Making Out with the Pumpkin

You can put away the tissues. No Deep Thoughts by Meghan Boyer tonight. It's all about the pumpkin. My pumpkin and the big lopsided one we found on Sunday. Sam could pretty much care less about any of it, he just wanted to make out with it. But he looks darn cute on the farm!

 It's going to take so much will power to refrain from putting mascara on these bad boys at least once.

 The petting zoo. Sam was more about banging on the metal. 

 Heres the funny thing about these 2 photos: The first one, he is grabbing the poor horse's face hair. The second one he is looking at all the hair he just pulled off thinking he might eat it.

 Sam loves his cousin :)

home.

I have lived in Federal Hill for over 6 years now. Five of those years were in this house with Phil. I've always had a hate/hate relationship with the house. With the bad luck we've had it is a well deserved hatred. The closer we get to actually looking at other homes and putting this one on the market (if only we got rid of it before things needed fixing - now it's practically perfect), the more I start thinking about where I want our home to be.

This house hasn't really ever been my home. Mostly thats my fault. I didn't start to try to make it more homey until a few years ago and by then I had mentally moved out. I didn't stop to appreciate where we lived - in a great neighborhood that was safe, fun, close to parks, restaurants, and all the fun the city has to offer. I get it now. I like it here. I'm just ready for a home.


When I was in high school, my home burned down. My parents and I got out safely (as did our dog, thankfully), but we lost everything. It's the only place I had ever lived. After jumping out of my parents bedroom window, my mom and I stood on our front lawn staring, helpless, at what was happening to our home. Bright. Hot. Bursting. Bending. Gone. That was the last home I feel I've lived in.

The next thing I had to a home was my grandparents farm. Only a mile away, I spent nearly every day there growing up. Before I was old enough for school, my grandparents would watch me during the day. I'd bake cookies and secretly watch Oprah with Grandma.  Or we would spend the afternoon with iced tea feeling the breeze from the front porch swing. I'd ride with Pop Pop around the fields on his old honda motorcycle or in the pick-up to Enfield's. I would run to watch Albert the milk man come. In the winter Pop Pop would let me ride the snowmobile by myself around the field and he would always be watching, chuckling, and make me go another couple rounds if I hadn't hit 40 MPH yet. I never went fast enough. I'd wait for the school bus with Grandma. We would count the worms on the driveway if it rained the night before. We'd listen to Randy Travis sing "Forever and Ever Amen" on WPOC from the car if the rain hadn't yet cleared. She'd never let me get too wet. I'd play in the hay barn, or go to the calf barn and see the new life awkwardly learning it's way.

The farm has sold. And although it was a few weeks ago, I think my heart is still a little broken. I wish Sam could have spent the same years I was fortunate enough to spend there.

So I'm ready for a home. I'm ready to create the place where Sam will look back and remember things like I do from growing up. The more I think about it, the more I realize I have a home.

Bubba pulling himself up on the side of the tub for the first time. That is my home.

The annoyance on his face for trying to get him to crawl with fleece knees and hardwood floors. The dog hair covered, cloth diapered butt in the air when he finally sticks it. That is my home.

The giggles that come out of this mouth. That is my home.

The smashing of vases in the living room. That is my home.

The hungry, hungry mouth and the messy face it belongs to. That is my home.

The two buddies that wait with me for Daddy to walk through the door everyday. That is my home.

The eyes that search for Daisy and the smile that comes when he finds her. That is my home.

 

The tooth that finally broke through enough to see. That is my home.

Daisy sneaking upstairs to lay on my un-made bed. That is my home.

These eyes. UGH, these eyes. That is my home.

And most of all, the person who helped me make those eyes. He is my home.

time out

I wake up to this every morning. Usually with a bigger smile and fresh drool dripping into my not yet open eyes. But every morning it's bright eyes and wide smiles.

We do some playing, some "Wheres Daisy?" games. Now that he knows what I'm saying, he stops what he is doing to look for Daisy. It's funny to say "wheres Daddy?" during the daytime. He just searches and searches. I should probably stop doing that, it might be traumatic or something. He's looking for Daisy over his shoulder here. She is always right there laying watching him, legs crossed. But he still checks, just to make sure.

We continue our day with more playing, crawling, drooling. Babbling, spitting, pooing. Napping. 

We go for a walk. We jump in the door bouncer. We practice walking holding onto something. We tickle. We giggle. We scratch with our razor blade fingernails. We play ABC flashcards on the iPad. We brush Daisy's hair with our fists and try to eat it. We "mmmmmmm" at our lunch. We reach for something, fall, bang our head creating a large red puffy spot, shake our head, and reach again without a peep. We later rub said red puffy spot wondering what happened there. We count to 10 with cookie monster. We chew on our thumbs and make a terrible sour face because it tastes like Daisy's fur and God know what else.

And then we hit a wall. Both of our faces look like this by the end of the day. Most days anyway.

We have finally had enough. 

It doesn't seem to make sense. Look back at the first picture. Now back down here. (don't you love that old spice commercial??).That face is the best face I've ever seen. How could I possibly ever have enough?? 

Call me what you will, but I need a break from it sometimes. Just a short one. Even an hour will do.

When Phil and I decided that I wouldn't go back to my job after Sam was born and I would stay at home with him and build my photography business, it was a tough decision to make, but at the same time the easiest decision. Of course I wanted to stay home. Of course I wanted to build my business. Of course I wanted to see that face all day every day. I have never regretted the decision and can honestly say I don't ever see regretting that decision in my future. 

But...it's tough. 

At the end of the day, I'll talk to a friend on the phone and the usual "what did you do today?" question comes. I just say "nothing" because there wasn't anything that initially seemed substantial enough to talk about. Did I actually do NOTHING all day. Yeah. Right. With Sam (and most kids I know) there is no such thing as nothing. Every second, I'm doing SOMETHING for him. And if there are any seconds that I am not doing something for him, I'm doing something for Phil. Or Daisy. Then back to Sam. 

I know this is nothing new. Moms have been doing these same things FOREVER. But few people talk about how hard it actually is! Its a good kind of hard though. I wouldn't change it for anything. But I'd like to add in one extra hour each day - okay, 30 minutes - just for me. Maybe I could dry my hair after the shower so I don't look like Temple Grandin (I'm dreading facebook's doppelganger week). Or remove the last of the 5 week old nail polish from my toes. (that was gross, sorry). Or I could read my growing stack of magazines that I won't let Phil touch and that attract Sam's little fingers daily. Or I could just sit. Sit still. TV off. Computer, phone, iPad off and out of sight. Or I could go to the gym without the director of the kid's club coming to get me because someone is screaming with separation anxiety after only 20 minutes of cardio. 

I know people who are working moms who complain about those of us who stay at home. There's always a bit of condescension in their tones when referring to "stay at home moms". I think the common assumption is that it's so easy to stay home. It must be so nice to just sit and do nothing all day instead of work. My challenge to you - trade a day with me. Because it really is fantastic. Watching Oprah. Eating bon bons. 

I'm going to give myself a time out. It appears after this quasi snarky post that I need one! :) Each day for hopefully 30 minutes, I'll be in time out. I don't know yet what I'm going to do with all of my free time, but I can promise you that after I get a few minutes of ME time, I will love appreciate even more that I get to watch these little legs try to nail that crawling thing down. They really are good little legs. 

seven

My lucky number is 12. Not for any particular reason. It hasn't even brought me any kind of luck now that I think about it. Except for that one time I won $100 playing Keno one of the numbers I picked was 12. But I am not completely convinced thats why I won. I used to say my lucky number was 2. I like the number 2, it's small and kind of a cute number. I think 2 is simple - it's not lonely like the number 1, but it's  not always in a crowd like 12 or 24. I think the number 2 should once again be my lucky number - just because it's cuter. It's official.

What the heck am I talking about, you're wondering? I'm never sure and if you don't know that by now - well you might be in more trouble than I am! Sam is 7 months today and I started thinking about the "lucky number seven". What makes 7 so lucky anyway? I actually don't think I even believe in luck the more I think about it. So why do I have a "lucky number" then? Everyone is supposed to have one, right? That way, just in case there actually is such a thing as luck, you're safe. 

If there is such a thing, today I believe it. If 7 is the ultimate lucky number, than I witnessed that today on Sams 7 month-day. He woke us up this morning with a babbling, spitting, bubble blowing conversation that I believe he was trying to have with Daisy but she was ignoring him. He always talks to Daisy. And Elmo. The day continued with the usual weekend nap-fighting festival, but that meant he was awake to fill the Saturday silence with giggles. The kind of giggles where his tongue clicks to the roof of his mouth and no sound comes out but the smile is wide and gummy. The kind of giggles that spread like a cold - without the sneezing but definitely with the watery eyes. And sore cheeks. Everything about the day made me feel lucky. Snuggling with him at bedtime as he passed out cold before finishing his bottle which he NEVER does but because of the afore mentioned nap-fighting, he was beat! I took advantage of the snoring and snuggled for a few extra minutes in the glider. I remember 7 months ago today seeing that same little mouth scrunched up as his chubby cheeks press against my chest and how lucky I felt that day too. Maybe that means 9 is the lucky number. Or maybe it's 3 because that was March. Or maybe it's 10 because it's now October. Or it might be 214 since thats the number of days he's been in our lives. (You can really find ANYTHING on google. Brilliant).

I think what I'm realizing is that it's not the number thats lucky, it's just me. Every single day, no matter how crappy (and there have definitely been some crappy ones), there is something, at least one part of the day, where I can look back and see that I am lucky. Thats quite a revelation. Hmmm. I've got to run out now and buy a lotto ticket. . . 

My love on his lucky number 7 month-day :)

With the fishes

I almost had a heart attack last Thursday. I saw my life flash before my eyes. I held on tight to Sam as I tried to keep my balance by leaning on the wall. It started when Phil said to me "I think I am going to take off today."

No, I'm not joking! He really did! In the 6+ years I've known Phil, he has NEVER just taken a day off. He goes in sick (sorry to those surrounding him in the office - I know thats gross!). Even if there is something going on for part of the day and most people would take the whole day off, he will still go in for the other part. He works his butt off and likes it! But I subscribe to the philosophy that everyone needs to play hooky every now and then. From school, work, the everyday. Whatever it is one does with their days, sometimes you just need a day off!

We decided that the monsoon that came up the bay wasn't going to stop a rare occasion like this! We trekked out to the aquarium. Umbrellas, hoodies, bjorn and brand new member cards in tow - we were off. I'll admit, I was pretty grumpy about going out in the rain. When it's raining I usually stay in with Sam. But I knew how excited Phil was to do something with his day. And even though Phil and I were soaked, it was so worth it. Sam was mostly exhausted and uninterested in anything but working his sore gums with the pacifier he chews on, but he definitely perked up when he saw the turtles. I think he might have actually been trying to beat them up, but hey - it was a reaction! It will be fun to go again soon to see if he notices anything differently. And maybe next time we can stay awake for the dolphin show?!

At first, you may think he is excited by looking at the fish, but really he is just trying to get that thing back in his mouth to chew. Always chewing.

Also in the last few days, that dang tooth Sam's been working on finally came through. Thank GOD! It was a rough week with bleeding gums, little sleep and LOTS of crank! Now if only I could prevent that from happening as he works on that second bottom tooth. hmm...