Wednesday, May 10, 2006

The Night Ritual

I’ve been meaning to write about this for a while because it is something I want to make sure I always remember. Every night is the same here in our house. I have alluded to some of Sam’s sleep problems before, but this is not an instance where I am going to complain. I love how we get Sam ready for bed every night. And ever since he was old enough to really benefit from a going to bed ritual, this has been it.

After Hubby and I eat dinner we change Sam’s diaper. I then give him a leg massage with some lavender scented lotion, although, lately he has been much more interested in dropping the lotion bottle, one of his favorite toys, back behind the bed and leaning over the side to see if it is still there and if he can reach it. Meanwhile I try to keep him from falling with my hands and his legs covered in slime as he wiggles and writhes. Hubby and I then read him 2 books. Up until a few nights ago, the second one is always “Sam Loves Kisses,” which ends with Mommy and Daddy giving Sam a “snuggly kiss” when he can’t sleep. Then we nurse and I bring him out to the living room and dance with him to one or two songs. For as long as I can remember we have been dancing to The Innocence Mission. Lately he has added hugs and his very special kisses to our dance time. He’s also begun laying his head on my shoulder when he’s really sleepy. He’s a real boy! I then put him in his bed and he holds my hand until he falls asleep while I hum him a combination of the songs I have sung to him since his birth. This is the part I want to make sure I remember. And no, I do not think all of these songs are amazing or anything like that. Most of them were just all I could think of while trying to calm him down and they stuck.

My Repertoire:
Somewhere Over The Rainbow, Eternal Flame (The Bangles), The Rose, You’re the Inspiration (Chicago), Unchained Melody, Stand By Me, Yellow Submarine, Glory of Love, Carrie (Europe, that’s right, Europe), I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You (which Katharine slaughtered last night on American Idol), Everything I Do I Do It For You (Bryan Adams), Holy Holy Holy, What A Wonderful World, Tomorrow

After just one year some of these already make me feel nostalgic and remember when he was tiny, fussy, and needed to sleep right up against me (or on top of me – the hand holding is a HUGE improvement). I think back to what those crazy newborn days were like and I’m amazed at how much has happened. I thought I would never get the hang of this mom thing, yet here I am. We kept him alive for a year so I guess we’re ok so far. And I still love singing him to sleep, except for when it is the umpteenth time and it’s 4:00am.

What are your favorite songs to sing to your children?

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posted by Beth @ 9:36 pm  

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Bad Technician, Mad Mommy, Sad Story

Yesterday was Sam’s one year check up at the pediatrician and with that came the dreaded vaccinations. I remember the first time he had to get shots I started crying as soon as I saw the needles. I had to go in the corner and calm down while my husband held him. I got much better after that, and the last time he needed a shot he didn’t even notice it and didn’t cry at all. That is, until yesterday.

I didn’t like this tech from the moment she walked in, so maybe my account of the events is a little skewed because she just rubbed me the wrong way, and we had to wait for her to arrive for a very long time as Sam grew more and more restless. What bothered me first is that she began the procedure before I was able to get up next to Sam at the table. I was late getting there because she was standing in my way. And as I stood behind her trying to find a way around and mumbling excuse me, she gave him the first shot (there would be 2 more, unfortunately). It was clear from his wail that he did, in fact, notice this one. This time I was much louder as I pushed past her saying I needed to get up to the table. He was already very upset.

I just happened to look down at what she was doing just as she began the second shot. Now, I’ve never actually watched the injection happen, but I’m pretty sure what I saw was not normal. (If you don’t like needles you may want to stop here.) It looked to me like she was having trouble getting the needle to penetrate his skin at first, and then all of a sudden it went through and the whole needle was thrust into his leg. And by the whole needle, I mean the entire thing. All that was visible outside his leg was the syringe, and he SCREAMED, and my husband and I both GASPED. But that is not all. At this point she let go of the needle to hold Sam’s hand down and ask my husband to take over that duty (this, in my opinion, should have been taken care of before the injections began – each person should have been assigned legs and arms…and mom should have been up at the table – that is what everyone in the past has done), so I was left watching a wobbling syringe stick out of my son’s leg as he sobbed. I asked her if the shot was supposed to go in that far and she said yes, but I can tell you that the 3rd needle was not put in that far. I really felt like I was going to lose it at this point so I think I just had to believe her in order to keep it together.
That was yesterday.

Last night I did not believe her as I tried to get to sleep. This morning I do not believe her. As I write this I do not believe her. As I have pictured this horrific sight over and over again, feeling nauseous all over, tearing up all over, I absolutely, with perfect clarity do not believe her. And it’s not that I think something really bad happened. I mean, this situation was really bad, but I am not worried that there are going to be serious ramifications to his health. It is that the way she handled the whole thing was not ideal. Vaccinations are painful for babies anyway, when done perfectly. I believe that she made an already difficult situation much worse than it needed to be. She did not prepare Hubby, me, and her assistant for our roles, resulting in awkward pauses where she had to ask one of us to take an arm or leg more than once, which I think made her a bit flustered. More importantly, she shoved a needle into my son. Then she told me she meant to do it that way. I think she knew she couldn’t tell me that it was an accident, and she was probably right. But now I am left to fume after the fact.

I’m not sure what, if anything, I should do about this. I could call the doctor under the guise of asking her if a vaccination is really meant to go in so deep, in the hopes that she asks me what happened and then I can describe the events (the passive aggressive approach). Or I can call her with the specific intention of tattling on her tech (aggressive). Or I could write a letter describing the events and send it to…someone…someone important (responsibly aggressive?). Or I can call and try to speak to the technician herself and explain what I think she could have done differently (direct and very conflict resolutiony – I could say things like, “When you stabbed my baby with a needle, it made me feel rage”). Or I could do nothing (potentially cowardly, potentially right).

I could try to accept her answer and believe that this is just how these vaccinations are. I could realize that no matter what it looks like I will probably find fault because no matter how you slice it it’s something that is traumatic for my baby. I could accept that no one is perfect and maybe she did just make a mistake. I could.

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posted by Beth @ 10:09 am  

Monday, May 8, 2006

80’s Name That Tune

In honor of ABC Momma, who I owe one to for tagging her last week and then realizing she gets the heebegeebees when she is tagged, I am issuing a challenge just for her. In the same tag where she expresses her discomfort at being a tag-gee, she also asserts that she would be champion of an 80’s Name That Tune. I kind of liked the idea because in truth I actually think I would be the winner, but hey, I tagged her and feel bad so I’ll get this going and not even be there to face off.

Below are the lyrics to a song from the 80’s. Be the first to name the song and artist and you win…I don’t know what. Respect? Love? Adoration? Well, you may just have to be satisfied with the knowledge that you won and beat a self-proclaimed guru - that’s assuming, of course, that she doesn’t beat all ya’ll (and no internet resources allowed). Good Luck!

Buying bread from a man in Brussels
He was six foot four and full of muscles
I said, “Do you speak-a my language?”
He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich

Addendum: If you are reading this now you are way too late. ABC Momma had it immediately. But please do leave a comment if you would be interested in another 80’s Tune challenge.

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posted by Beth @ 10:12 pm  

Sunday, May 7, 2006

Birthday Dreams

In lieu of presents for his birthday (the move and all) I decided to collect wishes for Sam from our family and friends. I knew I was going to do this at some point ever since he was born, although I have not yet worked out the details of what we will do with his “wish box.” I’m not sure if we will read his wishes to him each year on his Birthday once he is old enough. Or maybe we will save wishes for him every year and then give them all to him at some significant age, like when he leaves for college or turns 16. Maybe I will add a new wish to the box for him each year from Hubby and me, along with a bit about what he did that year. Or maybe I will have Sam write his birthday wish each year and add it to the box with the ones we have collected. We have some time to figure it out I think, but I love the wishes we received from our friends today at his party.

It almost intimidates me, some of the things they wrote, because now it is time for me to write my wish for my son. Perhaps I am a little lost since I don’t know what exactly we are doing with these, or perhaps I am just overwhelmed with the fact that my baby is one year old today and I have so much that I want for him in his life that I have no idea how to narrow it down to words.

What do all parents wish for their children? Happiness, right? For them to be healthy and enjoy life. For them to feel love, and sorrow, hope, joy, excitement, and fear. For them to live their lives to the fullest and appreciate what is happening to them as they do so. For them to feel fulfilled emotionally, spiritually, mentally. But now these words are too big to understand – they become meaningless, non-specific. What do I want for him and what I am I really saying? It’s too much.

Whenever Hubby and I discussed having children it always turned to the happiness we felt as children growing up. We wanted that joy, wonder, and excitement for our kids, and we wanted to be a part of that again, to help create it. I’ve also been thinking a lot about my childhood this week in response to Rachelle’s writing assignment for “My Life Monday.” Over the week I was asked to recall my most memorable childhood experience, but for me I was only flooded with images of delight; there was not one specific memory that took the cake (Birthday pun for ya). I just loved childhood - all of it. And that was what Hubby and I looked forward to the most: to have a child who got to feel those wonderful things we took with us, for the first time.

Today, my wish for Sam is that he stay a child as long as possible. Ironically, I don’t mean that because he is my baby and I don’t want him to grow up. I mean that I want him to feel that awe and curiosity and innocence for as long as he can hang on to it. I want him to feel the thrill of turning around on his bicycle to see that the parent who was holding him up is 25 yards back, yet he is still moving forward. To feel the disappointment on Christmas Eve when his mom comes in after he has worked so hard to stay awake, to tell him that she saw on the news that Santa is running late and is still a few thousand miles away, and he realizes that he won’t be able to stay awake long enough, no matter what he does. To feel the fear of finding a slug (which he has never seen before – what is it?!) on the ladder of his tree house and the relief when he finally gathers the courage to return 4 days later and it is gone. To feel the wonder of sitting in that tree house as the sun goes down and hear the change in the noises of the woods and feel the sudden chill in the air on his sun warmed arms. To jump on mattresses, to build forts out of boxes, to dance before he cares what he looks like, to lick the batter off the spoon, to fall asleep on the way home from fireworks on the Fourth of July, to ride his first roller coaster, get his first pet, make his first best friend…

I have no idea what I’ll actually write for Sam’s wish. But today, I wish for myself to help give him all of these things and more. Hubby and I wanted a child so that we could share with him his childhood, and I wish that it could last forever.


Young, by Anne Sexton
A thousand doors ago
when I was a lonely kid
in a big house with four
garages and it was summer
as long as I could remember,
I lay on the lawn at night,
clover wrinkling over me,
the wise stars bedding over me,
my mother’s window a funnel
of yellow heat running out,
my father’s window, half shut,
an eye where sleepers pass,
and the boards of the house
were smooth and white as wax
and probably a million leaves
sailed on their strange stalks
as the crickets ticked together
and I, in my brand new body,
which was not a woman’s yet,
told the stars my questions
and thought God could really see
the heat and the painted light,
elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.

Labels: Absolute Favorite Posts, Birthdays

posted by Beth @ 8:50 pm  

Friday, May 5, 2006

Little Baby Pukey Pants


Sam is finally asleep. He has a fever and threw up his dinner. I didn’t know he was sick until tonight. He’s been cranky lately, especially today, but he also has a molar coming in so that was to be expected. I felt like we were neglecting him as we got back to our packing mission, and I thought he might be resenting the lack of attention a bit. And I was impatient. Didn’t I say just a few days ago on that meme that I am not always as patient as I would like to be with my son and husband? Let’s go back and check the meme. Yep, that’s exactly what I said. And I have now discovered the downfall of blogging.

I was impatient, despite the signs that something might be wrong. And even if he wasn’t sick he was still teething and clearly cranky because he was in pain. I even thought about this and was still completely…impatient. As I watched the numbers on the thermometer climb I berated myself for my complete and total bitchiness today. And then I realized that the fact that he had a fever did not matter. I should have been more sensitive anyway because he was teething, because we are moving and I know he feels our stress, because we have not been paying as much attention to him due to our being completely overwhelmed, because it is almost his birthday, because he is my baby and he makes me smile and feel better when I am down.

As he fell asleep tonight, just before he closed his eyes, he looked at me and gave me his sweet smile, and I just couldn’t believe he had a smile for me despite the fact that he felt like crap. So I am back to where I was before in mommy fear , where something bad happens to Sam before I realize that I need to relax about this move and the graduation and the party (Oh no! The party is supposed to be in 2 days…and he’s sick…I am totally defeating my point here…) and all the logistics and details of everything. He is all that matters. And if he is able to look at me when he has a fever, an upset tummy, and a huge molar breaking though his swollen gums yet still muster up enough love to make me feel so good, then I certainly should be able to do the same.

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posted by Beth @ 9:02 pm  

Thursday, May 4, 2006

Two Men Kissing

This was the first time that Sam gave Hubby one of his “special kisses.”



On the Birthday party front, I finally let go today and ordered a cake for Sam. The thought of baking a sheet cake and 2 dozen cupcakes Sunday morning while trying to get everything else ready (including the Birthday Boy) did not sound appealing. I am a bad bad mom who isn’t going to bake her son’s first birthday cake. But you know what, he’s not going to eat it anyway and I’ll be in a much better mood for his party knowing I am not serving potentially burned cupcakes. I’d much rather spend as much time with him as possible that day; he’ll probably enjoy that a lot more and so will I.

One year ago today we were one day past our due date, wondering why the Mexican food I’d had the night before was doing nothing, and waiting…stewing. Sam would not be born for several more days…

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posted by Beth @ 7:06 pm  

Wednesday, May 3, 2006

That’s It Gymboree Man, We’re Throwin’ Down

I have decided since becoming a mom that the world owes me something. I don’t mean that obnoxiously, like I earned a free ride because I gave birth, but I have to admit that I’ve been feeling rather indignant lately. This mostly occurs when I am shopping somewhere, something becomes inconvenient, and I feel I’ve been shafted because I have a baby and stores should make my shopping experience as easy as possible. In many ways this is not completely off the mark since moms are such a huge target audience for said stores. Here, some examples of places that should be nice to me because I give them my money and am hindered by an infant:

In the past month both my Target and my grocery store have decided to remodel. This is extremely inconvenient since they are moving around absolutely everything, none of it makes any logical sense, and none of the employees can help because they don’t know where anything is yet either. What used to be a fairly easy trip through these stores has turned into an infuriating, backtracking, maze solving quest to find the cue tips or the bread (yes, they temporarily hid the bread in the greeting cards aisle behind a huge metal pillar – TWICE I came home with no bread and my husband did it once as well).

To make matters worse, I believe both of these places specifically set out to make “the mom’s” life more difficult (please understand I am writing this tongue-in-cheek…sort of…I mean listen to this!). Target, in their reorganization, decided to move the entire baby section to a strange island in the middle of the store. The result: baby aisles that are half the width of regular aisles. That means that if you want to buy diapers you must literally wait in line to get into the aisle with your cart because there is not enough room to pass each other. Once there, you have to hope that the people who flank you know what they want because otherwise you are trapped while they read the difference in weight ranges between the number 2’s and the number 3’s or contemplate the benefits of the “Gigglastic” waistband. Now I ask you, are the people you want to do this to the ones that are there to buy DIAPERS? And at Dominick’s, my grocery store, they have placed the baby food section behind one of the previously mentioned metal pillars. In order to reach 1/3 of the baby food I am contorting the top half of my body around a huge metal barricade that rests approximately 8 inches from the shelf. I painfully stick my head back there to see what I am doing or I can blindly reach behind the pillar and hope I grab the right thing. Again, the people you want to mess with are the ones that require baby food in their homes? It just seems to me that perhaps the people that need these types of things should be cut some slack. Obviously I am biased, but I’m not sure I am totally wrong either.

But the worst obstacle of them all is not the asinine layout or the physical obstruction; it is the Scammer Salesguy. This is the sales guy that knows you are a mom and uses it against you in the worst way, in the take your money for cute things that you don’t really need way. He insinuates, either subtly or blatantly, that you owe it to your kid to spend because your kid is special. Now, I know we all know this guy when we see him, and we are not fooled; they are just not that clever. But recently I encountered a Scammer Salesguy of a new breed.

I was shopping at Gymboree - - ok, really I was returning something in the store next to Gymboree and happened to find myself in there perhaps checking to see if there might be something wonderful for Sam to sport at his upcoming Birthday party. I know this store is too expensive for us, but I was thinking maybe he should have something special for the big day. And you never know, there could always be a sale or something so perfect that you just have to spring for it (he must have just looked at me and known I was the prefect prey). Anyway, Scammer Salesguy approaches, offering his friendly services. I explain my reason for stepping in and he proceeds to show me some Tiki/Island themed options. Not really my style, and he notices me checking the price tag. He then points out a sale they are having on shorts and T-shirts in this one area. This sale makes the prices much more reasonable and I tell him so with a big smile on my face. Together we create a little plaid shorts, matching shirt, floppy sun hat combo. It is quite adorable and I can just see Sam happily mushing cake into it while crawling around the park. At this point I say, and I quote, “So both of these are part of the sale then, right?”
“Yes, both are on sale.” I proceed to the register, we pay, we leave, I smile more.

It is not until I arrive at the car 3 blocks away that I add up the prices in my head and wonder how I just paid $50 for this cute little outfit that will last approximately 1 hour before its demise. I have no clue how the total could have been so high and on checking the receipt learn that those cute little plaid shorts were, in reality, TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS. They are the size of a washcloth.

I promptly return to the store, and I realize that this is getting long but this next part just blows my mind. Scammer Salesguy is there again to greet me. I explain my confusion at which point he explains why the plaid shorts are not part of the sale (because they are not pull-ups…uh, ok…) to which I say, “But that is why I specifically asked you if both items were on sale, to which you said, ‘Yes.’” And he tells me again that only the pull-up shorts are on sale and that is why he was “pushing me toward the Tiki outfit.” Yeah, yeah Scammer Salesguy, you were really watching my back there. Thank YOU. Even as he was doing the return he was acting like he had tried to steer me toward the less expensive outfit and to each remark I respond with, “but that is why I asked you if they were both on sale, to which you said, ‘Yes.’” And he ignores me every time I say this, as though he doesn’t hear me. What, you’re not even going to tell me you must have made a mistake, Scammer Salesguy? And then, after trying to just void the transaction, which will leave me with no receipt showing the return of my fifty bucks (um, no!), he actually has the audacity to say, “I still thought the Tiki outfit was cool.”

That’s it! I call you out Scammer Salesguy! After school, on the playground! I call you out on behalf of every mom you have tried to swindle out of an extra fifteen bucks because you knew she didn’t have the time or energy to come all the way back once she realized what you did. I call you out for saying things like, “He should really look special on his birthday – we need to find him something really cute.” I call you out, we’re throwin’ down, and bring your Tiki torch with ya so I can show ya where to stick it.

Labels: Absolute Favorite Posts, Mommyhood, Tales

posted by Beth @ 9:15 pm  
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