Mama's new room

 

Elvis and I have lived in our apartment for nearly 5 years now. It's a great place in a small, quiet complex near all the neccessary amenities in town. It was almost too big when it was just the 2 of us, but when Henry was born the walls started to close in. The two most cramped places in our house are the kitchen (plenty of counter space, not nearly enough storage space) and the laundry room (I say "room" out of habit). Elvis and I have worked together to make the kitchen a functioning space for two people who enjoy cooking, but the laundry closet has been the bane of my existence, and not just because I hated doing laundry.  It's located in a hallway, so it's always dark.  It only had one small shelf, and the vast majority of the space is taken up by our water heater.

 

All that has changed now, though. I found a spare pare of brackets in our room yesterday while I was doing some cleaning, and Elvis helped me put up a shelf in my little closet. With the addition of a lamp (so I can actually see what on earth I'm doing in there), a few hangers for drying and a cheerful painting by my best friend Kellie, it's actually a place I don't mind spending time now. In fact, I did a load of laundry today (even though it's not laundry day) just to be able to see my little room. I know it's nerdy, but it makes me so happy to have an organized, mostly uncluttered  place. Hooray!

I wish I had a "Before" picture so you could see the difference.

"Sweet beans, Mama."

It broke my heart to stop breastfeeding Henry, for the sole reason that it meant no longer being able to hold him in my arms as he fell asleep. That was my favorite thing in the world for 12 whole months: nourishing my beloved son and comforting him to sleep with my love and my off-key singing. But I still had the sweet moments before settling him into his crib (and, later, toddler bed) complete with a bedtime story and a lullaby, prayers, and kisses rained between whispered wishes for sweet dreams (or "beans" as he says). Elvis began to complain that my tuck-ins took longer than any tuck-in in the history of loving mamas. And I am so glad I never hurried, because now even those days are gone.

Henry is still very loving and affectionate (especially at bedtime), but now he scampers his little buns right into bed to await his bedtime story and smooches. I'm so proud of the boy he's becoming, and obviously the part of me that wants to raise a healthy self-sufficient man knows this is totally right. But that doesn't stop the part of me for whom Henry will always be my precious baby from crying like an idiot after closing his bedroom door each night.

Our New Pet

My little sweetheart loves pretty much all animals, but his absolute favorite animal in the world is - without question - Curious George. Elvis and I had been thinking of a way to dress him up like a monkey for Halloween this year without spending very much money, and the answer to our problem showed up yesterday. We had taken some outgrown clothes to a local resale shop, and spent a few minutes browsing. Not that we needed anything; Henry's grandmothers and great-grandmother can't stop buying him clothes and toys. But this particular shop often has never-worn clothes at ridiculously low prices. Last year we bought H a leather jacket for $4! Anyway, as we were wandering the aisles, Elvis found just what we were looking for. It was an adorable plush monkey costume (again, never worn), and with our coupon it came out to $10! We brought it home, slightly worried that Henry wouldn't want to wear it, as he's definitely a naked baby. But as soon as he saw the thing he couldn't contain his delight and had to put it on immediately, and then stand in front of a mirror to admire himself.

So now we have lost our adorable little boy, and in his place we got an adorable little monkey. Ah well, at least this little monkey doesn't throw his poop. Oooh oooh ooooh!

Crazy 'bout Elvis

I have spent hours bragging endlessly about my amazing son and all the ways & reasons that I love him, but I don't think I've spent much time at all talking about the man who made him. My beloved turns 29 today, and in his honor I present to you an ode of love. 

Elvis (yes, it's his real name) is the coolest person I've ever met. He simply is who he is, without regard for whether people like him. But of course they DO like him because he is - above all - friendly. My very wise uncle says that Elvis "has never met a stranger," which is true because he can instantly find something to talk about to anyone in any situation. It's why most of his students love him.  He just puts people at ease. He's also hilarious.  Witty, dry, corny, punny, slapstick; he loves jokes of all sorts, and is a master joke and story teller.

Elvis loves trivia and absolutely thirsts for knowledge, so he knows a little about everything, and a LOT about a few things. He can school you or anyone you know on baseball history, trivia and stats.  Actually, his love of baseball was one of the reasons I fell in love with him.  It is a passionate, unconditional love; baseball is his religion, his drug of choice.  When we met, his beloved home team, the Philadelphia Phillies, were on their way to becoming the losingest team in MLB history. I watched him cheer and cry for that 2005 team, and I knew there was something very special about a man with that kind of passion and loyalty to such a crappy team. And I was right. Elvis is as good a husband as he is a baseball fan: devoted, optimistic, fair-minded, and - always - doing it purely for love of the game. 

Having known him for 8 years now, it's been my pleasure to watch Elvis grown from a young man to a grown-ass man (the step before old man, of course), and it's been a sweet ride.  He has always had a certain maturity, thanks to his close relationship with his parents (whom I can never thank enough for the treasure they made me, and for all the joy that has come since we met), but his transformation from boyfriend/college student to husband/HS teacher and then father has not dimmed - even for a moment - his wonder, imagination, and creativity. He is a multi-instrument musician, a poet/songwriter, a painter, an author and a playwright. In fact, after reading it at the start of last school year, his HS students opted to mount a production of his original play, Twelve Doors. It was a completely amazing experience for the kids and for him, and I have never been so proud of him. 

It sounds like he is just good at everything, and that is because he is.  He is a tender and patient father to our unbelievable son; he is a dependable and seemingly tireless co-worker, attending games and events on weekends and sponsoring a ton of clubs aside from his own Drama Club; he is quite the most inventive and delightful personal chef, and a helpful sous chef when it's my turn in the kitchen. Most important of all, though, he is - without a doubt - the best friend I have ever had.  He knows me, the real me, down to my every flaw, and he loves me without judgment or reservation. In fact, he said he loved me after knowing me for 3 weeks (yeah, it freaked me out) and then waited patiently for me to say it back because he knew what we had right from the start. He makes me happier than I ever imagined I could be, makes me laugh even in my darkest moods, supports me when I run out of faith or patience, and takes care to let me and Henry know we are the most precious things in his universe - just as he is in ours. 

Lastly, without Elvis I would not have my precious Henry (or - probably - any child ever), and for that one reason alone I will never stop loving him. But there are a million other reasons I love my husband, and I am so overwhelmingly grateful that I get to spend my life doing it. 

Happy birthday to the love of my life. 

The Doctor Is In ...

... The money, thanks to me. I hope she invites me to the lake house I'm about to buy her. Juuuuuust kidding. She's seen me naked, we can not hang out socially. Awkward!

Anyway. So we had a Staph infection going around our house. Henry picked it up in December, and then it laid Elvis out for a week in April. I guess it fed on doctor bills, because each case was worse than the one before it. So - lucky me! - I got the worst of it about a month ago. I thought it was a mosquito bite at first, but it got infected fast and then spread fast. Before I could even get in to se the doc I had about 6 welts on my leg. The doc took care of me and prescribed me an antibiotic, which I took dutifully for 8 of the 10 days. Then, on day 9 I broke out in a hivey rash all over my face, neck, back and shoulders. Sure enough, I had a pretty severe allergic reaction: fever, chills, temperature and all. Super. So it was back to the doctor, who was concerned about the reaction I'd had and ordered some bloodwork. Goody! I went back early the next morning to get pricked, and then waited a whole week (!) for the results: the antibiotic had caused some minor liver problem, as suspected. Oh, and also I'm Diabetic now. She thought that was why my infection was so severe and slow to heal, and she was right. Yay. So now I'm on pills for that too, and checking my blood sugar once or twice a day. My numbers are actually okay now (it took a few weeks to get there), but I'm hopeful that I'll be able to control it with diet and exercise, and get off the medication eventually. 

It's been an adjustment (like, I might seriously consider punching you in the face right now for a cupcake), but mostly I'm happy to be healthy again. And I've lost about 10 pounds to boot. Not too shabby, eh? 

that BITCH! ... An update

Oh my God.
Over the weekend we went to town to swim and hang out with Uncle David.  Yesterday morning I was on my way back to the house with breakfast when I had an honest-to-goodness vision in my head of myself keying Andrea's car (totally not something I would ever do.  Not cool, people).  It was weird, but I shook it off and we went about our day.  For lunch we went to our family's favorite restaurant, a small hole in the wall with delicious Mexican food.  The mood changed as soon as we pulled in and noticed Andrea and her fiancé at a table near the door.  I began to shake with anger all over again.  Would she say something?  Would he?
The 4 of us went about our business and acted like she wasn't there (even though it was so hard not to slap her nasty little face).  It was totally worth all the self control to watch how visibly upset she was, though.  They must have just gotten there, because I got to spend about 20 minutes watching him try to calm her down, patting her arm, stroking her back, etc.  And then, when she couldn't stay any longer, they stood out in the parking lot while she cried and smoked many cigarettes (a "disgusting" habit when my brother did it, but apparently okay for her ... what a surprise).  It was really, really satisfying, even though it absolutely ruined my lunch to see that trick in a place she promised never to bring anyone else.  I kinda hope her tacos gave her the runs all over her pretty little sundress.

that BITCH!

*I don't know if people other than my family read this, but if they do, I feel I should warn you: this is (hopefully) the last unpleasant incident in a long, painful story with a lot of unresolved anger.  I always try to remain upbeat, but this has been the only thing I can think of since it happened.  Please bear with this family mini-drama, and I promise lots more stories of sweet family moments and cute photos of my adorable 2 year old (OMG, 2???).  Love & sunshine, Sarah

PS: I hope you watch Arrested Development, and got a chuckle from my Lucille 2 reference.  If not, get Netflix and clear the next possible weekend.  You've got some TV to watch.


Many of us have crazy exes, don't we?  I guess my worst isn't that bad, but I think this is a topic we can all relate to.  Of all the crazy exes I've ever seen, my brother's ex-girlfriend Andrea is easily the craziest.  To be fair, she was clearly a psycho bitch before they met, as the first thing she said to me when we met was that she does a spectacular fake orgasm that fools everyone.  Just what your boyfriend's sister wants to hear.  She put David (and - frankly - the rest of us) through hell for 3 years with her petty, jealous, immature, controlling, cheating and manipulative ways.  She crashed my wedding and made out with an usher after dating my precious brother for all of 8 days.  She "attempted" suicide (sorry, but 3 Tylenol do not a serious attempt make) twice to avoid losing arguments.  After my miscarriage she posted a status on Facebook announcing her delight that she wouldn't have to pretend to care about yet another baby.  I mean, she was a total, vicious bitch.  It was clear to everyone that they were both miserable for most of their relationship, but they were absolutely determined to carry on like a normal couple.  I did my best to keep my opinions to myself and stay out of their business.  It hurt me so much to see my brother hurting, but all I could do was be a supportive listener.  When they finally broke up in 2010 everyone was elated.  Finally, David got some sense.
When Henry was born she felt the need to compliment him on my FB wall.  I never responded (she had to have wanted something; she never missed an opportunity to remind everyone that she hated kids.  Probably because they can sense evil) and I should've just un-friended her then.  But I was sure I'd never hear from her again/unsure exactly how to un-friend someone, so I never took the time.
Yesterday I returned hom from an early morning doctor's appointment (more on that later) to find I had a message on the good old Facebook.  I didn't notice who it was from at first, and it took me about 3 sentences to realize.  It was the long-silent Andrea, stirring up old troubles.  She informed me that she's getting married next month (ahh, there it is.  Right up front this time), blamed her current problems on a relationship that's been over for 3 years, instructed me never to contact her, and to tell my "monster" of a brother to "go f*ck himself."  Classy to the last.
I was stunned for a few moments, and then shook with rage for about half an hour.  It felt like she'd walked into my bedroom and slapped my face, it was so unexpected and so very hostile.  Even now I can feel my face scrunch with anger and distaste.  Blech.  Anyway, that's when I noticed the message was from "Facebook User."  A quick search confirmed my suspicion: she had vented her misplaced rage on me and then vanished.  I'm sure she thought it was a clever move, but she didn't think far enough ahead to make her precious fiance disappear as well.  I really did not want to get involved with her again, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let her trash my family. I thought it over and sent the fiance a very concise and painfully honest letter that included an objective truth: these two were toxic and they hurt one another terribly.  She was far from an angel, despite how I'm sure she told the story.  So I also included several incidents which led me to douby her character, maturity, capacity for fidelity, and sincerity.  I really hope his friends have warned the guy, but if not I felt it was my duty.  He's in the Air Force for crying out loud, and every brave man and woman in our military deserves better than that. 
So, ladies and gentlemen, here are some important lessons:
1. If you absolutely must provoke someone in a cowardly fashion like this, at least have the guts to face the response.
2. Do not, under any circumstances, underestimate the bonds of sibling affection.
3. Comport yourself with dignity after a breakup.  A sore loser is unpleasant, but a sore winner just needs to be knocked down a peg or two.

Snip, snip!

Henry spent the night with my mom last weekend while the men and I went out to Place. They had a great time playing, swimming, and visiting Nana, and they also had a grand adventure. It took 2 tries, but H got his first professional haircut! Elvis and I had cut it a few times (with disastrous results. See here), but it was high time he had someone cut it who knew what the heck they were doing, so he wouldn't look like a homeless child. I hear he was an absolute terror, but a very patient woman took her time and did an outstanding job. 

Now my baby doesn't look like a baby at all anymore, but an extremely handsome little boy. 

Enough!

So I have a "friend" who turned into a Parenting Nazi when she got pregnant. She was apparently the only person ever to make all the right decisions for her child, and I guess that makes it her job to let the rest of us know just what we're doing wrong with our kids. Lovely. It started out innocently enough; she just wanted to have as natural a birthing experience as possible. But now it's out of control, and every week she's posting what are basically lectures about why _________ is terrible for your child on her blog. It would be one thing if _________ was "too much sugar" or something, but it's always things like "sleeping in his own bedroom" or "using disposable diapers," or "wearing shoes."

I guess that makes me a bad mom in her eyes, because my son sleeps (through the night) in his very own nursery, wearing disposable dipes. He only breastfed for 12 months (his decision) and I occasionally supplemented with formula.  Oh, and he's up to date on all his vaccinations. I should have noticed my shortcomings, but Henry is huge for his age, happy and healthy with a great sense of humor and independence. He shares, rarely cries, dispenses hugs and kisses like candy, knows his numbers, colors and letters, and is even starting to say please and thank you.

Fail, fail, fail.

What ever happened to people minding their own business?

XXX

Thirty, not porn. Don't get excited.

I turned 30 on Tuesday, and it was - all in all - a fantastic day. Elvis surprised me and took the day off work, and we had a great time together, sleeping in, spending my birthday giftcards and enjoying our hilarious little almost-2-year-old. Oh my, Henry is such a delight!

I've been feeling a lot better about the big day than I thought I would. I don't think I'm freaking out or anything like that. I've felt really contemplative lately, though. Maybe more reminiscent. I just keep thinking of times past, friends I've loved and lost, and glorious memories made, both good and bad. I'm not sure if this is where I thought I would be at 30, but I'm sure glad I'm here: married to my soulmate, mother to an unbelievable little boy, and surrounded by the love and well-wishes of our supportive family and friends. What else is there in life?