Single Parents

For the last two weeks, my husband has been working in Argentina.  He came home today.  As soon as I saw him, I fell apart.  Don't get me wrong, I wasn't holding it together that well while he was gone, but any semblance of a competent parent was gone the moment he walked in the house.  The relief that I felt at seeing him was like a tidal wave, and I had to hold on to him so I wouldn't collapse.  Yes, yes, I know I'm dramatic, but I have never pretended not to be.  These last two weeks without my partner have been trying to say the least.  Not only was I missing my husband, but I was missing my co-worker, so to speak.  The kids knew they outnumbered me, and they didn't hold back.

Nick wasn't home for an hour, and I already felt myself relaxing.  I can't begin to express what having him here means.  And I can't express enough how in awe of single parents I am.  I barely made it two weeks, granted we were sick the entire time, but it was a miracle we all made it through alive.  I took for granted that there were two of us.  When Nick left, I was worried about missing his companionship, and I completely underestimated how hard my job as a parent would be alone.  So the bottom line is, I don't cut it as a single mom.  All of you single parents out there are all gods and goddesses, as far as I am concerned.  Having my husband back to help me wrangle our munchkins was a beautiful gift, and one I will never take for granted again.

Every Once in a While

Although I can give myself a hard time, I think I mostly do a pretty good job at this mom gig.  Most nights, I feed the kids a healthy dinner away from the television, get them in the bath and through our night time routine, and then to bed around eight.  This doesn't happen every night, and when it does it is often met with much resistance, and it can be a lot of work on my part.  But I know it is worth it in the end to stick to my guns, and persevere.  However, I also know that there is something to be said for throwing rules and schedules out the window every once in a while.  Sometimes, the kids just need a fun night of movies and comfort food, and sometimes mommies need it too.

I worked in the shop today and as the end of the day was nearing, and I was thinking of what to make for dinner, I had a brilliant idea.  Why not let myself off the hook tonight?  I decided that tonight would be one of those "every once in a while" nights, so after work, I hurried to the store on my way to get the kids.  I picked up a frozen pizza, some ice cream sandwiches, and some wine.  When we got home, I put a movie on for the kids, preheated the oven, and relaxed.  While the kids ate their pizza in front of the movie, I ate mine with a glass of wine in front of my computer.  I browsed through Pinterest, chatted on Facebook, and basically did nothing worth mentioning.  It was awesome. 

Even though it was nearly bedtime, when the movie was over I gave the kids some ice cream sandwiches, much to their delight, and put on another short show.  Finally, I decided they should get ready for bed.  I brought their pajamas out into the living room, and we tickled each other and laughed, as we very slowly got ready for bed.  Tessie brought up brushing teeth, and we happily wandered into the bathroom.  We read two long books, then I tucked them in, and left their room in a great mood.  I had a great night, and I can't say that every night.  There was no arguing, no whining or complaining.  I will definitely go back to our regular routine tomorrow night, but every once in a while, taking it easy can be pretty beautiful.

Simple

Although I had a fairly busy day today, it was one of those days that felt like not much happened. I just got through it, did everything I was supposed to do, and now the house is quiet. The kids are asleep, and I am ready for some me time. I've got a reheated bowl of spaghetti, a glass of wine, and a True Blood DVD. That's it. That's my moment. Im done being mom, done cleaning and running errands. Im ready for some simple lounging time. Simple, but beautiful.

Stacking Blocks

As I have mentioned before, my son receives a lot of services from the state early intervention program.  Most notable among these services are physical and occupational therapy.  Christian has been seeing his physical therapist (PT) from the time he came home from the hospital at six weeks, and has been receiving occupational therapy (OT) for about a year and a half.  In order to receive these all so important services, he has to be tested on a regular basis to make sure he qualifies.  He definitely qualifies.  At his last evaluation his gross motor skills were in the four to six month range, and his fine motor skills were just slightly ahead.  He was about two years old at the time of the test.

Today Christian had to be reevaluated because he will be transitioning into the school system soon, and they need an up-to-date score.  Since I have been a part of these evaluations, and even worked as a Developmental Specialist for a while, I am very familiar with the proceedings.  It was fun to see boxes being checked that hadn't before, like rolling over and sitting well.  One of the areas that this particular evaluation focuses very heavily on is stacking blocks.  We play with blocks at home, but Christian mostly just knocks down what I build, he doesn't stack.  When he tries to stack, the way he holds the block, and the force with which he sets it down, cause the blocks to buckle away from each other.  When it came time to have him try stacking the blocks I waved my hand dismissively and said "He isn't quite there yet."  But his therapists suggested we give it a try anyway.  I shrugged.  Why not?

Christian's OT demonstrated what she wanted him to do, while his PT and I smiled encouragingly.  There were two blocks stacked in front of him, and he examined them closely.  Then he picked up a third block, and to my amazement, very precariously set it on top of the stack.  It stayed put, and we all cheered!  Then his tray was cleared and he was handed one block at a time.  I think I was holding my breath as he very slowly stacked his first two blocks, then was handed a third.  He set the third block on top of the others, then grinned with pride as we let out a chorus of hoorays.  He, of course, destroyed the tower after that, but no one minded.

Christian still definitely qualifies for services, and he probably will for quite some time, but he showed major growth today.  His gross motor skill level rose into the seven to ten month range, and his fine motor skills were much closer to age level.  All his language and cognitive skills were past age level, which they always have been, and I couldn't have been prouder.  It's funny how something as small as stacking three blocks can represent so much progress, and so much beauty.

Salon de Tes

I think one of the most relaxing things in the world is when someone plays with my hair.  It is basically the only reason I get my hair cut.  Something about it just melts all tension out of me, and I am in instant heaven.  This afternoon I was pretty wound up, on kid overload, and totally exhausted.  I was sitting on the floor in the kids room, playing with Christian in his kitchen, when Tessie came up to me and said "Your Majesty, it's time to do your hair."

Well I couldn't refuse such a wonderful offer, so I sat still while Tes took out my clip, and started to "curl" my hair.  Even though I was fairly certain she was just turning my hair into one big dread, I couldn't help but relax under the magic of the gentle (and not so gentle) tugging on my scalp.  When she finally put down her curling iron, which I'm fairly certain was a toy wand, and reached for the brush, I was happily brushed into a near coma.  By the time she finished, I was about two seconds away from falling asleep.  I woke myself up, but managed to stay relaxed, and in a better mood.  What a beautiful trip to the Salon de Tes.  I highly recommend it.

Not Yelling

I have been having a challenging time with my son lately.  It feels like the perfect storm of terrible twos, frustration, and plain old stubbornness.  We actually yelled at each other yesterday morning, a moment I am not proud of, and one that I recognized as a terrible parenting moment even while in it.  I later cried to Nick about it, and he calmed me down, assuring me it wasn't so bad.  Still, I know that yelling isn't the best way to accomplish things, so this morning as I walked in to get Christian out of bed, I gave myself a pep-talk.  Stay calm, don't take it personally, don't get mad, don't yell.  Breathe.

Christian started to yell at me almost immediately.  I took him out to the living room and asked him if he wanted milk, if he wanted to watch a movie, or if he wanted to snuggle.   Each question was answered with more screaming and yelling, and such willfulness, you wouldn't believe.  Deep breaths.  I calmly told Christian that if he was going to scream at me then I was going to leave.  He screamed.  I walked into the kitchen.  He screamed louder. 

For those of you cringing right now, please keep in mind that he wasn't crying or hurting in any way.  He was mad and telling me about it.  Such a Leo.  When he quieted down for a moment I walked back and asked him if he was ready to be a big boy.  I got a very hostile "NO!" to which I replied that he would have to go to time out if he continued to yell.  He did, and he went to time out.  I carried him to the guest bed, and pulled the covers up over him so at least he wouldn't be miserable and cold.  To my astonishment, a few minutes later I heard nothing but silence.  I peeked in the room and couldn't quite tell if he was just clam or asleep.  I decided not to risk it, and tiptoed to the living room to finish my coffee in peace.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard Christian start to talk quietly to himself.  I walked in to get him, crossing my fingers that he wouldn't start yelling again.  He turned to me, smiled, and said in the sweetest voice "I'm ready to be a big boy and say I'm sorry Mommy."  I almost fainted.  But instead I picked him up and once in my arms, he looked me in the eye and said "I'm sorry."  I'm not making this up.  I gave him the tightest hug I could, kissed him a million times, and told him I loved him.  We went into the living room and had a beautiful morning.  So I guess not yelling worked much better than yelling.  Who would have thought? 

The Unmistakable Scent of a Skunk

We had dinner at our neighbor's house tonight, the kids played, and the grown-ups talked and drank wine.  It was a great time.  Our dog Lucy joined us for awhile, hanging around to clean up the floor once the kids had finished dinner.  After she had gotten every scrap of dropped food she leaned against my leg and gave me a "you really don't pet me nearly as much as you should" look.  I smiled, and obligingly scratched her in her favorite spots.  I couldn't help but notice that she was getting a little smelly, and made a mental note to give her a bath in the morning. 

When we reached the witching hour, and the kids started to fall apart, I gathered our things and the children, and we said goodnight.  We stepped outside into a heavy snowfall, and Tessie caught snowflakes on her tongue while we walked.  As soon as we stepped outside I got a whiff of the unmistakable scent of a skunk.  Keeping my eyes open for the stinky fellow, I hurried the kids up to the house.  As we approached the front door the smell grew stronger, and I whistled for Lucy, who came bounding around the side of the house.  We all hurried inside and I quickly shut the door against the awful smell.  It took a split second for me to realize the smell had followed us in, and the source was my happy, grinning, and covered in skunk-spray Golden Lab.

This, unfortunately, is not the first time I have had to deal with de-skunking my dog, and I hurried to take care of it as quickly as possible.  I sequestered the stinky girl in the kids' shower stall, made sure Tes and Christian were temporarily distracted, and grabbed my arsenal of cleaning supplies.  I covered Lucy, who was now looking quite miserable, in a heavy coat of baking soda.  Then I squirted her with a little hydrogen peroxide, a lot of vinegar, and a liberal dose of Dawn dish soap.  Then I donned rubber gloves, rubbed it all into her coat, closed the door to the shower stall, offering poor Lucy my apologies, and let the mixture sit.  During the waiting period I got the kids ready for bed and  gave them their antibiotics.  Aren't we just a ton of fun? 

Finally, I rinsed off my poor dog, and dried her as best I could.  I put all the wet towels and the bathmat outside, and then put the kids to bed.  I walked back into the living room to find Lucy laying on the rug, looking very dejected.  I sat down beside her and gave her a sniff test.  My nose told me I had done a good job on the dog.  The house, however, reeked.  I will have to wait until the morning to really air it out.  For tonight, I will just have to live with it.  Lucy, on the other hand, looks and smells just beautiful.