And a statue will be erected in your honor....

I was thinking this weekend about a conversation I had with my mother in law when The Boy was just born.  I was recounting a story that involved Juanito helping with some aspect and she made a comment about how his father never helped with any of that.  “That” being taking care of his children.  I wanted to say well that should have been your first indicator that he was not a spectacular father but I held my tongue.  I do that every now and then, but rarely.  Sadly I was told this by many women in my family.  I have never really been sure what to make of it. Was I supposed to feel bad for them and how bad they had it with their lame husbands?  Was I supposed to feel thankful for having a husband who gave a shit about being a father?  Was I less of a mother because I’m not doing it all on my own? 

So this conversation and the questions it brings always bubble to the surface when I feel conflict with Juanito.  It’s a struggle to balance the house and careers and children and pets and car maintenance and home maintenance and laundry and cleaning and social lives and personal time oh and sleep.  I know that just like there are times that I feel like I carry more weight than Juanito there are times that he feels that too.  But I found myself having this internal dialogue while I was unloading and reloading the dishwasher for the third time in a weekend (a weekend that we ate out more often than ate in it mind you) and I thought, am I just supposed to accept this role and be thankful that he will change poopy Pull-ups (or worse poopy underwear)?  Am I asking too much that he do both?  And this is no reflection on Juanito and his side of load. (So don’t read into this Juanito.)  I’m asking more for all the working moms.  Is it too much of us to ask that the workload of maintaining house, home and family be evenly split?  Are we spoiled when our husbands share the workload?  Am I less of a mother and wife because he does? 

Then seriously this is the thought that comes into my head.  What about gay and lesbian couples?  They must have to struggle with sharing workload but do they grapple with the traditional roles?  How can I assume that mowing the yard is “his thing” when lesbian couples I know fight over who has to do yard work.  And then what about those couples that have children?  Do they have to talk it out and say “this is what I want to do and you can do this?”  Do they reexamine their plan to make sure everything is covered before implementing?  Because we do. 

When we started this relationship so long ago I know that everything was split.  Rent, closet space, cleaning, everything.  I know that if it hadn’t been this way I would have bailed on the relationship a long time ago.  We both went into it with this even-stevens mentality.  So why should I be grateful for a husband who would get up in the middle of the night with a newborn because my MIL didn’t have that?  I shouldn’t feel guilty that I can chat with friends or family while Juanito corrals The Boy.  And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve a parade for washing poopy underwear. 

Sometimes this adult thing sucks and the figuring it out part is exhausting. 

**Side note:  not sure how I’ve made the gay and lesbian population my litmus test for all things, but I find myself doing more and more these days.

Where have I been and what have I been doing?

So I haven't posted in a while and I have no good excuse.  I mean I've started posts but haven't finished them. So let's try and finish those up and give you an idea of where I've been and what I've been doing. 

Memorial Weekend....

Memorial Weekend is a time to remember those who have bravely served our country and community.  Be it military, army reserves, police, or fire; this weekend is about honoring any person who puts on a uniform and puts their life on the line for others.

What did I do?  Well I Nair'd my cooter's sideburns in preparation of being in a swimsuit in front of people.  I also went to Schnepf's Farms, which was on the edge of the Earth, and picked peaches.  Twenty pounds of peaches later we came home.  Armed with ginormous clam shells of strawberries and blueberries from Costco we proceeded to gorged ourselves on fruit all weekend long.  On Saturday we went to Schmacey's for swimming and a BBQ.  I debuted my new maternity swim suit which I've never had before and thoroughly enjoyed our friends, even if they don't believe that we landed on the moon.  Then on Memorial Day itself we went out to my parent's house for an outstandingly awkward afternoon with my family and all of their idiosyncrasies. Nothing salutes our armed services like fruit and dysfunction!

The Pregnancy

Have I mentioned that this pregnancy is nothing like The Boy?  I might have mentioned it a time or ten.  Because it isn't.  I don't think that I have glowed once.  Well my aunt said I was but I think she was lying to make me feel better. I have pretty much a constant headache that ranges in a variety of intensities.  Sometimes I can't open my eyes and other times the throbbing only happens when I bend over.  I have consulted my doctor about this and first I need to make sure that its not my eyes and/or contacts before they worry.  Apparently the actual eyeball can change shapes and my contacts might be causing problems. We shall see but in the mean time Tylenol has become my new favorite friend.

Oh, and the crying....  the uncontrollable tears!  We were driving back from the edge of the Earth (Schnepft's Farm) and I fell apart crying because my grandpa died.  Nine years ago people. The man died nine years ago and I'm bawling because The Boy won't ride his tractor like I did.   I mean seriously get it together Sara! 

Loss

A very good friend lost his father a few weeks ago to cancer.  I had so many mixed emotions about it.  It seemed that our friends, Yennifer and her husband (it was his dad who passed), had been living their lives in limbo with the ups and downs of battling cancer.  I know that as the child you want the limbo rather than loose one of your parents.  But I know that there has to be some level of relief that there is no more fighting and that he is at peace.  But good Lord I am not prepared for us to start losing our parents.  I mean grandparents is sad to deal with but our parents?  We are not old enough to deal with that type of loss.  But, yet, here we are.  Oh and like I mentioned above, this did not bode well with the uncontrollable crying either.  I'm at the memorial service trying hard not to do one of those gasping inhales while bawling things when my friend was talking about his dad.  I was just a mess and it turned into a headache that lasted for two days. 

So that's where I've been and a little bit of what I've been doing.  Its all very exciting.  The temperatures have crept up here in the Valley an summer has officially started while other areas are barely seeing spring.  I envy your time in the sun "warming up" while we claim shady parking spots and avoid the outdoors for large chunk of time. 

Oklahoma and Flashbacks

Bombarding my eyes and ears and heart with coverage of the Oklahoma tornadoes. What am I thinking? Natural human curiosity gives way to a crying pregnant woman at work. Awesome. 

Coming Out

So this Juanito and The Boy took a road trip to go visit some family.  I had all weekend to myself.  It was glorious.  It was gluttonous.  It was productive.  It was lonely.  I was so happy when they arrived safely home.  The Boy greeted me with a bundle of fake red roses that had faded in the sun.  Apparently he stole them from a family member's flower pot and she, loving The Boy to dangerously spoiling levels, said he could have them.  Thanks to Ana I now have faded red fake roses in my house because they are for my "burtday. "

Illusions of Age

This past weekend I went to a women's expo with three other friends.  Its funny because I was going to say three other girls, but then I look at us; Schmacey is a mother of three and doer of all things; Yennifer is a mother to one and a half (she's pregnant too) and a medical provider capable of prescribing drugs, and Schmaren is a local teacher of the year as well as in a committed relationship we're all ready to plan a wedding for (just need a question asked,that's all.) 

Spew forth from my loins

When I was younger, foolish and filled with anger and opinions, I was adamant that I did not want someone calling me baby. 

Treacherous Social Waters of Two Year Olds and Daycare

The Boy started at a new daycare today. Between concerns about the quality of the daycare diminishing as he has aged; ultimately knowing we needed something near his future school; and the commute that was slowly killing me one traffic jam at a time we decided to change. We have been in an in-home setting since he was 6 months old and have built this little community of kids and parents that were wonderful. It was hard to make the decision but we knew for longevity it was necessary.

So the new place is a big facility servicing children from 2 weeks (!) to 12 years and is run by a little old grandma who has a bit of a mustache. I’m sure this isn’t painting a very nice description but its accurate. She is very warm and every room she goes into the kids run to her for hugs. Normally, in an in-home setting the idea of the grandmotherly figure doesn’t appeal to me because I want structure and education and learning. In a big facility where it’s geared more like school I love the grandmotherly figure who is still warm, loving and nurturing for these babies. My baby!

So I dropped him off this morning, including his naptime sheet, naptime blanket, diapers, wipes, change of clothes and his happy little butt. We set up my finger print to be able to drop off and pick up and we went into the room. He immediately started playing with the toys and the other kids gravitated to us. He seemed fine and didn’t need me so I hugged and kissed him good bye and stood out in the hall way watching him. He looked a little lost, a little pensive and a little unsure, but not scared or frightened or ready to cry. I was though. I was a mess. I watched my baby. My baby. My well-adjusted little boy navigating the treacherous social waters of daycare and two year olds. (A bit dramatic I admit, but kids are ruthless)

I wished he would cry when I left just so I could soothe him and let him know he would be ok. That we would both be ok. But instead I forced myself to walk away and get in my car and call Juanito. Crying.

I will worry all day long. Did he ever cry? Has he made a friend or two? Is he adapting well to the new rules and new surroundings. Is nap time the same and will he be able to sleep? Will he like it enough to want to return tomorrow? This growing up shit is hard on everyone, but it seems hardest on me!

Second trip around the sun

Today my baby turned two.  Holy cow. I have a toddler.  My baby is chronologically gone.  As I've stated before he will forever be my baby regardless of the calendar, but holy cow.  We took the rail off his bed and boom his crib is a toddler bed.  Holy cow. 

We went to Barnes & Noble and we bought potty books.  The Superhero Potty Time, A Potty for Me, and the wildly popular, Every body poops.  Even though my husband and I are adults we both giggled and pointed at all the pictures of the pooping drawings.  The 13 year old in me was slightly shocked that the baby had a penis in the drawing but the adult in me turned the page. 

The Boy also got underwear for his birthday.  I wanted to put a pair on him and take a picture but he decided to put on all six pairs.  He is super excited about his underwear that have balls on them.  Basketballs, footballs, and baseball.  Balls...love balls!  They are fabulous!  Anyways, we're gonna start the potty training...holy cow. Holy cow!  How the hell do you teach someone to pee in a stupid pot?? 


So this for Levi My Love.....
Levi my love, you test me on a daily basis.  And just when I think I am not up for the task or have some how failed, you smile at me, grab my face and kiss me with more slobber and teeth than your father in high school.  You light up my life and then promptly call me Daddy.  You amaze me how you listen and understand.  You are so loving, to me, to Daddy, to the dogs (even the one who growls at you) and even people in the store.  You will climb anything and you can figure out how pretty much anything works, much like your Daddy.  Where you excel the most is your ability to communicate without really talking.  Oh you can, but you really choose not to. I am learning that this is your greatest strength....stubbornness, much like your Mommy.  Your next journey around the sun will be filled with adventures for all of us.  As our worlds grow bigger with you I look forward to ever morning, every obstacle, every triumph and every bedtime.