Dichotomy

 This just so neatly illustrates the difference in my children's personalities.

The Great Gummy Bear Saga of 2011

If you ever get the urge to buy your kid a giant gummy bear, do yourself a favor. Don't.

Now while this might seem like common sense to most people, it apparently wasn't to me.

I was in World Market at some point during the summer and saw these huge gummy bears. I'm telling you these suckers were at least five and a half inches tall and three inches wide. Stupid me thinks, 'Oh, cool, Alex loves gummy bears. He'll totally flip when I bring home this giant one. How fun will that be?'

Bad idea.

Well, the reaction was what I wanted. He loved it, and I felt like super-mom until super-mom got the bright idea to take said giant gummy bear over to grandma's house the next day to show her. Now I have to point out that it was high summer in our neck of the woods, and at this point temperatures were reaching the mid if not the high nineties every day.

Back to the gummy bear.

Alex showed grandma, who thought it was cool (if a bit weird) and then he promptly forgot it in the car that night. Sigh.

Sometime the next afternoon we were heading back over to my mom's house and I opened the car door to a horrific sight.

Alex had left the gummy bear in its plastic case in the front seat.

The gummy bear melted in the ninety plus degree heat, oozed out of the packaging and left an enormous puddle of red, sticky goo all over the front car seat.

Words cannot express.

Have you ever tried pulling up a melted, giant, gummy bear off of your car seat? No, I bet you haven't because you are probably a sensible, sane human being that doesn't buy the stupid giant gummy bear in the first place. It was like pulling up tar, it was like pulling silly putty out of the carpet (yep, done that too), it was like trying to get gum out of hair (haven't actually had to do that one. yet). Oh. My. Gosh. 

The good news is that, with ALOT of hot water and soap, my car seat is surprisingly no worse for the wear.

I never. ever. want to have to do anything like that again. But, knowing myself, and unfortunately I know myself pretty well, I'm sure that something ridiculous like this will happen again in the near future.

I'm overdue you see, it's just how my life works.

On a totally random note...

It's amazing just how dirty your house gets when you're sick for three days. Sigh.

P.S. I would also like to take a minute to sing the praises of the schedule function on blogger without which there would not have been any posts this week. Thank you. 

It's supposed to be red!

The other night I woke Sarah up to make her use the bathroom when I tucked Alex in. We've been having some, ahem, issues at night this last week.

Nothing serious, probably just her drinking too soon before bed, but I was very tired of stripping a soaking wet child (which I'm sure she was sick of) and bed in the middle of the night and washing all of her bedding, so I thought that I'd hedge my bets by making her get up and use the potty.

Well, when I picked her up out of bed she was apparently dreaming. Really hard.

Sarah: Red!
Me (very startled): What?
Sarah: It's red!
Me: What's red?
Sarah: It's supposed to be red!
Me: What's supposed to be red?
Sarah: It's supposed to be red!!!

At this point I gave up, she was very adamant that whatever it was was supposed to be red. Alex and I both started cracking up, and Sarah used the potty and went back to bed without a peep.

... And She Creeps

Last night Sarah and I were alone because Alex was spending the night at a friends house, and we always make these our 'girl's night.' It's nothing huge, but we hang out, cook, paint our nails, watch a movie Alex wouldn't be caught dead watching, things like that.

We usually have a really good time and enjoy being girly.

Well, I told Sarah to go get ready for bed while I finished some things up, and while I was walking towards her room to tuck her in I noticed that the lights were out.

Perfect. I could play 'And she creeps' with her.

This was a game that my mom used to play with me at bedtime when I was little that always involved lots of squealing and giggling. You hide under the covers while mom slowly creeps towards you saying, "Here she comes... and she turns... and she creeps... and she creeps..." walking as quietly as she can towards the bed until she pounces on you and tickles you. Tons of fun. 

So here I am playing the game and creeping into Sarah's room and she's giggling up a storm, when all of a sudden: 'gigglegiggle fart giggle fartfart giggle', and then of course I started cracking up...

It was priceless. 

On being a single mom and attemping to write a blog...

 Well, let's see, take single mom with blog (exhibit A), move her out of parent's house (exhibit B) and remove those sources of support (see exhibit B) and see what happens to her blog (exhibit C).

I've been reading back through my posts after not being on here for I don't even know how long and realized that I really miss doing this. I actually enjoyed reading my own writing ( I don't know what that says about me, I really promise that I'm not narcissistic) and I would love to get into doing this again.

It's neat to sort of chronicle this life that I'm living and to be able to look back at things I don't even remember months and years later. There are some precious memories in these archives, there are also some very painful ones. It's interesting to see how much I've changed, and how much I haven't. It's interesting to see how far I've come, and how far I still have to go.

Now I'm not promising anything (please see exhibits A, B, and C), but I hope that I might actually be able to make this work and stick to it this time (finances for internet permitting).

~ Jen

I Have Been to a Custody Court Hearing, Nothing Can Scare Me Ever Again

First of all, on the absolutely highest note ever, the custody case went in my favor.

Thank God.

I don't think that I really knew how much this was scaring me and weighing on me until it was over. The thought of my kids having go all the way to California for every other holiday and three weeks during the Summer made my heart cold in ways that I can't even begin to describe, and that was what I considered to be the best possible outcome. I really thought that it was going to be worse.

It went better than I could ever possibly have hoped. Apparently having the other parent show absolutely zero interest in the court proceedings tends to tilt things in your favor.

Go figure.

So, I have sole custody and visits are to be here in North Carolina. He and I get to decide when and how long any visits would be. Which is amazing. I would love for him to come out here and visit, I think that it would be great for the kids. We'll see what happens this Summer I guess.

On an absolutely hysterical note, there were only three other people in the courtroom besides myself and another girl who happened to have the same lawyer as I did (she was in a similar situation and things went well for her in court too, I was so glad). Anyway, the court session began with role call, and the other people in the room weren't on the roster. One gentleman was there for a traffic violation that had to be handled at another courthouse, he left. The two people left (who also ended up going to another courthouse) were a man and a woman that sat on the opposite side of the room from each other. The judge asked them why they were there, and the woman stood up and said:

"Your honor, we're here on account of I tried to kick his a**, and he was gonna press charges, but we worked things out and he don't wanna press charges no more."

God's honest truth.

At the very least it made for a good ice breaker.

Too Sweet

Alex woke up really early last Saturday, and can you guess where I was? Yep, where any responsible parent would be. Still in bed.

Cough.

So I finally drag my butt out of bed and go downstairs to make myself some breakfast before Sarah wakes up, and I'm kind of confused to see a glass of juice and a full bowl of cereal on the counter. Alex comes downstairs, cheerful as only a seven-year-old can be at such an ungodly hour, and I ask him if he's eaten breakfast. He tells me he has.

I look at him, he looks back at me, "So, what's with this bowl of cereal and juice then?"

"Oh, I made you breakfast."

I had conflicting emotions at that point. Gosh, it was so sweet of him to do that. Gosh, how long had that cereal been sitting in the milk for?

I couldn't not eat it after he had gone to all the trouble of fixing it.

So, I sit down at the counter and take a bite. The cereal was Frosted Mini Wheats, and they had turned to complete mush and soaked up most of the milk.

The milk was warm.

Ewwww.

Have I mentioned that I love being a mom?

Hurtful

Alex was on the phone with his dad tonight, and I overheard some things that he said that upset me deeply. I don't listen in on their phone conversations, I feel that this is a time for just Alex and his dad to talk. I don't think that his dad is saying anything negative or subversive, or anything like that. I trust him on this issue.

Alex, on the other hand, always seems to be negative when he's on the phone with him. I know it's silly to be upset by things that a seven-year-old is saying, but I can't help it. All I hear during these phone calls is, "It's boring here.", "Nobody can ever play with me.", "Mom never lets me do anything.", "She always makes me play outside and it's boring."... On and on.

It hurts. It really does.

I am trying my damndest to make things the best I can for Alex, and apparently it doesn't matter to him at all. I try and remind myself that he's only seven, that he usually enjoys himself here, that he's playing with his friends almost all the time, that we do things together as a family. It seems that these bursts of self-pity only come out when he's having a bad day or when things don't go his way, but it's hard to remember when I hear him telling his dad these things over the phone. And of course this makes me feel like a jerk, because what must my husband be thinking when he hears these things?

I don't know, it just sucks.

I think I need to go to bed now.

'Night guys.

First Words

Sarah said her first, real, honest-to-goodness word last week.

I mean, she's been babbling and making sounds (that I wishfully interpreted as 'mama') for a while now, but this was different. Language is a funny thing. See, Sarah has been talking for a long time now, at least as far as she saw it. The rest of us just didn't understand her. She finally figured out though, that she had to put together sounds that everyone else could comprehend. Because language isn't just about words, it's about being understood.

What I love about babies and kids is how they never do anything halfway. She had to make such an effort to say that one word. Her face scrunched up, and her lips pursed, "Puuuhh....Puuuhh.....Puuuhhppyyy." Puppy.

Her first word. She had communicated, and she knew it.

The way her face lit up was worth a million dollars.

Wait, I've been here before...

The other day I changed Sarah's diaper.

It wasn't two minutes later when I detected that telltale smell... again. Sigh.

Wait a minute, this isn't deja vu, it's deja poo!

Lord Help Me,

I went and saw The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor with Alex tonight. Yikes.

Gory details and review tomorrow.

I did enjoy the pizza and having a night out with just my boy though.

Toodles,

Jen

Cooking Lessons

I made dinner with my boy last night.

We made chicken and wild rice soup, fresh baked bread, and lemon bars for dessert. It was wonderful to be able to spend time with just him. I feel horrible because my attention is usually so divided, and I admit that he gets ignored sometimes because he is more self-sufficient than he should be. I forget that he is only seven.

So yesterday was a rare moment of uninterrupted time. My daughter was down for a nap, my parents and our family that's visiting from Ohio were at a movie, and my brother was out with friends.

It was just us, and it was lovely.

I showed him how to chop vegetables, and, of course, he had to do the rest by himself. We simmered and seasoned and tasted. He learned how to deglaze a pan (hey, you're never too young). We talked and joked and laughed. And I got to spend time with my son who is turning into a young man much too fast.

I need to remember to slow down. To take advantage of the moments instead of worrying about the days. To appreciate the little things because it is the little things that my kids will never forget, and they are growing up way too quickly.

It's All About Perspective

When Alex was six, his cousins got this new, swank car. Needless to say, the DVD player was the source of a lot of bragging whenever he rode in their car with them. Sigh.

One night, we all went out to dinner and I ended up taking my niece and nephew in our car which is a beat up, run-down, piece of crap, '95 Toyota 4Runner. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my truck, but it doesn't hold a candle to the shiny new Beamer SUV with the back-seat DVD player. 

At some point, in a vain attempt to keep my car clean, I had hung one of those fabric trash cans from the back of the front seat. Hang in there with me, I promise that this is relevant to the story. 

So the kids pile into the car, and my son, God bless him, says (with the enthusiasm that only a six-year-old can muster), "Well, our car doesn't have a DVD player, but it has a trash can! Isn't that cool?"

Have I mentioned before that I love that kid?

It Makes A Mother Proud

So my mom took my son into "The Grocery Store" the other day while I was at work. They weren't at my store, but I wish they had been, it would have been priceless.  They were at the one across town. 

They finished shopping and got up to the checkout stand. And my son, talkative little thing that he is, started chatting with the cashier. It went something like this:

Alex*: "Hi, how are you?"

Cashier: "Good, how are you doing?"

Alex: "Good. My mom works at "The Grocery Store." "

Cashier: "Oh! Really? Does she like her job?"

Alex: "Not really. She says the pay is pretty lousy."

Cashier: "Oh." Her face fell and she said, "Well, we'll keep that our little secret."

Gosh I love that kid. 

* I've decided against using my kids real names in my blog. So, no, this isn't his real name, but he did pick it out himself. ; )

Struggling

I'm exhausted. 

I've been up since 4:30 this morning, but it's more than that. This is a mental, emotional, spiritual exhaustion. I'm really not sure how much more of this I can handle, and the hell of it is I don't have any choice. I have to handle it whether I want to or not because it's not just me in this boat. I have two kids getting dragged along through this mess that they didn't ask for, and what kills me is knowing that I did this to them. When things are hard, when my son misses his dad and his cousins, when we don't have enough, when I'm gone because I have to work, I have to live with the fact that my choices have caused this. 

Now I don't mean this in regards to the separation. My husband is at fault for that, and I stand by my decision to leave. 

No, I mean in a broader sense. It was my choice that caused me to get pregnant so young, to marry a boy instead of a man, to bring another child into a marriage that I knew in my heart of hearts was in trouble. It's all these things that I'm guilty of. 

I cherish my children. I will never, ever regret them. But I regret each second of pain and hardship that my selfishness and stupidity has caused them. 

I have screwed up so monumentally that I don't know how I can ever make it okay. I won't say 'right' because I don't think that I can ever make it right. But I hope for okay. I hope for good. My faith tells me that God can bring me out of these ruins that I've pulled down around myself and my children, but everything else in me says otherwise. 

I am trying to cling to God's promises, but it is so hard in the muck and the mire of the everyday. I am filled with so much self-doubt and fear. I'm so far down in this hole that I don't see how I'm ever going to get out. 

I'll Tell You A Secret...

I want my own room. 

This isn’t some casual want as in, ‘Hmm, I think I want a cup of coffee this morning.’ No, this is a deep longing. The type of longing usually reserved for lifelong dreams and ambitions. 

My kids, are noisy when they sleep. 

My son is prone to sudden, loud, startle me and make me fall out of my bed outbursts of talking in his sleep. These aren’t quiet mumblings of a sleeping child. No, these little episodes often involve yelling and even when they don’t, they are always loud. 

And as if this weren't enough, my darling baby daughter who turned one a month ago, has recently developed the lovely habit of banging her head against the mattress in the middle of the night. She also loves to get on her hands and knees and rock back and forth. This wouldn’t be such a big deal, but she sleeps in a Pack and Play which creaks whenever she rocks. 

So, almost every night at 2am I’m woken up by:

creak CREAK creak CREAK creak CREAK thumpthumpthumpthumpthump creak CREAK creak CREAK creak CREAK thumpthumpthumpthumpthump creak CREAK creak CREAK creak CREAK thumpthumpthumpthumpthump ...I think you get the idea. Sigh.

Why does a self-respecting, 26-year-old, mother of two not have her own room you ask? Because, dear reader, as I've mentioned before, I find myself in the unenviable position of having had to move back in with my parents (whom I'm eternally grateful to by the way.) But still, would you join me in a moment of silence for the loss of my independence...