Not pleasant

I'm not good today.  I've got a migraine to end all migraines and am broke and lonely and tired.  None of which is optimal for me when I'm trying to stay upbeat and raise children and not sink into a well of depression and moroseness.  Is moroseness a word?  Must be, because spellcheck has yet to correct me.  Oddly enough, spellcheck does tell me that spellcheck isn't spelled correctly either.

All in all, not having a good day, and with a steamy hot week stretching out in front of me, it's hard to work up the enthusiasm for much right now.  I do have a couple of bright spots - one being Julianna Ruth, who's bopping around with her hair being held back with a wicked cute little headband topped with a huge purple flower.  I bought it  months ago, and she refused to wear it until today.  But she looks so stinking cute with her little curls held back off her face, I smile every time I see her. And Jessie is baking some corn bread, because that's her new thing, baking.  Sam is scurrying around with blankets and pillows.  I don't know what he's doing, perhaps building a fort, or maybe, dream of all dreams, actually putting everything back where it belongs.  

In other news - we're at the halfway point and Sam is already begging me to homeschool him in the fall.  I don't want to homeschool, I don't think it's a good idea for him.  He needs practice being out in the world, and relaxing and having fun.  We went to a party yesterday - and for the first two to three hours, he was an unhappy boy.  Just... not happy.  Not miserable, not making things hard for anyone, but after several hours, he just came out of his shell, and started to play and have fun and relax and talk to people, and he was so much happier.  I had so many people tell me how sweet he was, and what a good boy, how friendly and chatty and content he was - but he needed HOURS to get to that point.  I really think he just needs practice and exposure to people.  If he didn't get happy, if he didn't legitimately enjoy himself once he relaxed, I wouldn't feel this way - but because he does, because he becomes a leader, organizing games and playing and just ... being SAM, I really feel confident that he needs school.  He needs that interaction.  He doesn't like it, but he's happier with it.

Ugh.  I hate feeling like this.  I hate being miserable and sad and unhappy.  Nobody does, I know, but my normal state is NOT this.  I'm usually cheerful.  I'm usually the-glass-is-half-full kind of girl, and this feeling of just heaviness and misery is not my desired state.

Send me some sunshine - mental sunshine - we've got enough of the actual stuff, thank you.  But I need some cheerful dust badly.

Jessie's physical and other updates

She's a healthy girl, above average for height, and below average for weight, but since she's always been that way, it's not a concern now.  She's just tall and thin and that's that.  She's now on daily allergy meds, a nasal spray at night and claritin during the day and got an rx for both of them.  She's also nowhere near puberty - it can start as early as nine, but Dr. Slota said that it'll be several years before she gets there.  Her heart condition (in that the blood goes thru the chambers of her heart counterclockwise instead of clockwise) common and benign, but Dr. Slota said just to keep an eye on her and if she starts fainting, we'd want to bring her back in for testing.  

I'm lonely and sad with everyone in Maine and would like you all to return as soon as possible.   In other news - Julianna is happily potty training, we're nowhere near done, but she's having more hits than misses, so we'll get there.   I gave Samilicious a hair cut last night and he no longer looks like Wolfman, and I think we can all agree on that being a good thing.  

Am actually fairly worn out at the moment, after surviving a forty five minute screaming fit of Jessie.  It wasn't screaming, so much as it was just sobbing.  When she and Sam fight, as they often do, she's snippy and mean and to be fair, he's all together too quick to haul off and whack her.  In this case, she was snapping at him for asking too many questions and he came sobbing in, saying that she was being mean to him.  As she was, being mean, I yelled at her, and she then went off.  One thing led to another, adding in a stubbed toe in the middle of the mess, and she just cried off and on forever.  She's so overtired, and in the end, I told her she needed to either stop crying or just go outside.  She went outside, came back in sobbing and finally, she was at the point where she'd actually listen to me and calm down.  I laid her down on my bed, held her in my arms and just told her to stop talking.  Just breathe - in and out, in and out, until she could calm herself down.    And thank goodness for TLC and recorded episodes of Cupcake Wars, because she's laying down right now, still vaguely hyperventilating, but calm.  

This girl is no joke when she's overtired.  She was up at five thirty this morning and I sincerely wish she'd go to sleep for a nap this afternoon.  I may not make it otherwise.

I'm so not ready for this

Julianna is my baby.  I don't know for sure or for certain if she's last baby or not, but she's my baby NOW and I'm not ready for her to grow up.  I'll also freely concede that I'm massively a touch hormonal at the moment.  That being said - I'm not even a little bit prepared for her to suddenly morph into a little kid.  She's a baby, dammit.  Perhaps, a toddler.  But an all the way grown up little kid, nope.  Sorry.  She's just barely two years old.

And she's peeing in the potty.  And pooping in the potty.  And hopping in the bathtub like it's fun, letting me put her hair in pretties and wearing sundresses - and I'm lost.  Where is my baby?  Where is the baby I had to coax into a stand up bath in the sink and chase down the hall with a hairbrush to get her hair done?  Where is the little baby who refused to wear any kind of dress, or anything other than the leggings and shirts she'd been wearing all winter long?  When did she get so big?

Why is she suddenly all rational and happy about her piggy tails and picking out dresses and wearing underwear?  I feel like she suddenly hit all these milestones in a week and a half and I'm NOT READY.   Jessie was easily three and a half before potty training, and Sam was closer to four.  But this girl is so much earlier, and so hell bent on doing it, I can't keep up.  I'm doing all the right things, I got her the potty and the underwear and I encourage and praise, but inside, I'm looking back and wondering where my baby went.

I know I'll be happy about this soon - because truly, she's awesome and amazing and so much fun to watch. She's counting to twelve, and singing all the time.  She's growing up and it's beautiful.  Just as beautiful and stunning as it was to watch her older sister do it, and her big brother.

But today - combined with my beautiful Jessie, who's reading People Magazine and actually enjoying and and my Samilicious Boy, who solemnly told me last night "You know, Mama, next I'll be seven," - today, the fact that my little baby Julianna Ruth is becoming my big girl Julianna Ruth - to quote Julie's favorite book "is too much" for poor Mama.  

I'm indulging in tears and chocolate today.

The Bath Reign of Horror is Over

Julie hated baths.  When I say that she hated baths, I mean that she cried like I was ripping her appendages off while I tried to wash her.  When she wasn't screaming in agony, she was just sobbing because she could not understand why I hated her so much as to force her to get naked and wet a few times a week.  It was heartbreaking and awful - and I responded by bathing her as rarely as I could get away with it.  She got a lot of sponge baths.  When I did have to scrub her up in a tub, it was standing up in the sink and miserable and awful for both of us.

But then, wonder of all wonders, the pool down the street opened up.  And with it, came the realization that water play was fun.  It wasn't torment, it was actually kind of...dare I say it?  NICE to get all wet and play with water.  And today, for the first time, I put her in the big girl tub and she played.  Tipped her head back to get her hair washed, so I didn't feel like I was waterboarding her while I washed the soap out.  Actually, voluntarily put soap on her body and is now silky smooth and sweet smelling.

She actually cried when it was time to get out.

My Samuel Earl

Today, my son is six.  And amazing.  He's smart and funny and the sweetest little boy I've ever known.  Every child is different, and I have a unique and separate relationship with each one.    Sam was, in many ways, really in all measurable ones, my most challenging baby.  His birth was the hardest, and he had colic and reflux.  Sam taught (and continues to teach) me so much about motherhood, about men and little boys.  About myself.  Sam is simply one of the best things that's ever happened to me.

With Sam, I learned patience.  I learned devotion.  I learned to dig deeper, to try harder.  His needs were so huge, his need for ME was so huge.  He simply was miserable when I wasn't holding/nursing him.  He came out of the womb with separation anxiety, and he's still pretty sure that the only good place to be is at my side.  I never planned on nursing a toddler, I was firmly convinced that once a child could walk and talk, nursing wasn't just unnecessary, it was sort of gross.  But it wasn't.  It was what he needed, and standing up to everyone in the world who thought I was insane made me a stronger mother, a stronger person.   Meeting his needs, and seeing the person he's becoming - it's one of the most rewarding aspects of my life.

At six years old, Sam is still the kindest, sweetest little boy.  He's so tender and full of love - but still so incredibly MALE, all guns and battles and superheros and army guys.   He's got huge eyes with a hue that defies description.  Sometimes it's brown, sometimes grey, sometimes green-ish.  He's brave and bold, willing to climb higher and go farther than I thought he would.  He's a wonderful friend, creative and fun, and loves spending time with his besties, Jordyn and Harrison.  He's a fantastic older brother to Julianna - who worships "my boy."  When he's not making Jessie crazy, he can be so sweet and solicitous of her, and he's still a card carrying member of Team Bum Bum with his big sister Sarah.  He looks up his biggest sister Lilli so much.  He's his father's best friend and my best boy.

Happy birthday Samilicious Boy.  I absolutely adore you, and thank God for the blessing of being your mother.

The beginnings

"Do you think you might be pregnant?"  The question came out of nowhere.  I didn't feel right, I was queasy, everything smelled bad.  And when my aunt asked, my immediate reaction was no.  Of course I wasn't pregnant.  I had only been dating him for a few weeks.  I would had to have gotten pregnant that very first night.  Of course I wasn't.  Accidental pregnancies didn't happen to me.  Only... it was the March 1, and I knew that I'd had my period towards the end of January.  Only... oh my God, I was late.  By days.  I was days late.

I was falling in love.  It was brand new and wonderful.  He was smart and funny and cute and adored me.  This was magic like I'd never experienced it and oh my God, I might actually be pregnant.   After two weeks.  I took the test, and spent the rest of the day crying.

I was pregnant, I was going to have a baby, and I was so humbled and awed and terrified and thrilled, all at once.  I was going to ruin his life, he was newly divorced, with two small children already.  He didn't want a baby.  How could he want a baby?  But I was having it, from the moment I knew I might be pregnant, I wanted to be desperately.   I wanted that baby.  I was going to ruin his life.  I knew that. I even felt badly about it, but there wasn't a chance that I'd abort this baby.  I knew that by getting pregnant and having this baby, I was killing the potential between us.  I was ending that long, slow, lovely slide into a relationship.    I was going to be the girl he knocked up and had to deal with now.   I didn't cry just because I was scared of having a baby, it wasn't just because I was awed and thrilled.  Part of my tears were mourning the loss of this beautiful thing that was growing between us.  It wouldn't be simple anymore.  It wouldn't be just fun and flowers and spending time getting to know each other.  It was going to get really serious, really fast, and it was probably going to be contentious.  Because I knew that he didn't have any choice whatsoever in this.  I was having a baby, and was going to ruin his life, and there wasn't any way for me to change that.

But when I told him, later that night, when I took a big deep breath and closed my eyes and blurted out "I'm pregnant", he didn't panic.  He didn't freak out.  He just put his arms around me, pulled me down to him, and said "Thank God, I thought it was something awful."  That pregnancy resulted in a twin miscarriage, but going through that with him made us a family.  That loss, as horrific as it was, led to this, my incredibly happy marriage, my two beautiful daughters and my amazing son.

I'm linking up this week with www.yeahwrite.me - it's a great writer's blog for discovering new writers and improving your own work.

It's possible she may be a genius

I know - it's that she's two, and two is when they start putting it all together.  I remember thinking this with both the older two.   But Julie really does seem to be uncommonly bright.  She's memorized the Llama Llama Misses Mama and recites it as she flips thru books.  She's got an unlimited vocabulary, with six and seven word sentences all the time.   She just started playing with her "cards."  Sam's recently gotten into Pokemon cards, and in a half hearted attempt to keep her from stealing them, I gave her his flashcards that I had bought a while ago.  The're sight words, and alphabet cards, and SHE KNEW WHAT THEY WERE.  I realized that she could actually be quizzed and identify all of these things.  Am now convinced that she's a genius.

In other news - we're having a perfectly delightful summer.  Continuing our tradition of being the house everyone comes too, I've had kids here more often than not.  Friends of Jessie, friends of Sam, we try to shake it up and vary it, but my favorites are days when each kid has a buddy to cut down on the battles.  Tomorrow we're off to the beach - and I already checked to make sure that there's a lifeguard there :-)