longing for spring

It really is crazy how one week changes everything. Last week, we were watching this:

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1858120535810&comments (sorry, cant get the video to load to blogger....will work on it)

Sam had taken maybe 2 steps before this venture. You can tell when he is about to try something new - he looks right at you with this big grin and he just does it. Like he wants you to see the courage he has. Well one week later, he is walking all over the house. He still looks at you and grins, like he knows he is the coolest. Mostly he walks to Daisy. He stands up, finds where she is, and zombie struts over to her then flops right on top of her. Giggling the whole way. It's way fun. 

his smiley zombie face

his "attack mode" face. he sees daisy . . . then pounces. 

 We have had a few days of nice weather in the last week or so. Last week it was over 70 degrees and so Sam and I went to the park for some fresh air. I think I had more fun than he did, but thats probably because he was mad at me most of the time there since I kept taking the delicious sticks out of his mouth.

It was a breezy 70 degrees, but it made the flag look nice atop the hill. I pointed out to Sam that the "flag was waving in the wind" . . .

 And he started to wave to the flag. Something got lost in translation, but it was cute nonetheless. :)

 He played on the slide for the first time, and seemed to be proud of himself!

We went back to the park today. I love that although we went often in the fall, it's such a new experience for him because he doesn't remember. It's fun for me because I get to see that "first time" excitement in his face twice :) and so does Phil!

I'm not sure who was walking better, Phil with his brace, or Sam with his slow exaggerated steps :)

me

I saw these statements on a bio page of another photographer. I thought it might be good to revisit some of these prompts. It will be interesting to see how my answers change the next time. . . 




I AM … me. someone who likes to think I have it all together, but knows there is no such thing. someone who will offer you the last bite of the most delicious dessert (that I likely made) even though I really want it. someone who will do everything I can to drop what I am doing when someone I love needs it. someone who is perfectly imperfect. someone who just wants to keep learning how to be a better mom, wife, friend, sister, daughter. 

I WANT… a full-body reconstruction after I'm done having babies. No, for real. 

I HAVE … everything I've ever needed and almost everything I've ever wanted. 

I KEEP … thinking I'm going to stay organized, but instead my organized space turns into a pile of crap

I WISH I COULD … sing. Hearing someone with a beautiful voice always gives me chills, no matter what they are singing.

I HATE … that anytime I try to plant flowers outside my house, some drunk frat boy comes by and smashes them - or steals one single petunia. (Seriously, who does that??)

I FEAR … water. swimming pools - fine. Oceans - terrifying. I get in them, but think I'm going to drown and die the entire time.

I HEAR … Sam crying when I'm in the shower. He never is, but my mind makes it up.

I DON’T THINK … my brain stops all day. I wouldn't know what to do if it did.

I REGRET … nothing. Well, actually I regret licking the bowl of my ice cream tonight. No one was home, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. . . now it's just shameful.

I LOVE … my family, my friends, my life, fresh sheets, a big bowl of ice cream, shamefully licking said big bowl of ice cream when no one is watching, the idea of matching pretty desk accessories, a giant glass of red, my chocolate chip cookies.

I AM NOT … good at masking my feelings with facial expressions. Usually whatever I'm thinking is written all over my face.

I DANCE … to make Sam laugh, and usually I end up laughing harder. It's pretty awful.

I SING … really annoying songs all day with Sam. I think he hates it too. 

I NEVER … will forget what Henry's death did for my life.

I RARELY … do laundry. I really hate putting it away.

I CRY WHEN I WATCH … any movie centered around or even highlighting any animal. 

I AM NOT ALWAYS … on time, but I always attempt to be!

I HATE THAT … I stepped on the tail of a dead rat on Thursday. It really traumatized me. 

I’M CONFUSED ABOUT … so many things, but I'm a good pretender.

I NEED … to go to bed earlier than 12:30am every night.

I SHOULD … go to bed right now (but i won't).

"Brown Spots on the Wall" by Sam Boyer

I have very exciting weekend plans. They entail clorox bleaching all the surfaces in Sam's room and researching for parenting advice. It's amazing that at only 11 months old, I can already start to feel like I have failed as a parent!

We have a hitter on our hands. He looks at me straight in the eye with brow furrowed and swats at my leg, my arm, my butt, my face, my hand, my foot or whatever body part of mine is closest. Sometimes he just swats around when he is excited and it doesn't seem intentional. He'll swat up and down, mostly hitting himself, while laughing or screaming/talking to Daisy. But when he looks me dead in the eye and I don't give him whatever it is he wants he hits and he waits for me to get mad. He puts his finger in his mouth all innocent-like, like he has no idea why I would be mad. And as soon as I finish saying "NO hitting, Sam! Hitting hurts!" he takes that finger out of his mouth and swats again. [sigh]

Sometimes he'll start crying a guilty whine before he hits and it seems as though he knows it's wrong and bad and makes me upset, but he's jut going to do it anyway. Sometimes the crying comes afterwards and he hugs me (or snoop dog) and I feel he's just hitting because he's tired. But it's still hitting and it still sucks.

Today while frantically trying to escape from a messy diaper change, I was trying to distract him so he would stop bicycling his legs. Apparently he did not like this and he went to swat. His hand landed in the pile of poo (thankfully semi-hard, sorry but thats an important detail) and it sat there for a milisecond before he grabbed it and threw. Now theres poo on his hand which is moving to rub his eyes as he is definitely getting sleep from all the raucous. And I just couldn't stop it. Luckily I think the eyeball-poo contact was minimal, but if he ends up with pink-eye, I'll know why.

There was some crying, and laughing (guess who was doing what), and then I couldn't find the poo. (If anyone watches How I Met Your Mother, you've already started saying "Where's the poop?") I got down on my hands and knees to search for it, and of course it was in a very convenient and easy to reach spot behind his dresser/changing table.  I was going to have to move furniture to get this poo. Awesome. Maybe I can skip the gym today afterall.

The damage to the wall, floor, and furniture was minimal, but my confidence took a big blow. What the heck am I going to do about this hitting phase? I know Sam's not the first little kid to hit, and THANKFULLY he hasn't ever tried to hit anyone else other than me (and Phil once or twice). But why hit me? I figured the mom-hate wouldn't start until at least middle school.

At least he's advanced. And might I say a really good thrower.

This is the mid-hit look...I happened to piss him off yesterday when I yelled at Daisy to sit. I understand the want to protect your siblings, but how the heck did he get all Tony Soprano? NOT cute.

And then 5 minutes later, he laughs and tells me how big he is. VERY cute. Jeckyll/Hyde?

village people

If you know me, you already know that family is the most important thing to me. Growing up, I saw most of my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents every Sunday. I don't think I would be the same person if I didn't have such a HUGE extended family that was always there no matter what the circumstances. It is really incredible to see people come together when one of their own needs something.

Last Thursday, a very important family member had a baby. She is a different kind of family member. A "sister from another mister", if you will. As I was waiting to hear how she was doing all morning, I was literally sick. It took everything in me not to throw up. I was pacing, my heart racing, mindlessly swooshing around the swiffer duster just to keep busy. With either of my "real" sisters, I would have been doing the same thing. I had an overwhelming sense that I needed to be there with her. I needed to be there to protect her just incase anything scary happened. Or to help her do whatever she needed. But with no morning sitter, I was stuck with my sweaty palms and clean wood surfaces. I was in the car on the way to the hospital when I got the text that baby Maija was born. I lost it. I was so excited for  Larisa to feel that feeling. The knock you on your ass, completely blindsiding, overwhelming sense of love -no, more than love - I knew she would feel when she saw her baby.

I think it's one of the many ways having my own family has changed me. It made family that much more important and I didn't know that was possible. My sister had Aidan 12 years ago. I was a senior in high school. I was mostly unaware of the importance of it. I was super excited to be an aunt and I loved Aidan from the first time I saw him, but I didn't get it. I didn't get what my sister would go through becoming a mother.

Other girlfriends who are also like my sisters have had babies recently. Kristyn has 2 kids - when Maggie was born I wasn't mentally in the same place with having kids and I couldn't appreciate her becoming a mother the way I should have. And her Harper was born the same week as Sam so I was a bit pre-occupied. Rachel had Royce a few months before Sam was born. I didn't see her in the hospital. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn't get myself together. Honestly, I was incredibly jealous of her. She was the first friend to have a baby after we lost Henry and I was so jealous she was going to have her baby. The same doctors, the same hospital, a little boy. I laid in bed for a few days and mourned for Henry again, 10 months after he died. At the time I felt so selfish. But now I know that I needed that grief to come at that moment, so that by the time Sam got here, I could put part of it behind me.

As I got that text saying Maija was here, Timshel by Mumford and Sons was playing in my car. I couldn't help but notice the lyrics and how fitting some of them were for the situation. Through my tears - many many tears - I listened to the words.
"And you are the mother.
The mother to your baby child,
The one to whom you gave life.
And you have your choices
And these are what make man great
His ladder to the stars
But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand."

I am still a very inexperienced mother. Although I believe I became a mother back in July of 2008 when I found out I was pregnant the first time, I technically only have11 months under my belt. And sometimes you do feel alone. I know I do. Being home with Sam all day. It can be lonely. When people say, "it takes a village" I think they are on to something. I know I couldn't be any kind of mother without the support of my village people. My friends, my family. I am so happy and proud to be a part of Larisa's village. None of us are alone in this. And our ladder to the stars? Well, that's just reminding us that something above us has a part in the life we create - new life as well as our own. I don't think it has a thing to do with religion, but having 2 miracles myself, I know a little bit about that ladder to the stars. I might not acknowledge it enough, but everyday I know it's there.

How lucky Sam is to already have his family extending more. Another cousin on the way due on my grandfather's birthday. I called my sister on Maija's birth day and told her I didn't think I could go through that anxiety again and I was going to need a Xanax prescription before she had the baby in June. Because I know I will go through the same excitement knowing that Kristin will soon know, too, that knock you on your ass kind of love. But as her sister I will stand and hold her hand, and welcome my niece or nephew to the village.

Welcome to the world, Maija Vivian. You are in excellent hands.

slap me

Well Phil is home from his ski trip. He is on crutches, but at least he is home. It was a challenging week for me, but it took until Friday to cry so I'm going to consider that a success. Sam, Daisy and I were all excited for him to be home. I think Daisy the most. I realized this week he really does take care of 90% of the things she needs.

Why crutches? A torn meniscus or at least thats what a Utah ER doc said. We'll have to follow up with an ortho here hopefully this week. When he first told me he hurt his knee, after saying he was ok but would be laid up for a while, I started thinking selfishly. I found myself annoyed. What an inconvenience it would be for me if Phil had to have surgery. What would I do? I did realize at the time that it wasn't ok for me to think these things. But I was on day 4 of 1:1 with Sam so I figured it had to be because of that. I couldn't really be that horrible a person to feel sorry for myself when Phil was the one injured, could I?

Yesterday afternoon as Sam finally napped and I patiently waited for Phil to come home, I sat at the computer and started checking my blogroll. I love reading other people's blogs. It's like getting to know someone intimately without ever meeting them. I checked in on my usual ones, about photography, interior design, mommyhood, etc. A week ago, a blog I follow made reference to another blog that I clicked on to read. I was overwhelmed by the honesty and heartbreaking reality that this family was going through. Written by a woman who is helping her husband through terminal cancer while taking care of their 2 small children, she is documenting so many details and emotions it became hard not to have an achy heart after reading her posts. I checked this blog yesterday afternoon and saw that he was in the hospital. I prayed for them to find peace and relief from the pain the whole family felt.

I have never met this family. Have never spoken to them. I know nothing about them, but at the same time feel like I know them enough to want to hold their hand and give them a hug and pray for everything to be ok.

I was angry with myself. How ridiculous was I? My husband was away for a week. Big deal?!? He was probably having a harder time than I was knowing how much he loves Sam. Phil was gone for a week and I was grumpy that he was coming home on crutches. Seriously. Instead of thinking how lucky it was that he didn't fall off a 9,000 ft high mountain and hit his head into a tree, I was thinking of the inconvenience to me. I started to look through the photos I took of Sam this week while he was away and wanted to get them together to show him what he missed. The moments of Sam chomping on a wooden spoon in an attempt to make his gums feel better. The naked butt shot while he stood at the door of the bathroom. Playing with his farm, and Daisy's head, and the swinging shutters. I started to write this blog post, but then Phil was home and I left the computer for the night. I was too excited to see him.

As I went back to continue this post today, I checked the Koop blog again just to see if there was an update. And there was. And I cried for them. Her husband was gone. The father of her children was gone. Her best friend was gone.

The slap in the face I needed to bring me out of my selfish cave and into reality I found in this family's tragedy. The bigger picture. And then I cried a little more for them.

He loves his daddy so very much.

This face cracks me up so incredibly much. Maybe because I can just picture him making this face when he gets older and knowing exactly what he is up to because it's the same face I make when I'm trying to get away with something silly. Love.

Want to know how big Sam is? He's so big.

And so tired.