11-11-11

Today is 11-11-11.  It's Veteran's Day.  11-11-11...it's supposed to be a lucky, magical, special day.  it's Veteran's Day.


And for so many American men and women it's not so special; it's not so magical; it's not so lucky.  It's a day they remember their cherished family members, soldiers who fought to give, keep or bring freedom to this nation we all love so very much.  Many of these loved ones perished keeping us safe.  Many of these loved ones live with battlescars so much deeper than any civilian one of us could ever possibly see.  


My grandfather was a veteran of WWII and the Korean War.  His son, my uncle a veteran of Vietnam.  Of course my grandfather served during a time when blacks were only allowed in the kitchen and latrines and my uncle served in a war that damaged him in ways one never thought possible.  They loved and love this country of ours and believed in it though for so long it was a country who treated them so very poorly.  My grandfather knew that more than fighting for our country he was fighting for a better life for his family of 9 children.  And he did a fine job.  An amazing job.


I have a high school friend who is so very dear to me who has served more stints in Iraq and Afghanistan than I can count, but he serves with great pride and honor.  For as long as I've known C (and that's since junior high) he has wanted to be a soldier and what a fine one he is.


I have a sorority sister who I love very much who serves in the Army as a pediatrician.  Though she has not had to 'go to war' she goes to war every day when she holds the hand of a scared little boy or girl who is a veteran of seeing their parent(s) go off to war for months, years at a time never knowing if they will see their mommy or daddy again.


So tonight I'm so thankful that Tate and I live in this great country of ours.  The U. S. of A.  We are grateful that because of those who are so much braver and stronger and more courageous than we could ever be that we are free and safe tonight from harm.  


We salute you, each and every one.

Frisky Fall

It was a long, hot summer (those words put me in my happy place as Keith Urban sings them...) 

Ok, back to reality.  It was a long, hot summer here in Houston with temps measuring over 100 for 46 days according to www.weather.com with a streak of 24 days straight  of 100+ degree heat.  This does not take into account the 'feels like' temps because those number of days was many, many more...about 85.


This is supposed to be a thankful blog.


It's gorgeous in Houston now!  The temps during the day are between 65-80.  Absolutely glorious!  I love this frisky fall weather.  I'm happier.  I feel lighter on my feet (and that ain't easy!).  Life seems easier.  When you're not sweating to death and dragging your wet self around it's so much nicer.  And the fact that our winters are usually mild, usually keeps the spring in our Texan steps quite a bit longer.  


So, tonight I'm thankful for gorgeous weather that I can take Tate to the park in, take him on a walk in, ride the train at the zoo with him in, walk around the block in, run after him on his bike in and simply just enjoy.  It's a kind of promised land for Houstonians.  We endure the horrendous heat, knowing that just over the mountain, just around the corner fall will come.


Warm cuddles, hot chocolate (a new fave for Tate), fires in the hearth (love hearing Tate screech 'fire! fire!') and laying around in bed in the cold, early morning with my sweet boy.  Ahh...perfect.

A Teacher's Work is Never Done

Tate has been in his new class since August 23, and I'm so very amazed by how very well he is doing.  I'm always hesitant when he moves up or embarks on new journeys especially those that I'm not there to participate in.  And I was concerned about his new teacher.  She seemed so strict to me just from my seeing her in the mornings during drop-off.  A side note...our daycare is at a small Lutheran Church, the teachers aren't certified, the daycare meets all required state standards, but it not one of those frou-frou places with all the accreditations and bells and whistles.  The teachers are hard working women who LOVE these children.  They are not well paid, but they love our kids.  They get down on the floor and play with our kids;  they give hugs and kisses.  Sometimes they are out of ratio, sometimes the kids are really dirty (indicative of a really fun time in my opinion), but all the time there is love.  Like Lindsey said the other day whenever she picks up Tate all the kids are running around happy.


Anyway, drop-off is in the parish hall in the mornings.  All the kids go in there with the exception of the tiniest of babies.  There are usually 4-5 teachers there to receive the children who either sit down and color, eat breakfast or are being held or bounced in bouncy chairs.  Tate's new teacher and the assistant director are there every single morning at 630am.  Every. Single. Morning.  This daycare is their mission, their labor of love.  In any event, Tate has seen Ms. L every morning since he started going there in July of 2010.  So he knew her.  She just didn't give off that warm fuzzy feeling that his previous teachers had.  He had actually changed classrooms twice since he started there, so he had been in 3 different rooms (only in the infant room for 6 weeks because he aged out).  I just worried that she wouldn't be quick with a hug or a kiss.  I worried that my sweet boy who loves being held just for fun would miss that closeness.


Was I ever wrong.  Ms. L is so wonderful with the kids.  Once you know her, and she knows you, well it's been just so wonderful.  Certainly the first couple of weeks Tate was in her class he was reticent to go  to class and didn't have a great time at drop-off, but he quickly settled in.  And he's just thriving.  From his speech explosion, to his incredible manners (he will not leave a toy turned on or something 'out') to the way he recognizes the entire alphabet, can say the sound of each and every letter (even when not asked 'in order').  He recognizes his name as well as the name of all his classmates.  And in the past week or so I've been able to say a word and ask him what letter it starts with!  Now these may be things all 27 month olds can do; I don't know.  But he wasn't doing them 2 months ago.  And I credit his wonderful teacher with so much of his achievements.  And she's so protective of him especially in light of his food allergies;  I don't worry that he will eat something he shouldn't on her watch.  Every morning she greets my child with a huge smile and a beautiful hello.  And most importantly she loves our Lord.  I remember overhearing her say to another teacher one day she was so glad it was the weekend because it was almost time to go to church.


So tonight I'm so grateful she's in Tate's life and that he has so taken to her.  A teacher is so integral to the growth, development and life of our children.  All of Tate's teachers have meant so much to us.  I'm just so very thankful that Ms. L is with my little boy all the hours I'm unable to be.  (And yes she is there from the time the school opens to when they close).  That peace of mind I get from knowing he is being well loved and well taken care of by this amazing woman is immeasurable.  We are so blessed.

The Heart of My Child

Tonight I'm thankful that my sweet Tate has such an amazing heart.  A forgiving heart.  Because if you've read the other post from tonight you know I was not such a great mama this morning.


But Tate, my beloved Tate has seen fit to forgive me and move on.  He's showered me with hugs and kisses today, wanted to sit in my lap and watch videos of himself and hear stories.  He's wanted to cuddle and have me carry him into daycare and back to the car in the afternoon.


It's as if for him this morning never happened.  My hissing fit though it hurt him has been forgiven.  I sincerely apologized and he accepted my apology and he's moved on.


So, thank you gracious son of mine for being so forgiving and loving me so completely.

Not My Finest Moment

Tate and I have had a rough 3 nights.  Starting with that hideous time change on Saturday night. I remember the days I was thrilled with the fact that we were going to 'fall back' and I was going to get a glorious extra hour of sleep!  I love to sleep.  I love to sleep in.  I love sleeping clothes.  I love sleeping beds.  I love sleeping in a warm comforter on cold day.  I love everything about sleeping.


And I have a child who could care less about sleeping.  From the moment he was born he has not been all that interested in sleep.  Worse, or actually I guess better he's completely fine functioning on much less sleep than the average baby/toddler 'needs.'  I spent months so frustrated by his lack of sleep needs until I finally realized that (a) I could not control how much he slept (b) Worrying and fretting about the fact that he wasn't sleeping 'enough' was doing me in.  I was already so sleep deprived and emotionally spent, then I worried myself even sicker because he didn't sleep the 'required' amounts. (c) He was happy with the amount of sleep he was getting.  He never had meltdowns, we have yet to have the toddler witch hour (probably because I pay very close attention to his sleep cues, and I do value his sleep very much, so I'm very protective of it because what he needs, he NEEDS).


So, back to the time change.  Saturday night I put him down 30 minutes later praying, hoping he would sleep a little later because Tate is nothing if not predictable.  He stirs almost every single night around 430am, fusses and goes back to sleep and then he wakes around 530/545 ready and thrilled to start his day.  Every. Single. Day.  Weekends included.  I knew my chances were slim, but I thought if I don't try I'll never know.


He was up at 4:23am Sunday morning, happy as a clam because to him it was almost 530!  Time to start the day.  I brought him into bed with me, and tried my best to get him to sleep more to no avail.  He played around, jumped up and down, grabbed books and read them. Finally, I gave in a t 5:19 and got up.


He took a short nap that day as well which made no sense.  Sunday night we stayed the night at my parents' which always is hard for him. Sleeping outside of his crib in our room is hard for him.  But we've stayed at my parents' more times than I can count, and for the first 8 months of his life we stayed there every 2 weeks, a week at a time.  I don't get it.  So, Sunday night he was up and down fussing off and on every 2 hours or so, in the bed with me, in the crib...it didn't matter.  Finally around 230 I just put him back in the crib and let him fuss to himself until I was ready to wake up at 545 which he did every couple of hours, and was awake it seems fully at 5am.


And then there was last night or should I say this morning.  I slept downstairs because I needed some 'real' sleep as much 'real' sleep as you can get with a monitor beside you and also wondering if my being out of our room would encourage him to go back to sleep if/when he woke at 430.  But at 338 he woke up screaming.  I went up the 2 flights of stairs and he was really sad and upset....very unlike him.  I put him in bed with me, and he tossed and turned.  Around 414  he decided it was time to get up, and I was not happy.  I hissed to him 'LAY DOWN RIGHT THIS INSTANT YOUNG MAN, IT'S STILL NIGHT NIGHT TIME'.  Oh the face of absolute sadness he gave me with the hiccuping sounds of a 2 year old trying not to cry.  Broke my heart, but I turned over to try to get a little more sleep.  He laid down hiccuping and last about 15 minutes before popping up again. I turned over and laid him down holding him in my arms again insisting it was still 'night night time.'  Quiet for about 15 more minutes, then he was up trying to crawl over me to go read his books.  I had had it and picked him up and put him back in the crib saying 'Night night'.  I laid back down and not 5 minutes later I hear him whining and fussing.   I sat up and yelled and I mean yelled 'WHAT DO YOU WANT TATE?  WHAT?'  He startled, started crying and immediately sat down, then laid down.  I felt awful.  Just so very awful, but I was very near tears myself; I was just exhausted. I had gone to bed last night at 11 trying to clean the house up way too late.  I'm frustrated and worried about my weight which just spirals even more out of control when I am so very tired. And I had had it.  There is noone, noone to give me a break here.  It's all on me and it's just about to do me in.  I just laid back down and felt like the worst mother on the earth.  Just awful.





But we got up, and he was happy and hugging me.  He wanted to sit in my lap and have stories read.  He ate breakfast with no fussing and happily went into daycare and kissed me good-bye. This evening at pick-up he was his always happy self.  Of course he was happy ... he got a 90 minute nap today.  He's rested.  Me I was a zombie at work.


So, definitely not my finest moment in my 2 years and 3 months of parenting sweet Tate.  Though I rarely get that upset, I intend to do my best to make it the last time.  I don't want to see Tate so hurt if I can help it.  And I can help this.  So, tonight I'm off to bed early to give my body some much needed down time and give myself a chance to get some sleep on the front end as Tate's body adjusts to the new time.  I know he will, I hope he will.  He will won't he?


  

29th Birthday

        

Today is my very, very dear sister's 29th birthday.  Lindsey Marie turned 29 today!  29 years and 9 months ago I was 14, and my parents told me they were having another baby.  Actually I don't even remember them telling me.  I have no recollection at all.  I think I've blocked it out.  But I know they told me or maybe I figured it out as my mother was sitting further and further away at the dinner table.  In any event, I was not pleased;  I was mortified actually.  My parents had been 'caught' with their respective hands in one another's cookie jar.  How does this happen I pondered and pondered it out loud...that was not well received.  Seriously, I was in health class...did they need to come to class and be class mother and father?  What part of this vital information did THEY not get at 40 and 41 years of age??  It was a strange 9 months that now I barely remember.  My life continued on it seems.  I turned 15 three months before she was born.  I started my sophomore year of high school.  My crush on David continued.  Hanging out with my best buds...the band buddies...was the highlight of my days.


Then on November 7, 1982 Lindsey was born.  I spent the night at a girlfriend's house;  it was a Sunday evening.  I suppose that on that Monday my dad took me and my other sister, Kellie to the hospital to visit, but goodness I cannot remember.  But I do know this...I fell in love with this precious baby girl.

So, tonight 29 years later I am beyond thankful for this sweet sister of mine.  She is absolutely amazing...talented, beautiful, athletic, smart, funny, outgoing, loving and just a person I cannot imagine not having in my life.  She was living with me when I got pregnant with Tate.  Through those weeks when I was having all that bleeding she was here with me.  And though she had always been indifferent about children I hoped she would be a little more excited about my little one.  Well I so got what I wished for and more.

She has been the most amazing aunt to my precious boy.  And he adores her and she adores him.  I can see it when she talks about him, and when he talks about her.  He just lights up when he sees her car in our garage.  Though she moved out when he was 10 weeks old, she has been a constant in his life.  Thankfully she only lives about 2 miles away.  And I am beyond blessed to have her in my life.  She is truly all the village I need save my parents.  Lindsey truly came into her own once Tate came into her life, and she is his second fiercest protector.  I have no qualms that should anything ever happen to me that she would not be able to raise this little boy of OURS almost exactly as I would, honoring all that he and I are to one another.  

And she's just THERE for us.  She was with me in the hospital when he was born.  She was here when he came home from the hospital.  And though she was unable to get up in the middle of the night with me with him (I had plenty of amazing help from my mother with that!!), she would help keep the house clean, make sure food was around and that we were all sane.  She's celebrated every 'month' birthday with us and every other milestone with us.  She doesn't hesitate to pick him from daycare for me on those days I'm running late from work;  she always alters her plans without a bit of complaint or disdain.  And sometimes she just does it so she can spend time with him.   She babysits when I ask if she's available.  She comes over at least once a week, usually twice after work before she goes running and hangs out with us for a bit.  I'll take Tate upstairs to put him to bed while she's heading out the door to go home, but invariably I'll come back downstairs after he's asleep and his dishes will be put in the dishwasher, clothes and toys will be picked up.  She just knows.  She knows how tired I am and she just comes through.  It's those little things that she may not think I notice, but I do, I do.  And they're appreciated so much more than she knows.  

When Tate looks back over his life as his mother I know I'll be at the forefront of those memories as his parent, the one constant in his life.  But I also know that he'll see Aunt Lindsey in every single scene as well.  How lucky is he.




So, tonight I'm so very thankful for this late in life baby of my parents'.  She is Tate's other parent.  I trust noone with him like I trust her with him.  She's the little girl I always wanted to have to do girly things with.  She's the 'daughter' I wanted to lay in bed beside me and talk about boys and chick flicks.  That's why I was blessed with a little boy for a child.  I already had my girl.  I'm so very thankful that the dear Lord knew what He was doing.  And He did.  He did. 

Two peas in a pod they are!

Thankful For My Village

Today I'm so very grateful for the community of single mamas by choice across this beautiful country of ours.  Though I've not met any of them I feel like they are part of the village who is helping me raise my sweet Tate.  


This morning at 2am we 'fell back' better known as the end of daylight savings time.  Even as I went to bed last night I dreaded the morning as I felt Tate would probably wake up at his normal time of 530am, but it would now be 430am.  I even put him down a bit later last night in hopes that he would sleep longer.  This rarely works for me as Tate seems to just be programmed for a 530am wakeup.  Ugh.  Sure enough at 4:23 this morning I heard from the crib across the room 'Mommy!  Wake up Mommy!'  I put him in bed with me with the hope that he would at least lay down and doze with me.  No such luck.  He was all over the place, no amount of 'It's still night night Tate' worked.  I gave up at 5:19 and just got up and started our day.


Unable to help myself I decided to go onto Facebook and see how many others with toddlers were up with me.  And there I found several other SMCs posting about their early morning starts!  We were there supporting and commiserating with one another and it was just great.  And I can't quite articulate how or why I felt so much better, but I did.  It's almost akin to those middle of the night feedings I used to have with Tate.  Those feedings could seem so lonely at 2 or 3 or 4 am when you're home all alone except you and your babe.  Those could be some of the loneliest times as an SMC.  But on those nights I would close my eyes with Tate on my breast and feel all the other mothers across the world who were also up rocking, feeding and caring for their babies.  And I would feel such a sense of peace come wash over me.  That solidarity of motherhood.  We women are an amazing species.  Just when the universe has seemingly thrown us the last loop we can jump through another comes our way, and we just stomp all over it.  


So thank you to all my fellow mothers out there.  But most of all thank you to all the wonderful single mothers by choice who are on this journey of motherhood with me.  Hear us roar!!!