Good Behavior

My mom came into town tonight for a quick overnighter. We have had a crazy weekend, and I wasn't in any kind of mood to cook, so we decided to go out. I was a little worried that meltdowns were in the forecast, since the kids had had a late night, followed by a busy day, but I was happily surprised.

We had an absolutely wonderful dinner. The kids were on their best restaurant behavior, maybe ever, and we had a great visit with my mom. Christian was especially charming, making us laugh throughout the entire meal. Both kids were polite, and ordered their dinner with pleases and thank-yous. They were so good, in fact, that they earned a scoop of chocolate ice cream each.

Going out to dinner with the kids is risky. I can almost always count on one of them, if not both if them, having a melt down in the middle of the restaurant. Not only did we have an event free meal, but I got to talk with my mom about several topics. During dinner. Without being interrupted. Just so you know, that's unheard of. As we walked out of the restaurant, all smiling and full, I couldn't think of a more beautiful place to be.

Sleep Over

It is funny what happens as years go by. Friendships are stregnthened, tested, and sometimes become distanced. When kids come along, this pattern is never more true. Many of our close friends had babies around the same time that we did, but some of our closest didn't, and we naturally saw each other less. The paths we took may have taken us in different directions, but they did nothing to weaken our bonds. Tonight, we spent time with those friends. And it was beautiful.

Not only have we been separated by circumstances, work, and plain old scheduling, but we moved into homes in the two furthest from each other neighborhoods possible in our town. We have been talking about having a sleep over, which is the only practical way for us to hang out, for ages. Tonight, we finally did it.

The kids were so excited about the idea of a sleep over. First they watched a movie, and my girlfriend painted Tessie's nails. Hot pink with sparkles, of course. We put them in their jammies, and they couldn't wait to see the guest house where we would be sleeping. They requested that their auntie read them a book, and they never took their eyes off of her while she read. Now, they are sound asleep, and we are getting in a long overdue visit with our friends. I only regret that we waited so long, for such a beautiful night.

A Hard Day's Work

I spent all day today outside in my new garden.  Since this is our first year gardening, I am starting completely from scratch, and that includes a garden location.  After much deliberation, we finally settled on a big area on the north side of our house.  It's being on the north side is a bit controversial, but it is protected from the wind, and gets plenty of sun.  There were several things standing in the way of getting started.  The biggest, and first on the to-do list, was a large, overgrown tree, right in the middle of the future garden.  The tree was too close to the house for comfort anyway, and so it's fate was sealed.  Although it was hard to cut down a big beautiful tree, Nick got the chainsaw out, and down it went.  Then my work started.

Before I can plant a single thing, I have to build my garden fence.  There are too many little critters in our neck of the woods, and I want to be the one enjoying my lettuce, not them.  Before I could start on the fence, however, I had to get rid of the remains of the tree.  I spent most of the morning hauling giant branches across my yard, and before I started work on the fence, I was already tired.  The fence has to be buried, to keep the afore mentioned critters from tunnelling their way to my carrots and beets.  (I cannot help but picture Benjamin Bunny and Peter Rabbit having tea in my garden at this point.)  So out came the pick and shovel. 

For the next few hours I hacked away at the dirt, carving a trench around the perimeter of my soon-to-be-beautiful garden.  It was hard work, to say the least.  Though I didn't want to stop, thirst demanded I break occasionally, and it was disheartening to see how little progress I was making.  But I carried on.  Finally, it was time to throw in the towel (or trowel, rather,) and go pick up the kids.  I had one length of the trench dug.  No rails set, no wire buried.  Just the trench.  But I still felt exhilarated.  I stripped my sap and mud covered clothes off, and got in a hot shower, sore down to my bones.  It was the greatest shower I can remember having in ages.  There is nothing like a hard days work in the dirt, followed by a long hot shower, to make you feel like you have accomplished something.  I have a lot more work to do tomorrow, and I'm ready for it.  I think I will sleep beautifully tonight.

Fear

About two weeks ago, Nick became extremely alarmed about a growth on his cheek.  We thought it was just a mole at first, but after a lot of online research, the word melanoma entered our lives.  I love technology.  I am, in fact, an avid user of technology.  But I do think that there is at least one area of our lives in which there is too much technology.  That area is the medical world, specifically self diagnosis. 

I am in no way saying that I thought Nick got sucked into the self diagnosis spiral, there were very real comparisons that scared me beyond reason.  The night the scare came into our lives, Nick stared at his phone for hours, searching every online medical site available.  I lay next to him in bed, becoming increasingly panicked as the hours passed.  But I forced myself to stay silent other than to offer an occasional positive comment.  "I'm sure it's just a mole, even if it's something I'm sure it's nothing really bad, and catching it early is a good thing."  I fell asleep long before Nick.  I kept up my false pretenses for over a week while Nick was waiting to meet with a dermatologist.  Today, he finally had his appointment.

I had myself convinced that I thought it was okay, I buried any worry, and replaced it with optimism.  That is my job as a mom, after all.  But today, I was genuinely scared.  As I waited to hear from my husband, the fear and worry slowly took over, until I was actually envisioning life as a single mom.  Yeah, I may be a little crazy.  Finally, I got a text from Nick that read "I'm gonna live!"  He was still in his appointment, and we didn't get to speak for a while, but it turned out that Nick just had a cyst, not a cancerous mole.  I started to cry before I even finished reading his text. 

Fear is a powerful thing.  Fear, combined with too much information on the Internet, is dangerous.  When I applied all that to my husband, it was too much.  I couldn't picture Nick being sick with something I couldn't fix, it was beyond what I could handle.  Tonight I felt like we had missed a bullet, whether or not there was ever a gun pointed at us.  When it comes to your partner, no scare is a small scare.  And that made the good news more than just good, it was beautiful.

Simple Pleasures

Right now I'm sitting on my couch in my jammies, a glass of wine in my hand, and my husband on the couch next to me. The dishes are running, the kids are asleep, and Grey's Anatomy is on the TV. That's it. Simple, end if the day pleasures. And it couldn't be any more beautiful.

A Dip in the Tub

It is amazing how time can seem to stretch on forever during a crisis.  Even if that crisis only actually lasts for a few seconds.  This is never more true than when something happens to one of your children.  Tonight, during bath time, I experienced one of these moments.  It eerily echoed a moment from a few years ago, and yet it couldn't have been more different.  Let me explain.

Tessie hit most of her physical milestones at the later end of the spectrum, all except sitting.  The average child sits up at six months.  Tes was sitting well at five months, although she didn't crawl until ten months.  We felt so sure of her sitting skills, that at about five and a half months, I started bathing her without a bath seat.  Then one night, while I was bathing her, I watched as she tipped forward, her legs went out behind her, and then she was fully submersed, face down in the tub.  It felt like she was floating that way for an eternity.  I can still picture it, as clearly as if it happened yesterday.  In reality, it was only a couple of seconds before I scooped her up and out of the tub.  I must have screamed, because Nick ran into the bathroom immediately.  I was clutching her to me, soaking wet, and sobbing to the point of incoherence.  Tes coughed a little, and was barely crying.  I think she was more upset by me than by her dip in the tub.  Nick took her from me, and told me to calm down.  It took all night, with him repeatedly telling me I was not the world's worst mother, to get my heart rate back to normal.

Christian wasn't sitting well enough to get out of the bath seat until a little over a month ago, although that already seems distant.  He has been doing so well, that I almost feel confident enough to walk away from the tub.  Almost.  Tonight I was sitting beside the tub, letting the kids splash around before I scrubbed them.  Suddenly, Christian started to lean to one side.  I watched in slow motion as he slipped under the water, his eyes wide in surprise.  Again, it felt like I was glued to the floor for hours, watching my child floating in front of me.  I reached in and stood Christian up, and calmly asked if he was okay, told him to cough, and smiled back when he gave me a goofy grin.  "Whoa," he said "that was crazy!"

Seconds later, Christian was sitting back down, laughing and playing with his sister.  I couldn't help but compare this instance with the one I experienced as a new mother.  Not only was I proud of my son for being so tough, but I felt pretty tough myself.  Everything is different with the second baby.  Even a dip in the tub seems less like a near drowning, and more like, well, a dip in the tub.  Experience is a beautiful thing.

Follow Me, Mom

This afternoon I dropped Tessie off at ballet class, then met up with Christian's physical therapist in town. For an hour he walked in his "car" better than I have ever seen him walk. He even turned intentionally on his own. We walked up and down halls, played hide-and-go-seek, and even braved the spring winds outside. The wind proved too strong, and so we spent most of our time back inside. I felt such pride watching Christian cruising around on his own, with very little assistance.

It is hard not to get discouraged at times, his progress is very slow, and sometimes it feels like we have been walking up the wrong side of the escalator. Yesterday I took the kids to a birthday party, and left feeling incredibly sad. The party was for a boy four months older than Christian. The other kids, ranging mostly in age from two to six, were all running around and having a blast, but Christian was sitting with me on a swing, no kids his age anywhere near us. I ache at moments like that, wanting so badly to wave a magic wand and make it all better. I have to fight to keep a smile on my face, and not let Christian know there is a reason to be anything but happy.

Then we have moments like this afternoon in his walker, cruising around and having a blast. If I think of what he was doing a year and a half ago, then it's not so hard to imagine that in a couple of years, going to a birthday party will be a lot different for Christian. He will no longer be sitting in my lap, maybe I will even have lost track of him, and find him playing tag with the other kids.

These fantasies were all dancing across my vision as I watched Christian waking today. I clung to them like a life line, pulling myself out of the sadness I had been drowning in the day before. Christian walked ahead of me, radiating confidence and pride. Just as a wave of that pride rolled over me, he turned his head and called out "Follow me mom." He has never been far enough away from me to lead before. I can only hope that it is a sign of beautiful things to come.