Trip Comes to an End

As our trip has continued, the service has gotten better but the accommodations have gotten worse. Tonight there is a funny smell, holes in the wall, and shoe scuff marks all over the walls. We now reside in this fantastic room for the night.

But what has really happened is that my wild thing is growing up before my eyes. He's growling, grabbing things with intention, beginning to play, and has tasted his first foods. Sigh! With the food thing, we planned on waiting until 6 months. Yesterday we were given a sourdough bread turtle for him. He had to try it. He sucked on a leg like crazy and yelled when we took it away. I know their digestive system is not really ready for foods yet so we just let him lick.

Today he tried 3 more flavors: red pepper, cucumber, and tomato. They are all healthy and different flavors. He loved the tomato. My cowboy loved tomato too. He would eat them like apples. It's amazing to see my wild thing grow and change and see how much he will be my cowboy. There are fun times to come.

Not a Spontaneous Bone in My Body

And this trip is proof why I should stay that way. We're currently on night three of an impromptu road trip. Yesterday my husband lost his ATM card. Last night our reservation was lost...as in non-existent...after we drove three hours to get there. Earlier today the hotel called about said nonexistent reservation and wants another card number so they can charge us. I explained the situation nicely and they call back still confused. Tonight we get to the hotel and they can see our reservation but have no room for us. WTH people!?!?! Now I'm ready to grab the guy by the tie and pull him over the counter if he doesn't find a room for my family.

I think planning, for me, is about protecting my family. My hubs, step-daughter, and my wild thing need watching out for and it's my job to do it. I go into mama bear mode when people screw with my plans for my family. (Sometimes my hubs gets in the way of his own protection.)  I did everything I could to protect my cowboy and it wasn't enough. That's probably why planning is so important to me now.

On a side note, we've had some fun on vacation. My step-daughter keeps reminding me to play the glad game. Love it!

I'm Big on Composure

Last night, my wild thing was fussy. He wouldn't soothe or go to sleep. I knew he was tired, but he wouldn't relax and kept spitting out his paci. He started screaming and I felt myself getting more tense. My husband came up and sweetly offered to take the wild thing and walk with him awhile. You would think I said, "Yes, please and thank you." That's what any normal person would do.

Not me! I have to prove it to myself and hubs and my wild thing that I can handle it...not just that I can handle it, but that I can overcome my own frustration and be calm. I have to do this so well that my wild thing also calms and sleeps. Because babies, like bees, can smell fear. Haha! (I don't know if that's really true about bees...but definitely about babies.)

My own personal zen is forced...it's a learned behavior. What does it get me (besides a sleeping baby), you ask. Well, composure. I remember a time when my cowboy was sick. I'd gotten bad news and was outside the hospital talking to some girlfriends. There was this woman crying hysterically. I don't blame her...we all hurt and cry. At the time, all I could think was, "Your grief is interfering with my composure." My friends laughed when I said this.

The thing is, it's stuck with me. Composure is a huge thing for me. It's part of how I define myself. What I'm thinking now is, "What the heck is wrong with me?" ;)

How Much Should I Share?

I think honesty is important. Honesty about the reality of life is often difficult. In my experiences, I know that honesty about childhood cancer and death can make life awkward and lonely. People don't want to think about the possibility that <b>their</b> child could get sick…that <b>their</b> child could be gone. And I don't blame them. I don't want to be the person it happens to either.

I am trying to be honest about the illness and death of my cowboy. The six months we spent fighting his illness (through brain surgeries, chemotherapy, hospital stays, and physical therapy) will never eclipse the three and a half years leading up to it. The good times will <b>never</b> overshadow the "bad".

I wonder how it would make my children feel to know the things that I share and the intimate moments of our life that I tell the world. I just wonder how my cowboy would feel about me telling everyone about our life...or even how my wild thing will feel (someday) about my feelings. Will he resent me for loving my cowboy so much and wondering if I'd love him?

I recently read an article about this conundrum.

http://tinyurl.com/msqrdm6

While I don't feel I'm in competition with the other blogs out there I want to guard myself and my children against a future full of resentment and hurt feelings because of something I said. Don't we all want that as mothers? Whether we blog or talk to our girlfriends, shouldn't we be mindful of the way we talk about our family?

Sleep Like a Baby

Let me remind you that the phrase "Sleep Like a Baby" is totally misrepresented. Babies, while they may sleep a lot, actually have a significant amount of trouble sleeping. Their poor little nervous systems are just trying to keep up with all of the input they are receiving. Babies actually spend about 50% of their sleep in active sleep, which is REM, where they are easily roused, make noises, and move around. Many babies have a hard time falling and staying asleep. It's not like it was in the good old days...when they were snuggled in your womb, with muffled noises, being rocked to sleep by all of your movements throughout the day.

What made me spout on about this is that my wild thing is 3 months old now and we are constantly barraged with questions about his sleep habits. Here's an example of how the conversation goes.

Them: "Is he a good sleeper?"

Me: "He sleeps."

Them: "Does he sleep through the night?"

Me: "Well, no. He sleeps with us, so I usually feed/check him each time he wakes up. He might sleep for one 3-4 hour stretch each night."

Them: "Oh, that's too bad." (CUE disapproving look regarding the co-sleeping.)

I always feel the need to explain myself and say that he only wakes to fidget or eat. He doesn't stay awake for long periods. Blah! Blah! What I really want to say is, "WTF people...he's three-months-old for goodness sake. He's only little for a very short period of time. He'll sleep through the night when he's ready. My cowboy did not sleep through the night until almost a year. After about 6 months he woke once each night to eat. Why do we need to rush toward milestones (like sleeping through the night)? Why do I need to force my infant to be an independent person?"

I was recently asked to fill out a form for when he begins child care (on a very part-time basis) in September. What is his sleep schedule? Well, he doesn't have one. What is his feeding schedule? Well, he doesn't have one. I know this sounds crazy to some people, but it is how I choose to parent.

As you can probably tell, I'm a little into the attachment parenting thing. I do everything I can to meet my wild thing's needs as they come along. If he's hungry, I feed him. If he's tired, he sleeps. Not everyone agrees with my parenting style. Aside from changing his diaper, I don't think we put my wild thing down for the first few weeks of life. I also believe in letting my baby be a baby for as long as he needs to. Mind you, I'm not saying he should still be wearing diapers when he enters kindergarten. I am saying that he will do things as he's ready to do them. He is becoming more independent as he is ready. He, in his own infant way, asks for the things he needs: food, changing, sleep, alone time, interaction, and chances to explore.

Paternity Leave

As part of my hubs’ parental leave he is off work for all of July. Yay that we get to spend time together with the wild thing and my step-daughter. AND boo at the same time! While he tries to help around the house (and I love him dearly), there are so many things we do differently.

For instance:

1) The other day, we were doing laundry and needed to do a load of towels. The night before, we had pulled the last of the towels from the cupboard and put them in our bathroom. My husband, in his grand wisdom, collected all of the towels from the bathrooms to wash. I go up to take a shower and no towel. Do I wait until the laundry is done before taking a shower (Even though I’m sweaty from working out!) or do I search for a towel? I found one hand towel in the cupboard. I take a shower and have to dry off with a hand towel. Seriously?!?! It barely wrapped around my thigh. How can this poor towel be expected to do the job of a towel four times it's size? When I mentioned it to hubs he says, “You could have used two hand towels.” Not, “Sorry babe. I should have thought about that.”

2) We’re out by the pool with the wild thing and he’s taking him inside to change him. As he’s walking along, the sun is blaring in the wild thing’s eyes. When I mention it, he says, “Well, if you hadn’t stopped me to tell me the sun wouldn’t have been in his eyes.” All I have to say is, “WTF!?!?” How is that my fault? Sheesh!

3) I get home from being gone all day with my wild thing. I have to go to the bathroom, so I ask hubs to hold him for me. He looks at me, momentarily distracted from his video game, and asks, "For how long?" I walked away. After being being alone with his games all day, I ask for a minute's peace and can't get that.

I'm done complaining, for now. I do get moments like this.

I know I'm a big fat complainer and am lucky to have a hubby who's interested in being home with us to "help". Some women don't have that. Heck, I didn't have that with my cowboy. His dad was deployed for 6 months after he was born. I was forced to be everything and do it independently. When he came home it was difficult for me to adjust and trust him with part of the responsibility. Maybe part of the reason for our marital demise. Who knows! Now I have a partner in parenting who wants to help and is here but...and here's the big BUT...does everything differently from me and requires me to pick up his messes. It's hard to share the load when it feels like doing it myself would be, possibly, faster and easier than explaining it all to him. It's just HARD! I know I'm not alone in this.

Missing One

I LOVE my wild thing. I enjoy my time with him and am blessed to have him in my life. Recently, I have been struggling with the separation between him and my cowboy. For years all I have had is my cowboy. He was with me until he was four-years-old and has been gone for almost 7 years now.

The last week or two, when thinking of my wild thing, I call him the wrong name. I know parents do that all the time and it’s no big deal. I do it with my students in class. We all laugh at my lapse in memory, since I obviously know their names. I obviously know my wild thing's name, as well. Not having my cowboy here with us makes it seem different...less funny and more heart-wrenching. It feels so wrong…like blaspheme! They are not the same little boy. My wild thing will never replace my cowboy. I can’t help, though, thinking, “My cowboy needs to eat.” Or, “My cowboy rolled over today.” I remember my cowboy being with me like it was yesterday. As far as I was concerned, he was the only one for me.

After losing my cowboy, I couldn't imagine having another child in my life who would hold such a significant place in my heart. Needless to say, pregnancy was very hard for me emotionally. As part of our birth preparation, I was asked to envision my perfect birth. It was heartbreaking for me because my perfect birth involved my cowboy. In a perfect world he would be there with us to welcome this new little one into our family.

Now that I my wild thing is here it is bittersweet. It’s something I need to work through because things will not change. The phrase, “This too shall pass” doesn’t apply. My cowboy is gone. My wild thing is here today. My love for them both is immeasurable. While I'm not much of a singer, my wild thing likes when I sing to him. Specifically, there is a song by J. J. Heller called "I Get to Be the One ." I frequently cry as I sing, look at my wild thing, and carry him through the house. Despite what I've lost I do get to be mommy to my wild thing. Every moment I get to be mommy is precious.