Wednesday, January 30, 2008

The Van Pelt Family

Like many other kids out there, Robby has a blanket that he LOVES! and carries around with him everywhere he can. It's only been to daycare the few times that it was absolutely necessary for the sanity of all parties involved. It's a Classic Pooh blanket with Pooh and Tigger. Jody and Jack gave it to him before he was even born. Since he carries it everywhere you can imagine how dirty it can get. I wish I could add a link that would let you smell how foul it gets as well. He covers up Maggie or Chloe and calls them his baby. He uses it as a weapon and flings it. Cousin Elvis the wonderbeagle runs up and tries to grab it from him. Robby hangs on for dear life just like Linus.

Getting the blanket away from Robby and into the washing machine should be the next olympic sport. Recognizing that moment when all emotions align just so and seizing that moment are critical to success. Tonight was one of those nights.

This is Monday's lunch of PB & J. Yesterday, he actually looked at it and told me it was peanut butter and jelly. Then he tried to eat it off the blanket.

This isn't the best picture, but if you look close you can see grime and what may be blood(?)

Here we have what I call "special woogies" from last week's cold. If you don't know what a woogie is, be thankful.

These are tire treads from being ran over repeatedly with a tricycle. There's some garage floor grease thrown in as well.

This is the runner up in the blanket department. If for any reason the Pooh Blanket is unable to fulfill its role as security blanket, Airplane Blanket will wear the crown. It is one of the fleece-tie blankets I made a little over a year ago.

Because it is fleece, it attracts both dog hair and funky odors.

I had a Drowsy that I took everywhere. She only looked this clean for the first two hours that I had her. Mom, if you are reading this, I am sorry I chose a doll for my security blanket. I know she couldn't go through the washing machine and while I can't remember her smelling anything but comforting; I'm sure she had a fragrance that inspired Glade.

Three weeks ago was one of those days that blanket went to daycare. Mom was still here visiting and recuperating from the heart attack. When Robby and I got home, I realized that I had failed to make sure that blanket came home too. PANIC drove the car back to the daycare center and made it through the doors before they closed for the night. Mom reminded me of how I had once left Drowsy in a store and we were there first thing the next morning waiting for the doors to open. Robby, your Mama may be a Lucy Van Pelt most of the time, but remember there's a little bit of Linus in all of us.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Creative Plumbing

Watching Bob The Builder has finally paid off! I managed to repair a toilet this evening without the help of Lofty, Scoop or Rolly. All I had to ask my self was, "Can I fix It?".

Yes. I. Can.

The only part that really gave me any trouble was getting the bolt off the bottom of the toilet tank. You're gonna laugh at me Internet but I swear I used Astroglide to get the bolt off. (It's about time something got off in this house.)

Monday, January 28, 2008

Whole Lotta Feelin' Goin' On

Robby spent this last weekend with The Papa. He woke up this morning in his own bed and called for me as usual. When I went into his room he started saying he wanted his Papa over and over. I told him Papa was at Papa's house and this only upset him more. A few minutes of keeping our morning routine of snuggling in the chair in his room and he was fine. So fine in fact that he kissed me several times, smiled and said, "I love you, Mama". He has said that he loves Mama before, but it is usually preceded by an "I love Robby" or me asking him if he loves me. I think this is first time he genuinely said those words. My heart melted. Going from feeling guilty for keeping him from his Papa; the selfish feelings of wanting him to love me more than anyone else in the world; to feeling blissfully complete took all of five minutes.

As I reflect on this morning I can't help but feel proud as a parent. I allowed him to feel upset. I showed him it was okay to want someone else and that I would love him through it. I want him to be safe in feeling anything in front of me and know that I will be right here loving him. I've witnessed first hand a parent using this exact situation to comfort themselves and tell the child that the other parent doesn't love them as much. My Dad did that. It made me feel like I couldn't miss my Mom without betraying his love. It made it not okay to miss Mom in front of Dad at a time when my nine year old heart desperately needed someone to hold her and tell her it was okay.

I also can't help but wonder why I've been so judgemental of my own feelings over the past several months. I paid good money to have a professional tell me it was okay to feel the way I felt at any given time. I think today, finally, some of that may have sunk in.

My son, may your sins be your own.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

The Begats

Dear Nasty Cough,

I know you are having a great time visiting Robby's chest and you and all the mucus have made plans to start filming a new commercial for that productive cough medicine. I know mucus has already picked up his greenest slimiest suit from the pea soup factory. Despite all of this it is simply time to go.

All the scary FDA warnings and investigations about cold medicines and children under six were a brilliant strategy. In fact, they worked for almost a week now. The fatal flaw in your devious plan to invade his bronchial tubes was that you forgot the begats.

Alma was a farmer's wife for more than 50 years. Deep in the Ozarks, she raised more children than the typical Mormon family of today. She had no local pharmacy or FDA to aid her in healing the many illness and diseases that struck her children over the years. Instead, she had good old fashioned common sense. It was this common sense applied to whatever medicine or home remedy she had at her disposal that drove all those childhood coughs and colds away.

Alma begat Alice, know as "the kerosene lady" in one Arizona hospital. When her grandchild got stuck in a barbed wire fence in the woods, Alice applied kerosene to kill any nasty germs that might have been lurking in that fence. Then she took the child to the doctor as soon as they were back to where the doctors were. No lock jaw ever occurred, though some wish today that it would have.

Alice begat Norma Jean. The same Norma Jean who simply decided that because she and her son got food poisoning from a local Taco Bell, this would not be a place they would eat at again. Common sense in it purest form.

Norma Jean begat The Mama, and The Mama said screw the FDA, he's coughing up a lung and it will stop now. The Mama got out the Tussin CF and an oral syringe and fulfilled her maternal destiny tonight. Up yours cough!

The Mama

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

The Nexus

Acceptance. That was my New Year's wish and what I ask God for every night before I go to sleep. It hasn't come yet. I know I am an impatient person. I'm a real instant gratification kind of a gal. I have a feeling acceptance isn't something that you can see happening. Maybe you just wake up one morning and realize you've got it?

Why is acceptance so vital for me to have? It's Wednesday. The Papa sees Robby every Wednesday. I see The Papa every Wednesday. Don't get me wrong, the other 6 days of the week all cry for acceptance too but Wednesday is the day that screams the loudest. If I have acceptance, every thing he does not say, does not feel will not be a burning needle piercing my chest. Tonight, he made a reference to miniature golf and one of our first dates.* Although I acted like it was a normal topic, (and aren't I all grown up and sophisticated for being able to discuss this, by the way, thank you) it had the most abnormal emotional undertone screaming through my stomach. I wanted to scream, "How can you even think about a time when we were so happy and not be absolutely frantic and devastated about what we gave up?"
*Please understand Gentle Reader, that what I speak of here is of no fault of The Papa. He doesn't do anything to make me feel the way I do. I alone own my reactions and feelings, and they are the only monsters here.

What do I need to accept? That he is over us? That he isn't in love with me anymore? That he feels okay about walking away? I have to accept these things because they are not mine; they are his. Or maybe what I need to accept is that he is not going to be by my side (no matter who's choice that is) and I can still create a life I want to live. The life I have now is not what I thought I would have. Most days, I don't even know how I got to this place where I come home and the one I was going to share my life with is gone. How the hell did this happen? I'm so angry that's what's happened. Maybe the acceptance can't move in until the anger moves out.

It occurred to me driving home that maybe I was not getting acceptance because I didn't want to accept them. I don't want them. I choose option e) none of the above. I thought about that for a minute and realized that was the whole reason for wanting the all allusive acceptance. It's a loop. I'm the Dr. Soran of divorce and by God I can get back in the Nexus; or die trying.

I know in my head that I can create a life that is fun, enriching and worthwhile. I know I have a lot to bring to a new relationship. I know I will strive to be an amazing mother every day for the rest of my life. Knowing these things and not feeling them in my heart is the problem. The heart wants what it wants and to hell with all the other body parts. I guess that's where the saying "your heart isn't in it" came from. I want my heart to be in my life again.

For that, I need acceptance.

Monday, January 21, 2008

Black-Eyed Peas

Goodbye and Goodriddance to 2007!

2007 started with my marriage falling apart and ended with my mom having a heart attack on December 30th. Everything in between was the most horrific 12 months of my life. Divorce, breast cancer, funerals, hospitals and 22 year old rally chicks are not welcome to my 2008.

My grandmother always made me eat black-eyed peas on New Year's Day. She said they would bring me luck in the coming year. I HATE black-eyed peas. I would eat exactly two every year. This year, I ate a big bowl of them. I hope it works.

Let's all drink a toast to a year of love, laughter, friendship, acceptance and contentment.