This week was jammed packed with random happenings. I'll start first with myself. If you follow me on Instagram, you know that I still play coed-softball every Wednesday evening -spring, summer, and fall. My husband works a lot of 12 hour days, so I'm rarely without my children. And girls night is always too inconsistent for my general health. So, softball is my guaranteed one night a week out, by myself, without my children. Plus, I'm good at sports. It's just enough time away where I'm able to reset my brain, talk like an adult, and I don't miss them like crazy. I'm the weirdo where after 2 hours away, I start scrolling through my phone and looking at pictures of my children and thinking about what they're doing.
Two weeks ago, we were playing a double header game. Around the 5th inning of the first game, I hit a long single. The next batter hit a shot out to left field, which bounced past the fielder. I ran from first to third, then rounded the base, surveying where the ball was (since we didn't have a third base coach). I saw the cutoff bobble the ball and in that split second, I imagined myself in my late teens and started going home. I hesitated mid way, rethinking my course of action. The ball was then thrown home and the catcher caught it, stopping me between third and home. I quickly turned my tired body around and headed back to third. Running down the line, I heard the ball thrown over my head and quickly visualized my options. I knew I had to slide, otherwise I would get tagged out, but my legs were behind me and I also knew I was too tired to bring the bottom half of my body around to slide, feet first.
So I dove.
Face first.
Before I continue, let me say, I was safe.
And I scored on the next batter's hit.
But as I stood up from the ground, the knees of my favorite blue sweats were torn. I had dirt from my neck to the shoes. Scrapes were on my elbows and my right knee. But, my left knee was immediately swollen and bloody. It all happened so fast, I'm not even sure how my one knee impacted the ground harder than the other. I nonchalantly asked how my slide looked... Did it look like Pete Rose? Or did I look like a tee baller diving back to a base? Because the way I felt, I was almost positive, it was the latter.
But no, my team and spectators said it looked awesome. They were impressed. And the athlete in me, shrugged off the pain and played the rest of the game and the second game, without complaint.
Fast forward two weeks later.
My knee was every shade of purple, still swollen, and now my toes and calf area was getting tingly and numb if I sat a certain way. I'm not a doctor person, and I've had major injuries worse than this back in college, so I hesitated to call.
But this past Monday, I finally called my doctor and was told to head to urgent care to get evaluated.
I called my mom to see if she could hang out at my house with my children, so they didn't have to be dragged with me from place to place.
She obliged.
So I headed up to urgent care for the first series of testing.
Upon my arrival home, my daughter was curled up in her bed with my mom stroking her head. Throughout the 50 minutes that I was gone, she spiked a fever. She did have a cough starting a few days ago, but never showed any other symptoms. I was shocked by how quickly the onset occurred.
I sat beside her in bed, holding a piece of paper in my hand that stated I had to go back to the hospital at 7:30 for an ultrasound to test for a DVT (deep vein thrombosis).
It would figure that the day I finally decided to get my knee checked, was the same day that my daughter spiked a high fever and now, I had to inconvenience someone else to help.
I felt my stomach whirl when I had to figure out the next steps. The urgent care doctor was adamant about getting this ultrasound checked because of the numbness and tingling in my feet. She said, it could be a blood clot (DVT) or a pocket of swelling behind the knee. Either way, it needed a diagnosis. So there I was, typical me, trying to self diagnosis while I snuggled next to my daughter. I was thinking logically, if it was a DVT, I probably would have already thrown a clot by now, because I never sit still.
My mom broke my thought process by saying she would stay with my children while I went and received the final testing.
I hesitated a few dozen times within the two hour wait, because I didn't want to leave my daughter. But my mom pushed the significance of getting the testing done. And, I'm glad she did, because if it were just me, I would have probably skipped the final testing and stayed home.
Thankfully, all the testing came back fine. But sadly, there was still a lot of swelling remaining behind my knee that was pinching my nerve and causing my symptoms.
For me, that diagnosis was a little hard to swallow. I could remember playing college field hockey and slamming my knee into the turf on a daily basis. And, I remember diving face first towards the goalie, trying to get the ball in the goal. Hell, I was even kicked by a goalie in my shoulder/neck area and knocked out and I still played the rest of the game. But here I am, almost 35 years old, and laid up for over 2 weeks because of a little swelling behind my knee.
Ugh...
Once the house was quiet, I tidied up the downstairs waiting for my husband to come home. About an hour after my children went to sleep, I heard a child walking down the steps. I turn to see my daughter standing at the bottom, with her hair disheveled, holding her curly shirley doll and sheet. I felt her head and her fever was high. Much higher. I called my husband and step mother in law to bring a fever reducer here, which they did. But before they arrived, I laid her in my bed and rotated a cool cloth on her body to lower her body temperature.
As I laid in the dark room, with my fever reduced little girl snuggled into my body, I rolled through the day in my head...
I realized the reality of how much time has passed since I've played a collegiate sport. Also, that I'm getting older and probably should limit my urge to slide at softball in the future. Or, get into better shape..
And I also realized how much I missed my little girl snuggled in my bed with me. My daughter never slept in her own bed. Never. Not longer than 15-30 minute increments. When I fought cosleeping, before I became an attachment parent, I used to go into her room 6 + times a night, every night. Finally, when I was sick during my pregnancy with my son, I caved and brought her in my bed. And, it was glorious! I couldn't imagine I would have ever slept again. But, as time passed, I wanted to transition her into her own room so I could have time on my own. Because all who cosleep, knows it's not as simple as just going to sleep. I had to end my night when she went to sleep. There wasn't much of a bed time. And there wasn't much of "me" time. Surprisingly, the transition went smooth and she's been on her own for over 2 years now (my son has always loved sleeping on his own). But the past nights, she's been with me. And I was transported back to a time when her voice was little and her body tiny. To a time when I would wake up in the morning and she would have Dora already on the TV and drink her bottle with her head on my shoulder.
As much as I see myself aging, I see my daughter aging as well. It seemed like yesterday, I could do Petey slides and hop right back up and run more bases. Or, I would do crazy things to my body on the field and never give it a second thought. And it seemed like yesterday, my daughter was my only child and we would spend our days, hanging out, without so much structure keeping us boxed in.
But as life has it, we all have to learn to grow and adapt in this world. And as much as my daughter is learning to function in her new environment, technically, us adults are also learning how to function in our environment as well. We all have to learn the new us, as we age.
Things around us are constantly changing and evolving and we have to keep learning new ways to adjust while moving forward, just like children do too.
Because good and bad, life's always changing.
And time is always moving.
And, either you're moving forward.
Or, you're moving backwards.
Because, time won't wait for you.
And standing still, isn't an option...
I'm almost positive that the words, "time for bed," sometimes elicits some sort of amnesia episode with my children. Because once the words are spoken, they act like it's the first time they have ever gone to sleep in their entire lives and suddenly, they become confused about the end result... Motherhood.
The Happy Days Blog
Our Saturday was another rainy, gloomy day. Our home had that fall chill where you're in between using your heating system and having the windows slightly opened. We all stayed in our warm jammies and oversized socks a lot longer than socially appropriate.
Who am I kidding?
I was the only one who changed into outdoor clothing when I was forced to leave the house to go grocery shopping for milk and bread because we were near end. And in our home, milk and bread is like oxygen.
...But, I totally changed back into my jammies when I arrived back home...
I watched some Roseanne reruns and my husband was in our other living room watching a football game.
Our children ran throughout our home playing freeze tag on and off by themselves. And there was also some pretend school, wind chime creating, and terrarium building in between with mommy. But mostly, my two children played together, nicely, for the better part of the day.
I am adoring this stage in their lives where they treat each other as peers, not as inconveniences. These two have climbed mountains, crossed dry deserts, and swam deep seas to get to this place of acceptance. A stage I would have bet my left foot that would never arrive.
But, here we finally are. And this mama gets to watch this blossoming relationship flourish in front of my very eyes. A place where the tips of their little fingers end and the other one begins.
I'll hear them have full blown conversations about Halloween and Christmas, or how my son will love preschool. I hear them help each other beat a level on the Bugs Bunny Dash game on their kindles. Or, my daughter help him with his ABCs. And I'll get the opportunity to see both of them snuggled next to each other on the couch, sharing a pillow, watching the new Henry Danger. (But come on, Henry Danger is a pretty awesome show).
Occasionally, I'll hear someone argue with the other, but that's usually corrected by the other one saying, "we don't argue in this family, we hug." Which, a hug does simultaneously follow.
In case you didn't know, I say that a lot...
Weirdly, I sometimes miss the need for me. Don't get me wrong, my children and I spend the majority of the day doing things together, but I'm not used to these seldom breaks. I've spent the last 6 years with a child so close to me, that I would sometimes step on their feet. But now, I almost feel a little incomplete, like I should be doing something with them.
Those are the moments, I enter into their playroom and butt into their play. But, I'm usually dismissed with, "we're ok mommy."
I must admit, my heart breaks a little.
But instead, I smile and say, "that's ok guys... You enjoy your time together and come out and get me when you're done and want to do something else." Which they always do, but each time, the duration stretches longer and longer.
And my duration of mindless TV watching also stretches... You'd think I'd find something more productive to do during that time. But instead, I find myself shocked by the lack of non needing that is going on, that I'm still trying to process how to function.
But that's life, right? You go through these short years where your children eat, sleep, and breathe mommy every minute of every day, Only for them to mature and grow into independent beings who release the umbilical cord, one inch at a time.
Even when mommy isn't ready for it...
And especially, when mommy least expects it.
The leaves outside my bedroom window are turning the most beautiful shade of golden yellow. I know this because, this is where I have been spending the majority of my mid mornings after I drop my daughter off at school. I sit, with my back pressed against an old rustic kitchen chair, and randomly shift my eyes outward towards the window. I catch myself drifting off in between key strokes and remembering all my fondest memories of Fall.
After breakfast, I sit at my small computer table, next to my floor to ceiling window and do countless amounts of research. My son is usually hunkered down on the bed behind me playing his kindle.
Quietly, I might add.
I am, by far, the worst when it comes to technology. Which is quite humorous that I chose to do something that centers around the need for technology. If it weren't for my blog, I wouldn't even own a smart phone. Embarrassingly, I only purchased my smart phone about 2 years ago. And prepare yourselves for this, I still have a house phone... And I use it more than my cellphone.
Since my daughter began her full days at school and my son will be starting preschool right around the corner, I've been wanting to focus more on my blog and making it into more of a business brand, versus just a hobby. So, here I sit, day after day, googling and listening to bloggers write about their journey of all the ins and outs of taking that next step.
I've done the first part, by announcing that I'll be publishing my stories three times a week, Sunday and Friday, with my mid weeks on Wednesdays.
But first, I want/need to professionalize my site. I'd like to upgrade all my features and bring my page into the 21st century. Although, I always loved the simplicity of my page, because, it's me. And it's easy to maintain. But, I quickly realized in the world of blogging, graphic designs are much prettier to look at.
So, the research is on...
And, I'd love to hear from all of you. What are some things you readers enjoy seeing on blogs? Any advice on this process? Any encouraging words while this mama mulls through countless online tutorials?
Prayers?
(lol).
Until then, please enjoy my plain design, but meaningful content. And thank you all for your sweet words in response to my posts. I really enjoy telling my stories and sharing my days. As my close friends all know, I love to talk. Like, reeeeaaaally love talk. So blogging has always been my destiny. And, I'm so glad that other people enjoy hearing me talk too, but out of choice, not just because you're my friends and have to...
I also appreciate the support from this mommy community. And I love chatting with all you fine people. So, don't hesitate to comment on my posts, Instagram pictures, or Facebook posts and start a conversation.
Basically, if it involves talking, I'm in!
Thank you.
Sometimes, motherhood can be measured by how many times you look at the clock during the day. Then, there are other days where it seems like each time that you look, only the second hand has moved. And lastly, you have those days, where no matter what you do, you can't stop time from moving... Motherhood.
The Happy Days Blog
We experienced our first official school age birthday party this weekend. Weeks ago, my daughter energetically bounced home with the crisp white envelope, which was already torn opened.
She said, "mama, I HAVE to go!"
I quickly read over the invite, but was very hesitant when I reached the words, "drop off party." Then waaaaayyy at the bottom, in smaller print, were the words, "but you can stay if you'd like." I tapped the invite against my palm, as I mulled over the idea in my head before speaking.
I wasn't ready to drop off my newly 6 year old daughter at someone's home whom I've never met. Although, I'm not even sure I could drop my child off at someone's home who I do know.
So before bedtime, I sat on the edge of her bed and decided to include her in the decision making. We began to discuss my concerns with a drop off party and before I could continue my statement she cut me off by saying, "I don't want you to leave me there by myself."
Well. That was easy.
So easy in fact, that I had to save my Ward Cleaver speech for another occasion.
I told her that if she really wanted to go, I'd cart myself to the party and be the only adult staying if I had to. And considering most of her school friends were attending, she really wanted to go.
I made the call and responded yes to the invite...
She asked several questions about why parents wanted to drop their children off without staying and enjoying the adult side. And, I really didn't have an answer. I honestly don't know the reason. I know whenever I have parties for my two children, I want the parents to stay so we could all hang out and get to know each other, especially, if our children are friends.
But... I know I'm different.
I should totally have a trending hashtag coptermommyinthehouse.
The weeks passed quickly and the party day arrived...
We pulled up to a gorgeous home, parked the car, and walked towards the double doors. My daughter started getting nervous and kept asking for reassurance, if I was definitely staying the whole time.
I answered, yes.
Repeatedly...
We were greeted by the mom, who kind of stopped me in the doorway. I felt like she was waiting for me to turn around and leave. I know that I already told her I was staying when I responded to the invite, but maybe, she was hoping I'd change my mind.
Turned out, none of the other parents stayed.
My daughter removed her shoes and ran to her friends, who were standing in the living room off the foyer. I kindly said hi and introduced myself, then walked passed her to an empty chair in the room.
My daughter glanced over at me and I gave her a wink. She quickly wandered off with the rest of the girls and left my side. I was remaining, awkwardly sitting alone in their living room. Except for the occasional conversation from the lovely grandmother who came in to break the silence.
The day dragged on, the two hours felt like eternity. I didn't want to follow her around from room to room. I wanted her to feel like she was "dropped off" without actually being dropped off. And it worked, because I didn't see much of her for the duration.
I leaned back, scrolled through Facebook and Instagram and returned some emails. I also received a Facebook messenger comment from a mom of one of the daughter's at the party, who was supposed to stay with me, but chickened out when she came in and felt very uncomfortable about the whole idea. She apologized.
See, that's where I'm different, I'm 100% ok with putting myself in an uncomfortable situation in order to make my children comfortable. It seems that I have been in more awkward situations for the benefit of my children, than I personally went through my entire preteen youth.
But that's ok. Because, I'm the one with the mature psyche and I'm the one who is capable of not caring what others think of me. Whereas, my daughter is no where near that point in her life and won't be for quite some time.
So, in gist, the party went great. My daughter had an incredible time and she felt like a big deal going to her first "big kid" party. All the kids were very sweet and everyone was included with all the activities. There were many crafts to partake in and a major dance party unfolded. I heard, but I didn't witness that.
I was happy with my decision and I don't regret being there one bit. I did what I would think all parents would do in my situation; They would do what made their child the most comfortable. I'm still one of those rare believers that first grade children are still babies. In the grand scheme of life, they're infants. Infants who still sometimes need the security of their home life carried over to their out of home life.
And contrary to the majority's belief, my daughter will develop just like all the rest of the children. She'll be the girl who quickly gives me a peck on the cheek, as she is begging for me to stay in the car, when she runs to door into the birthday party by herself.
That day will happen.
That day will happen far too soon.
So right now, on this day, I'm going to awkwardly sit alone in the living room of any drop off birthday party that my daughter attends, while sporadically making helicopter mom jokes. And, watching my little girl enjoy herself and sprouting her wings, on her own terms.
Because, that's how I do Motherhood...
I was on the bus pad, eagerly waiting for my daughter to step off the shuttled parent pick up bus. My car was quiet, except for the sounds of 1970's Batman playing on loop from my backseat. My son drifted off to sleep about 10 minutes prior and I rarely heard the TV sounds, as my mind drifted in and out of thought. The blue sky radiated full sun beams onto my car, making the temperatures feel a lot warmer than 70 degrees.
For 6 hrs, my brain has reeled every thought pertaining to my daughter's school day. I can't help but feel the desire to be with her and help walk her through all the steps of confrontation.
My thoughts were interrupted by the big yellow bus pulling up to the concrete pad. I stepped out of my car and scanned the crowd until I locked eyes with my daughter, as she made her way down the bus steps. She jumped into my arms, but wasn't herself. She looked a cross between being exhausted and sad.
I asked...
But, she stayed silent, as I buckled her into her car seat.
I didn't pry...
She looked over at her sleeping brother and softly stroked his head and said, "sister's home now." To which his eyes rapidly twitched.
I drove away from the school, nonchalantly asking questions about her day. She replied briefly and focused onto the screen in front of her.
I pondered many thoughts in these quick moments. Most of them being the mad rush that will take place once we get home. The drill is always the same during the week. We rush home, I finish the remaining parts of dinner and I talk to her, or she watches Henry Danger for a half hour to detox from school. My husband comes home shortly after and then we all sit together at the dinner table and eat. We then clean up afterwards. Begin homework, take baths or do a fun activity. Then, we spend the last remaining time doing our nightly designed bedtime routine.
But, after glancing back at my daughter through the rear view mirror, I decided to change things up a little bit. I called my parents and in code, asked if they wanted to meet us for food, then go to the farm -which, they did.
So, I turned the car around and drove to the restaurant to meet my parents, fielding questions from my daughter. In the process, my sleeping son woke up and participated in the game, 20 questions.
Within minutes, my parent's car pulled in and my daughter and son shrieked a sound that mimicked an injured animal. And then, tried to release themselves from their car seats, like they were escaping from Alcatraz.
We ate dinner, played eye spy, and laughed a lot. The best part was, I didn't watch the clock once. Except of course, when I guessed the clock color as the answer.
We then made our way to the farm to walk the grounds and feed the animals and consume ice cream from the dairy store.
We followed the same path that we have always taken since my daughter was only a year old and my son was only a twinkle in my heart.
Each child took turns being the leader of the adventure and both were also annoying each other being back seat drivers...
Typical sibling scenario...
My daughter shared her sheep food with a little girl who was standing by fence, fondly admiring the sheep. And my son scolded the sheep for nibbling his favorite shirt.
Our second stop was to my daughter's favorite barn, to read to the baby cows. She slowly thumbed through each book that were piled on an old crate, until she found the perfect one. Then shimmied herself onto the oversized white rocking chair and began her story. My son quietly walked up and down the narrow hallway between the pens, picking up piles of fallen hay and hand fed the baby cows that were standing close to the rails waiting. I stood off to the side with my head stretched out towards the small window with every attempt to breathe fresh air.
After too many stories were read (my son already left the small barn and was over at the bunny area with my parents), my daughter and I left to meet up with them, only after she said her goodbyes to each cow.
Over at the duck pond, both children made sure each duck was given the same amount of food. And both scolded the big white ducks when they became too aggressive towards the littler ducks. The words, "Mr. Ducky, you already have had too many pieces!" were spoken from my son.
When the food ran out, my children and I competed who can walk across a little stone ledge the furthest without falling. My son totally won... And I fell within a few seconds after the photo below was taken. My daughter took a great action shot of me losing my balance.
The time was approaching 7:00 and the remnants of ice cream was plastered on my son's shirt and my daughter's cheeks. I knew our day had to end so we could get back home to do her homework and take baths before bed. But once we arrived home, homework was done quickly and we decided to play more. So the three of us stayed up an hour past bedtime and laughed and acted silly longer than we usually do. Which is tough, because we're pretty silly people.
With the sun finally set far below the earth's horizon and the cool fall night time air blowing into the dark bedroom, we said our good night chants, long after the last stories were read.
My daughter and son both thanked me for a fun day and closed their eyes with the most peaceful looks on their little faces. And I was very glad I decided to break the daily routine.
Because sometimes, the best days are the spontaneous, unplanned ones. And it does feel great to break up the monotony of the repetitious week. And considering the look on my daughter's face when she stepped off the bus, I'd say, she needed
it. She needed a couple moments of fun and non scheduled thoughts, so her mind could reset itself and reboot. She needed to be with people who don't judge her or question her. She needed the security of family, you know, the people who always keep your feet on the ground when you feel like you're falling.
She needed to be herself. Because who she is, is an old soul trapped in a modern age child's body. She's different than the majority of the other children, mainly because, I'm different. She has a mom who never followed the trends around her. Who took the brunt of other people's comments just to be who she felt was her. But, it'll take her a long time to realize that being different is a very good thing. Eventually, she work out all the quirks and find a groove that works for her. But until then, my job as mommy is to show her how special she is and to love her to excess. And to help her become the individual she wants to be, not who everyone else is...
And occasionally, break up the routine and have a little spontaneous fun...
