Becoming Mama

I love fashion.  We used to have kind of a thing, me and Fashion, but then I became a busy, broke, stay-at-home mom, and Fashion broke up with me.  These days I mostly just ogle Fashion from a metaphorical tree outside its window (coughPinterest), wishing we could get back together.  I guess I'm kind of a creeper.
This week I finally came to terms with the fact that Fashion and I have actually broken up, probably for good.  On Wednesday morning we had all our windows open to enjoy the lovely autumn weather and, although Henry seemed fine, I was flat-out cold.  I kept adding layers until I finally glanced in the mirror and saw myself decked out in a pair of black and green pajama pants, a faded old flannel of Elvis' (the sleeves hang to my knees if unrolled) over a pink long-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of red-and-white striped socks adorned with Christmas ornaments.  My hair was unbrushed and coming out of its bobby pin confinement, and my toenail polish was chipped and gnarly.  Good Lord, no wonder Fashion doesn't want to be seen with me anymore.
But you know what? My son doesn't give a rat's ass if my hair looks like a rat's nest.  He doesn't care that I've worn the same oversized flannel every cold day this year, because I like smelling Elvis on it.  He doesn't seem to notice my mismatching issues (if there were any doubt that he's Elvis' kid) or even my occasionally unbrushed-until-noon teeth.  All he cares about is that Mama is playing catch with him, or watching him dance, or reading his favorite Curious George book for the 84th time that day, or zooming cars at one another as fast as possible on the dining room table for his amusement, or fetching him another cup of milk, or wiping his sticky hands and face, or kissing his neck until he squeals. 
So, while I will probably keep creepin' on Fashion for years to come, I don't really care if we ever get back together.  I may not be a fashionista anymore (or even the owner of unstained clothing), but if I may say so I am one hell of a mom.  And that's a label I'd be glad to wear, even over Chanel, any day of the year.

Daylight Savings Time

I guess I'm the only person in the world who hates DST in the fall.  When I was younger I enjoyed the extra hour of sleep, but of course extra time is simply not a benefit offered to the parents of toddlers.So now it's just a loss of precious sunlit hours which is - to me - a fate worse than gaining 5 pounds over the weekend. I mean ... I am a Texan, through and through.  My favorite vegetable is steak, I can saddle a horse, my hair is enormous, and - most of all - I thrive on sunshine.  I don't care so much about sunrise (although it is much easier to get up when it's light out), but it hurts my Southern soul when the sun sets at 5:30.  Yuck!
I do have to admit, we ended up having a pretty nice day yesterday.  We were able to get up and get moving earlier than usual, so we had aleady had breakfast and been to the grocery store by 11.  Then we pretty much sat around and were bums all day.  Elvis watched football and did some lesson planning.  Henry and I had a great time playing Wii sports and dancing to our vast Rolling Stones collection.  We even made a family trip to our local park, where the 3 of us played catch until the sun set (so ridiculously early) before returning home to enjoy a delicious spaghetti dinner.  Even though I can't wait for spring to return, it was a pretty great way to kick off the fall.

NOOOOOO!

Well, I guess I should've known.  In true toddler fashion, my precious flat-out refused to wear his Halloween costume last night.  Even Halloween-themed words (pumpkin, trick or treat, costume, candy, or monkey) sent him into fits.  I spent an hour working on my zombie hair and makeup, and when the big moment came, Henry would have nothing to do with trick-or-treating.  I don't know what happened between Sunday (when he wore it gleefully) and last night, but obviously it was something.
Now, however, he's strutting around in it like the costume company has paid him.  Oh, anything to prove Mama wrong.  :-)

Trunk or Treat!

Elvis and I took our little monkey to his first trunk or treat last night.  As a side note, I apparently live under a rock, as I'd never heard of such a thing.  Anyway, it was in the parking lot at my parents' church, and we'd been looking forward to it for weeks.  There was all sorts of fun set up before the trick-or-treating began, like a photo booth, crafts, a cake walk, and more, and we had a great time walking around, seeing friends and playing games.  For me, the best part was all the costumes.  Living in a college town, I'd almost forgotten that Halloween is supposed to be for kiddos (not cleavage), so I was absolutely delighted by all the mermaids, robots, cowboys, and bumblebees.  Adorable.
When the time came for trick or treating to begin, Elvis & I took Henry around from car to car while my parents stayed at the trunk to give out candy.  I was so proud of my little guy all night.  He loved holding out his "puckin," saying the magic words, and then seeing the candy plop in.  And he said thank you every single time, without us even having to prompt him.  Frankly, he had better manners than most of the parents, some of whom were not above cutting in line or pushing (come on, we're here for the kids.  It's not a competition).  And, best of all, he had a great time in his adorable Halloween costume.  Now we just have 3 more days til the big show, and none too soon: the pants of Henry's monkey costume are already about an inch too short!

My simian sweetheart

I Should've Known ...

I was just thinking to myself last week that it's miraculous how healthy Henry has  been.  We had a cold front roll in over the weekend, and the high winds that always send Elvis and me running for the Kleenex didn't even faze him. Elvis came home sick yesterday around noon, and even then I was thinking how lucky we are that Henry seems to have such a strong constitution.  He played and squirmed as usual, and went down for his nap without a fuss (also as usual).  After naptime, it took him about half an hour to wake up and join the world which was kind of unusual.  Most days, he's wide awake as soon as his big brown eyes pop open, although there is the occasional day when he takes 5 minutes or so.  Even after he dragged himself out to the living room, he kept yawning and trying to curl up for another nap.  It was sort of weird, but then Elvis gave the little monkey a hug and noticed he was burning up.  Sure enough, he had a fever of about 101, but what really scared me was his listlessness.  The light that usually animates his sweet face was gone, and all he wanted to do was sleep.  We hightailed it to our local Target to pick up some medicine, and were almost home when it happened: That face, and that awful noise.  I put my hand up to his mouth just in time to catch the first round of what would turn out to be everything my sweetheart had eaten that morning, and more.  Thankfully, Elvis had a big empty plastic cup on the floorboard, so when my hand overflowed, I was able to catch the rest with the cup.  It was pretty unpleasant for the rest of the (thankfully short!) ride home, but Henry clearly felt better.  He smiled a little bit, and got right to playing when we got home.  He's still running a slight fever, but he's eaten reasonable meals since then, and none of it has come back up, thank Heaven.  And his mini stomach bug must have been super-exhausting, because he slept almost twelve hours last night!
Thank goodness he's feeling better, cause guess who woke up feeling nasty this morning?  Yay, Mama's turn ...

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?