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

Huck Finn

This is perhaps my favorite picture at the moment.  I think it is the combination of his bare tip toed feet and that you can feel his adventure.  Absolutely gorgeous!

The Future of My Ears

This was Wyatt's idea of a good time last night.  Do I foresee drumming in his future?  Also, he is wearing his new blazer that I just bought him for Lizzy's high school graduation.  I had to try it on as soon as I got it out of the box.  He is officially the cutest baby on the planet...

Swing on a Star

Nancy Drew I'm Not

It being my second mother's day with a son that still can't talk, I wasn't expecting much.  So when a box from 1800 Flowers arrived on my doorstep on Thursday I got quite excited.  Thats an understatement.  I was smiling the entire way home like a jackal.  I assumed they were from my friend Bree who works there.   Everyone who knows me uses our family florist unless they are getting a discount somewhere else like Bree would.  When I open the box the card reads: "Happy Mother's Day.  Take time to relax.  You deserve it!"  No signature.   And like most things I start to over think.

What if there not from Bree?  Could I have a secret admirer?  Would Terry actually send me flowers?  I highly doubt that.  Could they be from Bree's friend Ryan that I have been seeing a lot lately?  Would he really be that forward since he doesn't have my address?  That would take a lot of effort for a guy.  They really had to be from Bree.  So, I call her and of course, because its a flower emergency, she doesn't pick up.  I try to be patient and put it out of my mind.  We all know that patience is not my strong suit.  About 30 minutes later, I can't stand the suspense any longer and call Terry.  I am pretty positive that it wasn't him but figure that I would call him first and then cross him off my list of suspects.  Turns out I was right.  Terry roars into a cackling laugh and responds with "Why would I send you flowers?!  If I was going to get you anything it would be Carvel.  We all know thats your favorite."  Right, moving on.

Back to Bree.  If she would just pick up her damn phone.  But what if they are from Ryan through Bree.  Obviously because I want them to be from Ryan it seems like an entirely acceptable explanation.  I wait for another hour.  Then in a moment of stupidity, impatience, and a false sense of confidence I decide I'm calling Ryan.  Yeah, not from him either and now I feel like a COMPLETE moron.  He goes "I should have sent you flowers."  No, he shouldn't have and he didn't and now I have made him feel guilty for NOT sending me flowers.  Why does this only seem to happen in my world.  Secret admirer is still an option (although I am starting to doubt that since my first two choices blew up in my face) and I now have no choice but to wait for Bree to find her phone.  After another hour, I become impatient again and call 1800 Flowers but they can't tell me unless the sender gives permission.  Great.

Turns out my infamous bunch of tulips are from Bree and I find this out officially at 9PM (!!!) when she finally calls me back.  I feel like an idiot for about 12 reasons.  Firstly, what kind of person calls every guy in her phone to find out that a girl sent her flowers?  Thats a classic I only believe what I want to believe quandary.  Secondly, I receive a gorgeous vase arrangement from Mom's Florist on Saturday.  This time they where from Ryan.  I guilted this boy into sending me mother's day flowers.  He swears he was going to do it anyway but I cry bullshit to that.  He called around to find out which florist was my families then assumed that they would have my address.  Very cute but I still feel like a royal idiot for literally FORCING him to buy me flowers.  Thirdly, by including Terry in on my flower hunt I have given him another reason to laugh at me.  As if he needs another reason.  I will end with: Fourthly, I guilted Terry into getting me a rather lovely, unexpected, and thoughtful gift mother's day as well.  He also got me and my entire family Carvel on Thursday night.  On the whole, despite my shortcomings as the next Nancy Drew, it was a very good Mother's day.  Flowers and ice cream, what more to life is there?!

Scratch that Itch, Scratch it.

Traditionally after about living in a place for about a year, I start looking for greener pastures. I don't know why but it has been like clockwork for me starting around 2000. First it was from LI to NJ, then to NYC, then to England, then back to NYC, then to Astoria, then to SC, and now my latest move back to LI. I have been home now for over two years. Longer then I have lastest in most places. I think that with so much change in my life I didn't need another change. Pregnancy and Wyatt have kept me stationary. But more recently, I have been thinking alot about moving. Nothing drastic. Just moving out. 

I love living at home. I really do. I love coming home to a full house of people. I don't think I could ever live by myself.  I just wasn't built like that. I love having help with Wyatt.  I love that Wyatt has a team of people that he trusts and loves. In a lot of ways, I feel like I have my cake and am eating it too.  I can be a single mom and have live-in babysitters that allow for spontaneity.  Have adult responsibility in child raising but not house owning.  Have one-on-one bonding time with Wyatt and be able to take little moments of me time when the house is full of people.  It works for me.

And there are things that are not working for me.  Like the insane lack of privacy.  Or the overflowing fountain of questions every single day.  Or that no matter how amazing my relationship with my parents I am still living in their house, with their rules, and their decor.  (Mom and I have a very similar sense in style so decor usually is not a problem.  But lately the living room wallpaper is my sole reason to move out.  It hurts me.  It hurts my soul.)  I am a very independent person, almost to a fault, but living with my parents makes me feel like a child.  My parents motivation enables me to be lazy.  If I was living on my own I would have to mop the floors, pick up toys, take out the trash, mow the lawn, etc, etc, etc.  At home, I know that if I wait long enough someone else will do it.  I'm not proud of it, just a fact.  While I live at home, I remain a child in a lot of respects.

I know there will come a time when I am motivated enough to move on and start my own family.  I know that Wyatt and I are a family but we are members of a larger household at the moment.  To live in a home of my own with a distinct separation from my parents but a life that still includes them would be entirely different.  I really don't know how to phrase it right.  Maybe if I never lived on my own before I wouldn't know the difference or care.  But I have lived on my own.  I know what independence and responsibility feel like and I do not shy away from that.  Besides I like nesting and building a home for myself from the ground up.  

Now that this seed of moving has been planted I can't stop thinking about it and the questions that are rising to the surface.  Like how would moving affect Wyatt?  He is used to having 5 people doting on him at any given moment what happens when that is reduced to one.  Will he constantly be wondering when the rest of his family will come home?  Will he be bored with just me?  Will I go crazy from my only interaction being with a toddler?  Will I ever get a minute of peace?  Will I be terrified?  I can just envision Wyatt running into my room after having a nightmare and me screaming to lock the door.  And the more positive questions like: will I finally get my bed back?  Its endless really.  I could go on for hours.

I adore my parents and am not eager to leave them just eager to gain some of my former independence.  They mean the world to me and no matter how far I have traveled or will travel I will always talk to my mom at least once a day.  Even if its just to talk about the weather.  I couldn't imagine moving far from them.  Maybe just down the road, 15 minutes tops.  I think I need to give myself a goal.  I would like to say in the next 10-15 months.  That seems reasonable for me to get my anxiety under control.  In the meantime, I might paint the living room and be done with the God awful wallpaper. That should hold me over.