We Went

Past the prison, through the swamp, over the familiar bridge, and into the small town that held so many childhood memories.

Things hadn't changed all that much.

There was the school...and the store just around the corner from the house we always slept in while visiting.

There was the clothesline. And I knew that right inside that door would be the kitchen, sandwiched between the bathroom and the family room with the stove in the middle.

The railroad tracks remained at the end of the street, just like I remembered.

And at the dead end was the cemetery. Not on a map, without a sign.

History surrounded us as I shared stories with my husband as he held our son in the blazing heat while bugs, large and small, made meals of our legs.

It felt so much hotter there than it had been at home.

For the sake of comfort, I had worn a free-flowing cotton dress. Once there, I realized that it was all black, perhaps fitting for the occasion, yet not on purpose.

He passed me flowers, saying "These are for Gail," and showed me the slot where they should go...because I hadn't a clue.

Like I knew before going, she wasn't there, but thoughts of her, my grandmother, great-grandmother, and great-grandfather, all people I knew and loved, all memorialized in that location, flooded my mind.

I wondered aloud about what it must have been like to be born there eleven decades ago. I lamented the fact that I didn't ask more questions when I had the opportunity.

We stayed for a bit longer.

He waited until I gave the cue that it was time to head back to the car, never rushing me, following my lead.

There was no plan, yet it felt that what needed to be done was accomplished.

The quiet understanding that led to a road trip to my past was appreciated in ways I could not fully express.

Instead of talking, we went to lunch, dining on southern staples and replenishing ourselves for the trip back and, honestly, the rest of the day.

Bodies and souls fed, we said goodbye.

Happy 4th!

I swear, I have that Yo Gabba Gabba song about not giving up running constantly through my head.

It just might be working.

I'd link to it, but I'm blogging from the car as we head to a cookout. It's either this or nothing and I need my therapy. Even if it's via my slow thumbs and not my quick fingertips.

I worked out this morning. It was muy dificil. So hard that I have to say so in another language. It's the 30 Day Shred, so if you want in, please join me. Free membership to my blog comments! Act fast!

I tried to get a pic of the kids in their holiday gear, but, well...they didn't exactly play well together so then I got them separately. Not quite as frame-worthy, but oh well.

My next trick? Actually see fireworks tonight. I've been saying this for YEARS.

Blogger app put the pics all out of order. You'll forgive me though, right?

One Helluvatransition

It's been 10 weeks since our family of three became four. So much has changed. I really do miss writing about everything on a regular basis.

I mean, I'm not upset with myself for slacking. I know why. You know why. But it doesn't make it any easier for me to accept when days, and then weeks, go by with nary a syllable written in this space. 


I posted a couple of pictures of Playette recently, on her 5th bithday. Crazy. She still seems so little to me. By little I mean young. But five? Five is a Big Kid. 


I never made it back to mention that if Playette is five, that means this blog is four. For anyone that wasn't already aware, this blog was my coming out, of sorts. It was when I became all, "I have a kid with Ds, hear me roar." Or something. Took me a year to do that. 


So if you've never read the first post, here it is. 


The second one was closely related, so here you go. 


I just now got back from the store with Playette. She needed snacks for school tomorrow when they will be having a pre-4th of July party. The kids are also encouraged to dress in red, white, and blue, so we hit up W-Mart in order to try and fulfill both items we lacked. What I realized before walking out the door was that this was the first time I could recall in the last ten weeks that Playette and I were going to spend any significant one-on-one time together. BD asked me when the last time we were alone together was and my response? "Last weekend in the hospital bed in the ER when you took Dez to get his chest x-ray." 


Awesome. 


Which reminds me. The ER. Not as terribly bad as it sounds, and it actually was, in the weirdest way, a nice reprieve. Our family was in one narrow room, away from the heat, outside of the house, and we made each other laugh while we waited. It actually felt nice. This was, though, after we pretty much knew that the reason why we came wasn't going to turn into the worst case scenario after all. 


Because I have a lot on my mind and I don't want to fall into the trap of never posting until my thoughts are perfectly crafted into individual, free-flowing posts, I offer you... BULLETS.

• Dez is sick. He's getting over it now, but it was scary for a little while. He's so wee and when you hear a bebe with a crackly, full-body cough that is inconsolable, you want to do something about it. I wasn't satisfied with the blow-off we received from the on-call Pediatrician on Friday, so when things appeared to be worse on Saturday, we went to the Navy hospital ER. For a non-military family, that would be like going to urgent care. It's our after-hours option and I was happy to get a second opinion from people who would take the issue seriously. Bottom line: he'll be ok. Upper Respiratory Infection and he's got the cutest inhaler I've ever seen. That probably sounds strange.

• I am frustrated with my post-baby body. I know that I'm crazy. Plenty of people have told me as much. My answer: "No one tells Beyoncé that." Yeah, they just give her props for looking awesome. For some reason, I thought I'd bounce back from pregnancy and childbirth and be running five miles a day by now. Ha. Hahahahahaha. I haven't lost any weight in over a month and I haven't done anything deliberately active in weeks. Unless eating cookies and ice cream counts. This is not boding well for the ten-miler I signed up to do in October.

• Playette is regressing. She is lashing out at friends, crying at the drop of a hat, being generally disagreeable, pushing boundaries, being defiant, and, worst of all to me, having accidents of the urine-soaked variety. She misses being the one and only. Even though she loves Dez to pieces. She must feel horrible and that makes me feel horrible. I don't know how to fix this. I wish she could tell me what's going on in her head. 

 

• Dez is blowing my mind with his lack of ability to stay a teensy baby. Think I'm kidding? Check out this bruiser:

How is this a two-month-old?

• I turned a year older yesterday. Sick baby trumped celebrating. We did go out for breakfast though. It makes me feel weird that I'm not a big birthday person when so many other people are. What is so messed up about me that I'm not into celebrating...anything?

• BD has been gone for work for about four of these last ten weeks. That has been difficult. He's home now and I'm thrilled. It's been hard, yo.

• We're moving soon. Like, very. Finding a house, or lack thereof, has me pulling my hair out. Basically, I've pinpointed the school I want for Playette, but getting a house to match is much more difficult than I ever imagined. At least it's not a cross-country or intercontinental move. (I'd rather not say where just yet.) And starting everything (new friends, doctors, therapists, sitters, etc.) all over again? Gah.

• We also have been car shopping. No one has offered us the Deal of the Century just yet. 

• I miss my mother. I need help and a hug, basically. Actually, lots of hugs. BD told me that he'd take me to her headstone soon since I told him that I've never been. Sharing that publicly makes me even more sad. In a normal family, that would never happen, right? Seventeen years? And I'm not really into symbolism much. I know she's not there. But something in me wants to reach out to what is there.

• I had a C-section. There, I said it. To everyone. It wasn't what I planned and I've kinda really glossed over it, but the unmedicated water birth I wanted and planned for turned into an abdominal surgery that humbled me with its recovery process. There's a story there, of course. And I will write it up. I have to. Before I forget all the details. But, yeah, I think I've been beating myself up a little for that, too. Which is wrong. And then I get mad at Me for being mean to Myself. What a screwed-up cycle. This is not judgment on anyone else's situation or choices, nor does it mean that I am anything less than extraordinarily grateful for the birth of my healthy boy. I just have issues with letting myself off the hook, even for things I can't control.

• I didn't intend for this to be all womp-womp-y. There was good stuff in the last ten weeks, for sure.

• For example, I went to the NDSS Spring Luncheon. That was something I've been meaning to talk about. It was so nice and I really enjoyed it. Yup, I loaded Dez up and we flew to NYC for about 36 hours door-to-door. We got to meet up with lots of friends and it took me about a week to recover. Totally worth it though. When I get copies of the couple of photos that were taken at the event, I will be sure and share them.

Big Girl

How'd this happen?!

(Love the poses. The hand in the face came when I asked her to show me how old she is today.)

She's sooo excited that today is "her" day. We're doing cupcakes at school for lunch. Her head may very well explode.

The Graduate

Playette graduated from preschool this evening. They had a ceremony at the college down the street.

I remember thinking, last year as I picked her up from school one day and the older children were preparing for their own event, that it seemed a little over the top...this whole Pre-K graduation thing. It just seemed like one more thing to turn into an event. I vowed again, as I had over the many years prior, even before having a child of my own, that I would not get caught up in the hype.

Fast forward twelve months and I was almost right. Our preparation was low-key and, once there, I tried to politely turn down the tissues as they were passed my way just prior to the children's procession.

I took one because it seemed like the thing to do. I balled it up in my hand so that I could hold Dez more tightly.

The kids marched in, blue caps with tassles slightly askew on most heads. They smiled and waved to familiar faces.

We all stood to recite the Pledge of Allegiance along with them.

The school director called them all "Kindergarteners."

I smiled. Playette didn't know every word, but she was obviously part of the group. Just another four-year-old, reveling in being the center of attention. She waved to BD, me, and Dez.

They sang three songs, one of which required them to don sunglasses and declare that they were stars.

One of the teachers read a short poem, barely able to choke back the tears that, as I was told by her daughter seated near me, she was unable to hold in during the rehearsal earlier in the day.

And then they asked each child, before they crossed the stage as individuals to receive their mock diplomas, what they wanted to be when they grew up.

I was told later that there was no coaching. Each child came up with their own answer. It may or may not have been the same during the rehearsal as it was tonight.

I recall three nurses, a cheeseburger, a butterfly, fireman, policeman, meatball, Batman, and a doctor amongst the responses.

Before they started, I jokingly told myself that Playette would probably say something silly like "pizza."

But she didn't.

She got up there and spoke into the microphone the same answer that she had given earlier that day, I later learned. She was sure. She was confident.

She was the only child who said that what she wanted to be was...a mommy.

I bawled.

And wished I had taken more than one tissue.

And then...

I'm typing this with my thumbs while seated on a plane. Because, y'know, the baby's sleeping and I can't pass up avoiding a nap for myself. (It's Dez's first flight! Heading to new state #1!)

I had every intention of posting something yesterday, because I always seem to think of these things on Mondays, but time escaped me yet again. Nothing new. I'm not complaining because I really am enjoying this new little family member of ours. I can sleep when I'm 70. Right?

I cannot even begin to promise that I will blog more consistently any time soon. You get that though, right? It'll happen eventually. Just bear with me, 'k?

Anyway, so the bebe is now seven weeks old. It's both so young and yet so far from when he first came into this world, all at the same time. Yesterday, I was looking a photos from a session we had done when he was 8 days old and I realized that he'd never look like that again. Le sigh. I think I'm overly emotional because I still feel oh-so-guilty for paying attention to all the wrong things after Playette was born.

Wait. I thought I was supposed to be letting myself off the hook for that? Any day now would be nice.

So, when did I last post? It had to be weeks ago, right? Here's some of what we've been up to:

BD fell back into his role of Event Planner Extraordinaire and spent two weeks in NYC helping to facilitate another successful Fleet Week. He worked hard and was rewarded with some cool experiences. Like seeing Katy Perry and that tall country dude perform (brain fail - oh! Trace Adkins!), going to both he Jimmy Fallon and Daily shows, meeting the First Lady and Jon Stewart, and generally rocking with showing the public how awesome the Navy is.

Back home...well, we did none of those things. But! We did survive. Which is amazing in and of itself. But not without some help.

Both our former Friendly Neighborhood Physical Therapist (FNPT) and Auntie D came to visit.

First was FNPT, all the way from our old, temporary hometown in California. We hadn't seen her in almost 18 months and it was cool to see how Playette quickly made up for lost time. We had fun going out to eat (all-you-can-eat seafood buffet FTW!) and making a couple of trips to the beach. What was biggest for me, though, was the way she helped me to plow through my to-do list and keep my eldest clean and fed. That was rather HUGE.

After a week with FNPT, we paused for Memorial Day weekend (don't ask me how I made it through because I think my brain very conveniently dumped the details). Bright and early on Monday, Auntie D, BD's sister, drove into town. I knew she had arrived when I heard Playette screeching her name. Who needs a doorbell?

The ladies enjoyed one another as only they can, as they have a wonderful bond. Playette was surely testing boundaries and loving the attention, but that's par for the course these days. I try so hard to remember that she's going through a lot of transition and I have to keep expectations of her behavior appropriate. Not. Easy. For. Me.

What else, what else? I'm sure there's so much more, but I blame sleep deprivation. I feel like I'm running on adrenaline 100% of the time and I just don't have that much adrenaline. What results is a lot of finger crossing and hoping for the best.

Oh! I signed up for the Army 10 Miler at 4 o'clock one morning. Crazy! So far, I have run one mile. That was yesterday. It was slow and hard and way too hot, but I kept moving. Go, me?

Also, in the last few weeks, Dez and I attended not one but two IEP meetings to help get his big sister all documents up for her Kindergarten debut in a few months. Yikes. Thankfully, I was able to secure the assistance of an advocate, so we walked away with a signed document the second time. Whew. I truly hate that part. IEP season blows.

Also, prom season always reminds me of my mother. The morning I came home from my own prom is when my mother, after yelling at me for staying out all night, told us that she had breast cancer. And it was spreading. 18 years later and that's one memory my brain clings tightly to.

I didn't mean to end on such a sad note, but that's life, y'all. At least, that's MY life. MY normal. And I'm ok with it. Most days.

Today is surely one of those days. I'm hours into my adventure and I can't wait to tell you more about it later.

Dez and I only have about 34 more hours to make our imprint on this town before its back home for us again.

Here's to making it count.

Brotha

Ok, so maybe I didn't waste years of my life on this TV show after all. Some good came from it.

I believe that, over the past four weeks, the question I've most frequently been asked is, "How is Playette adjusting to being a big sister?" or some version thereof.

The last time I posted, she was still a little iffy about him.

At first, if asked, she would say that she didn't want to hold him. I have some pictures of her first meeting with him, but I haven't the brain power to upload them from the camera quite yet. The scene went a little like this: Playette arrived with her friend, escorted by her friend's mom (who so graciously agreed to watch our child while I was in the hospital for much longer than I had ever planned). The girls were super cute, dolled up in dresses and matching hair bows. They were ready for a special occasion. But what did Playette do? Well, she acknowledged that there was a baby, but that was about it. The girls were much more interested in chasing each other around the curtain that surrounded my room door. When they left, Playette said goodbye to my belly, not the baby.

After the first week, she made a switch. I guess she figured that he wasn't going anywhere and perhaps she should get with the program. She added a couple of phrases to her lexicon. "S'alright, baby." "S'ok." But he still kinda intimidated her. (Not that I could blame her.)

Check out when she tried to give him a hug two weeks ago:

 

Since then, she has come around. Way around. She wants to protect him, hold him, feed him (ahem, not with a bottle), hug him, kiss him, push his swing (totally not necessary), change him, show him off. ALL. THE. TIME. A little Elmyra-esque. New phrase: "What's wrong, Dez?" in a little sing-songy voice

This was last week:

 

When I picked her up from school on Friday, one of the teachers told me how impressed she was with whatever we've been teaching Playette at home. Apparently, she is very attentive to the dolls, even moreso than before. I asked if she's been trying to breastfeed them and she hasn't...yet.

Overall, she's a happy big sister.

And other than her taking certain liberties with his umbilical cord stump two weeks ago, I'm pretty pleased with her showing, too.