A Little Light In A Dark World

I have never been a political blogger. Not only is it not my forte, but I strongly abhor the way it divides us as people – as cohabitors of the world that was uniquely created for us. But to ignore the events of Paris and Syria, bombings and starvation, religious riots and defiance against police across the nation…. I can’t do it. I can’t ignore the travesty that is occurring daily, despite my lack of insight or words to fix it.

So, to honor the events of late as simply as I can, this is my statement:

I am so very sorry. My heart is breaking for the thousands of victims and their families. I see the hurts, the pains, the fears, the losses. I see people pointing their fingers and others using their words as weapons in the midst of heartache. And although there is so very little I can say in all of this, I acknowledge your pain, and I am deeply, deeply sorry.

No matter on which political side we happen to fall, may we all stand together and recognize that human life is precious. Can we all remember that each life was created for a purpose – to be loved by its Creator and to accomplish things that only that life can? Is it alright to step outside of our own egos with their Rights and their Lefts flailing haplessly in the breeze of terror and join hands with one another in prayer for those that are literally losing everything?

If that is too much to ask, then it is you that I pray for this day.

Now, like I said, I’m no political blogger. So, let the following not negate the severity and immensity of what is happening in our world. Instead, allow me to help you step away from the raw and the tender for just one moment so that we can enjoy the greatness that is my baby dancing to Mo’ Soul.

Yes. You read that correctly.

Somehow, in my 18-month-old’s aim at greatness, he learned how to use the remote control to access the music channels on our TV. And let me tell you, he was not happy with any station other than the one entitled Mo’ Soul. Honestly, I’m not even sure what the apostrophe is standing for in this title, but what I DO know is that my very white child has enjoyed shaking his groove thang to it all morning long.

He may not look like he has a lick of soul in him, as evidenced by his lack of rhythm and poor vocal performance… but the boy has soul in his soul, and he’s not afraid to show it.

Please enjoy this little bit of light in a dark world. :)

October 23rd... Best Day of the Year

     You don't realize how much you need a purely lovely day until you wake up and it's right there, staring you in the face, inviting you to join the festivities. And today was that day. Despite having our family birthday party for him last weekend, Isaac's birth father suggested that we take Isaac for his actual birthday, which is today. Grateful for any extra second we get to spend with him, I promptly took the day off of work so that I could enjoy some needed one-on-one time with my little guy, doing the things that he loves to do. To top things off, today is not only Isaac's 1st birthday, but it's also the 1-year anniversary of Taylor's adoption. So, after sleeping in (just a little), I leisurely made my way downstairs and began prepping dinner and dessert for this evening... Taylor's favorite food is spaghetti, so I made a delicious spaghetti bake with glazed lemon pound cake to enjoy afterward. I felt very maternal and (gasp) organized as I did my prep work in the kitchen before the sun was yet awake. I EVEN multi-tasked by practicing the piano and choosing this week's worship songs as the meat browned the the smell of lemony goodness wafted towards me from the oven. I felt like writing, I felt like reading, and I didn't even feel like I needed a nap first! Having the house to myself, taking time away from work, and feeling productive doing things that I actually wanted to do, I realized an important thing: I was starting to feel like myself again. Actually, I was starting to feel like a better version of myself. (Afterall, that lemon cake was starting to smell way better than my old self! The aroma was so delicious, it had to be that of a Shivonne 2.0.)
     The next stage of this truly fantastic day was seeing my sweet boy's face as he came through the door in Pat's arms. Not having to wait an entire week to see him again was like magic. His big, toothy grin and slobbery kisses were all I needed to know that this day was going to keep getting better. As he crawled around, laughing at everything and playing with the balloons left over from his birthday party last weekend, we got our bags packed to head to the YMCA. (No, we had no intentions of working out... that's a task for Shivonne 3.0.) Instead, we headed to Isaac's favorite thing in the world.... the pool. If all babies like water, then THIS baby is a maniac for it! He'll splash anything he can from the shower, to the dog's water, to the toilet. Give this kid some water and you'll watch him go bonkers! And that's exactly what he did. We enjoyed 3 hours of splishing and splashing as Little Man made his way from pool to pool, saying "hi" to everyone he met, and laughing so much that he was easily the main attraction at the Y today. Chubbiness aside, I think he may actually turn into an excellent swimmer... he has, literally, no fear of the water, and he is willing to shove his face straight under without bothering to cry.... he pops his little head back up and there's nothing but smiles all over his wet face. He even naturally began to paddle his arms when Pat was holding him on his belly, moving him across the pool. Isaac was in his glory and so was this Mama.
     After a short nap, the kids arrive home from school and it was time to get the rest of the dinner finished. We had grandparents arriving to help us celebrate, so we tidied up while the kids entertained the baby with his new birthday toys. Together, we enjoyed a lovely meal as Taylor gobbled down her spaghetti bake and Cameron gagged down some salad. Even Baby Isaac discovered that spaghetti may very well be his new favorite food, just like Sissy! We scarfed down our dessert and then remembered something.... our beautiful day was ending. It was time for Isaac to go back home.
     Taylor began crying and I began getting irritable once again. As I shoved pots and pans back in their places and busied myself with the task of cleaning up from dinner, snapping at Cameron and Taylor as the arguing began once again, I realized that the gratefulness I had felt earlier this morning was being replaced by bitterness. If Isaac was ours, we wouldn't have to say goodbye week after week... we would know that we would get EACH birthday with him and not just hope for a weekend at a time. If I didn't have to go back to work tomorrow, I wouldn't have to do all these stupid dishes right now... I could sit down and do something to help me feel better about Isaac leaving. If this... If that... If only life were perfect... If only I were perfect...
     Maybe it's the pregnancy hormones. Maybe it's just the stressors of life. Whatever it is... it has to go. I am helpless to change these circumstances I feel so burdened by, which I know is part of the problem. (Feeling helpless is soooo Shivonne 1.0.) The circumstances will never be perfect, my life will never be perfect, and I (most certainly) will never be perfect. So once again, I find myself reaching for that hope that sometimes gets lost under piles of laundry and in tearful goodbyes. And I remind myself that today was a purely lovely day, and that each day must come to an end. Tomorrow may be more lovely or less lovely than the previous day, but it is still another day where hope will find me (because sometimes I'm too weak to do the searching).

Alien Invasion

     Babies are so cuddly. They're smiley and tiny and they just smell soooo good.... And then they projectile vomit and it makes you pretty much convinced that Sigourney Weaver is going to show up just in time to see the evil force of an alien emerge from your baby's stomach, because SURELY nothing that powerful and vile could come out of your small, sweet child. The laws of physics only allow such demonstrations of force when we look at the ant. One tiny bug can carry up to 50 times its own body weight.... and I'm pretty sure my little Bug has puked with at LEAST that much strength this weekend. 

     Another reason that I'm pretty sure my baby has an alien inside of him is the sheer amount that has come back out of him recently (take your pick which end). Since having the flu bug, Isaac really hasn't eaten much at all. So doesn't it seem just a tiny bit suspicious that he is capable of barfing enough to create his own milky kiddy pool? I mean SERIOUSLY! It made legit puddles around him! We're talking splashable, people!!! If nothing was put INTO my baby, nothing should be coming OUT of my baby.... unless another life form has taken over his digestive track.

     Those of you who get queasy easily may want to stop reading (but my guess is that those people probably stopped reading in the first paragraph).

     Let's talk about the diaper situation for just one minute. Now, I had other mommies tell me that baby poo gets worse.... much, much worse. And I get it. Kids grow, so does the poop. Kids squirm during diaper changes, poop gets squished into places it shouldn't. Makes sense. But holy crap! (that was a crappy pun....)  I was anticipating bigger poo in a few months or so, when the solid foods started. But sick baby poo is sooooooo much worse! Poor little man's diaper didn't stand a chance against this alien invasion (Ralph... let's just give him a name already... We all know he's in there!) The up-the-back incidents were the worst, really. My husband, who was lucky enough to have his own alien this week (we named him "Ooohhh God, WHY?!?", got the most of the Ralph And Isaac Show. He changed more diapers and, subsequently, outfits than anyone else. But the final encore was saved for us both. I fear that Ralph may have blown out the baby's bum hole, because there's just no way it could've gotten all the way up Isaac's back and onto his arms  any other way.

     And just as the weekend came to a close and we said goodbye to Ralph and Oooohh God, WHY?!?, I heard a knock on my own intestines. Guess who?

Sir Isaac Droolton

     After a rather "eventful" week, filled with out-of-control behavior (we have actually resorted to setting booby traps in our house.... if you visit, please, for your own safety, do not use our upstairs restroom), poor sleep, and the beginnings of a family-sized sinus infection for each of us, I am sad to report that baby Isaac is fully teething. Yes, that's right. Teething. Naturally, the only child that doesn't cause me daily migraines and pains in the ulcer is now drooling, chewing, weeping, inconsolably agitated, and needing to be held for about 23 hours of the day. Not that holding him matters... he still does all of the aforementioned actions, it's just that he does them with less force while being held. And it also gives the holder a fantastic arm and back workout (silver lining, glass half-full, eternal optimist- take your pick).
     Speaking of benefits to holding a teething baby, I'm going to do some research into the effects of baby drool on one's skin... although sticky at first, I noticed that my skin is incredibly soft after I wipe away the goo. Perhaps we've been holding the actual Fountain of Droolth for the past 5 months and didn't even know it! I think I'll attach small jars to his jowls (like saddle bags) and bottle up this skin-softening stuff.... Avon or even Clinique would probably pay top dollar for such a product (you can take your pick from Formula Scented and Chunky Vomit... bet you can guess which one exfoliates.) But right now, my chubbylicious little cherub is finally sleeping peacefully next to me (a dose of infant tylenol and two teething tablets later) and there's a puddle of the good stuff all over my freshly-washed sheets just to the side of his face. Like throwing money down the toilet, really.
     I was told by several parents that once the gums start aching, life will be rough for quite some time.... Mommies, say it ain't so! Tell me what your experiences have been and how long this stage generally lasts. But more importantly, what you do to make your little one more comfortable during this obviously terrible era for them? My little goober has moments of big smiles and laughs, but you can see it in his eyes that he's a little down in the mouth (ba-dum ching!). Any words of advice to make this Mommy's days and nights a little more tolerable and my little guy's gums a little less sore?

Castles and Babbles

     I thought that a good bonding experience with my daughter would be to include her in a girl's night out. This, however, did not go over well with my 6-year-old son, who felt that it was quite unfair to exclude boys from this event. So, I promised him a trip to the pet shop, just me and him, in order to stop his tears. Meanwhile, Little Miss Rub-It-In almost lost her special night by teasing her brother with the fact that he wasn't a girl and therefore couldn't come (well, that and the fact that she got into my hair products and decided that she'd put just about all of them into the back of her hair.... and then have the nerve to tell me that her hair "accidentally dragged in the spaghetti". Um, the BACK of your head dragged into a meal that we didn't even eat that day?? Very interesting.)

     But, after some much needed room time (for both of us), we left for our girl's night out, accompanied by one of my good friends. The three of us gals went to a castle for dinner.... because, let's be honest, what little kid wouldn't like to feel like they were in Cinderella's home, right? WRONG. My kid couldn't have cared less about armored knights, high ceilings, or gargoyle door knobs... What did Taylor like? The "cute baby high chairs" and the "magical bathroom". Obviously this bathroom does not have special powers.... but it absolutely made her night to be able to utilize the automatic flusher on the toilet (over and over and over) and to experience the luxuries of the automatic paper towel dispenser. In fact, I'm thinking of installing one in my own home... anything that will remind her to actually wash her hands after she pees is something worth the investment.

     Thoroughly worn out from her joyful bathroom experience, coloring on the kid's menu, and filling up on her spaghetti and french fries (yes, she finally got that mystery spaghetti I heard tell about), we arrived at home and I gratefully tucked two sleepy children into bed before beginning my evening routine with the little guy. Although I'm generally beat like a rug by this time of my day, I adore the fact that Isaac is wide awake and anxious to stare at my face, play with his limbs, and give me an occasional smile (you gotta work for these smiles, by the way... this kid don't give them away for free, that's for sure!). But this night, I was in for something special. Because Buggie is only 5 weeks old, he doesn't do a whole lot of talking yet (you know what I mean: babbling... it's not like I'm expecting Shakespearean monologues or anything). So, when I get the random coo from him, my heart skips a beat! That's why I spend a lot of our time together talking to him and using silly sounds to get his attention. I decided to take his hands and put them on his cheeks while saying "Isaac"... and then I would take his hands and rub them on my cheeks and say "Mama". I did this about 10 times with him, just staring into his little face, him staring back at me in full amusement. I completed this new game one last time, saying "Isaac" and putting his hands on his cheeks.... and just as I put his hands on my face, baby boy tightened up his body and belted out a very distinctive "MA!"

     Now, my head completely understands that, as a 5-week-old, my baby has no understanding of what he just said... but my heart TOTALLY didn't care. I jumped up so quickly that I startled him and almost made him cry (assuring that he will probably never do this again, due to my impulsive and accidental negative reinforcement!). But I was just so excited! And I decided that even though he probably doesn't register me as having a name or even being a person, just that crazy figure that talks weirdly to him and gives him food, I still think he's smart as the dickens for being able to mimic my language. However, my joy was short-lived, as Isaac promptly took a crap that required BOTH of us to need a bath... but the memory of him saying "Ma" will get me through even the crappiest of moments.