where did he learn that?

My cute and hilarious alarm clock woke me up at 6:45 a.m. on Sunday.  I immediately told him he had to stay quiet until the first number on my clock was a 7.  That boy must have stared at the clock for 15 minutes because right at 7:00 a.m. he gleefully and loudly announced, "IT'S SEVEN!  MOM!  MOM-MOM!  LOOK!  IT'S SEVEN!!"  And then because Sunday is holy day (right?  I think?) I prayed for a miracle and because I am clearly the best Christian in the world, my miracle was granted.  Henry's Gpa got up and we heard him walking around so Henry bolted out of my bed to go harass his Gpa.  I instantly fell back asleep only to have my sweet alarm clock wake me again at 8:30 to remind me that we had to go to church.  Right.  Church.  Okay. 

A few weeks ago the Pastor asked if Henry would be available to light the first Advent candle during church on the first Advent Sunday.  She was assigning one adult and one child for each week and she wanted Henry to light the candle with his pediatrician, who also goes to our church.  I asked Henry if he wanted to do it and he immediately said yes and asked if he could do it right now.  No.  We don't go to church very often anymore.  It seems like Henry was sick for months and when he's healthy sometimes we like to just hang out at home and play or go visit friends or whatever.  Even though I am clearly the best Christian in the world, I am not the best teacher of religion to my son. 

I teach him other things.

Sunday morning while I was sleeping, Henry bugged his Gpa until it was time for Gpa to exercise on the treadmill.  Henry then set his sights on his Gma who was still in bed.  Smart boy because had he come back to my bed, I would have made him be quiet until the first number on the clock was 10 and we would have missed church.  His Gma loves these early morning visits because Henry is almost always in a good mood and he is usually funny and quite chatty.  They talked about Henry's job of lighting the candle and he had lots of questions about Advent.  It's a good thing he asked her because I would have told him it's the time of year when you get to punch out little cardboard doors to get a chocolate every day.  That would have led to more questions because I don't actually buy Advent calendars.

Does Advent need to be capitalized?

During their morning talk, Henry asked my mom whose uterus Jesus was in (my grammar is just fucking awful)?  Then of course he asked if Jesus died.  I'm thankful that he asked her these questions because lately I've been asking his questions without much forethought which has led to many more questions and having to put back together his innocent view of the world.  I did ask her if she glossed over the whole died on the cross thing.  She assured me she did.  

Henry and his pediatrician did a fabulous job lighting the first Advent candle.  Henry was happy that he got to play with fire but he was super excited that the candle was purple.  I'm glad he didn't ask his pediatrician about Jesus' mom's uterus although his pediatrician would fully expect that question from him.

sad.

Apparently Jose Canseco made up the whole finger falling off thing.  This was the one bright spot in my day and now it is gone. Thanks for nuthin' Jose Canseco. 

And yes, I know I shouldn't be sad that someone's finger didn't fall off. 

I've been sick.  Too sick to go to work this week until today.  I walked into a shit storm of well, shit.  I hate taking time off of work because of the shit storm that always occurs upon my return.  Today I didn't even have a chance to take off my coat before people were in my office needing to speak to me.  Like if they waited another five seconds, the world would end.  Sometimes it's nice to be needed.  Sometimes I just want to take off my goddamn coat. 

My day isn't all that bad though. At least my finger didn't fall off in the middle of a poker game.  Seriously.  I can't stop laughing. 

"i don't have a drinking problem. i have a problem getting caught."

That title is not about me.  It's what my ex-boyfriend told the judge after he got his second DUI.  I'm not sure why the judge didn't throw him right in jail but somehow "all" he had to do was meetings everyday for forever and was on probation for forever and had a tether for a few weeks.  It probably would have been cheaper to just go to jail, even though county jails bill inmates for their stays.

This was on my mind this morning as I walked into work and realized my half pint of Fireball is still in my coat pocket from this weekend.  Yes, I know Fireball has been recalled in some countries but I'm just going to assume those are socialist countries that actually give a shit about the health and well-being of their citizens.  Thank God I don't live in one of those.  Geesh.  In my defense, I did try to get a half pint of Hot Damn but the liquor store didn't have any. 

On Saturday Henry and I went to my niece's rugby game.  It was cold.  And rainy.  Neither of those things wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't also been windy.  It was pretty miserable.  Nothing makes bone-chilling weather a little warmer than a little booze.  I do know that alcohol doesn't actually warm you up and instead just makes your body unable to regulate temperature but whatever.  It works for me.  And it's not like I drank the whole thing.  Henry was with me and I had to drive.  My friend and I stood in the parking lot of the elementary school where the game was being played and we tried to stealthily sip from the bottle.  It was great fun, especially when my friend said, "It's like we're in high school again!"  I'm pretty sure in high school we would have been in the high school parking lot though.  My niece's team won the first game which meant they got to play in the state championship game a couple hours later.  By the time the first game was over, Henry's clothes were soaked from sliding down the wet slides on the playground and I didn't want to drink all day so we decided to go home.  By the time we got home we were all warm and toasty again (I had brought an extra change of clothes for Henry just in case he got wet, muddy, or both, as the case turned out to be) and apparently I forgot to take the bottle out of my coat pocket. 

This reminds me of another story.  One day I was at work and reached in my coat pocket to empty it out and pulled out jello shots.  I had been at my not-quite-brother-in-law's party and remembered him handing them to me as I went to leave and I guess I never got around to drinking (eating?) them.  Thankfully the lids on those disposable jello shot cups stay on tight!  My coworker was cracking up.  Actually, I think I was her supervisor. 

I don't have a drinking problem.  I have a problem leaving booze in my coat pocket.

happy halloween.

Months ago I asked Henry if he wanted to be Angus Young for Halloween.  He said yes.  Oddly enough, apparently his dad asked him the same thing.  That creeps me out so much, you have no idea.  Anyway, I started gathering the items he would need for the perfect Angus Young costume.  Then, when I was at Costco one day, I saw an Optimus Prime costume.  I decided to buy it because I know kids sometimes change their minds and I didn't want him to not have options.  Also, Angus Young wears shorts and it might be too cold to be out in shorts.  As I was bringing in my Costco crap that day, Henry got a glimpse of his Optimus Prime costume and sure enough, he decided he wanted to be Optimus Prime.  I was okay with that but still worked on getting the Angus Young stuff together.  A couple weeks ago he told me he was going to be Angus Young AND Optimus Prime.  At the same time.  I wasn't sure how that would work but wasn't upset because it solved the uncovered legs in cold weather issue.

Last night Henry told me he wanted to be Curious George.  He found his costume from last year in his closet and he just had to be Curious George.  So.  I spent not a ton of money, but not a little either, on Angus Young costume.  I think the Optimus Prime costume was $15.  And he didn't want either of them.  I told him Curious George didn't fit anymore but he insisted on trying it on and goddamn that costume fits him like a glove. 

Defeated, I asked him to at least try on the Angus Young costume and he excitedly agreed, only if he could put Curious George right back on.  Fine.

It's a good thing this kid is cute...

genius.

I love to vote.  I have rarely missed voting in an election.  Even when I was a million months pregnant I voted early at the Clerk's Office.  I remember because everyone was freaking out and acting like my baby's head was already dangling out of my vag.  No, no it wasn't.  Not even close.

Voting with a kid is a little um, let's say, less fun.  Or maybe it's just voting with my kid that is less fun.  Goddamn that boy is nosy.  "Whatcha doing?" "Voting? What's that?" "Who's the lady you're voting for?" "What's that guy doing over there?" "Can I see his ballot?" and on and on and on.  Most of these questions I answer numerous times, usually beginning in the car on the way to the polling place.  The little old lady/man precinct workers are all enamored with Henry and isn't he cute and oh he asks such good questions.  In my head I'm all why the fuck won't he stop talking and I'm trying to vote here and why does he hate civic duties so much and my god boy please be quiet.  Mostly the please be quiet part is because when he rambles on and on like that he eventually starts talking about his wenis, butt crack, poop, pee, and Jesus Christ, which are pretty much the things that make me blush and try to make him stop talking and he just yells them more loudly.

Tuesday is going to be a great day.  Today I am working on Henry's own ballot.  Before I vote I will present him with his ballot and a marker with which to indicate his choices and we will both vote in peace and quiet.  When we are done those precinct workers will present us both with I Voted stickers and it will be a great day in God bless America. 

Actually, they won't present us with stickers.  Our poll workers are usually pretty lazy and just leave a bunch of them laying on a table and we have to pick them up ourselves.  I just realized the sticker won't really be an incentive for him to vote because he always gets a sticker anyway.  My very cool picture ballot is going to be incentive enough.  At least that's what I'm telling myself...

Right now I have to go find a sample ballot so I know exactly how I will vote before I go so it only takes 30 seconds once I'm there.  Just in case.

nutshell.

Henry has been obsessed with watching the Curious George Halloween special. 

It's driving me coconuts.

There is no no-noggin, it's just Jumpy the squirrel keeping his nuts clean.  Seriously. If you want to know what I write of, you have to watch Halloween Curious George.  Except I totally just ruined it for you.  Oh nuts.

September in a nutshell.  Henry had a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy.  He came down with the hand, foot and mouth disease during recovery from his surgery.  It sucked.  Somehow it still sucks as some of his sores from that got infected with the MRSA.  The MRSA.  Such a pain in the ass.

It is almost November and I am almost full-on in seasonal depression mode.  I have to remind myself at least once an hour that I am exhausted and crabby and it is not appropriate to take it out on the world.  But when I have to chase Henry down to do anything, and I mean anything, it certainly feels like everyone and everything is conspiring to make me feel really fucking miserable.  All I want is a little cooperation and most days, that appears to be too much to ask.  The problem is that Henry has always been a really good kid.  Even as an infant he didn't cry much and it wasn't because he was constantly being held.  Now that he's almost 4 years old he has found his inner terrible two's and three's all at once.  It would have been much easier if he could have done this in the summer months when I had energy and wanted to actually smile.  Maybe he has a case of the winter blah's as well.  Anyway, when he's defiant and mean, it just feels terrible because he has always been such an easy and easy-going kid. 

When I go through these rough patches, I have a hard time remembering that it isn't the first time and we, I, got through it before.  I keep telling myself that we'll be okay but I have trust issues and don't trust anyone, including myself.

Nuts.

he's back.

Henry came home last night.  He was exhausted after a long day of travel.  Thankfully his dad had washed all of his clothes so I didn't have to worry about doing it.  We spent the evening practically glued to one another.  Seriously.  Henry insisted on eating dinner while sitting on my lap.  I didn't really object much.  At all.  I'm trying to think of the last time he ate while sitting on my lap.  Probably not since he was able to sit in a high chair on his own.  If I left the room to oh, say, go to the bathroom, he would cry and beg me to come back.  It was heart breaking and heart warming all at once.  I realized that it was kind of nice to pee without an audience while he was gone.  Not so nice that I want him to go away again.  When I left him at day care this morning the hugs and kisses went on for a long time, at my request.  I can't wait to pick him up after school so we can play some more and then go to swim class and then eat ice cream and then play in the sandbox and then take a bath and then brush teeth and then feed Thunderstruck (did I mention he got a fish a few weeks ago?) and then read books and then give goodnight kisses.  It's good to be reminded how much I love our life together.

vacation drama.

Yes, I know I bitch all the time.  I can't stop.  I need therapy.

I take back all the bitching I did about having to get ready for two vacations because only one vacation actually took place.  Henry went with his dad on Thursday evening.  I spent Thursday evening at the store and scooping cat poop and feeding fish and packing my own suitcase.  I was then up all night on Thursday with a really sore throat.  Not just an, "Oh, I think I feel a tickle in my throat, I hope I'm not catching a bug."  It was full-on, "HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS CALL 9-1-1 MY THROAT IS ON FIRE AND SEND THE AMBULANCE TOO BECAUSE I JUST TRIED TO SWALLOW MY OWN SPIT AND IT FEELS LIKE MY THROAT IS BEING RIPPED OUT OF MY NECK AND STOMPED ON BY A DINOSAUR THAT SOMEHOW SURVIVED THE GIANT ASTEROID THAT KILLED ALL OF ITS FRIENDS AND FAMILY AND IT IS VERY ANGRY AND TAKING IT OUT ON MY THROAT."  I'm not sure what an ambulance would do to save my throat from the angry dinosaur but they might have good drugs so it didn't hurt so bad? 

I got up Friday morning and called my boss, warning her that I was pretty sure I had strep but silly, sleep-deprived me offered to go to work for a little while to take care of our clients and then head to urgent care.  She asked if I had a fever and I said no, I didn't think so.  She had something she couldn't miss so she was very grateful that I could make it in and she said as soon as I could get out of the office, just go.  By the time I got to work, I was feeling a little shaky.  After a few minutes I was all out shivering.  Well, hello, fever!  I tried my best to hide my illness from my clients because if I didn't want them to know that I was exposing them to the plague.  I think I went through an entire bottle of hand sanitizer that I'm pretty sure isn't at all effective but made me feel less bad about possibly infecting them all. 

As soon as everyone was gone I took off and went straight to urgent care.  Twenty minutes before it opened.  There was another car in the parking lot and the people were sitting in their car so I stayed in my car.  Tried to hold my head up to read a magazine.  Pretty much sat there and shivered.  Another car drove in and the people in the first car got out and went and stood outside the door.  There was still 10 minutes to go!  What were they thinking?  Sure enough, the woman that drove in after me got out of her car and went and stood in line.  Mother.  Fucker.  I still didn't want to get out of the car because at that point, sitting hurt, I wasn't sure standing was a good idea.  Then two more cars pulled in the parking lot.  With 5 minutes to go I forced myself out of the car and stood in line.  The woman that was there first felt she needed to talk to everyone and make jokes about how none of us really looked that sick.  And she yelled at her children who were playing in the rocks for banging rocks together.  I wanted them to throw the rocks at her but they decided to play with their ipads instead.  After what felt like 3 hours, the doors unlocked.  The first lady went in.  The second lady started to go in but then she stopped, turned to me and said, "Oh, you got here before me so you go ahead." and I almost cried, I was so touched by her kindness.  By this point I was so close to help that I knew I could make it.  I was going to live.  And then it hit me.  The arctic air.  It was so cold in there that the only thing I could think was they were trying to heal everyone by freezing their ailments right out of existence.  I'm sure my paperwork looks lovely because I couldn't stop my hand from shaking. 

So. 

Long story.

Sorry.

The PA took one look at me and said, "I'm treating you for strep, I don't care what the test reads. You look like crap."  Thanks?  The test was positive, too.

I had them send my drugs to the pharmacy close to my house that I knew had a drive-thru window.  On the way there the pharmacy called to tell me they didn't have my health insurance information.  Fuuuuuck.  My work changed health insurance companies at the beginning of July and apparently I hadn't been to that pharmacy yet.  I had to go into the pharmacy and thank god they have chairs because I sat in one, propped up by the big Dasani refrigerator thing.  It took them forever to call my name.  Once I had my drugs I was so happy to be heading home to climb into bed with a warm, warm blanket. 

And then it hit me.  I was supposed to get on a plane.  My flight was at 1:20 p.m. 

Yeah.  Not happening.

I went home and cancelled my flight.  I wasn't sure it was the right thing to do but I was pretty sure I couldn't sit up anymore, let alone drive myself to the airport, get through security, sit through a flight, and then go to my friend's house to infect she and her family.  I finally got to go to bed at around 11:30 a.m.  I think I woke up around 6 p.m.  Decided I didn't want to eat anything.  Still had a fever.  Took my 2nd dose of antibiotics.  Went back to bed.  Woke up at 9.  I was pissed that I slept all day because I wouldn't get any sleep over night.  Then I fell right back asleep and didn't get up until 9 the next morning.  I think it was a good idea to cancel the flight.

The rest of my weekend?  I felt like shit all weekend and even stayed home from work yesterday.  I'm feeling better today which is good because my boy comes home this evening.  I can't wait to hear all about his wonderful vacation.  I'll be so happy to see him that I won't care that I have no vacation stories of my own. 

i remember vacation.

In my past life, I looked forward to vacation.  Road trips, baseball trips, road trips that were baseball trips, whatever we were doing, I knew it would be fun.  Now, not so much.  I know I've complained before about how much work vacations are with a kid but I found a way to make things even more complicated.  This week I'm working full-time while preparing us for two separate vacations.  Henry is leaving on Thursday night for a trip with his dad, which means I have to have more stuff than usual washed and packed and ready to go by the time his dad picks him up at 5 p.m.  I will be up late tonight finishing laundry and checking items off his list.  The good thing is that his dad sent me a detailed list of what he wants for Henry.  He sent it early enough that I was able to go through the list and shop for the stuff he didn't have over the weekend.

And then this happened...

Let's go back to a couple weeks ago when Henry was going through a growth spurt.  I knew this was happening because he ate everything.  And then he asked for more. And then oh, hey, can he have some more?  On Monday I put his sandals on him and his toes almost hung over the edge.  I swear they fit just fine on Sunday.  Last night I set out to find him new sandals.  Have you ever shopped for sandals on August 19?  Slim pickins' my friend, slim pickins'.  So slim I wrote it twice.  I finally resigned myself to buying the Keens that were on sale for $35.  I decided I would buy them a size too big so he could wear them longer.  I wasn't completely happy with this plan because who spends $35 on shoes for an almost-four-year-old?? But it would have to do because the boy has to have sandals for his trip.  Then the salesperson returned with the news that they had no sandals left in the sizes I requested.  None.  Not even girlie sandals.  Sigh.  I tried one last store and as I was looking at the completely disorganized sandal area, a ray of light shot out of the sky and shone upon one pair of shark sandals in my son's new size.  I swear I heard the angels singing but it could have been me squealing with excitement.  They were marked down to $19.99 but at that point, I didn't really care how much they cost.  They were his size and the box had one left sandal and one right sandal and they were going home with me.  When the cashier rung them up (I know things aren't rung up anymore, do I say they are scanned?), the total was $10.59.  I almost cried. 

Oh, his old sandals were the same size and brand as his sneakers so I knew that his sneakers were probably getting pretty snug as well.  Luckily, a few months ago I snagged a great deal on a pair of Stride Rite sneakers so he is all set there.  I remember the first time I shopped at a Stride Rite store.  And by "shopped," I mean, "walked in, saw the price tag on one pair of baby shoes and walked right back out."  Anyway, the only problem with this pair of shoes is that they look huge on him because the base of them is pretty wide.  I'm sure he's going to trip a time or twenty.  The other problem is that they have flames on them which to Henry means he has to run fast all the time.  Yikes. 

Okay so back to this whole vacation thing.  While Henry is gone with his dad I am going on a quick trip to visit a friend.  So I'm also trying to get everything ready for my own trip.  I'm more concerned about Henry being all set so I'm pretty much making lists of shit I have to do before I leave on Friday.  Which means I will also be up all night on Thursday night.  At least I will be able to actually go to the store in the middle of the night if I have to since Henry will be with his dad. 

I thought going on this trip while Henry is gone would be a good idea.  I thought it would help keep my mind off of missing him and worrying about him and wanting him home.  Instead, it has led to a whole new level of anxiety.  The good thing about being so busy is that I have moments when I'm not freaking out about him leaving and me leaving and about all the things that can go wrong and what if we never see one another again oh my god!  Seriously.  My brain knows these thoughts are ridiculous and we will both be fine but some of my brain is pretty sure we are all going to die this weekend. 

Yay, vacation!

the zoo with the giraffe.

Every time I bring up going to the zoo with Henry, he gets all excited about feeding the giraffes.  It's a good thing because now he gets to learn about disappointment at a young age.  Who am I kidding, he has known about disappointment since day one and that had nothing to do with not getting to feed giraffe at the zoo.  This past weekend we went to the zoo with the giraffe and he got to feed them to his heart's content.  Not really, he got to feed them to the bottom of my wallet.  It costs $1 per lettuce leaf or $5 per bucket.  Yeah.  The problem is the last time we were there a family was honoring their mother who passed away by paying for everyone to feed the giraffe all day.  I tried to explain to Henry that the lady didn't die again so he couldn't feed the giraffe all day.  Did you know that the plural form of giraffe can also be giraffe?  There is nothing I like more than a spelling error on signage so I took a photo of a sign that clearly should have read, "Giraffes" instead of "Giraffe" but then further on saw the same spelling error on several other signs and figured the giraffe zoo could not have made this mistake on several signs so I must have been the one that made the mistake.  Delete that photo.  We had a great day with great friends and I learned something new about giraffe.

He even had to ride the giraffe on the carousel.  I got motion sick.  Yay!

 He is so damn cute.

 The boys were very upset that this truck had a squished tire.  They were all about fixing it but nothing worked since they didn't actually touch the tire with their wrenches.

 These are baby giraffe which you can't really tell without anything for scale.  Trust me, they're babies and they are cute.

 The tongue wrestling for this piece of lettuce was disgusting.  Henry loved it.

 No comment.

mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom!

I'm not going to lie, there are some days I wish to never hear, "Mom!" one.  more.  time.  Why is it that when you are the only other person in the room, or in the house, for that matter, the child must begin every sentence with, "Mom!"?  I try to not let him know that he's driving me fucking crazy with his overuse of the word.  When he says it I try to respond calmly with a, "yes?" or, "what's up?" or, "I heard you, can I help you?"  The other day I was really tired and he had refused to take a nap and I was about to lose my shit on him when he said it again.

"Mom!  Mom!! Mom!!"

"Yeah kiddo, what's up?"

"Mom!  I love you so much I can't stand it!"

mom-mom, m.d.-ish.

My non-medical degree led me to believe that I have some sort of vitamin deficiency that makes me tired all.  the.  time.  Based on my current diet of grabbing something quick at work and maybe having time to eat it, consuming a few bites at dinner and then chasing after the kid to try to make him eat something, and then potato chips before bed, I'm pretty sure I'm lacking in vitamins A1- Z99. 

Except right now I'm eating a very healthy Drumstick ice cream cone thingy.

Last night as I was falling asleep in my chair right after putting Henry to bed at 8:45 p.m. I decided that I better call the doctor and get tested for all the chemical imbalances that would lead to this odd behavior.  Then I got up and started the laundry and finished the dishes and picked up the remaining toys after he picked up and wrote a letter to my nephew and read an article in The New Yorker (I'm aiming for one article per day in order to get caught up sometime this lifetime) and switched the laundry from the washer to the dryer and sat down to watch second episode of The Leftovers (it's on HBO, I'm not sure what I think yet) and got the laundry out of the dryer and folded half of it and I noticed it was 12:30 a.m. and then it hit me.

I'm not deficient in vitamins.

I'm deficient in sleep.  My alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. and I don't hit snooze anymore.  I just get up and go.

I probably am also deficient in vitamins.  

(Now that I look at that list, why the fuck did it take me 3.75 hours to do just that stuff?  I must have left some stuff off the list)

a test i wish i could study for every night.

Henry had his sleep study on Sunday night.  All sorts of wires and sensors were glued to his body and he took it like a champ.  The tech that hooked him up at night and unhooked him in the morning kept saying how good he was and I was so proud of him.  He said it didn't hurt and he did speak up when one of the straps was too tight so I think he would have told me if he was uncomfortable.  He was referred for the sleep study because of his crazy loud snoring and breathing issues when he sleeps.  Sunday night he slept like a baby and as far as I could tell, didn't snore once.  Last night, on the other hand, he was back to snoring like a boss and kept me awake for much of the night (he came to my bed early because of a big ol' thunderstorm that woke him up.  Once he was in my bed the storm continued but he went right back to sleep).  I don't know when I will get the results of the study but I have a feeling there will be a big question about why he was there in the first place.  For many that would be good news but for this mama without a medical degree or any medical training, I know something is up with his breathing while he's asleep and I hope to get him some help.

things i like.

• Henry.
• laughing.
• spicy food.  
• having people talk to me about baseball and responding as if I have any fucking idea what they are talking about.  People.  I haven't watched baseball in about 3 years and 8 months.  
• computers that work.
• being in love.
• taking a break from work to make lists.

things i dislike.

• phone calls from my son's teacher.
• the smell of Pine Sol.
• people yelling at me.
• yelling at people yelling at me.
• the smell of bleach.
• getting stood up by people I have appointments with.  Twice in one day.
• worrying about my son.
• feeling very alone in trying to figure out how to make my son feel better, in a larger sense.  As in, making him feel better about his world and our circumstances.  
• waiting, waiting, waiting for some much anticipated good news. 

This has pretty much been my day so far.  

deep.

These two were peas in a pod the entire Memorial Day weekend. 

I know they were eating sunflower seeds and talking about very important things.  Neither of them would tell me the topics of conversation.  Both were very happy about life. 

nothing to see here.

Last week Henry's teacher sent home a note asking parents to help their kid(s) find an orange-sized rock to bring to school for a project.  She asked that the rock be washed and brought to school on June 9th.  No problem.  Henry loves looking for rocks.  And then this weekend happened. 

Saturday we were busy at some family fun day event where I learned that Henry is a normal 3-year-old.  He didn't win the new bike in the bike raffle and he cried for days about it.  Maybe not days but it was a really long time, especially for a kid who already had a bike.  Why didn't they pick my name mom?  Why don't I get that bike?  I want that bike!  Mom!  Why didn't I win?  I need a new bike!  Now!!  Imagine hearing that for days.  Really loudly.  With wailing in between.  Lots of loud wailing.  Oh, and he thinks it's funny to yell, "Jesus Christ!" while surrounded by people we don't know.  Yay!  We also spent a lot of time at the mall where I could escape nature and not have my allergies make me want to die.  I wonder where Henry gets his dramatic streak?  We rode the train.  We played chase.  When it was time to go he wanted to play at the little play place that was teeming with disgusting children and we didn't have time.  The crying began again.  People stared because it sounded like I had just beat him senseless.  I hadn't.  Yet.  Just kidding.  He fell asleep on the way home so I took the long way home.  I carried him inside and laid him on the couch thinking he would wake up and demand a new bike and a mall play place.  He slept.  And he slept.  I fell asleep, too.  We woke up at 6:30 p.m.  Shit.  We napped almost 2 hours.  This is exactly what totally messed our week up last week.  Except this was a Saturday and he was home.  I let him stay up until 9 and he went to bed like a champ.  Whew. 

We slept in until 7:30 Sunday morning.  It felt like heaven.  We went to church.  It was a different service because the Pastor retired and it was her good-bye celebration.  Henry sat through much of it like a champ but we decided to leave before he got loud.  He said it was a good choice, I agreed.  We went to the next event, an open house for his cousin who graduated from high school.  Henry played with his cousins while I helped set up and get things ready and then drank beer and visited with friends and relatives.  We got home later than I had planned but once again, Henry took a bath and went to bed like a champ even though he had eaten Oreo cookies for dinner and chocolate cake for dessert.  I love this kid! 

This morning on the way to work and school I remembered we were supposed to bring a rock to school.  Shit.  The subdivision near our house has lovely landscaping with orange-sized rocks but we were already halfway to school, I didn't want to go back.  Then I decided I would need to find somewhere else with lovely landscaping.  Thankfully, it didn't take long to see a parking lot with trees surrounded by orange-sized rocks.  I pulled in the parking lot and casually opened the door and snagged a rock. 
"Henry, do you like this rock?"
"Oh I love that rock, mom."
"Good, it's for school."
"Why are we getting this rock?"
"Ms. Lisa said you need to bring a rock to school and we found this one, together."
"I like finding rocks with you.  Can I watch Curious George now?"
"Of course you can."
That's right.  Not only did I steal a rock on the way to school this morning.  I let my kid watch Curious George because when we got home last night I was too tired to put away the dvd player in the car.  I don't win any mom-of-the-year awards today or ever but guess what?  My kid doesn't have to be the only kid without a rock for whatever project they are doing today. Sometimes it's the best you can do.

dreams.

I love it when I remember my dreams.  Recently I was talking with someone who said they rarely remember their dreams and I actually felt bad for them.  My dreams often feel very real and I wake up feeling the same way I felt in my dream, which is why there have been times in my life that I refused to sleep because I didn't want to dream.  When my ex-husband left Optimus Prime (aka fetus Henry) and I, the thought of seeing him in my dreams was enough to make me sleep as little as possible.  I would stay up until 4 or 5 a.m. and then wake up at 7 a.m.  Then I mentioned it to my ob/gyn and he said I was growing a human being, I needed to sleep.  I did finally get some sleep and when my ex-husband showed up in my dreams it wasn't as traumatic as I thought it would be.  As the years have gone by, I rarely dream about my life before Henry.  Last night, however, I had a crazy ass dream about Henry and I in the basement of this haunted house but it was real, not some Halloween production.  We were looking for some guy, I don't remember who he was or why we were looking for him, but we knew we had to find him because I was going to be marrying my ex-husband again.  We finally found him and he told me that my ex-husband had taken off and the wedding was called off.  Then I realized it was my ex's weekend with Henry and poof, Henry was gone and all these people were around me feeling sorry for me about the breakup and I was all, "People!  Really?  Been there, done that.  This is no big thing."  When I woke up, however, I felt inklings of the way I felt when he left us for real.  It felt so gross.  Then I heard a noise and I opened my eyes and saw Henry sleeping soundly, snoring loudly, next to me and I realized that Henry is my dream come true.  He is funny and kind and loving and curious and demanding and active and even though raising him mostly by myself isn't what I had dreamed about when we were planning to bring him into this world, I wouldn't have it any other way. 

zzzzz...

Today is Thursday.  I feel like I am sleep walking.  So much to do at work.  So much to do at home.  Yesterday was a shit day.  Everything at work went wrong, or at least it felt that way.  I just wanted to go home and sleep and then I remembered Henry had his first swim class at the YMCA.  I almost cried.  Silly, I know.  Especially silly because when do I ever get to go home from work and sleep?  I'll tell you when.  Never.  Henry and I joined the Y a couple weeks ago for two reasons.  One.  I'm getting fatter and need to exercise.  Two.  He needs to learn how to swim and I wasn't in love with the last place he took lessons so wanted to try the Y.  We joined the Y.  Surprisingly, just signing up and paying fees does not, in fact, mean you will suddenly have time to go exercise.  The only reason I remembered to actually sign him up and pay extra fees for swim class was he reminded me to sign him up and repeatedly asked when could he go to swim class.  I was so tired yesterday and just fed up with everything I considered asking someone else to take him to swim class.  When I picked him up from school though, he was so excited about going to class, I knew I would take him and I would love every minute of it.  He had a blast even though it was mass chaos and even though I was pretending to read a magazine, I was really watching him because there was so much going on, I wasn't sure the teachers would even realize if a kid or two went under and didn't come back up.  I'm pretty sure they would, but I read some article yesterday about how it only takes a second for a water tragedy and blah blah blah so it was fresh in my mind.  My plan for the rest of the week, meaning, today and tomorrow, is to survive and then hopefully get some rest on Friday night so we can party this weekend.  Maybe next week I will have time to go to the Y for me.  Maybe? 

When I drop Henry off at school he always asks for one more hug and kiss as I walk out the door and then after I give him one more hug and kiss he says, "Bye mom.  Go get some work done, okay?"  I love him. 

oops.

I realized that I posted photos of Henry and I breaking the law.  At least I think it's a law?  Please know that while we probably weren't being lawful citizens, we were safe.  Very safe.  The pontoon boat has an old-as-shit motor that doesn't go very fast and we had several sober strong swimmers on board.  We also had a couple drunk strong swimmers on board but I did not take them into account when deciding whether or not they could save my son if something happened.  The lake is more of a fishing/cruising lake than a jet ski/speedboat lake so it was a nice, comfortable cruise without a certain 3-year-old claiming loudly that he couldn't breathe and/or move whilst wearing a pfd.  Also, I hadn't seen a cop on the water all weekend.  Bonus.

zzzzzz....

Henry refused to nap while on a mini-vacation this holiday weekend.  We quickly found that his no-nap-stubborness was no match for the hum of the pontoon boat motor. 

Saturday night...

And Sunday night...

He loooooves the water.  He has a new best friend, the person that took him jet skiing AND swimming.  That new best friend would not be me because the water temperature was barely 60 degrees.  After Henry jumped in the water the first time I asked him if it was cold and he couldn't answer me.  It was so cold it took his breath away.  Then it was impossible to get him out of the water because he was having so much fun.  I made him get out when I realized those perfect lips of his had turned blue, and not from eating a blue popsicle.  Vacation with the boy is exhausting and so worth it.

spring has sprung.

After one of the worst winters I can ever remember, it is finally warm enough to play outside in the sandbox.  Whew. 

I wasn't sure we could survive. 

This morning while I was helping Henry get dressed he asked if he could go play in the sandbox before school.  I told him he couldn't because we didn't have time and it was still dark outside.  He said, "but...but...but...but..." and I said, "but what?" and because he is my son he said, "crack."

win some. lose some.

Winning.

Last night I realized that I have actually made two really good decisions in parenting my son. 
1.  The timer.  I might set the timer 20 times a day in order to get him to do something but my god it works.  Instead of arguing with him and/or chasing him around to physically force him to get dressed/brush teeth/clean up/go inside/go outside/take a bath/pretty much anything, I set the timer and when that bad boy goes off, he doesn't argue and just does what he is supposed to do.  I am sure there are a million ways this is ruining my child but for now, I think the chasing and yelling and arguing that happens without the timer would be more damaging. 
2.  The lawnmower.  I spent about $15 on a toy lawnmower for him a couple years ago.  Last night he played with that thing for over an hour.  We take it on vacation with us.  We take it to friends' houses for the day.  There is lots of grass that needs to be cut in this world and Henry will pretend to cut it all.  And it's great exercise because sometimes he has to run fast.  I am currently trying to figure out how to extend the handle on it because pretty soon he's going to be too tall to use it comfortably.  He's still too short to use the real mower and it probably wouldn't be safe anyway.  Would it?

Yup.  That's pretty much it.

Losing.
Too many to count but at the top of my list lately are:
1.  Letting him see that anything butt related cracks me up.  Speaking of butt cracks, he thinks it's hysterical when he yells, "BUTT!" and I yell, "CRACK!" and it goes on and on and I can't stop laughing.
2.  Introducing him to youtube videos of combines harvesting crops.  His favorite videos have country music which means Henry can often be heard playing with his toys while singing about whiskey, dirty jeans with Copenhagen rings, shake it for me girl, damn this knuckle busted no paying job, shot of tequila, and so on.  He mixes the songs all together so it just sounds like the most fucked up country song ever.  I'm pretty sure that's saying a lot but I'm also pretty sure I'm not exaggerating.

 

I dislike you.

i dreamed a dream.

That song drives me coconuts. 

I've been working on a surprise photo project that involves digging through old family photo albums.  It's been a hysterical trip down memory lane.  I haven't yet reached the year 2003 which is when my life disappeared down a rabbit hole until it reemerged on November 5, 2010.  I came across a photo that was in the wrong photo album so it completely took me by surprise.  It was a photo of me, my old college roommate, and my ex-boyfriend moving me into one of my college apartments.  Holy.  Shit.  He was hot.  No, he was haaawt.  And he was so sweet.  Until he wasn't.  By that time in our lives he had transferred to MSU and he got a job in the meat department at a grocery store.  He sent me the dirtiest, funniest love letters composed completely with meat stickers from work.  Last night I saw him again, in my dreams.  We talked about our kids and about our lives and the whole time I was really uncomfortable and didn't really even want to be talking to him but I couldn't figure out why.  When I woke up I still felt weird about it and then I realized why.  In my dream, he hadn't aged a bit.  I was talking to a 21-year-old man child even though I was almost-40-year-old woman child.  I felt like a dirty old cougar. 

Yuck.

Yesterday I posted this photo as my profile pic on the book of faces.

I love this photo because it was taken at Henry's very first baseball game.  The Tigers were playing the Braves at ESPN Wide World of Sports Stupid Ass Name For A Ballpark Ballpark in Orlando.  I also love this photo because I forgot I was that skinny.

This photo also makes me sad.  I want to go back to this time and smack me upside the head.  The sunglasses hide this crazy sadness I took with me everywhere I went, even spring training.  I worried about everything.  I was terrified by the future.  Nothing in my life made sense.  I feel selfish for letting all the bullshit take away from my enjoying every moment with this beautiful human being. 

I wish I could tell the person in the photo that everything will be okay.  Henry will indeed shit again and it will be in the next day while he is in the rental car carseat in downtown Lakeland and shit will be everywhere.  Everywhere.  No, really, everywhere.  And it will be green and runny and you will have to think on your shitty feet to figure out how to get him cleaned up and in a moment of genius you will change him in the trunk of the rental car because it's clean and semi-private and most importantly, you don't have to worry about sanitizing the trunk because you'll be turning the car in in a couple days anyway. 

I would tell her that baseball will go on and she can still enjoy it because it won't always remind her of the love and friendship that was destroyed and gone forever or maybe was never real in the first place.

I would tell her that her friends and family will make sure she and her son always feel loved and she can call them and visit them and reach out to them anytime and they will never make her feel needy and annoying even though she probably will be both needy and annoying because she already was needy and annoying. 

I would tell her that when she takes care of herself, she is also taking care of her son.  Pretending she is okay doesn't always count as actually being okay.

I would tell her that her son, 3 years later, will be amazing in ways she could never imagine.  

tursday.

Henry asked me what day it is, I replied, "Thursday." His response?  "No mom, it's Tuuurrrssssssday."

It doesn't matter what day it is, this morning sucked balls.  Hard.  Henry spent time in time out.  I got hit upside the head when he was in time out.  Which lead to more time out.  Which lead to me telling him if he didn't stay in time out until time out was done, Ms. Lisa was going to find out. Which led to him screaming even louder and crying even harder and him not wanting to go to school.  Which led to me feeling like a complete asshole and like a terrible mother. 

Hugs and kisses and apologies ensued.  From both sides. 

In the car, on the way to school, I still felt like an asshole and even though Henry clearly felt better, he was laughing and making jokes and requesting songs, I was stuck in that place of, let it go, but did I make it clear that this cannot happen?  I didn't like that I got hit upside the head.  I didn't like that I had to pry his mouth open to brush his teeth, a task he normally gets to do on his own in the morning.  Mostly, I didn't like that the more pissed he got, the more pissed I got.  It's my job to not get caught up in the bullshit.  He's a kid.  I ended up telling him I love him every oh, 10 seconds and when we got to school I made the point of apologizing for saying I would tell his teacher what happened and I shouldn't have said that and she will never have to know about something like that.  I told him I hoped he would have a great day at school and I would be thinking of him and I will work on not yelling and getting mad and to always remember mom-mom loves him.  He responded with, "It's okay, mom.  I am going to have a smiley-face day.  Always remember Henry loves you."

recalls.

I pay attention to recalls because I want to make sure Henry's shit is safe.  Mostly, though, they make me laugh.  This was the headline I read today:

"Rollerblade USA Recalls Tempest Inline Skates Due to Fall Hazard."

ummmm....

Every recall is a reminder that people are idiots and how the hell do I keep Henry safe from that??

smart ass.

The other day Henry and I were at the pet supplies store and this conversation happened. 

Henry: What are their names?
Me: I don't know if they have names. Maybe you should name them. What do you want to name the one in the corner?
Henry: Ummm... his name is Cat Food.

"and i miss you, like the desert masquerade..."

When I was in college there was a song with the lyric, "and I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain..." but my friend, he misunderstood due to all of the desert masquerades that are out there.  

This morning I miss my son a lot.  I was in the living room when he got up and what had started out as a dark and cold morning instantly turned bright and sunny at the sound of his feet running down the hallway.  The sun hadn't come close to rising yet.  He tackled me with hugs and peppered me with kisses and oh the sweet, sweet, "Good morning, mom!  I love you!", it was all a bit much and brought tears to my eyes. 

Henry and I often talk about missing someone - his dad, his friends.  Last night when he got home from visiting his dad he was very sad.  He sat in my lap and cried and I hugged him and rocked him and tried to make him feel safe and loved.  He said he missed his dad because his dad had to go to Washington, D.C. again.  My heart broke all over again but not for me this time, for my son.  It is up to me to make all of this okay.  Last night I felt like a failure.

I wanted to stay home today, to spend time with Henry.  To play and laugh and make him feel loved.  Had he been sad this morning, I would have called in sick to work and we would have stayed in our pj's all day and baked cookies and cake and made forts and whatever else he wanted to do.  He woke up happy and ready to go to school to see his friends, he said he missed them.  I asked him if he missed me when he was gone for the weekend, and he said, "No, mom.  You are always right here."  This morning, I don't feel like as much of a failure.

sunshine day.

We had two days of above freezing temperatures and ooooooh how I enjoyed them.  Henry got to go outside at school yesterday, the second time since he started attending on December 9, 2013.  On our way home from work and school last night he laughed almost the entire way because the sun was so bright he couldn't keep his eyes open.  When we got home he didn't even bother going inside, he sat in his car and went for a drive.  He climbed up snow banks and went down the other side even though I warned him not to because the snow on the other side was really, really deep.  We cracked up as he yelled for help because he was stuck in waist deep snow on the other side of the snow bank.  He laughed maniacally when I tried to rescue him and got stuck.  He splashed in the puddles of slush and muddy water.  He threw snowballs, "Look mom!  I'm Verlander!" but not too many since he also refused to wear his mittens.  Yes, I'm a terrible mom for letting him play in the snow and slush and mud without boots and mittens but at the time, I wanted him, us, to enjoy every single moment of sunshine and when I tried to stop him to get bundled up, he laughed and ran away.  When he got cold he said it was time to go inside to warm up.  We took off his soaked socks and pants and cuddled in the rocking chair, still laughing about all the fun we just had. 

Today we have another winter weather advisory in effect for sleet, snow, rain, freezing rain, thunderstorms, and wind gusts up to 55 mph.  It is dark and grey outside my window so I will close my blinds and remember yesterday.

is it wake upping time?

4:55 a.m.

Henry:  Mom!  Good morning!  It's time to wake up!  We have to get ready for work and school now.
Me: *checks the clock and sees it's too early* It's too early kiddo, the alarm hasn't gone off yet.
H:  Mom!  I'm gonna get up, okay?
M:  zzzzzzzzz....
H:  Mom!  I didn't stay in my bed last night, isn't that silly?!
M: zzzzzzzzz....
H: Okay mom, I'm getting up.  Byebye.

5:15 a.m.
Henry:  Mom!  Is it time to wake up?
Me:  zzzzzzzzz....
H:  Mom!  Mom!  I want to cuddle.
M:  Climb under the covers, we can cuddle.

5:30 a.m.
Alarm goes off.
Me:  Good morning, Henry!  It's time to get up!
Henry:  No mom, it's not wake upping time.  Don't wake me up. I want to go to sleep.

I got up and in the time that he had gotten up by himself, he had turned on lights in the kitchen, played with his trucks on the counter, turned on a lamp in the living room and looked at some books on the floor.  No wonder he was tired and needed to go back to sleep!  I hope he takes a good nap at school today or this evening will be no fun for anyone.

vacation.

When I was a kid, my family took vacations every summer.  I never realized how much work it was for my parents until I had a kid.  Henry and I spent the weekend in Grand Rapids and we stayed at a hotel and we visited with family and swam in the hotel pool and went to bed early and woke up early and just had a blast.  One night.  70 miles away.  The vacations my parents took us on were across the country and involved campgrounds and day trips and NO INTERNET to plan the trip or to keep us occupied/happy while stuffed in the grocery getter for hours at a time.  It must have been a nightmare for them.  The heat.  The fights.  The food bills!  Vacation.  They did that for our family.  We all have fond and some not-so-fond memories of these trips.  I want this for Henry.  I want this for my family.  But one night in a hotel an hour away from home exhausted me to the point that I never want to leave home again.  Except it is important to me that Henry have fun memories and gets to see more of the world than our little town.  And staying home would mean I might miss out on more of this.

keepin' it real.

Me:  Henry, I am exhausted tonight.  I think I'm going to go to bed when you go to bed.
Henry:  No, mom.  First you have to do the laundry.  Then you have to fold it.  Then you can go to bed.  Okay?
M: grrrrr...
H: You can put it away tomorrow.  Don't come in my room, mom.  I'll be sleepin'.

make it stop. please.

The other day Graco announced a pretty massive recall on car seats.  I bought Henry's car seat a long time ago and couldn't remember what brand I purchased so I ran out to check.  I was relieved to find it's an Evenflo because who has time to deal with a car seat recall?  

The problem is that since I checked the brand and every time I get him in or out of the car and see the word, "Evenflo" on the seat, I start to sing Even Flow.  And then I can't get it out of my head.  We get in and out of the car at least twice each day.  Sometimes more.  I used to love that song.  

This evening I plan on shopping for a Graco seat, recalled or not.

five days a week.

My work hours are from 7:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.  Henry's school is open until 6 p.m.  Every day I plan on leaving him there until at least 5 p.m. because when I pick him up at 3:30, he misses out on some of the lessons for the day and I always have errands to run that will be easier to take care of without a 3-year-old.  Every day 3:30 rolls around and I cannot get to his school quickly enough to see him.  I miss him and can't wait to hear about his day.  I'm going to try again today but it is 12:30 p.m. and my plan for after my lunch break is to bust ass to get everything done so I can get out of here on time to pick him up. 

Sometimes it is nice to miss someone and sometimes it just fucking sucks.

debbie downer.

I love it that the sun is rising earlier every day.  Unfortunately I am used to getting to work when it's still dark so now every day I think I'm late for work.  It sucks being super stressed out about being late when I'm not even late. 

Except today.  It was really light when I got to work and I really was late.  It's Henry's fault.  He was still snoring at 6:15 and the first thing he said when I woke him up was, "Dexter the digger wants to dig ice." which meant he had to play on the floor with his digger and a plate and bowl full of ice cubes.  Getting him out the door on time was not in his plans.  I had to let him play though because yesterday morning I had cleaned out the ice cube tray and thrown out all of the old ice.  We used up all the ice last night before he was done playing so I had promised him there would be more in the morning.

Of course my kid wants to play with ice cubes during the coldest, snowiest winter of his life.  

spring training.

I haven't been to Florida for spring training since 2011.  I rarely watch baseball anymore.  My friends mock me for my lack of interest in the sport that used to be a huge part of my life.  It's not that I don't like baseball.  All that energy and interest I had put in baseball, it has been put into raising my son.  Eventually I would like to have something left to put toward baseball but right now, I just can't. 

This morning I looked out the window and saw that it had snowed last night.  A lot.  I almost cried.  I didn't know it was supposed to snow so I was not prepared.  I am done with winter.  The other day I was so done with winter that I looked for affordable flights to Florida for spring training.  I remembered how I used to feel at this time of year.  So done with winter but it was okay because I would be sitting in the sun watching the Detroit Tigers soon.  Right now I am so done with winter but I am too poor to afford two $400 plane tickets and hotel and baseball tickets and all the other stuff that goes along with a quick trip to anywhere. 

Winter is killing me.

Even though I don't have much time for baseball anymore, I have already made the decision to go to spring training next year.  If we have another crazy cold and snowy winter, I don't know how I will survive without knowing there will be a break from it, even it's just for a weekend.  For this year, we are planning a fun weekend with friends at a nice hotel with an indoor pool and a fancy restaurant/bar right in the hotel. 

Someday spring will be here.  Someday I'll give a shit about baseball again. 

Yep.

one million cigarettes.

I ended up leaving work early yesterday because I felt like shit.  By the time I got Henry and I home, I had a fever which meant I had all those fun symptoms to deal with while trying to get Henry to nap and so needing a nap myself.  Nobody napped.  My fever finally broke sometime in the evening and I stopped shivering and I actually felt like playing with Henry as opposed to pretending.  I finally got some rest last night and this morning I still feel like shit but I really need to save any sick days I might accumulate for when the kid gets sick.  It's like Henry knew I wasn't feeling on top of the world because this morning was perfect.  I don't think he said, "NO" or ran away from me once.  We had to leave a little bit early so we could stop and fuel up on the way to work and school.  We made it out by 6:50 AM, no problem.  Crazy!  The good thing about being sick at work is that everybody leaves me alone.  Nobody wants to have anything to do with me.  Kind of nice!  The bad thing is that my lungs feel like they used to feel after a night out at the bar when I would smoke a pack of cigarettes.  I haven't smoked since I found out I was pregnant with Henry, and maybe it was even before that.  I specifically remember the last cigarette I had had when I found out I was pregnant the first time, but I can't remember if I started again when that pregnancy failed.  I think I didn't because I don't remember having had a last cigarette when I had a positive test for my second pregnancy.  Either way, it's been a long time and my lungs feeling like this, it's a good reminder to never start smoking again. 

Not related to sickness, last night a bunch of people came over for a meeting.  Henry was the perfect host and greeted everyone by saying, "Hi!  Welcome to our home!" and then he would run and hide behind my legs and whisper, "Mom mom, I want to give them a hug.  Can I give them a hug?" and I would tell him to ask them if he could give them a hug and of course everyone agreed

Have I mentioned that my son is awesome?

still not a morning person.

I hate mornings.  For as long as I can remember I have hated mornings.  Winter mornings are especially difficult because it's so dark and also, I definitely deal with seasonal affective disorder and when you're depressed, getting out of bed is always more difficult.  Ugh, my grammar sucks.  Since going back to work, mornings have been surprisingly not that bad.  I get up at 5:30 in order to get out the door with Henry fully dressed and prepared for school by 7.  Since the solstice it's actually been fun to see how much lighter it is every morning when I get to work at 7:30.  It also helps that when Henry wakes up in the morning, he is happy to meet the day and to see me.  Even if his eyes aren't quite open yet he throws his arms around my neck and says, "Good morning, mom mom!" in the most cheerful voice he can muster.  It's wonderful and I will wake up at any time, any day to get to hear that.  I am the luckiest woman in the world.  One might argue that my willingness and ability to get up at 5:30 and to be fully functional by 7:30 makes me a morning person but I'm not quite ready to admit it.  Instead, I still hate mornings even if sleeping in on the weekends means waking up without an alarm at 6:30.

This morning I even got to work 10 minutes early.  I'm not sure how that happened, especially since I'm still disgustingly sick.  In my past life, if I was this sick I definitely would have called in to work and stayed in bed.  Mommy's don't get to call in sick and that's okay with me.

plague.

Today I am so thankful that Henry felt good enough to go to school.  Yay!  He still has a cold but he hasn't had a fever since Sunday night and if I kept him home every time he was snotty, he would never leave the house again and I would lose my job for sure.  My dear sweet son has given me the gift of the sick.  I felt a little bad this morning when I woke up but the morning routine does not leave time to feel sick.  Same thing when I get to work in the morning, it's go-go-go until at least 9:30.  Once I sat down to make some phone calls and do some work at the computer, I felt like crap.  Now I'm taking a break to eat lunch and think healthy thoughts.  Henry and I have a dinner date tomorrow night so we must feel better by then.  That's how it works, right?  Set a goal and achieve it. 

Here we go.

is it friday yet?

Yes, I know it's only Tuesday.  Henry is sick again and we all know that when that happens, I get all crazy and crazy stressed and did I mention, just plain crazy?  How the fuck do single parents do this?  I know this is the next 15 years at least of my life.  When he gets sick, I have to drop everything to take care of him.  That sounds awful, that, "I have to" part.  I know I should think of it as, "I get to" but when it's happening and I have a million things to figure out in order to make sure his needs are met AND I keep my job, it's not fun.  It sucks.  It's really difficult and scary and fuuuuuuuuck.  This is why there are two parents but in Henry's case, there is one custodial parent and one non-custodial parent that chose to live so far away, he cannot be helpful in these situations.  Thankfully Henry and I are lucky in that we have others who love us and who we trust enough to be with him on the days that he can't go to day care and I have to go to work and his grandparents can't stay home with him.  Well, we have one other and I don't think we will ever be able to thank him enough for his support and love all the time, but especially when we need it the most.  I'm hoping Henry feels better tomorrow, well enough to go back to day care.  I get lots more done at work when I'm not worried about him.  On days like this, when I'm constantly wondering how he's doing, I tend to take a lunch break and I write blog posts in order to clear my head.  On days when he's at day care I work right through the day, taking little breaks here and there until it's time to go pick him up and head home. 

I can do this.

it's a gas gas gas.

Last weekend Henry and I attended a birthday party at a local bounce place. Henry loved seeing his friends and jumping all over the place. I enjoyed watching him play and not having to join in the fun. Oh the joys of lasting effects of pregnancy. Peeing my pants, if you must know.

There was a shoot 'em up video game and Henry kept wanting to play with the guns. I was trying to decide how to deal with the situation and the gun thing.  Struggling with it.  Then Henry said, "Mom mom!  Come watch me pump gas!"

My kid, he's awesome.

the swing of things.

Finally, after weeks of sick and holidays and visits with his dad, Henry and I have settled into a work/school routine.  I think since he started going to day care on December 9th, this is the second week he will actually go every day.  Of course, I'm probably jinxing it since there is still one more day left in the week. 

Henry has a locker at school where he puts his coat during the day.  We also use his locker to store a change of clothes for him and extra snacks.  Up until this week, he has always demanded to clear out his locker at the end of the day.  I believe it was his way of telling me we shouldn't leave anything behind because he didn't plan on coming back. Monday afternoon he saw the items in his locker and asked if we would be taking them home.  I reminded him that we didn't need to take those things home because they were supplies for when he is at school.  I braced for the onslaught of, "but whyyyyy's" and "I don't want to leave it heeeeeeeeere's" and "but I neeeeeeeed it at hoooooooome's" but instead what I got was a simple response.  "Oh.  Okay.  Bye bye supplies!" as he closed his locker. 

He's never had very dramatic goodbye's in the morning but this week I've noticed that he barely sticks around for a hug and a kiss before taking off to play. 

The other night before bedtime he was quiet so I asked what he was thinking and he told me he was sad because he missed his friends at school.  More importantly, he told me their names.  Before, when I asked him the names of his friends he would respond with, "boys and girls," as if he didn't want to bother learning their names. 

When I picked him up on Tuesday I interrupted their story time.  Several boys and girls got in trouble because instead of waving and blowing kisses goodbye from their seats as they are told to do, they jumped up and ran to give Henry goodbye hugs.  He didn't try to climb up my leg to avoid the contact with the children.

He got invited to the birthday party of one of his classmates.  Okay so it's my cousin's kid but still, he'll know other kids there and I'll be able to catch up with my cousins instead of obsessing over my kid playing all by himself with the other kids playing together, around him.

Whew.

My former boss was just elected to be Council President.  I am excited yet terrified. 

Happy to be out of Detroit. 

it's a lizard out there.

Henry doesn't believe in blizzards, only lizards.  We had to go out and shovel three times today!  This is from the first time, around 8:30 a.m.   Henry inspected the tree and found the one bulb that burned out.  He is the light bulb police.  His mom-mom can spot a spelling error from a mile away, the boy can spot a burned out light bulb from 100 miles away.

Henry was digging around in a drawer of old crap and found one of my very old cell phones that I had no idea was still around, let alone the charger cord.  We plugged it in so he could call Consumers Energy to find out when they are going to come cut down the tree that has been on the wire since the ice storm.  Henry said he talked to them and they are coming on Twosday.  He even held up two fingers to show me what day they meant.  The weird thing about this old phone was that I never deleted a bunch of text messages.  They were super sweet and loving text messages from my ex-husband.  No wonder I believed he loved me!  We had a good laugh as I deleted them all.  It was a little jarring.  I just don't think about that stuff anymore so when it comes up it throws me for a loop.  Actually, when I started working in November I worked with the guy I was replacing.  He had some boundary issues and wanted to know all about my personal life and for some reason I ended up telling him about the end of my marriage and my sham of a relationship with Henry's father.  I had the most messed up dreams about my past life and was so happy when that guy at work finally left for good so I didn't have to think about that other stuff anymore!  I have no idea why the spray bottle was out and sitting on the floor.  

This photo is from the second time we went out, at 2:30.  I can tell because Henry refused to wear his hat but he stayed nice and warm with two hoods.  The snow kept sticking to his eyelashes.  He didn't like that at all. 

This is from the last time, around 5:30 or 6.  Henry decided the ice scraper thing was his shovel even though he has his own shovel.  I think he's already really good at getting out of doing the hard work.  Ha!  Just kidding.  Not really.  

Sometimes he says he's scared of the snowblower and wants me to pick him up when it gets close.  Other times he's more than happy to try to wreck stuff with it.  

Much of Michigan has pretty much shut down because of the snow and the cold temperature that is maybe already here.  I am going to try to get to work tomorrow morning.  The homeless need me.  My boss called to give me directions on what I need to do when I get there in case nobody else can get to work.  After I hung up I realized that wait a second, I live farther away than everyone else!  Oh well, I'll do what I can.  Henry's school is open but I think I will leave him home.  I would rather he be safe and warm at home than on the roads with me at o-dark-thirty tomorrow morning. 

in my defense, my parents do much of the cooking and grocery shopping...

Me:  Henry do you want to come to the store with me or do you want to stay home and play?
Henry: What kind of store?
M:  Grocery store.
H:  Oh.  You need cocktail supplies?
M:  What?  Where did you hear that?
H:  Oh.  You're not buying cocktail supplies?
M:  Well.  Yes, I am.  But that's not the point.  You're staying home.

On a completely unrelated topic that will hopefully make you forget that according to my kid, the only groceries I shop for are cocktail supplies, here's a photo from the beginning of December.  Henry was "helping" us put up the Christmas lights outside.

a photo.

Henry came home to me on January 1, 2014.  His dad agreed to bring him home early in the day so we could spend the day together.  Otherwise, Henry would have been dropped off at 5 p.m., been in bed by 8 p.m., and had to go to school for two days before really getting to spend much time with me.  Yay for co-parenting!  On the day Henry returned, he assured me he did not need to take a nap.  I assured him we needed to at least lay down and relax.  He agreed to just lay down and cuddle with me but there would be no napping.  None. 

This is what happened from 5 minutes later to 120 minutes later...

Not much sweeter than a sleeping kid, especially knowing his disposition will be sweeter when he wakes.

did you hear that?

It was the sound of my heart breaking as I walked away from my son in his classroom at day care. 

Henry:  I want you to stay here, mom-mom.
Me:  I know buddy, but I have to go to work and you have to stay here to learn and have fun and make friends.
H:  Oh.  But I don't want to.
M:  I know and I'm sorry.  Always remember birds fly south for the winter.
H: ...
M:  Oh.  Wait.  Always remember squirrels eat NUTS.
H: ... *little smile*
M:  No.  That's not it.  Always remember...
H: (whispering so quietly I could barely hear) mom-mom loves you...

And then he laughed and gave me a giant hug. 

Also, I know I said the next post would have photos and there are no photos here but I am at work and I don't have photos on this computer so you'll just have to wait. 

Also, I start way too many sentences with "also," and I know it is bad bad bad grammar but I can't stop.  I think it's because the running commentary in my head is constantly interrupted and I start most thoughts mid-sentence.  Crazy.  Or as Henry says, "cray."

Bad, mom-mom.  Bad.