Ring...Ring...Ring...
Anthony: Hello
Me: Hi.
Anthony: How is your day going?
Me: Oh, fine, I guess. But your son is the most stubborn human being I've ever encountered! I mean, it's like, he refuses to wear hats, refuses to wear bibs and stains all of his clothes, refused to take a bottle, screams bloody murder when I change his clothes. I mean, really, he has got to be the most opinionated, stubborn child in the universe!
Anthony: Gee, I wonder where he gets that from?
Me: I know, right?!
Showing posts with label hubba bubba. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hubba bubba. Show all posts
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The Baby Book
Every mother diligently fills out her child's baby book (well, at least for the first kid...). I have spent countless hours updating and maintaining Vincent's baby book so that he will have something to look back on and feel guilty over when he is a teenager and he decides he hates me. There are two pages in the back of the baby book: Letter From Mommy & Letter From Daddy. As soon as my pen hit the page the words just started flowing. I mean, if anyone is going to bring out my most loving, nurturing emotions, it will be my child, right? I filled up the whole page within minutes and I wrote as small as possible so that I would not run out of room. See, to me, this letter from mommy thing was a piece of cake. The other page, Letter From Daddy, has remained stark white for the last 11 months. This has brought about more than one argument between my husband and I. "Why can't you write a letter to your first born son? What is wrong with you?" I actually gave him a deadline - you must write your letter in three weeks or else....
Three weeks came and went and still there was nothing but the lonely lines on an empty page. Last night, I was fed up. I didn't yell. I didn't scream. I didn't make him feel like the shittest father in the world. I calmly explained why it was so important to me. You see, Anthony's father was tragically murdered when Anthony was a mere 2 years old. Needless to say, he never knew his father and I don't think he has one single memory of him alive. He has nothing but old, torn pictures to look back on. "Anthony, what if, God forbid, you were to die tomorrow? Wouldn't you want Vincent to know, in your own words, how much he meant to you? How much he changed your life for the better? How you could never describe in a million words how much you love him?" I think I finally struck a cord.
Anthony's lack of expressing his emotions with the written word in no way is to say he is not a loving person. I know that my husband would die a thousand times over for me and for Vincent. He does, however, suffer from the inability to wear his feelings/emotions on his sleeve. But the thought of him not leaving behind anything for his son to read, to feel, left him feeling rather guilty.
Late in the evening I found him at the kitchen table, with a pen in hand and the baby book wide open. I saw his thoughts reeling in his head. I didn't dare speak a word. I didn't want to disrupt his emotional breakthrough. He only wrote a little, and he said he needed to think about it more. And that's all I could have asked of him, at that very moment, when I marveled at how much he has changed over the years....how far he has come...
Three weeks came and went and still there was nothing but the lonely lines on an empty page. Last night, I was fed up. I didn't yell. I didn't scream. I didn't make him feel like the shittest father in the world. I calmly explained why it was so important to me. You see, Anthony's father was tragically murdered when Anthony was a mere 2 years old. Needless to say, he never knew his father and I don't think he has one single memory of him alive. He has nothing but old, torn pictures to look back on. "Anthony, what if, God forbid, you were to die tomorrow? Wouldn't you want Vincent to know, in your own words, how much he meant to you? How much he changed your life for the better? How you could never describe in a million words how much you love him?" I think I finally struck a cord.
Anthony's lack of expressing his emotions with the written word in no way is to say he is not a loving person. I know that my husband would die a thousand times over for me and for Vincent. He does, however, suffer from the inability to wear his feelings/emotions on his sleeve. But the thought of him not leaving behind anything for his son to read, to feel, left him feeling rather guilty.
Late in the evening I found him at the kitchen table, with a pen in hand and the baby book wide open. I saw his thoughts reeling in his head. I didn't dare speak a word. I didn't want to disrupt his emotional breakthrough. He only wrote a little, and he said he needed to think about it more. And that's all I could have asked of him, at that very moment, when I marveled at how much he has changed over the years....how far he has come...
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Blow The House Down
Today marked Vincent's 11th month of existence. I am constantly shocked and flabbergasted by how quickly this time has gone by. In so many ways, it seems like I was just in the hospital, pushing for 2 1/2 hours to no avail, and finally finally finally getting to see that little face I had so desperately been longing for all those months. Everyone always used to say to me, while I was pregnant, "the first year will go just like that" (finger snap...you get the picture). SO TRUE! Well, maybe not those agonizing months when the devil possessed by small baby and sent my emotions through the meat grinder, leaving nothing but uncontrollable sobs and swollen, puffy eyes. Ok, so it was colic, but I think the other version better describes my life for three months. Ya, those months probably didn't go by "just like that" (finger snap).
I officially booked Vincent's birthday party location and ordered the invites. I am a master of procrastination so I'm actually quite pleased that I am ordering my invitations and booking the lo-cal a whole month before the party! Normally one of the more responsible women of my family, such as my ultra-prepared, uber-organized sister or my just plain neurotic mother would have had zero faith in my ability to plan anything effectively and would have taken over by now. I'm not offended by their lack of faith; I'm actually relieved they know me well enough to know I just won't do some things and are always there to pick up the pieces.
My mother-in-law took Vincent for about 2 hours today, as she does everyday Tuesday. Anthony always manages to say something stupid like "oh, that'll be nice for you". "Yes, honey, it will be nice. I can now have 2 hours to pick up your dirty socks, wash your stanky boxers and prepare you a home cooked meal without the squealing interruptions of your son." He so does not get it. It's not like I take 2 hours to sit on my ass and read a book, like I've been craving to do. I'm doing shit around the house. The clothes and dishes don't wash themselves. Shocking, right?
The weather SUCKED today. I don't know how fast the wind was blowing, but it was blowing hard enough to rip my fence out of its cement retaining wall and hard enough for me to worry that when I stepped out of the shower I may be looking out the window to find that my house was swirling around the sky trying to determine where to land. Then, of course, I'd come across some faux-tan-gone-WAY-wrong little people and they would sing and dance for me....and...ya....you see where I'm going with this analogy. Point is, the wind was blowing so fucking hard that my electricity went out for hours and I was climbing the walls with a severe case of cabin fever. My technology withdrawals were like nothing I had experienced before. I couldn't believe how consumed my life had become with these things that people used to completely live without. I was deeply ashamed when the power finally came back on and I was about as happy as a kid on Christmas morning. I literally ran through the house with my hands up in the air, yelling "HALLELUJAH!! PRAISE JESUS!! MARY MOTHER OF JOSEPH!!"
I can't bag on my husband too much tonight. See, with the weather being so crazy and the wind howling so loudly that I'm even a little scared, the cats are starting to act, well, petrified. If it were up to me they'd just cuddle up in bed right next to me tonight, but Anthony does not want the cats in the house at night. So, the hardass he is, grabbed them both and put them in the garage for the night. He seemed to have been gone for a long time so I peaked out there to find him gently settling them into fluffy pillows and blankets and giving them each equal amounts of pets and affection. I smiled and walked away before he could see me. That's the man I fell in love with. The closet softy.
Oh P.S...Have you happened to try the Double Stuf Peanut Butter oreos??!! Let me say again...HOLY MARY MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND PURE....WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN MY ENTIRE LIFE??
I officially booked Vincent's birthday party location and ordered the invites. I am a master of procrastination so I'm actually quite pleased that I am ordering my invitations and booking the lo-cal a whole month before the party! Normally one of the more responsible women of my family, such as my ultra-prepared, uber-organized sister or my just plain neurotic mother would have had zero faith in my ability to plan anything effectively and would have taken over by now. I'm not offended by their lack of faith; I'm actually relieved they know me well enough to know I just won't do some things and are always there to pick up the pieces.
My mother-in-law took Vincent for about 2 hours today, as she does everyday Tuesday. Anthony always manages to say something stupid like "oh, that'll be nice for you". "Yes, honey, it will be nice. I can now have 2 hours to pick up your dirty socks, wash your stanky boxers and prepare you a home cooked meal without the squealing interruptions of your son." He so does not get it. It's not like I take 2 hours to sit on my ass and read a book, like I've been craving to do. I'm doing shit around the house. The clothes and dishes don't wash themselves. Shocking, right?
The weather SUCKED today. I don't know how fast the wind was blowing, but it was blowing hard enough to rip my fence out of its cement retaining wall and hard enough for me to worry that when I stepped out of the shower I may be looking out the window to find that my house was swirling around the sky trying to determine where to land. Then, of course, I'd come across some faux-tan-gone-WAY-wrong little people and they would sing and dance for me....and...ya....you see where I'm going with this analogy. Point is, the wind was blowing so fucking hard that my electricity went out for hours and I was climbing the walls with a severe case of cabin fever. My technology withdrawals were like nothing I had experienced before. I couldn't believe how consumed my life had become with these things that people used to completely live without. I was deeply ashamed when the power finally came back on and I was about as happy as a kid on Christmas morning. I literally ran through the house with my hands up in the air, yelling "HALLELUJAH!! PRAISE JESUS!! MARY MOTHER OF JOSEPH!!"
I can't bag on my husband too much tonight. See, with the weather being so crazy and the wind howling so loudly that I'm even a little scared, the cats are starting to act, well, petrified. If it were up to me they'd just cuddle up in bed right next to me tonight, but Anthony does not want the cats in the house at night. So, the hardass he is, grabbed them both and put them in the garage for the night. He seemed to have been gone for a long time so I peaked out there to find him gently settling them into fluffy pillows and blankets and giving them each equal amounts of pets and affection. I smiled and walked away before he could see me. That's the man I fell in love with. The closet softy.
Oh P.S...Have you happened to try the Double Stuf Peanut Butter oreos??!! Let me say again...HOLY MARY MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND PURE....WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN MY ENTIRE LIFE??
Friday, April 10, 2009
Don't Call Me, I'll Call You....
Let me start off by reiterating that I have Vincent on a fairly strict nap schedule. This took ample amount of time to accomplish, and I must say I am quite proud of it. Vincent naps at 9:00am and 1:00pm. Now, every once in a while we forsake this path for whatever reason, but for the most part we can count on a nap at those two particular times. At 8:55am this morning I sat down on my rocker with my little man in tow with the mission to nurse him to sleep. (Yes, I am trying to get Vincent to learn to fall asleep without a boob, but I can't always be a hardass). Right as Vincent's droopy eyelids started getting heavy, my cell phone rang. It was my husband. Luckily, I had the phone right there next to me so I simply pressed the ignore button so the phone would stop ringing. Then, without fail, the house phone starts ringing. I jump up to answer it because my husband as the annoying habit of letting the phone ring about 50 times before he gives up. This is how the phone call went:
Me: HELLO (annoyed)
Anthony: Hi.
Me: I ignore your phone call for a reason...I'm trying to get Vincent down!
Anthony: Oh, sorry.
Me: Click (hang up)
After I finally got Vincent to sleep, despite the numerous interruptions, I called my poor husband. I felt bad for hanging up on him, even though he should have known not to call at 9:00am!! He seemed rather unrattled by my bitchy behavior. I am still undecided on whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. Ha Ha.
Well, my sister is in town now and I'm super excited. As soon as Vincent wakes up we are going to head over to my parents house where they are staying. The weather is starting to somewhat improve. The sun is starting to shine through, but there is still a bit of a chill in the air. This creates quite a dilemma for me because it's a little too warm for my Uggs, but a little too cold for my flip flops. If you know me at all you know I only wear one or the other, so I'm still trying to decide which shoe to put on. If this is my biggest problem of the day, I think I'll be in pretty good shape.
xoxox
Me: HELLO (annoyed)
Anthony: Hi.
Me: I ignore your phone call for a reason...I'm trying to get Vincent down!
Anthony: Oh, sorry.
Me: Click (hang up)
After I finally got Vincent to sleep, despite the numerous interruptions, I called my poor husband. I felt bad for hanging up on him, even though he should have known not to call at 9:00am!! He seemed rather unrattled by my bitchy behavior. I am still undecided on whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. Ha Ha.
Well, my sister is in town now and I'm super excited. As soon as Vincent wakes up we are going to head over to my parents house where they are staying. The weather is starting to somewhat improve. The sun is starting to shine through, but there is still a bit of a chill in the air. This creates quite a dilemma for me because it's a little too warm for my Uggs, but a little too cold for my flip flops. If you know me at all you know I only wear one or the other, so I'm still trying to decide which shoe to put on. If this is my biggest problem of the day, I think I'll be in pretty good shape.
xoxox
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Redemption
If you read my previous blog about how pissed I was at my husband, you'll be happy to hear he made up for it. See, today marked my mother's 51st birthday and due to my ridiculous hectic day yesterday I was unable to make it up to the store to get a card. On his way home from the gym, Anthony went by the store and picked up a Birthday card and a bouquet of flowers for my mom. So, those daggers eyes I expected to be handing out like candy was quickly replaced with a genuine smile and a semi-sweet "thank you". That is just like men, isn't it? Just when you think you'll get the opportunity to rip them a new one, they do something endearing and you just can't be mad anymore! Damn it!
I also wanted to clear up one thing from my previous entry. When I said that Vincent was crying his crib and I was simply ignoring him, I do want to clarify that it was his bedtime and we are trying really hard to get him to fall asleep without a boob in his mouth. I wasn't ingenuously divulging in shitty t.v for the hell of it. I only let Vincent cry in his crib if I am trying to get him to sleep. Although I used to have to do it every now and then when he had colic and cried non stop. Sometimes I just needed that break, even if it was just for 5 minutes so that I could regroup and collect my emotions before I snapped entirely and ended up in the mental ward.
I also wanted to clear up one thing from my previous entry. When I said that Vincent was crying his crib and I was simply ignoring him, I do want to clarify that it was his bedtime and we are trying really hard to get him to fall asleep without a boob in his mouth. I wasn't ingenuously divulging in shitty t.v for the hell of it. I only let Vincent cry in his crib if I am trying to get him to sleep. Although I used to have to do it every now and then when he had colic and cried non stop. Sometimes I just needed that break, even if it was just for 5 minutes so that I could regroup and collect my emotions before I snapped entirely and ended up in the mental ward.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
One of those days I guess....
As of right now, Vincent is crying in his crib and I am trying to drown out the noise with lame reality television. My dear husband is working out at the gym. Must be nice, right? You're gone for 10 hours during the day, you come home and give Vincent a bath and then your job is done and you get to go work out?? WTF? Really though, I can only blame myself. If I said "no" he wouldn't have gone. I gave the OK and now I'm pissed. I do this time and time again. And I don't know why! Whenever he walks through the door after working up a sweat, I throw dagger eyes his way and wish him dead. So why do I let him go? I have come to realize it's some sort of fucked up guilt thing that I have within myself. You know, he's worked all day and he deserves to go out, right? But what about me? I've worked all day too. The only difference is that I didn't get to take a lunch break or even shit by myself! I need to respect my job as a mother and realize I work hard too. Actually I work harder. I need to go to the gym God damn it!
I ate bad sour cream at dinner and now my stomach hurts...
I just took a valium...ya it's been one of those days!
I ate bad sour cream at dinner and now my stomach hurts...
I just took a valium...ya it's been one of those days!
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