kid is totally delighted to see you, and you don't find out for a few minutes that his look of joy may have been the result of unleashing a mountain of crap, and not necessarily seeing your face?
Whatever, I'll take my smiles where I can get them.
It's something I think about, though-how he's going to see me and how that's going to form the kind of person he turns into. There were times when I wondered about my parents and the choices they made, but whatever happened, they always just pushed forward. Wallowing's not really allowed in my house. And I want Henry to see the same thing, because there's going to be plenty of times in his life when I'm sure he's going to want to say "Fuck it." and not go to work or deal with anything. Sometimes it's easier to drink a few beers and watch Ghost Hunters marathons. I maintain that, much like most other things, this sort of behavior is acceptable in moderation. Very careful moderation.
Update on the Lent progress-have remained alcohol free fairly easily. When a kid's going to wake you up at six without giving the slightest bit of consideration to when YOU went to bed, it's best to turn in early and forgo your ingrained nighttime traditions (Kids are such selfish jerks!)
The coffee ban met with massive fail, very early on. I tried, I really did. But after a two-week long headache and seriously contemplating chucking office supplies at undergrad dental students, I decided it was in everyone's best interest for me to have my morning cup. Down to one, and no soda or anything like that. Watching the diet, and got my bloodwork today-hopefully my cholesterol will come back as "on the high side of normal" and not "your heart is going to explode" this year.
And in the last bit of recent news, the 10k I signed up for is in a week! Snuck up on me. I think I'll finish, which is my only real goal at this point. I don't even think you can call my long run pace running, or jogging. More like slogging. But hey, my pants are getting looser. So win.
Henry's going crazy with the crawling. We did not realize how woefully unprepared we were to have a mobile child. What is it that makes a kid ignore his toys and head immediately towards anything that has the potential to hurt them? If anyone wanted to make a serious argument against evolution (and here in Virginia, there's plenty of people who do) that might be a good place to start. Self-preservation is definitely a skill learned later in life. Or in Ben's case, never. If you could see his ER visit history, you'd know why I worry about that gene being passed on to our kid. God help us when he starts walking.
Whatever, I'll take my smiles where I can get them.
It's something I think about, though-how he's going to see me and how that's going to form the kind of person he turns into. There were times when I wondered about my parents and the choices they made, but whatever happened, they always just pushed forward. Wallowing's not really allowed in my house. And I want Henry to see the same thing, because there's going to be plenty of times in his life when I'm sure he's going to want to say "Fuck it." and not go to work or deal with anything. Sometimes it's easier to drink a few beers and watch Ghost Hunters marathons. I maintain that, much like most other things, this sort of behavior is acceptable in moderation. Very careful moderation.
Update on the Lent progress-have remained alcohol free fairly easily. When a kid's going to wake you up at six without giving the slightest bit of consideration to when YOU went to bed, it's best to turn in early and forgo your ingrained nighttime traditions (Kids are such selfish jerks!)
The coffee ban met with massive fail, very early on. I tried, I really did. But after a two-week long headache and seriously contemplating chucking office supplies at undergrad dental students, I decided it was in everyone's best interest for me to have my morning cup. Down to one, and no soda or anything like that. Watching the diet, and got my bloodwork today-hopefully my cholesterol will come back as "on the high side of normal" and not "your heart is going to explode" this year.
And in the last bit of recent news, the 10k I signed up for is in a week! Snuck up on me. I think I'll finish, which is my only real goal at this point. I don't even think you can call my long run pace running, or jogging. More like slogging. But hey, my pants are getting looser. So win.
Henry's going crazy with the crawling. We did not realize how woefully unprepared we were to have a mobile child. What is it that makes a kid ignore his toys and head immediately towards anything that has the potential to hurt them? If anyone wanted to make a serious argument against evolution (and here in Virginia, there's plenty of people who do) that might be a good place to start. Self-preservation is definitely a skill learned later in life. Or in Ben's case, never. If you could see his ER visit history, you'd know why I worry about that gene being passed on to our kid. God help us when he starts walking.
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