It all Comes Rushing Back

We are welcoming another baby into the family tomorrow!!!!!  Wyatt will finally no longer be alone.  His cousin, with the same initials, William Christopher is scheduled to be c-sectioned tomorrow at 8am.  I can hardly contain my excitement!!!  Emily went to have a sonogram this afternoon and they estimated the baby to be around 11lbs.  Evacuate Immediately!!  We will be on line to visit the little cherub precisely at the 1pm visiting hour.  I will post pictures as soon as humanly possible.

My small advice to Emily and Chris:  SLEEP!!  I am sure it is going to be damn well impossible for you to do that tonight with the impending birth of your son.  But Wyatt is now almost 17 months and I have yet to have a full nights sleep.  If I knew when I was going to have Wyatt, the night before would have been spent with the lack of sleep in mind.  Specifically, eating a gigantic dinner at some insanely expensive restaurant.  Then watching some crazy loud, gun toting movie.  Naked in bed.  Then sleeping until I heard his first cry.  Your world will change tomorrow.  Get ready for the wonder of it all.  

Car Washing with the Ladies

Peanuts and Crackerjacks

Mom, Dad, Terry, Wyatt, and I went to our first game at Citi field to see the Mets.  The age difference between Wyatt and my Dad considerable shrunk the closer we got to the baseball diamond.  It was like Dad regressed to an 8 year old receiving his first bike on Christmas morning.  I haven't seen him that happy and giddy since he shaved off his mustache.  I don't care much about baseball or keep up with anything.  I still say my favorite Met is Daryl Strawberry who hasn't played for them in about 20 years.  Its the only last name as a 5 year old that I could pronounce. And I still found myself caught in the hysteria of Citi Field, smiling myself stupid as we reached the pristine entrance.

Wyatt, of course, was amazing.  He freaked out a little when Terry and I were elbowing our way though the crowd to get in and security made Terry put Wyatt down so they could baton him.   This look of panic crossed Wyatt's face and was on the brink of tears thinking we might loose him.  As soon as he was safe back in Terry's arms, he was fine.  He was overall amazed by the lights, the grandeur, the french fries, and my Dad's Mets hat.  Wyatt refused to take the hat off the entire car ride in.  Every time I tried to take it off he would wake up from his car induced slumber and start crying.  A true fan at a year old.

After he got bored watching the game, Terry and I took turns running him around the grandstand.  Literally going from one side of the stadium to another.  I got the layout down, located every concession stand and bathroom, and probably saw more of Citi Field then Dad did.   When the fans started doing the wave around the stadium, of course we joined in.   It went completely around about 6 times before being stopped by a good play on the field.  Wyatt was thrilled and cracked up every time we jumped up in our seats.  God knows what he thought we were doing.  We stayed until the top of the 9th before deciding Wyatt was going to fall asleep standing up.  Once at the car, I got him into his pajamas guaranteeing he would be out in 2 seconds.  We reached our exit of the LIE, edging 11:45 pm, and he was still awake.  Ah, the excitement of your first ball game.

Happy Father's Day!!

Keep Knocking, No One's Home

I can't believe this is happening, again.  When Lizzy went for blood tests last week, it never crossed my mind that the virus might be back.  I never allowed myself to think it.  She has been hepatitis C free for over 2 months.  She has regained some semblance of a normal life.  She has become a teenager again, become a  regular senior in high school.  Hanging out with friends until all hours of the morning.  Participating in scavenger hunts, sleep outs, and cut days.  Simply enjoying being young and beautiful.  That is what life is suppose to be like for her.  Carefree, innocent, exciting, full of promise, and believing nothing bad could ever happen.

One phone call can change it all.  The virus is back.  She has two basic options.  Go back on her horrific treatment (that landed her sick, taking 3 weekly injections, on the couch watching awful TV not having the strength to move) for another year, during college no less. (Hi new roommates!  I brought the microwave and a duffel bag of syringes!!) Or wait until 2011 when a new treatment is suppose to be launching but risk letting the virus eat away at her liver, while living with knowing you are sick and doing nothing about it.  She gets to asks questions on her doctors appointment on Monday.  She is going to Loyola in Baltimore in the fall.  Baltimore is not far, but far enough.  This is her summer before college.   Graduation is next weekend.  Prom is coming up.  Why now?  Why her?  Why again, so soon?  Hasn't she been through enough?  But there is no one to blame.  Sometimes life just sucks for no rhyme or reason.  There would never be a good time.  No one deserves this.

I wish that I could do it for her.  That I could be the sick one so she can go enjoy college.  I feel so bad for her.  No, that doesn't even begin to cut it.  I feel overwhelmed for her.  Everyone is so upset.  I know it will be fine.  Out of our family, she is the one who can handle this.  She is stronger then anyone gives her credit for.  I know its not the worse news.  Its a setback in the fight.  She's going to be fine.  I'm being melodramatic.  But when bad news comes to your family, to someone that you love, it is hard to see any good.  To see any silver lining.  To feel anything but emptiness.  I want to bathe in alcohol but thats unfair because Lizzy can't drink.  Destined to be the designated driver for the rest of her life.  I want to grieve, to black out the windows, and wallow in bad movies.  Maybe we'll all just go smoke up.  It's been a bad day.

Trading Babies

Terry has been home for about three months now.  He comes in and out, traveling every few weeks but is never gone for long.  Wyatt and Terry's relationship has blossomed due to the consistency.  Wyatt trusts Terry, looks to him for comfort and safety, runs to him with his outstretched arms to be picked up.  Wyatt has made the connection between Terry and Dad.  Its adorable really.  Sometimes when they're playing together I just want to sit back and watch.  Watch how differently Wyatt plays with Terry compared with me.  No matter how tom-boyish I am, I will never be able to play like a boy.

As Wyatt's comfort level has grown so has my own.  As long as Wyatt is happy and content so am I.  Its nice having an extra set of hands to help.  So, when I was left with Wyatt one day, car-less, and needed to run up to the church my first natural call was Terry.  We made a plan for Terry to come over to watch the baby for a few hours while I took Terry's car to zip around town.  Seems like a  pretty normal happening, right?!  Wrong.  This was a monumental leap of faith and trust on both of our sides.

The first issue was Terry loaning me his car.  Terry's car is fairly new, only purchased a few months ago and a 6-speed to boot.  Since he moves around a lot, his Jeep has become this makeshift home that he is Very attached to.  That might be an understatement.  If Terry had to choose between food and his Jeep, he would without a doubt choose his Jeep.  The next issue was that I haven't driven a 6-speed in about 5 years.  Besides, Terry thinks I am a horrific driver even though I am the one with the squeaky clean driving record.  The last issue was I that I still getting kinda twitchy about leaving Wyatt.  I'm not nervous.  Thats not it.  Its more that I get worried that Wyatt's going to hurt himself and I'm not going to be there to give him a big hug.  Or what happens if Wy is looking for me and can't find me?  Will he think I abandoned him?  And I just miss him.  Plain and simple.

So, the three of us are in the driveway.  Wyatt in Terry's arms as I am settling into the Jeep's front seat.  Terry is explaining about how I shouldn't need the 6th speed and if I do, I am going too fast.  That the registration is in the glove compartment.  That I better not burn out the clutch.  I am trying to pay attention but we are talking over each other as I tell Terry that he better take good care of Wyatt.  Take him for a walk down the beach.  Remember his hat and sunscreen.  Sit with him and watch the Backyardigans if he gets antsy.  There are goldfish crackers in the cabinet and apple juice in the fridge.  And whatever you do don't forget the lovey blanket.  As I pulled away, all I could think is how comical the situation was.  How Terry and I were both nervous about the next few hours.

When I got home about 2 hours later, Wyatt was playing happily with Terry in the kitchen completely indifferent to my presence.  Actually, I think Wyatt was kinda mad that I was home.  He gave me this look of "Ohh, its you."  I, thankfully, didn't stall out and remembered how to drive stick in a flash.  But when Terry got back in his car that afternoon, he noticed two check engine lights that hadn't been on before I took her out for a spin.  Somehow I managed I disrupt the balance and deflate the tires going all of 15 miles.  Clearly, Terry had more to worry about than I did.  A lesson I am sure he will remind me of the next time he babysits.

My First Mohawk, the First of Many

As Wyatt grows so does his resemblance to Rebecca as a baby.  It really is uncanny.  The picture below is Rebecca many moons ago.  Seriously they have the same hair.  If I didn't give birth to him myself I would swear that Rebecca was his mother.

Next, Bubbles!

This is typical meal time with this little man. I love that he "blows" on his food. It really doesn't matter if its hot. He will blow on ice cream before he eats it. I think it is the cutest thing. Then at the end, I literally start choking and Wyatt starts laughing at me. At least someone thinks I'm funny. Enjoy!

16 Months

Bugsy,

Every new stage you get to, I swear that this is my favorite stage. At 6 months, it was the best. At 8 months, it was the best. At 10, 11, 12. I keep on wondering when I will get to an age and think yeah this stinks. 13 years maybe? 16? But until we get there, you can't even imagine how much fun you are. You are growing more independent by the second and imitating everything you see. I am going to have to start watching what I say or spelling everything like Mary did. Mary was still spelling when I was 16, when saying shit and spelling s-h-i-t was understood as the same word. I think it just became a habit but I used to think it was so silly and now I totally understand. You love to take your juice cup and clink glasses. Actually saying "cheeesrs". I can't even possibly imagine where you would pick something like that up. I won't point any fingers but my guess is Lizzy.

Anyway, you are still sleeping in my bed every night and I have entirely given up on regaining my bed anytime before kindergarden. You used to be so nice to have in bed, all cuddly and warm. But more recently you are getting too comfortable. You are the biggest bed hog I have ever known. Seriously, there are nights when I am literally falling out of our queen size bed because you are strewn parallel across the whole thing usually with your feet in my face. You have landed several roundhouse kicks around 4 a.m at which point I jump awake looking for our killer only to find your tiny foot wedged into my neck. No matter how I try to keep you on your side it never works. You have gotten so used to falling asleep in 'Mommy's Big Bed' that anyone who is putting you to sleep needs to crawl in bed with you, naps included, cuddle up and read you some books until you fall asleep. Only once you are asleep can you be moved to your crib. My favorite part about you sleeping in my bed are the mornings. You take a while to wake up but once you decide its time you sit straight up and start poking me. You search in the covers for my belly button to laugh at or shove you little finger in my nose or eyes. We lay around, laughing, until absolutely necessary. It is my favorite time of day.

You absolutely LOATHE getting your diaper changed. It is the worst possible baby torture that you can think of. If you are naked and I even attempt to pick you up to bring you in our room, it is instant hysterics. You have certainly got your fake crying down. It is beginning to make me think I need to start potty training you. You understand when you are peeing quite well. After the bath, you find it hilarious to go straight to the den and pee on the rug. At first I did think it was quite funny. Its getting old now. Seriously, how can I convince Gammy and Grandpa to let us get a dog if you are peeing all over the house? You will even grab the towel and try to clean it up. We tell you Not to do pee-pee on the rug then you literally make your face red trying to push some out. But you seem to get shy around the toilet. Its not that your scared, you love the flush, but you don't like sitting because I don't think you understand why your sitting to pee. I am thinking that over the summer I am going to let you run around naked on the back deck with your little training potty close by. That way it doesn't matter what you pee on. Is 16 months too early for boys? I have no idea.

I was watching you run around in the back yard today simply admiring how amazing you are. I really don't have enough adjectives to describe you. You seem to have this light radiating off of you. Sometimes I wonder if I am the only one who sees it but the way people gravitate to you I don't think its just me anymore. You are this magnet. This really funny magnet too. Now that you realize your actions make me laugh, you try to do it all the time. You'll try and push me over, or put on my sandals, or force me to eat 12 hundred blueberries, or make funny faces with your string cheese. You crack me up, quickly brighten my day, and cheer up any bad mood.

I love you, everyday.

Your momma

Feel the Joy