I'm pretty sure I lied in my last post.
I thought Nick had been waking up screaming because of growing pains, so after giving him some tylenol (and then motrin 4.5 hours later when I went to bed) two nights ago, he slept all night.
Apparently he was just drugged. Because last night? He protested bedtime like a Union worker.
I thought I was the sucker for toddler crying and screaming...but I proved more able to drown it out than Todd.
Nick finally ended up crying himself to sleep...but only because Daddy came to the rescue and rubbed his back until he passed out.
Thank God for Daddies. Hats off to all the single mama's out there - I have NO clue how you do it.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Growing pains...quite literally!
After several consecutive nights of Nick waking in the middle of the night screaming and crying, and me having a mild anxiety attack over said screaming and crying...and Todd not knowing what the hell to do with a wife AND child that were up all night screaming and crying, I finally figured there had to be something going on with Nick.
He has proven to us time and again that he can be a fantastic sleeper. We went through several months straight, after he finally turned a year old, of easy going 7:00pm bedtimes, that resulted in a full 12+ hours sleep, with a happy baby waking up in the morning. But every so often we had set backs that resulted in a few nights here and there of not so great sleep...cutting his 1 year molars; a cold; cutting his eye teeth; another cold; going on vacation or spending a few nights away from home...all contributed to disruptive sleep, but nothing that we couldn't get him back on track with quickly.
But for some reason, when he woke up the other night at 12:30am and proceeded to cry and scream like he was being tortured for over TWO HOURS, I knew something wasn't right.
Enter mom panic.
Naturally I started googling every reason possible for an almost two year old toddler to be waking in the night screaming. And most signs pointed to teething, night terrors, or ear infections. Seeing as he had just come off of the worst cold he's ever had (in his short little life), I was positive he had an ear infection. Thank God for the pediatrician advice nurses and nurse practitioners. Seriously, let's steal a little of Lindsay Lohan's regained fame & fortune back (because lord knows she does NOT deserve it), and give it to some real heroes -- nurses!
I digress.
The advice nurse was super sweet and helpful on the phone and made us an appointment to come in, because I was oh so certain that Nick had an ear infection and that's why he was screaming his head off all night.
The nurse practitioner did a quick look-over of my happy, cheerful, bouncing off the walls toddler who gagged, turned red, held his breath, and then gleefully clapped in approval when the exam was over, and said "he's fine". And "ears look great!" And without even thinking about it, I let out a breathy "damn." And quickly followed it by "I don't mean that I want him to be sick...I'm glad he doesn't have an ear infection...it's just..." and before I could finish, Frank (the nurse practitioner) interjected "you just want answers. I get it...I have two toddlers at home. The not sleeping, sucks."
No truer words have ever been spoken to me by any other professional in my 30 years of life.
The not sleeping TOTALLY sucks.
So why wasn't he sleeping?
Well, Frank then suggested night terrors. Which Nick has definitely experienced his fair share of. And it's frightening every time, except for the fact that with night terrors, he ends up calming himself back down because he never truly wakes up...just cries in his sleep.
This was not night terrors.
And I was still scratching my head (and yawning and rubbing my eyes profusely).
So last night...Todd and I were working on very limited sleep (he more so than me because he gets up for work 3.5 hours before I can even lift an eyelid), but we had to use a groupon that Todd had purchased to a little Hibachi joint in Fairfax. Hoping to have a romantic mid-week date night, we asked my parents to watch Nick. Of course they gleefully accepted (God love 'em...we could not survive without those two, I tell ya what), and said "go do whatever you want, just leave his jammies with us and we'll take care of dinner, bath, and get him all set for you to pick up when you're done."
In my haste of having not put away any of the laundry over the last 2.5 weeks (but who's counting), most of Nick's clean pj's were hanging out at the bottom of a laundry basket that I couldn't quite get to. So I grabbed a brand new pair of 24 month pj's out of his closet - so new they were unwashed even, that's how desperate I was - to have mom put on him, just figuring "they'll be a little big, but no big deal".
You see, up until last night, all of Nick's 18 month pj's were still fitting just fine. And any 24 month pj's I put on him sagged at the crotch and ankles because they were just way too big/long.
But when we arrived at my parents house to pick him up, Nick was wearing the 24 month pj's, and they fit him like a glove.
The middle of the night crying and screaming culprit? Oh, just my baby shooting up 2 inches, that's all.
Holy crap! Talk about a growth spurt!
So now I feel like a crappy mom for letting him cry and scream when he was quite literally having growing pains. Poor, poor baby.
If he keeps growing at this rate, he's gonna be taller than me before he goes to elementary school. Which his daddy will say is a good thing, since the ladies like tall guys. But I'm not sure our toddler clothing and shoe budget can fully support a new wardrobe every couple weeks.
Either way, I'm just glad we finally know what the problem was. And I'm happy to report that last night? He was back to his full-night-of-sleep self. And we're all feeling much more rested today. :)
He has proven to us time and again that he can be a fantastic sleeper. We went through several months straight, after he finally turned a year old, of easy going 7:00pm bedtimes, that resulted in a full 12+ hours sleep, with a happy baby waking up in the morning. But every so often we had set backs that resulted in a few nights here and there of not so great sleep...cutting his 1 year molars; a cold; cutting his eye teeth; another cold; going on vacation or spending a few nights away from home...all contributed to disruptive sleep, but nothing that we couldn't get him back on track with quickly.
But for some reason, when he woke up the other night at 12:30am and proceeded to cry and scream like he was being tortured for over TWO HOURS, I knew something wasn't right.
Enter mom panic.
Naturally I started googling every reason possible for an almost two year old toddler to be waking in the night screaming. And most signs pointed to teething, night terrors, or ear infections. Seeing as he had just come off of the worst cold he's ever had (in his short little life), I was positive he had an ear infection. Thank God for the pediatrician advice nurses and nurse practitioners. Seriously, let's steal a little of Lindsay Lohan's regained fame & fortune back (because lord knows she does NOT deserve it), and give it to some real heroes -- nurses!
I digress.
The advice nurse was super sweet and helpful on the phone and made us an appointment to come in, because I was oh so certain that Nick had an ear infection and that's why he was screaming his head off all night.
The nurse practitioner did a quick look-over of my happy, cheerful, bouncing off the walls toddler who gagged, turned red, held his breath, and then gleefully clapped in approval when the exam was over, and said "he's fine". And "ears look great!" And without even thinking about it, I let out a breathy "damn." And quickly followed it by "I don't mean that I want him to be sick...I'm glad he doesn't have an ear infection...it's just..." and before I could finish, Frank (the nurse practitioner) interjected "you just want answers. I get it...I have two toddlers at home. The not sleeping, sucks."
No truer words have ever been spoken to me by any other professional in my 30 years of life.
The not sleeping TOTALLY sucks.
So why wasn't he sleeping?
Well, Frank then suggested night terrors. Which Nick has definitely experienced his fair share of. And it's frightening every time, except for the fact that with night terrors, he ends up calming himself back down because he never truly wakes up...just cries in his sleep.
This was not night terrors.
And I was still scratching my head (and yawning and rubbing my eyes profusely).
So last night...Todd and I were working on very limited sleep (he more so than me because he gets up for work 3.5 hours before I can even lift an eyelid), but we had to use a groupon that Todd had purchased to a little Hibachi joint in Fairfax. Hoping to have a romantic mid-week date night, we asked my parents to watch Nick. Of course they gleefully accepted (God love 'em...we could not survive without those two, I tell ya what), and said "go do whatever you want, just leave his jammies with us and we'll take care of dinner, bath, and get him all set for you to pick up when you're done."
In my haste of having not put away any of the laundry over the last 2.5 weeks (but who's counting), most of Nick's clean pj's were hanging out at the bottom of a laundry basket that I couldn't quite get to. So I grabbed a brand new pair of 24 month pj's out of his closet - so new they were unwashed even, that's how desperate I was - to have mom put on him, just figuring "they'll be a little big, but no big deal".
You see, up until last night, all of Nick's 18 month pj's were still fitting just fine. And any 24 month pj's I put on him sagged at the crotch and ankles because they were just way too big/long.
But when we arrived at my parents house to pick him up, Nick was wearing the 24 month pj's, and they fit him like a glove.
The middle of the night crying and screaming culprit? Oh, just my baby shooting up 2 inches, that's all.
Holy crap! Talk about a growth spurt!
So now I feel like a crappy mom for letting him cry and scream when he was quite literally having growing pains. Poor, poor baby.
If he keeps growing at this rate, he's gonna be taller than me before he goes to elementary school. Which his daddy will say is a good thing, since the ladies like tall guys. But I'm not sure our toddler clothing and shoe budget can fully support a new wardrobe every couple weeks.
Either way, I'm just glad we finally know what the problem was. And I'm happy to report that last night? He was back to his full-night-of-sleep self. And we're all feeling much more rested today. :)
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Tough
You know what's tough? Parenting an almost 2 year old. Some days I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, with the knot completely untied, hanging on to the last little bits of frayed ends, hoping that I can just keep holding on long enough to make it to bedtime. And then we make it to bedtime, and the rope just unravels further. And before I know it, it's almost midnight and I'm crawling into bed, holding my breath and saying silent prayers that Nick will sleep through the night, only to be awoken a mere two hours later to a hysterical toddler that can't be consoled because all he wants is to watch Dora in the middle of the night or play with the damn vacuum cleaner and the only way to calm him down is to let him sleep the remainder of the night right between us in our bed.
Ask me how the making of baby #2 is going? Obviously, it's not.
Most days Nick is the cutest, sweetest, kindest, most helpful little person ever created. But lately it's as if he has an invisible switch on his back that someone keeps flipping the minute I start to think about how wonderful it would be to have another baby so that I could officially be mommy to TWO of the cutest, sweetest, kindest, most helpful little people ever created.
For instance, last week, we were going about our morning routine as usual. I opened the pantry to get out some cheerios for Nick - the same cheerios he eats every.single.morning. like "omg these cheerios are my main squeeze, ma, I love you so much for buying me cardboard cereal with no taste!" - when he spotted the bag of baby goldfish. Unfortunately I had left them within his reach, so he pulled them off the shelf before I could deflect his little grabby hands. Holy shit, you'd think I had just ripped the head off his favorite teddy bear. Dude had a monster meltdown when I told him "oh, we'll have those later for a snack - let's have some cheerios and milk for breakfast instead!" (not to mention the cheerful demeanor and loving hug I gave him with my encouraging words). Seriously, his screams and sobs got so intense I thought he was going to pass out from the lack of air he was taking in. Todd came running down the stairs in a panic and said "geez, what happened?!" "Oh, nothing honey, I just thought I'd brand him with a hot poker real quick before breakfast...what the hell do you think happened?? He wanted freaking goldfish for breakfast and I said no!"
To make matters worse, Nick still isn't talking. He knows a lot more signs, which is super helpful. He can tell us when he wants "more" of something, signs "please" when he's begging for Dora (or goldfish), and signs "thank you" for just about everything - even when he does something that we should be saying thank you to him for. But the speech therapist has a tiny inkling that Nick might have Childhood Apraxia of Speech. I say tiny because she says he is still too young and does not have enough "data" (or words rather) to analyze if he truly is apraxic. Is it the end of the world? Not even close. Will he ever be able to speak properly? Absolutely. Does it suck? You have no idea.
It sucks because I see so many other toddlers happily singing the worlds to "Old MacDonald" and counting in their sweet little "one, two, free!" voices, and Nick can barely call me Mama. Little man is so smart it's ridiculous. He knows every letter of the alphabet and all of his numbers 1-10. At Thanksgiving dinner, we were asking him to run into the other room and bring us certain letters - not even in correct alphabetical order - and he got it right every time. But it sucks so bad that I can't help him to properly say what each letter is. I can't help him explain to me what it is that he wants in the middle of the night when he wakes up crying because the only word in his arsenal that we really understand is "Dora" and I don't want to plant any ideas in his head at 2am by saying "oh, you want to watch Dora right now? Is that why you're crying?"
I'm sure all of the above is directly related. I'm sure his frustration and temper tantrums stem from his inability to just tell us what's wrong, what he needs, or what he wants to do. And I understand that. But it doesn't make it any easier. As parents, all we want is to make our children happy. To make them feel loved. And I am doing my best. Todd and I both are. It's just a bit more exhausting than I could have ever prepared myself for.
I know I shouldn't be complaining. In the grand scheme of things 1) I have a beautiful, smart, loving, kind, generous, innocent child - something some people pray for and are never lucky enough to have, and 2) aside from not being able to get out the words he wants to say, he is perfectly healthy, growing like a weed, and learning so much every day. I love my son with every single fiber of my being and I wouldn't trade him for anyone or anything in this entire world. I would absolutely throw myself in front of a bus for him. I'm just over the terrible two phase. And he's not even two. Guess I better settle in for a long ride.
Whoever told me "God makes 'em cute for a reason: so you just can't stay mad at 'em" sure as hell wasn't lying. It's damn near impossible for me to stay mad at that face.
Ask me how the making of baby #2 is going? Obviously, it's not.
Most days Nick is the cutest, sweetest, kindest, most helpful little person ever created. But lately it's as if he has an invisible switch on his back that someone keeps flipping the minute I start to think about how wonderful it would be to have another baby so that I could officially be mommy to TWO of the cutest, sweetest, kindest, most helpful little people ever created.
For instance, last week, we were going about our morning routine as usual. I opened the pantry to get out some cheerios for Nick - the same cheerios he eats every.single.morning. like "omg these cheerios are my main squeeze, ma, I love you so much for buying me cardboard cereal with no taste!" - when he spotted the bag of baby goldfish. Unfortunately I had left them within his reach, so he pulled them off the shelf before I could deflect his little grabby hands. Holy shit, you'd think I had just ripped the head off his favorite teddy bear. Dude had a monster meltdown when I told him "oh, we'll have those later for a snack - let's have some cheerios and milk for breakfast instead!" (not to mention the cheerful demeanor and loving hug I gave him with my encouraging words). Seriously, his screams and sobs got so intense I thought he was going to pass out from the lack of air he was taking in. Todd came running down the stairs in a panic and said "geez, what happened?!" "Oh, nothing honey, I just thought I'd brand him with a hot poker real quick before breakfast...what the hell do you think happened?? He wanted freaking goldfish for breakfast and I said no!"
To make matters worse, Nick still isn't talking. He knows a lot more signs, which is super helpful. He can tell us when he wants "more" of something, signs "please" when he's begging for Dora (or goldfish), and signs "thank you" for just about everything - even when he does something that we should be saying thank you to him for. But the speech therapist has a tiny inkling that Nick might have Childhood Apraxia of Speech. I say tiny because she says he is still too young and does not have enough "data" (or words rather) to analyze if he truly is apraxic. Is it the end of the world? Not even close. Will he ever be able to speak properly? Absolutely. Does it suck? You have no idea.
It sucks because I see so many other toddlers happily singing the worlds to "Old MacDonald" and counting in their sweet little "one, two, free!" voices, and Nick can barely call me Mama. Little man is so smart it's ridiculous. He knows every letter of the alphabet and all of his numbers 1-10. At Thanksgiving dinner, we were asking him to run into the other room and bring us certain letters - not even in correct alphabetical order - and he got it right every time. But it sucks so bad that I can't help him to properly say what each letter is. I can't help him explain to me what it is that he wants in the middle of the night when he wakes up crying because the only word in his arsenal that we really understand is "Dora" and I don't want to plant any ideas in his head at 2am by saying "oh, you want to watch Dora right now? Is that why you're crying?"
I'm sure all of the above is directly related. I'm sure his frustration and temper tantrums stem from his inability to just tell us what's wrong, what he needs, or what he wants to do. And I understand that. But it doesn't make it any easier. As parents, all we want is to make our children happy. To make them feel loved. And I am doing my best. Todd and I both are. It's just a bit more exhausting than I could have ever prepared myself for.
I know I shouldn't be complaining. In the grand scheme of things 1) I have a beautiful, smart, loving, kind, generous, innocent child - something some people pray for and are never lucky enough to have, and 2) aside from not being able to get out the words he wants to say, he is perfectly healthy, growing like a weed, and learning so much every day. I love my son with every single fiber of my being and I wouldn't trade him for anyone or anything in this entire world. I would absolutely throw myself in front of a bus for him. I'm just over the terrible two phase. And he's not even two. Guess I better settle in for a long ride.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Thankful
This is the blessing...or more so, the toast, that I gave on Thursday before we sat down for our Thanksgiving meal. I'm not entirely sure that everyone at the table heard it as Nick chose that exact moment to be very vocal about NOT remaining seated in his high chair for the blessing and repeatedly shouted "nononononono and mamamamamama" as I read. But my dad was a bit teary eyed by the end, so I know he was at least listening. ;) Thanks, Dad!
_____________________
But it's pennies compared to the Thanksgiving's that some of you have had. Mom & Dad -- this is your 58th and 59th Thanksgiving respectively. Your 40th Thanksgiving celebrated together!
And Gramma & Grampa -- your 83rd and 86th. Your 61st Thanksgiving together!
Talk about a lot to be thankful for.
I, for one, could write a list a mile long of things I'm thankful for. At the very top of that list would obviously be my family. Every single person sitting at this table, and several others that aren't at this table today. We have been bound together through love and time. There are so many people in this world that are not so lucky as to be made with and born into so much love, as we are.
I am not only thankful for all of you today on Thanksgiving, but every day of the year. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every year.
But this Thanksgiving, I am the most thankful for one group of people in particular.
My grandparents.
Here we are, me 30 years old, Matt 32, and we are lucky enough to be sharing this Thanksgiving meal with our grandparents. How many other 30+ year olds can say that?
Just as they say "behind every great man, there is a greater woman", so can be said for our family. Behind our great family, is an even greater leadership. A backbone to our family. A family that would not exist, if it had not been for Gramma & Grampa, and Granny & PawPaw
For almost 50 years - 50 Thanksgiving's - over HALF her life - Gramma has battled cancer head on. And she has done so full of grace, full of life, FULL of Thanksgiving - for the blessing of just one more day...the blessings of her devoted family.
And for every single one of those Thanksgiving's, Grampa has fought along side of Gramma. And he has done so full of perseverance, full of admiration and support, and full of Thanksgiving for the blessing of his beautiful wife and the life they have created together. The life they have created for all of us.
So this Thanksgiving, while I am thankful for every single detail of my life - be it big or small - I am most thankful for the people that have brought us all together and given us the chance to be thankful for anything at all.
To my Grandparents. Happy Thanksgiving.
__________________________
I should note that this blessing, while only read to two of my four grandparents, did apply to all of them. As you all may know, my Granny in Arkansas has alzheimer's. But she faces it head on every day, accepting the love and care of a beyond generous man who has devoted his every day to making sure she is comfortable and knows that she is important and loved. These four people have shaped my parents lives, and in turn, my life. I am a very lucky, very blessed, granddaughter.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Jumping back in
Is it acceptable to make New Years resolutions before the New Year? Like even before Thanksgiving and Christmas? Hope so, because I need to make a resolution to get back to blogging more frequently. I love this little outlet for the main purpose of documenting our lives (more specifically Nick's life), but I also think it's useful in terms of sparing my FB friends a clogged news feeds with status update after status update of the little day-to-day happenings in the K household.
So what have we been up to since I last left off (almost a full month ago!)?
Well, in mid-October, Nick and I packed up as much of our clothes, toys, and general necessities that would fit in one suitcase (and, like, 12 other small bags as my Dad so kindly pointed out), threw it all in the back of my parent's Tahoe, and drove more-hours-than-I-can-count down south to Arkansas to visit my grandparents.
I had not seen my PawPaw since Todd and I got married three years ago, and hadn't seen my Granny (she was not able to make it to our wedding) for several years even prior to that. And neither of them had met Nick, so this trip was a huge treat for everyone. Even more so exciting was the fact that it was a complete surprise that Nick and I would be joining my parents.
There was a family reunion planned for the Sunday of our arrival at a local park outside of Little Rock. Dad drove into the parking lot and we could see all of the family gathered under the pavilion getting ready to eat. I threw a blanket over Nick (which clearly didn't work as he instantly ripped it off) and ducked down in the back seat (thank goodness for tinted windows) to hide from unsuspecting family members. Mom and Dad hopped out of the car and bee-lined for the picnic, while the plan was for Nick and I to wait a few minutes and then hop out and casually stroll up to the party.
Well, when Mom & Dad got out of the car, out of habit Dad locked the doors. So naturally when I tried to quietly open the door to get Nick and I out, the car alarm started blaring. Fortunately my Dad pretended as though he had hit the button, turned it off quickly, and rejoined the group.
So Nick and I slipped out of the Tahoe, and walked right up behind my PawPaw as he was just about to say a blessing. Poor guy - I think we just about gave him a heart attack. His eyes brimmed with tears and he hugged and kissed me and Nick like there was no tomorrow. It was by far, one of the absolute best moments of my life.
We then spent a wonderful week catching up with Henson family members and soaking up every second of time that we could with my sweet grandparents. It was relaxing, entertaining, fun, and incredibly emotional.
My absolute favorite memory from the week, aside from the big "hey, guess what, we're here!" surprise when we arrived, was the night that my PawPaw and I sat around the kitchen table, flipping through old photo albums -- photos dating all the way back to when he was a little boy -- and listening to him tell who each person was, and the background story that accompanied each photo.
It's a memory that will forever be etched into my heart. Seeing photos of my Granny and PawPaw as mere teenagers on a date at a local carnival...pictures of my Great GranGran as a beautiful young mother, carrying around her baby boy (my PawPaw)...and photos of my dad and aunt as toddlers that bore an uncanny resemblance to Nick and I (there's no mistaking the Henson in us). I can't remember the last time my attention was so fully immersed in something as it was at that exact moment.
We soaked up every bit of local Star City culture that we could and PawPaw even took me on a driving tour of the town. He drove me out to see Cane Creek, where he spent the majority of his days fishing after he retired and they moved back to Arkansas. As we drove through the park and past the lake, I asked my grandfather "PawPaw, when was the last time you went fishing". His reply left me thankful that I was wearing sunglasses, while silent tears streamed down my cheeks as he said "oh, honey, I haven't been fishin' in over two years now. And ya know, if I never fish another day in my life, I've done all the fishin' I need to do because there's much more important things to take care of now."
My Granny was sitting in the back seat as he said this. My Granny has Alzheimer's. My PawPaw, who's second greatest love after his wife and family - fishing - has given up the hobby he loves most and devoted his life to now taking care of my Granny, whether she is aware of it or not. The pure, unconditional, raw, emotional love that my PawPaw displays for my Granny is beyond compare. I am so blessed to have all four of my grandparents in my life still at 30 years old. And the devotion that my grandfathers display for their "girlfriends" of over 60 years is truly beautiful. (I could type pages upon pages on this, but that's all for another post.)
We spent the week eating, laughing, hugging, and yes, crying (mostly me). We had dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, which was delicious, and had a fantastic dinner at the local Steak house one night, but none of the meals compared to the night my PawPaw made his famous hamburgers. I'm not the least bit ashamed to say I ate two. As in, I finished my two before anyone else had even finished their one. Yes, they were that good. No - nobody else's hamburgers will ever compare.
I set my PawPaw's computer up for Skype (which we still have yet to have a Skype date, though I have tried twice!), we drove through the Cane Creek halloween lights display (which was awesome!), and we even got to show Nick the "zoo" across the street...which was not an actual zoo, but these people have a LOT of pets (a donkey, cows, pygmy goats, raccoons, guinea fowls, dogs, etc.) and Nick was enthralled. He desperately wanted to pet the donkey, but I was panicked it would freak out and bite off his hand, so I refused to let him get too close. We let my Aunt Sis pet it instead. And if you were curious, she couldn't wait to get back inside and wash her hands afterwards. ;)
All in all, it was an incredibly memorable trip and I am beyond grateful that I got the chance to tag along with my parents, see so much family, and most of all introduce Nick to my grandparents and aunt and uncle who had never met him. When it came time to leave at the end of the week, I could barely keep it together. I sobbed as I hugged my PawPaw goodbye, and as I kissed my Granny on the cheek - the sweet woman who gave no indication all week that she knew who I was, but was happy to spend time with me every day - looked me in the eyes, smiled and said "I'm proud of you and glad you are here".
In all honesty, at that moment, and for that whole week, I was the proud one. Proud of my beautiful and loving family. Proud of the people we have all become. And proud of the love we all share. It was one of the most blessed weeks of my life. And I can't wait until next year's trip, because you better believe that Nick and I are tagging along again!
**side note - we took a lot of pictures, but I only had a few on this computer to upload. I'm also working on scanning in the pictures my PawPaw gave me from the old photo albums. Priceless, treasured photos for sure!
So what have we been up to since I last left off (almost a full month ago!)?
Well, in mid-October, Nick and I packed up as much of our clothes, toys, and general necessities that would fit in one suitcase (and, like, 12 other small bags as my Dad so kindly pointed out), threw it all in the back of my parent's Tahoe, and drove more-hours-than-I-can-count down south to Arkansas to visit my grandparents.
I had not seen my PawPaw since Todd and I got married three years ago, and hadn't seen my Granny (she was not able to make it to our wedding) for several years even prior to that. And neither of them had met Nick, so this trip was a huge treat for everyone. Even more so exciting was the fact that it was a complete surprise that Nick and I would be joining my parents.
There was a family reunion planned for the Sunday of our arrival at a local park outside of Little Rock. Dad drove into the parking lot and we could see all of the family gathered under the pavilion getting ready to eat. I threw a blanket over Nick (which clearly didn't work as he instantly ripped it off) and ducked down in the back seat (thank goodness for tinted windows) to hide from unsuspecting family members. Mom and Dad hopped out of the car and bee-lined for the picnic, while the plan was for Nick and I to wait a few minutes and then hop out and casually stroll up to the party.
Well, when Mom & Dad got out of the car, out of habit Dad locked the doors. So naturally when I tried to quietly open the door to get Nick and I out, the car alarm started blaring. Fortunately my Dad pretended as though he had hit the button, turned it off quickly, and rejoined the group. So Nick and I slipped out of the Tahoe, and walked right up behind my PawPaw as he was just about to say a blessing. Poor guy - I think we just about gave him a heart attack. His eyes brimmed with tears and he hugged and kissed me and Nick like there was no tomorrow. It was by far, one of the absolute best moments of my life.
We then spent a wonderful week catching up with Henson family members and soaking up every second of time that we could with my sweet grandparents. It was relaxing, entertaining, fun, and incredibly emotional.
My absolute favorite memory from the week, aside from the big "hey, guess what, we're here!" surprise when we arrived, was the night that my PawPaw and I sat around the kitchen table, flipping through old photo albums -- photos dating all the way back to when he was a little boy -- and listening to him tell who each person was, and the background story that accompanied each photo. 
It's a memory that will forever be etched into my heart. Seeing photos of my Granny and PawPaw as mere teenagers on a date at a local carnival...pictures of my Great GranGran as a beautiful young mother, carrying around her baby boy (my PawPaw)...and photos of my dad and aunt as toddlers that bore an uncanny resemblance to Nick and I (there's no mistaking the Henson in us). I can't remember the last time my attention was so fully immersed in something as it was at that exact moment.
We soaked up every bit of local Star City culture that we could and PawPaw even took me on a driving tour of the town. He drove me out to see Cane Creek, where he spent the majority of his days fishing after he retired and they moved back to Arkansas. As we drove through the park and past the lake, I asked my grandfather "PawPaw, when was the last time you went fishing". His reply left me thankful that I was wearing sunglasses, while silent tears streamed down my cheeks as he said "oh, honey, I haven't been fishin' in over two years now. And ya know, if I never fish another day in my life, I've done all the fishin' I need to do because there's much more important things to take care of now."
My Granny was sitting in the back seat as he said this. My Granny has Alzheimer's. My PawPaw, who's second greatest love after his wife and family - fishing - has given up the hobby he loves most and devoted his life to now taking care of my Granny, whether she is aware of it or not. The pure, unconditional, raw, emotional love that my PawPaw displays for my Granny is beyond compare. I am so blessed to have all four of my grandparents in my life still at 30 years old. And the devotion that my grandfathers display for their "girlfriends" of over 60 years is truly beautiful. (I could type pages upon pages on this, but that's all for another post.)We spent the week eating, laughing, hugging, and yes, crying (mostly me). We had dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, which was delicious, and had a fantastic dinner at the local Steak house one night, but none of the meals compared to the night my PawPaw made his famous hamburgers. I'm not the least bit ashamed to say I ate two. As in, I finished my two before anyone else had even finished their one. Yes, they were that good. No - nobody else's hamburgers will ever compare.
I set my PawPaw's computer up for Skype (which we still have yet to have a Skype date, though I have tried twice!), we drove through the Cane Creek halloween lights display (which was awesome!), and we even got to show Nick the "zoo" across the street...which was not an actual zoo, but these people have a LOT of pets (a donkey, cows, pygmy goats, raccoons, guinea fowls, dogs, etc.) and Nick was enthralled. He desperately wanted to pet the donkey, but I was panicked it would freak out and bite off his hand, so I refused to let him get too close. We let my Aunt Sis pet it instead. And if you were curious, she couldn't wait to get back inside and wash her hands afterwards. ;)
All in all, it was an incredibly memorable trip and I am beyond grateful that I got the chance to tag along with my parents, see so much family, and most of all introduce Nick to my grandparents and aunt and uncle who had never met him. When it came time to leave at the end of the week, I could barely keep it together. I sobbed as I hugged my PawPaw goodbye, and as I kissed my Granny on the cheek - the sweet woman who gave no indication all week that she knew who I was, but was happy to spend time with me every day - looked me in the eyes, smiled and said "I'm proud of you and glad you are here".
In all honesty, at that moment, and for that whole week, I was the proud one. Proud of my beautiful and loving family. Proud of the people we have all become. And proud of the love we all share. It was one of the most blessed weeks of my life. And I can't wait until next year's trip, because you better believe that Nick and I are tagging along again!
Monday, October 22, 2012
Daddy problems
Scene: standing in the kitchen discussing the weeks events to come...
Me: "the girls want to do dinner at 6:00pm tomorrow"
T: "ok, that's fine"
Me: "that means you'll be alone for dinner, bath, and bedtime, you know..."
T: (without skipping a beat) "well he ain't gettin' lotioned!"
Me: "the girls want to do dinner at 6:00pm tomorrow"
T: "ok, that's fine"
Me: "that means you'll be alone for dinner, bath, and bedtime, you know..."
T: (without skipping a beat) "well he ain't gettin' lotioned!"
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Because why would anyone talk about what their kid doesn't do?
It's all over Facebook.
Brag brag brag. My kid does this, my kid does that. My kid pooped on the potty today and he's only 11 months old. My kid has a vocabulary of 43 words and she's not even 18 months. My kid knows quantum physics at just 2 and 1/2.
I'm no different. I think my kid is the sweetest, smartest, most adorable creature on the planet. And I love talking about what new thing he's done/new discovery he's made/new quirk he's developed every day. Because what mom doesn't think their child is the best? As mom's we're SUPPOSED to think that. Hell, we're supposed to KNOW and believe it with all of our hearts. Because in each of our own personal mommy eyes, our kids are the very best, most amazing, completely perfect creations that we (huge pat on the back) created. And truth be told, every kid IS the best. Because kids are awesome. If they weren't, we wouldn't be a planet of over 7 billion inhabitants, and people would just stop procreating, because if you haven't figured it out by now...SEX LEADS TO BABIES.
But you know what I don't see on Facebook. Like, ever? "My kid doesn't ___________."
I'm not talking "my kid doesn't like green beans." Or "my kid doesn't know how to match their socks/shirt/shoes/pants/headband/tutu/etc." I'm talking about the huge milestones.
When was the last time you saw somebody post "my kid doesn't walk yet, and she's almost 18 months old". Or "my kid refuses to give up diapers and go on the potty and he's damn near 4 1/2"?
Nobody posts that kind of stuff. Nobody talks about delays or missed milestones, because as parents, we only want the rest of the world to see what we see in our kids...their complete and utter awesomeness.
But you know what? No matter what delay your kid might have? They're still pretty damn awesome.
Up until Nick truly started sleeping through the night consistently, I was a big time sleep-complainer on Facebook. If you were my Facebook friend, then you knew that my son sucked at sleeping. (Sorry bud, but it's the truth.) And I constantly received comments on my posts that said "oh my gosh, we're in the same boat!" or "my kid is a horrible sleeper, too - let's form a 2am chat group". I never got any "shut up and deal with it, he's a baby" comments because anyone that was going through the same thing we were, needed the same reassurance that I did.
So why weren't more people posting the seemingly negative? Was I just still reeling in the after effects of post-partum depression, and silently cursing my kid-less friends while hoping all of my new mom friends were suffering from lack of sleep as much as I was? Were my other parent friends just worried that their friends with babies that slept through the night since week 3 would judge them? Were we all worried that someone would think us bad parents for not being able to get our kids on a rigorous schedule? HAD WE NOT READ ENOUGH PARENTING BOOKS?!
Who knows?!
What I do know, is that nobody posts the "anti-brag".
But I'm going to.
My kid? He doesn't talk.
Believe me, he WANTS to talk. He babbles constantly. He holds things up all the time in anticipation of you naming the object/color/shape of whatever he is playing with. He loves when we sing, and he claps in approval for any and all animal noises. And he "repeats" anything you ask him to say, with his interpretation of the word. But it's rarely, if ever, the actual word.
At almost 20 months old, my son has a vocab of less than 10 words.
It's a punch to the gut whenever I see another video posted on Facebook of somebodies 15 month old rattling off all of the words to "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street". Because my kid rarely even says "Mama".
And it's frustrating as hell to finally tell someone "my kid is having a hard time learning to talk" and having them reply back "oh, don't worry about it, he'll be fine".
My mom gut says he'll be fine...but my mom intuition is also telling me he needs some help in learning. Some help that I can't seem to give him.
Do you know how awful that feels? To not be able to teach your kid a skill that is typically innately developed? To feel like you're failing at parenting? Awful.
Trust me - I know things could be a lot worse. And I'm not complaining by any means of the word. I love that he still uses baby babble...it let's me cling to that little bit of his baby-ness for that much longer. And he listens and understands SO well it's almost scary. Ask him to take something to the trash, and he runs across the house, to the kitchen, carefully depositing said item right in the trash-can. Tell him to bring you his shoes, and he comes running back with his preferred pair of the day. Hell, I asked him to point out the "ice cream cone" to me in one of his favorite books (which actually had nothing to do with ice cream, just happened to have a teensy-tiny picture of it), and even though he'd rarely had any interaction with the words "ice cream cone", he knew exactly where the tiny picture was and confidently pointed it out, smiling from ear-to-ear because he knew he was right.
I have every aspiration that one day Nick will be a rocket scientist or an engineer, what with his interest in detail, button pushing, and ability to follow specific directions. (That, and I'm his mom, so obviously I think he's a genius.)
And the fact that he doesn't talk yet is of minor concern and we're taking the next steps with a speech therapist to get him to the level of speaking that he should be at at this point in his life.
But up until now, it's been one of those milestones that he hasn't reached, and therefore I haven't wanted to share it with anybody that doesn't see Nick on a regular basis. Because who wants to comment on someone else's brag post of "my kid just learned to say boulevard, spaghetti, refrigerator, and RG3 in the same night!" with "my kid can't even say 'cat'!"? I sure as hell didn't.
But you know what? Whether he can talk or not, I know my kid is perfect.
Because he's perfect for me.
Even when he lights up, gives me a big hug, and says "Da-Da!"
Brag brag brag. My kid does this, my kid does that. My kid pooped on the potty today and he's only 11 months old. My kid has a vocabulary of 43 words and she's not even 18 months. My kid knows quantum physics at just 2 and 1/2.
But you know what I don't see on Facebook. Like, ever? "My kid doesn't ___________."
I'm not talking "my kid doesn't like green beans." Or "my kid doesn't know how to match their socks/shirt/shoes/pants/headband/tutu/etc." I'm talking about the huge milestones.
When was the last time you saw somebody post "my kid doesn't walk yet, and she's almost 18 months old". Or "my kid refuses to give up diapers and go on the potty and he's damn near 4 1/2"?
Nobody posts that kind of stuff. Nobody talks about delays or missed milestones, because as parents, we only want the rest of the world to see what we see in our kids...their complete and utter awesomeness.
But you know what? No matter what delay your kid might have? They're still pretty damn awesome.
Up until Nick truly started sleeping through the night consistently, I was a big time sleep-complainer on Facebook. If you were my Facebook friend, then you knew that my son sucked at sleeping. (Sorry bud, but it's the truth.) And I constantly received comments on my posts that said "oh my gosh, we're in the same boat!" or "my kid is a horrible sleeper, too - let's form a 2am chat group". I never got any "shut up and deal with it, he's a baby" comments because anyone that was going through the same thing we were, needed the same reassurance that I did.
So why weren't more people posting the seemingly negative? Was I just still reeling in the after effects of post-partum depression, and silently cursing my kid-less friends while hoping all of my new mom friends were suffering from lack of sleep as much as I was? Were my other parent friends just worried that their friends with babies that slept through the night since week 3 would judge them? Were we all worried that someone would think us bad parents for not being able to get our kids on a rigorous schedule? HAD WE NOT READ ENOUGH PARENTING BOOKS?!
Who knows?!
What I do know, is that nobody posts the "anti-brag".
But I'm going to.
My kid? He doesn't talk.
Believe me, he WANTS to talk. He babbles constantly. He holds things up all the time in anticipation of you naming the object/color/shape of whatever he is playing with. He loves when we sing, and he claps in approval for any and all animal noises. And he "repeats" anything you ask him to say, with his interpretation of the word. But it's rarely, if ever, the actual word.
At almost 20 months old, my son has a vocab of less than 10 words.
It's a punch to the gut whenever I see another video posted on Facebook of somebodies 15 month old rattling off all of the words to "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street". Because my kid rarely even says "Mama".
And it's frustrating as hell to finally tell someone "my kid is having a hard time learning to talk" and having them reply back "oh, don't worry about it, he'll be fine".
My mom gut says he'll be fine...but my mom intuition is also telling me he needs some help in learning. Some help that I can't seem to give him.
Do you know how awful that feels? To not be able to teach your kid a skill that is typically innately developed? To feel like you're failing at parenting? Awful.
Trust me - I know things could be a lot worse. And I'm not complaining by any means of the word. I love that he still uses baby babble...it let's me cling to that little bit of his baby-ness for that much longer. And he listens and understands SO well it's almost scary. Ask him to take something to the trash, and he runs across the house, to the kitchen, carefully depositing said item right in the trash-can. Tell him to bring you his shoes, and he comes running back with his preferred pair of the day. Hell, I asked him to point out the "ice cream cone" to me in one of his favorite books (which actually had nothing to do with ice cream, just happened to have a teensy-tiny picture of it), and even though he'd rarely had any interaction with the words "ice cream cone", he knew exactly where the tiny picture was and confidently pointed it out, smiling from ear-to-ear because he knew he was right.
I have every aspiration that one day Nick will be a rocket scientist or an engineer, what with his interest in detail, button pushing, and ability to follow specific directions. (That, and I'm his mom, so obviously I think he's a genius.)
And the fact that he doesn't talk yet is of minor concern and we're taking the next steps with a speech therapist to get him to the level of speaking that he should be at at this point in his life.
But up until now, it's been one of those milestones that he hasn't reached, and therefore I haven't wanted to share it with anybody that doesn't see Nick on a regular basis. Because who wants to comment on someone else's brag post of "my kid just learned to say boulevard, spaghetti, refrigerator, and RG3 in the same night!" with "my kid can't even say 'cat'!"? I sure as hell didn't.
But you know what? Whether he can talk or not, I know my kid is perfect.
Because he's perfect for me.
Even when he lights up, gives me a big hug, and says "Da-Da!"
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