This morning was probably the most fun that I have had a Christmas, well, ever! Luke woke up a little earlier than he usually does. When we came out, he saw a giant red Radio Flier under the tree. His eyes got huge and I told him Santa had been here. He looked at me, looked back at the wagon and whispered, "Santa". It was perfect. After he got done opening things, which took quite a while because he wants to play with everything as soon as he opens it, I tried to get him out of his PJs and into a dry diaper and an outfit. He was too excited. He roamed around here in a diaper that was pretty much dragging the ground because it was so wet for almost an hour before Brian finally pinned him down and changed him. He wanted to go outside and play and we kept telling him that he had to have clothes on first. He disagreed. He promptly put on one shoe and continued to run as fast as he could all over the house, in just a diaper and one shoe. I could not stop laughing at him.
I look forward to next year when he will have an even greater understanding of what is happening. I tried to take him to see Santa this year so we could get a picture, but Luke was not interested and I didn't want to force him to sit on the strange man's lap. Santa waved at him, he glared back and told me he was ready to go. So no Santa this year.
I hope that everyone had a wonderful holiday.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Don't tell me what to do
I have a bit of heart-heaviness today. Feeling very emotional so thought I would write. This really is my best outlet, but I am going to go for a run later and see if that helps at all.
Yesterday, Brian came home and told me that there was a chance that he was going to have to have his radiation treatment next week. That would mean no Christmas. Once he has the treatment he has to be isolated for 2 days, then cannot be around children for an additional 3-5 days. Today, he emailed me from work and said that he won't be having it done until January. I was relieved.
One thing that the doctor did tell us was that we could not try to have another baby for a year after the treatment because of the risk to a fetus. I was devastated to hear that. If it were up to me, we would already be working on number two. The timing is terrible and we can't afford to have another baby. But, man, do I sure want one. I wanted our children to be close in age. Now they will be at least three years apart. There is also a slight risk that the radiation could effect our ability to have another baby.
Before I got pregnant with Luke, I wanted to have a baby for a long time. I remember a friend telling me that she was pregnant and being very, very happy for her, but only being able to cry out of sheer envy! I wanted to be a mommy. I have had to now resign myself to possibly only having one baby. Luke is amazing and if we only get one, then he is just perfect and all that I will ever need. I want to see him as a big brother. Just yesterday, he was so concerned about a little baby that was crying at the doctor's office that he wandered into her room and tried to kiss her little face. It was precious.
I was not a glowing, happy pregnant woman. In fact, I was just the opposite. I was fat, super fat, and uncomfortable. But every time he moved, I could almost cry. It was exhilarating. I am sad for anyone that is unable to have children. I think that has got to be one of the most difficult things to accept in life. I am honored that I was able to have a child and will never take that for granted.
So Brian is having his radiation in January and I don't think that there is any way that I can convince him to impregnate me before then. So we will deal with what is to come when it gets here, I guess. I am sad about it. And I think it's okay that I feel this way.
Yesterday, Brian came home and told me that there was a chance that he was going to have to have his radiation treatment next week. That would mean no Christmas. Once he has the treatment he has to be isolated for 2 days, then cannot be around children for an additional 3-5 days. Today, he emailed me from work and said that he won't be having it done until January. I was relieved.
One thing that the doctor did tell us was that we could not try to have another baby for a year after the treatment because of the risk to a fetus. I was devastated to hear that. If it were up to me, we would already be working on number two. The timing is terrible and we can't afford to have another baby. But, man, do I sure want one. I wanted our children to be close in age. Now they will be at least three years apart. There is also a slight risk that the radiation could effect our ability to have another baby.
Before I got pregnant with Luke, I wanted to have a baby for a long time. I remember a friend telling me that she was pregnant and being very, very happy for her, but only being able to cry out of sheer envy! I wanted to be a mommy. I have had to now resign myself to possibly only having one baby. Luke is amazing and if we only get one, then he is just perfect and all that I will ever need. I want to see him as a big brother. Just yesterday, he was so concerned about a little baby that was crying at the doctor's office that he wandered into her room and tried to kiss her little face. It was precious.
I was not a glowing, happy pregnant woman. In fact, I was just the opposite. I was fat, super fat, and uncomfortable. But every time he moved, I could almost cry. It was exhilarating. I am sad for anyone that is unable to have children. I think that has got to be one of the most difficult things to accept in life. I am honored that I was able to have a child and will never take that for granted.
So Brian is having his radiation in January and I don't think that there is any way that I can convince him to impregnate me before then. So we will deal with what is to come when it gets here, I guess. I am sad about it. And I think it's okay that I feel this way.
Friday, December 12, 2008
poo
I cannot and will not get excited about poo in any fashion. I have never seen poo and been thrilled. I have only treated poo as it should be treated; with disdane, disgust, holding the vomit in the back of my throat as I rid whatever (ie shoes, baby bottoms) of the stench that is poo.
Luke decided last night that he wanted to sit on the big potty. We took his diaper off and Brian held him on the toilet as he said words like "pee-pee" and "poo" and seemed to understand that was the place to do it. I immediately read up on potty training (only to find that it is actually called "toilet learning") and prepared for cleaning up accidents. I did not, however, realize that toilet learning involves being excited and cheering on a bowel movement. How horrifying! The book said to take Luke into the bathroom with me, explain to him what it is, in detail, that Mommy is doing on the potty. Then, show him what is in the potty when mommy is finished and let him flush it away. YUCK! I WILL NOT! I will not cheer about poo. I will not show someone else, even if it is my own spawn, my poo. The idea repulses me in every way.
Granted, I am all about getting Luke out of diapers and using the potty. I am just not exactly willing to do all that it takes to get there. I can't imagine calling friends to tell them about Luke and his poo. "oh my gosh. you should have seen it! It was amazing!" (insert random throwing-up noises here)Luckily, my husband is just gross enough to do all of this for me. Call me a bad mother if you would like. Then call me and tell me that YOU are going to come over and clap for a BM! I will gladly oblige!
Luke decided last night that he wanted to sit on the big potty. We took his diaper off and Brian held him on the toilet as he said words like "pee-pee" and "poo" and seemed to understand that was the place to do it. I immediately read up on potty training (only to find that it is actually called "toilet learning") and prepared for cleaning up accidents. I did not, however, realize that toilet learning involves being excited and cheering on a bowel movement. How horrifying! The book said to take Luke into the bathroom with me, explain to him what it is, in detail, that Mommy is doing on the potty. Then, show him what is in the potty when mommy is finished and let him flush it away. YUCK! I WILL NOT! I will not cheer about poo. I will not show someone else, even if it is my own spawn, my poo. The idea repulses me in every way.
Granted, I am all about getting Luke out of diapers and using the potty. I am just not exactly willing to do all that it takes to get there. I can't imagine calling friends to tell them about Luke and his poo. "oh my gosh. you should have seen it! It was amazing!" (insert random throwing-up noises here)Luckily, my husband is just gross enough to do all of this for me. Call me a bad mother if you would like. Then call me and tell me that YOU are going to come over and clap for a BM! I will gladly oblige!
Monday, December 08, 2008
I'm sorry
What will make it better? Are there moments when you forget that you are alone now? Did the cards sent and graveside flowers make you miss any less? Does it help to know that people are here for you, or would you rather not hear another apology and offer of kindness? Why do these things happen? why do the rest of us get to continue on with every day while you stop and hold, and hold nothing? How much life do you have to live? A sacrifice that I cannot make and will not make, and you did, and now it's over. Life should be starting over. Instead, it is starting backward.
It's so easy to take for granted the day-to-day. Meals together, morning-breath kisses, having extra laundry to wash. I do it constantly. He comes home, we explain our days, finally remember to greet him with a hug and kiss, and then it's into the kitchen for dinner making and dish washing. End the day with the same routine and back again tomorrow. Wanting to take advantage of every moment, yet still trapped in the same old.
Sorry doesn't cut it for you, so I won't say it again. I will be angry for you and sad for you and confused for you. I will ask God why and still have no answer. I will run. And I will hope that you can heal, but I wonder if you will, and I don't know if you should. I would take a little away. Just a little. I could not handle it all.
It's so easy to take for granted the day-to-day. Meals together, morning-breath kisses, having extra laundry to wash. I do it constantly. He comes home, we explain our days, finally remember to greet him with a hug and kiss, and then it's into the kitchen for dinner making and dish washing. End the day with the same routine and back again tomorrow. Wanting to take advantage of every moment, yet still trapped in the same old.
Sorry doesn't cut it for you, so I won't say it again. I will be angry for you and sad for you and confused for you. I will ask God why and still have no answer. I will run. And I will hope that you can heal, but I wonder if you will, and I don't know if you should. I would take a little away. Just a little. I could not handle it all.
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