I Know I'm No Photographer...

I know I'm no photographer, but these are some pretty cool pics!  I took these standing under a play structure at Chastain Park.  The metal platform Jack was standing on has holes in it, and I surprised him by sticking my finger up through the hole and wiggling it around like a puppet.  He thought it was hysterical, of course! 

It was Valentine's Day, and it was beautiful outside!  The sky was blue and the sun was warm and bright.  We were spending the afternoon with friends, and Jack was having a blast!  My favorite thing about moments like this is that I know I won't forget them because I have these pictures.  Isn't that why we take pictures?  To capture the memories we want to treasure and hold onto?  I know I take way too many, but with digital cameras and instant gratification it is just so easy, and with a subject like my little Jack-Bo, well, I can't help it.  I love to look back and see what details from our adventures I have trapped into that little rectangular box.

I know I don't have the best camera, but mine is small and convenient, fitting easily into my pocket or purse.  I love that it also records videos.  I typically carry it in our backpack diaper bag, and it serves an awesome purpose by being available and ready to work at precisely the moment I need it to.  Yes, some of my pics are blurry, and I often have lighting issues, but this isn't a career for me; it is simply a way for me to document my child's life, a way for me to remember each stage of his development, a way for me to watch him grow over and over and over again.

I love it.

And I love it more because I love him.

Time-Out Walk

It was a gorgeous day.  I spent it inside, in the only part of my office suite that does not have windows, and with my nose buried hard into the computer screen as I played catch up on my work from all the time I missed while sick with the flu and training a new co-worker at a different office location.  I was beyond busy.  I think I accomplished nearly two-thirds of what was my goal.  I even stayed a half hour longer.  Bah-humbug.

As I was leaving I decided that I would go home and quickly change and take my favorite person and 2 dogs for a walk in this perfect spring-like weather.  I was excited.  My mood was intense, my senses were all electric from the sunshine and mild breeze-induced giddiness.  When I got home I immediately got ready and asked Jack-Bo if he wanted to go outside on a walk.  "Okay," he said, but he thought I meant outside onto our deck.  I tried to tear him away from the balcony door to put his shoes on, and he willfully resisted.  I then tried to reason with him and explain that if he wanted to go outside we had to put on his shoes.  Somehow we managed that, but in the midst of it all he wanted to both blow bubbles and ride his 4-wheeler.  I was all set to take myself, a toddler, 2 dogs, a 4-wheeler and bubbles out for a little adventure in the condo parking lot, when while trying to open the front door, Jack slammed it in my face.  He laughed hysterically and said "bye-bye" as the door swung closed.  I opened it, and he proceeded to do it again.  I asked him if he wanted to go outside, and he ran to the deck door again.  Communication failure once more.  Then I started to bring the dogs in (on their leashes) and push the 4-wheeler back inside with my foot when he raced back to the front door yelling "bye-bye" and slammed it yet again.  This time I had no more patience.  I became deflated.  My feelings were hurt.  I opened the door, shoved the bubble-holding 4-wheeler back into the foyer and called out to my husband that I was going for a walk and Jack was on the deck.  Then I left.  By myself.  Well, with the dogs.

As I was walking my mind was racing.  I thought about why I was feeling grumpy.  I thought about all the things I need to do today, tomorrow, next week and beyond.  I thought about the books I've been reading and how British authors are comical.  I thought about the pretty day, about the sun in my eyes, and where were my sunglasses?  I even thought about how I really need to remember to bring doggy poop bags when I walk, as it seems I continuously fail to do this at the times when one of them decides to go on the sidewalk. 

I also prayed.  I ran through my prayer list and prioritized and started speaking out loud, having a one-way conversation with God.  I thought about all of my blessings and how lucky I am.  I thought about my child and my husband and how we have struggled for over 2 years and 3 months now in this economy.  I thought about how I wish to be more motivated to take care of myself and my body, to exercise and eat more healthily. 

I thought about how peaceful it was in the neighborhood I was travelling.  I started to feel good and refreshed as I walked on.  I thought about how my dogs were enjoying the quiet as much as I, how with just the 3 of us, there was little to no talking, just me to God and to myself, and occasionally a "c'mon" to them. 

In the end I realized that all of these little random thoughts compounded into one message my mind was trying to tell me: I needed this. 

I needed this time to myself, this me-time, this quiet, this peace.  I needed these few moments to build back up my energy and replenish my spirit which had been temporarily stifled with the slamming of the door.  I needed this privacy, this personal attention from myself and to myself, this serenity, this self soothing comfort.  I needed me. 

As I crossed the street one last time and headed back toward the condo gate I told myself when I go inside I will feel different.  My night will be different.  I will BE different.  I will be better.

I'm not so sure I succeeded.  I think maybe I worked myself all up to expect that a simple little stroll could have such an immediate effect on my mood and overall aura.  Tonight I was wrong.  I wasn't my best self.  Still, I am certain I needed that walk.  I am certain I need to do that more often.  Maybe the little bit of relief I had during that walk is building up like fat stores in my arteries, and if I continue they will eventually fill to the point of exploding, and then serenity will flow in abundance through my veins. 

Maybe I just had a bad night.  Maybe Mommy needed a time-out.  Maybe tonight my happiness stars shone a little less brightly b/c they were competing with the moon that Daddy hung and the clouds that were reflecting off it.

Regardless, I want to walk again, by myself, maybe once a week.  Hmmn...  

true love

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Jack: 18 Months - The Most Beautiful Boy in the World

His hair is soft honey.  It smells sweetly of coconut and fresh towels dried with Bounce.  His golden curls pour generously over his ears gathering in a billowy mess across the base of his neck and drawing out the shape of his broad, yet toddler-sized shoulders.  He stands tall for his age, solid and sturdy, yet trim and more boyish than babyish.  His legs are long and bowed, just like his Daddy's, and his hands and feet are large and proportionate to his build.  He is no longer a baby, but he is my baby.

His eyes are wide and round, mostly a smoky blue with a dark defined line around each iris that enhances their brightness.  The color changes in certain lighting, and sometimes they appear gray or even green like mine.  He has big, deep pupils, also like mine, that let in too much light and make it seem like he is zoning out when he is actually focusing on something intently.  He already has little squint lines, and he will probably love sunglasses when he understands their purpose.  His eye lashes are a dirty blond and long and straight.  They are beautiful; he is beautiful.

As he is getting bigger, his once unblemished skin, so delicate and pure, is taking a beating.  Scrapes and scratches, bumps and bruises, all normal for curious and fearless little boys, appear sporadically depending on the day's activities and accidents.  He has one pinhead freckle on the center inside of his left calf, about 2 inches below the pea-sized upside-down-heart-shaped pink birth mark near the fold of his knee.  His chest reveals another, only a tad darker, smaller and of no defined shape while a round one adorns the bicep of his right arm, this one light in color and eerily identical to one of his Daddy's.  The small linear nevus he had on his scalp above his right ear is covered by his luscious locks and the stork bite on his spine at the top of his neck has faded.

His face is smooth with soft features and rosy cheeks.  The cold weather dries them out a bit, so we rub in a little Aquaphor there and under his button nose every night after his bath.  He is the spitting image of myself as a toddler, same mischievous smile and pouty, red lips, same slender neck and tiny, slightly protruding chin.  It is uncanny how he can so strongly resemble his mother and yet still be the most beautiful boy in the world.  His expressions are different though; when he is deep in thought, concentrating, or battling frustration he looks just like his Daddy, who was the 2nd cutest boy in the world.

His alter-ego, Destructo Dan, is a double dose of payback for all the years of joyous torture we gave our own parents; but Jack himself is the sweetest, most charming little angel with the kindest heart and friendliest nature.  He says "hiya" or "heyyo" to nearly everyone in passing, and if his greeting is reciprocated he will either flirt with his shy smile or scrunch up his face with his silly one.  Both Jack and D-Dan are willful and crazy smart, and welded together they make up my precious little Jack-Bo, a spirited, spunky, intrepid adventurer.  He is daring and brave, a natural thrill-seeker, already appearing athletically inclined and physically advanced.  His heart is gentle and loving.  He gives kisses generously, and he is undeniably the best "spooner" I have ever had.  At night he cuddles close and wraps his arms tightly around whichever one of us lays with him in his bed until he falls asleep.  Jack-Bo is my little cherub champion. 

Jack-Bo loves making "cookies" out of Play-Do.  He gets excited every time he hears a train and he points at every airplane.  It is funny how those things don't even register in my mind until he points them out to me; it is like a back-to-basics lesson in observation.  He loves balls and knows the difference between football and basketball; even though we went to all the Falcons home football games, he seems fascinated with basketball on TV.  He loves going to the zoo with Mommy; his favorite part is the petting zoo where he hugs and kisses the goats and pigs in between brushing them and patting them firmly.  He understands when something is "hot, hot," although he seems to use the same logic to identify any kind of danger zone, and typically it doesn't stop him anyway.  He loves to be outdoors.  He loves playgrounds and hikes and walking the dogs.  He holds Tug's leash now and knows not to let go.  He uses a spoon and fork and he pretty much only wants to feed himself now, so meals are messy, but he is a great eater who enjoys a variety of foods and is so far not picky at all.  Currently his favorite foods are hummus, broccoli and "fruities."

He is talking up a storm now, mostly in a language only we (and those closest to him) can understand.  He says some common phrases such as "I'm thirsty" or "Here ya go" and even "I love you," and he knows "Thank you" and uses it at the right times.  He tries to repeat words when we say them, but often only our intonation is matched while the phonetic sounds are somewhat off.  Sometimes repeating the word over and over actually makes him try too hard; he typically says it more clearly the first time before we attempt to drill it into his brain.  Pushy parenting at its finest.  His vocabulary is certainly expanding rapidly though.  Some of his newest words are broccoli (bok-ee), okay (oikee), and today he said "happy" repeatedly and perfectly.  It seems every day he adds at least one new word into his memory bank, and soon I am sure we will be unable to remember what it was like before he could talk.  Just like we don't remember our lives before him.

Not a day goes by that I am not thankful for my son.  He is absolutely perfect just the way he is.  He brings me immeasurable joy, and my heart is overflowing with the love I feel for him and from him.  Gratitude is a word I truly understand now, and no matter what hand I have been dealt elsewhere in my past, the cards all led up to this moment, this life, this mother of this perfect child. 

Tonight, as I tucked him into his bed, with no covers b/c he hates them, I kissed him and said "I love you, Jack," to which he responded "happy."  Then he smiled and puckered up to kiss me back.  My child is happy.  I am happy.  Happiness is something we can't buy.  It is often fleeting, and sadly, when we have it we can't bottle it up and store it for later.  For some it is a never-ending quest, the pursuit of happiness, all part of the classic American dream...but for me, it is not a dream.  It is real...as real as the stars, even when occasionally hidden by a cloudy night.  For me, happiness is ever present...b/c after all, I am "Mommy" to the most beautiful boy in the world. 

When ____________ Gets in the Way

Fill in the blank. 

Plans get ruined.  Parades get rained on.  Ideas get knocked down.  All b/c something gets in the way.  Well folks, for me this week's "blank" was the flu.  I went to bed Monday night feeling a little uncomfortable and woke up Tuesday morning feeling miserable.  To be safe, I took myself to the doctor just in case I needed an antibiotic, which I have not had since long before I was even pregnant, waited in the lobby for about 45 minutes, and paid my $25 co-pay all to be sent right back home with a handout titled "General Treatment for a Cold or the Flu."  So Ibuprofen and over-the-counter nasal spray it is while I just let the flu run its course.

So my flu inconvenienced a lot of people.  I was supposed to train a new hire at work this week, but someone else had to take the reins since I wasn't there.  My MIL had plans to take Jack to spend time with his cousins, but the risk of flu exposure squashed that, and tonight, my nephew was in a musical at school that I had to miss.  I have not left my home since Monday, except to go to the doctor, and I will be stuck here again tomorrow.  At least I know I am getting better b/c I am feeling up to writing for the first time this week, so that has to be a good sign.

The thing is, lots of times the "blank" isn't so much a something as much as it is a someone.  The date who doesn't let you pick the movie, the driver who cuts you off and makes you miss your turn, the friend who steals your boyfriend, etc.  And there are more significant examples too of course, like the spouse who undermines your authority as a parent or the grandparent who lets your child get away with behavior you find unacceptable.  Yeah, yeah, we all want our kids to LOVE us.  We all want to be the good guy, the favorite, and no one ever wants to be the one who says "no," who puts the kid to bed, who forces him to get dressed or have his diaper changed.  No one wants to be on the receiving end of the juvenile punching bag b/c it hurts catastrophically when your child chooses someone else over you b/c you had to put your foot down, enforce a rule or just plain deny them of something they want, especially when everything you do is out of concern for what they NEED. 

So a lot of times we give in.  We give in to the guilt, we give in to our own selfishness, we give in to the frustration we feel when something isn't going as planned, when ________ gets in the way.

In a marriage, even between two partners who are overall loving and supportive, it is often near impossible to control every impulse to not react poorly when one partner creates what is perceived as an imbalance by the other one.  That imbalance can be as simple as a casual interruption during a conversation or as complex as a complete disagreement over something relating to your child.  And as a relatively new parent, it is even harder to demonstrate self control habitually, especially if you have been living your whole life with a tell it like it is philosophy.  The truth is, even honesty typically requires a filter in order to achieve a level of humaneness.  But that isn't really where I am trying to go with this.

As parents, we have to be better than we were before we were parents.  I personally do not know anyone who has ever said they wanted to suck at parenting.  I know there are lots of sucky parents out there, but there are also gazillions of amazing parents who think they suck b/c their toddler is going through a tantrum-throwing stage or their mother thinks they shouldn't use time-out for their children, or their so called friends don't understand why it is so hard to wean a 16-month old, or b/c an online article convinces them that if their child isn't self soothing himself to sleep everynight that he is destined to be in therapy as an adult.  No matter what "blank" gets in the way of our confidence, it is our duty as parents to make decisions, even the hard ones, and inevitably sometimes we will be wrong.

Part of the choices we make are in our reactions when _______ gets in the way of our ideal situation.  Giving in to the frustration by fighting in front of our kids or behaving like kids ourselves over it is surely not a way to be a better parent.  But it is HARD WORK to be a parent, and it takes a lot of lessons.  I am convinced that is why God made kids not have super early memory retention; it offers up a sort of do-over that can be initiated every so often if you have found a mistake has been consistently made and wish to correct it before it becomes ingrained in your child's own behavior.  Of course once you notice the problem it is twice as hard to reverse, but at least you have an opportunity to do so before they can remember and call you out on your complete behavioral U-turn.

For example, we are trying to teach Jack to be respectful of our animals and treat them gently.  If he sees us spank or yell at the dogs, we are sending him the message that it is okay to do so (and he can't exactly tell if and when they are deserving of such punishment).  By recognizing it now, we can be more constructive with our doggy discipline by choosing tactful words like "be quiet" or "hush" as opposed to the ever-so-popular "shut-up" we have previously said that never really hurt a dog's feelings but comes across quite harshly to a child.  Luckily, if we make this change NOW, we are going to get a do-over b/c Jack is young enough to adopt our new and improved tactics.

Of course this same personal theory only applies if there has not been any damage or actual trauma to the child.  I certainly don't think abusers should get do-overs, and I don't think that my little lack of early memory retention concept gives us an excuse to be rotten or make intentionally bad decisions.  I just think for the occasional general parenting screw-up, the stupid fight in front of the baby, the overreaction to when ________ gets in the way, it is lucky that our kids forgive us and grant us another shot by continuing to learn from our example, even when we change the example we set for use of a better one.      

Now, as I sit here writing I think about all the do-overs I wish I could have, even just in the last half hour.  I am far from perfect.  I want to improve.  Each night I pray to God for guidance, and I wake up every morning intending to make a fresh start.  Each new day is a do-over in some way or another. 

So when __________ gets in the way, just try your best to remember that tomorrow is a new day, a chance for a do-over, an opportunity to become a better person than you were today...if not for yourself, for your partner, for your child, or for the world. 

The Sting of Rejection...

(The following blog post took me two nights to complete.)

I fully expected to come home and blog about how excited I am that Jack is starting preschool in the fall, that his two half-days per week there will immensely enrich his life with structure, more socialization, and education, and how truly comfortable Brett and I are with the school we have chosen b/c it is safe, nurturing and loving with a curriculum we fully support.

But the acceptance letter I so eagerly awaited and immediately opened from today's mail squashed my enthusiasm...b/c it was not an acceptance letter at all.  Instead it was a "thank you for applying" notice with a little side note that stated in the kindest way possible that Jack's lottery number did not get picked.  As fate would have it there is no availability for him in the 2-year old program for the 2011/2012 school year; he is now part of the wait list, and his wait list number is 15.  That means that 15 kids have to withdraw their admission request from that specific program in order for my child to have a chance for one coveted spot.  My heart is still sinking...

No, there was no interview, no evaluation, no baby IQ test or family background check.  There was no indicator that Jack would not fit in there or any sort of personal reference to Jack at all...except that he was just a random number...unlucky this time in that his number did not get picked. 

So why, in a completely fair and just system where all applicants get the same consideration, where everyone's number has the same potential to get drawn, where the only thing against you is the randomization that makes it fair in the first place do I feel this amplified sting of rejection?

Is it b/c I only want the best for my son and now I am torn between my belief that this IS the best vs. my typical mantra of everything happens for a reason?  Or is it b/c I failed to recognize this was even a possibility, neglecting what should have been a prioritized due diligence maneuver.  Or maybe it has more to do with my own insecurities and selfish feelings of everything is about me, and somehow it is my fault this has happened.  [End of Night 1]

[Night 2] Oh wait, I know why...b/c it has to do with MY CHILD!  Apparently once you become a parent, any and every little feeling having to do with said kid is like a feeling on steroids: blown up, irrational, aggressive, and overly intense.  It doesn't matter that this is out of my control or anyone's for that matter, but rather it only matters that MY CHILD was denied something of which he is more than deserving, and who the hell are these people to deprive MY CHILD of the best the world has to offer?

Okay, okay, so I am being a bit extreme.  Really, what it all boils down to is that it hurts when you want something FOR your child and it doesn't happen.  The let down you feel on your child's behalf is pretty deep.  It is no longer just about you, but now you have this other person, and when something doesn't happen the way it "should" for him, well, it just hurts you in your heart.

But, I am not a mother who believes life is fair.  I believe in keeping score (in team sports at least!).  You can't win all the time.  Of course if you play fair and try your best you can always have a winning spirit, but the truth is, it sucks to lose and it is okay to be bummed about it (as long as you are kind and still respectful to others).

So where does that leave me today?   Well the 1st choice preschool director gave me some hope by replying to my questions very honestly.  Turns out we may not need a full 15 kids to drop their spot b/c some of those who DID make the cut may have been accepted elsewhere, and that "elsewhere" may be their parents' first choice.  So what she is saying is we still have a chance.

The other good news is that my 2nd choice preschool has what was described to me as a "short" waiting list, and I was encouraged to apply immediately, which I did already today.  Now it is just a waiting game.  I have faith that one of these schools will come through for us.  If by the time the 1st tuition payment is due we do not have a spot at either school, I will move on to plan C...which is yet to be masterminded.

Guess I need to get on that...just in case.