tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22974701524058044482024-03-13T02:47:41.027-07:00To Hell with it, it's just Mie...mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.comBlogger1202125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-5499528301148723772016-08-10T12:55:00.000-07:002016-08-10T12:55:01.528-07:00Kindergarten Batten down the hatches, MB is starting school. If I thought 4 years flew by, then 5 years (and some change, now) went in a nano-second. It's crazy. He becomes more self sufficient every day. This week alone he's discovered he can have a "faux hawk" with hair gel, he can pour his own milk, and he can reach the top shelf of the refrigerator when he's on his step stool. Might seem like little things, but to him, these are HUGE!<br />
He also watches some of the Olympics. (Though 3 days in he's over it for now). Swimming caught his eye, and he's been cheering for Michael Phelps whenever he sees him. He reports to me when he grows up, he's going to build robots, be an Olympian, (in archery no less) and he's going to be a Daddy. (He's decided that 3-4 kids is more feasible than 10). He's not quite sure what the "baby dance" is, but he says he will do it if it means he will have kids (hahahahahahahahahahaha).<br />
He is also starting soccer sometime in the next few weeks. I predict we are going to have one worn out kid, very soon here.mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-6249492129445757912016-02-24T17:01:00.000-08:002016-02-24T17:01:07.581-08:00Birthday postSo its my birthday. And I am actually putting something on my blog! Its a miracle!<br />
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Life, at 46, is still somewhat of a revolving cycle of ups and downs. Some heavy things have happened in the last year. We are still having fallout, family style, from my Dad's death. Regretfully, Ive had to make the painful decision to distance myself from drama and toxicity, and that has been a challenge. My mom has moved out of the home I grew up in, into a very lovely new home, that she was able to have built on my middle sisters property. I am very glad she had a safe and secure place to land, while she continues to get used to her new normal. Is that something anyone really ever gets used to, though? I kind of doubt it.... I don't think my Grandma ever did...<br />
Our boy is now closer to 5 than four. He is standing next to me, asking me questions, making me a birthday card, and desperate to push the space bar on my lap top. I swear every minute that passes he learns something new, wants to do something new, and is getting more and more independent. I know he is supposed to do all of those things, but slow it down!! I cannot fathom that he is going to start school in August. We actually enroll him in March! Its just flat crazy.<br />
MG is 21 now, speaking of time flying. She's flown the coop, is out on her own, doing her thing. She comes to visit frequently, and the funniest thing is offering her an alcoholic beverage. On Halloween this this year she and I drank some Not Your Father's Root Beer together (delicious stuff). My mind just kept saying "Wait, she was 12 years old, just a moment ago? Right?" Well, not so much....She's grown.<br />
MM and I are still our crazy selves. We still like each other, and still, not a day goes by that he doesn't make me laugh. I am so very thankful he's my partner in life.<br />
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Well, I need to let a small boy hit the space bar a few times, so I guess this is the only update I am going to get done at the present time. I like coming back here and reading my memories, though....<br />
'<br />
mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-52051140743919190342015-07-02T08:53:00.001-07:002015-07-02T08:53:40.565-07:004 yearsits been four years. That just blows my mind. I knew it would go by fast, though, in those first few months, when MB was new, and no one was sleeping, and everything was on a huge learning curve, time seemed to be standing still and speeding forward all at once.<br />
He asks me now, to look at pictures of when he was a baby. He's got 2 brand new cousins, born this summer, and seeing the little baby girls has made him curious about his babyhood. MM and shake our head in almost disbelief over how tiny and fragile he was. (Almost, because we did live it, after all). We haven't broken him yet, I remind myself, as I sit here, typing, looking at my gangly kid watching Paw,Patrol in his orange minion skivvies.<br />
He's so smart, now. He makes me a cup of coffee, every morning. He's reading, without realizing it most of the time, but he reads. He's starting to write letters, he loves glue crafts, his new transformer, and the catapult he got for his birthday. He started swimming lessons this week, and did really well. He's not a fan of laying on his back to float, though.<br />
He sleeps, oh can he sleep. All night in his own bed, and, usually, at least a two hour afternoon nap. I get more done in that two hours. Or I watch inappropriate television. Either way I get a brain rest from the incessant "why, mom?"<br />
The big decision is coming up, though. Kindergarten. There is no absolute, anymore, of public schooling. Private school is not a consideration, the only one local would be impossible for us to afford. But there are 2 charter schools. And we are strongly interested in that option. I've got a year to gather the information, and we will decide.<br />
It's been a wild ride to four, and I'm sure the fun is really just beginningmielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-14516453799361553102015-05-04T10:44:00.001-07:002015-05-04T10:44:07.471-07:00I start to lose control...iWe have a new neighbor.<br />
More specifically, MB has a new neighbor.<br />
The people next door now are very nice. The parents are both Air Force, and there are 2 children, a girl who is a year older than MB, and a boy, who is about 2 years younger. MB and the young lady, let's call her Whirly ( for whirling dervish) ADORE each other. It was love at first sight.<br />
Now, Whirlys parents are busy people. They work. They play. A lot. She goes to school on their base. Needless to say, they aren't home much. And MB? He's home with me, with the exception of Monday's and Wednesday's, when he's in pre school. We do most of our busy on weekends, so that we can be out and about as a family. So their friendship has been kind of hit and miss.<br />
Yesterday, we took MB to a dinosaur days event in a nearby town. He had a blast. Didn't really care for the Dino's, but they had a trebuchet he could shoot, slime he could make, and electrics he could play with. When we got home, Whirly was outside. Cue the child hysterics. It was like they haven't seen each other in years. Sheesh.<br />
After some generalized BS session with Whirlys Dad, we each retired to our own yards. After awhile, Whirly decided she wanted to be inside. Inside my house.... So we went in. We made play doh, we ate yogurt, oranges and juice. We used light sabers, and had general mayhem. That is all fine with me.<br />
Here's the hard part..<br />
This little girl, while she is very nice, is older, and has more experience than MB. What I do notice, is that she subtly manipulates and tries to undermine my authority with MB. Sometimes, not so subtly.<br />
Now, she's not inciting riots, starting fires, or showing body parts, but still. She is being raised differently than he is, and she doesn't really care about my rules. ( Like no TV on Sunday's). In her mind, her way is the right way. And MB is so easy going, and eager to please her, because he wants to play with her more than just once in awhile. So he tries to go along with what she's wanting. He did dig his heels in about a few things, and I was so glad to see him do it. But I would like to see him take her on a little more. I'm afraid if he does, she's going to drop him like a hot potato. And she is the only kid in our neighborhood, presently. So for now I just keep an eye on our pint sized princess. Her Dad is a nice guy, and he did instruct her that while she's at my house she's to listen to MM and I. And that did carry weight with her. She was polite to me, and they both had fun. I guess it's all a part of growing up. He's not my baby anymore...<br />
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<br />mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-36708616178514466082015-03-23T09:43:00.001-07:002015-03-23T09:43:39.080-07:00Out n a limbIts probably a good thing no one reads here, anymore, because my thoughts today might irritate some.<br />
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I'll preface this post by stating that I am, of course, a fan of gender equality. I'm not a rabid, mouth foaming feminist, but, equality is important. That being said, though, frankly??<br />
I'm tired beyond tired of reading about people creating things just for girls!! I get it, I understand, but I really feel like we are sending a message to boys, now, that it's more important that we focus our time and energy on the girls in their classroom. It looks to me that we are trading one problem for another. While we are striving for equality, we are instead going too far in the other direction. As a mother of a little boy, I see this, multiple times a day. It worries me.. Why do we, as a society, feel the need to assign gender labels to everything? How did one decide that science kits were 'boy toys' and, now, we have to market a separate set just for girls? Or rockets, or countless other things. Where are the EZ bake ovens designed for boys? How about a boy focused my little pony? And when I'm shopping for clothing to put him in? The boys section is about 1/3 the size of girls clothing. And the "nice" boys clothes??? Oh, Please. Pastel-ish colored dress shirts do not go down well with a 3.5 year old. Or his father, for that matter. If I luck into nicer button down shirts in colors they both approve of, I buy them in a couple sizes, because if I don't I will never find them again. As he gets older, I see this getting harder. As a woman, I have to teach my son to love and respect women, and treat them as equals. All the while, he is seeing society now bend over backwards to cater to girls his age. These boys are going to resent the hell out of this. I see it coming. But this is all my opinion. I hope I am wrong....mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-44085133627713654222014-12-30T17:01:00.001-08:002014-12-30T17:01:53.746-08:00I had this dream....<br />
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Childhood memories swirl around me, birthday parties, summer camping<br />Family holidays spent with good hearts, we weren't rich, but we weren't lacking<br />No one was left wanting, or so it seemed to me<br />But sometimes wounds hide too deep for anyone to see</div>
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Detail isn't important, truth be told, I didn't want to remember,<br />I spent minutes, days, and years perfecting my recipe to forget<br />Cold with fear, denial, disbelief and without hope<br />I realized that as a human, I could not cope<br />I could pretend, though, and as long as I did, maybe no one would get hurt<br />And they would never know, couldn't ever know<br />That they were touching dirt</div>
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I made so many choices knowing before I chose that I'd choose wrong<br />But I didn't care, I couldn't care, It was too damn hard to stand up strong<br />But those things came back to haunt me, and against a wall, I embraced the pain<br />I turned myself around, and swore I'd never go back again</div>
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Now detail isn't important, truth be told, I really can't remember<br />I spend minutes, days, and years willing myself to never forget<br />Warmed with courage, acceptance and belief, I found some hope,<br />I realize I am human, and I'm working very hard to cope,<br />I can't pretend, though, because as long as I do it's only me whose getting hurt<br />And I always know, can't ever not know,<br />That the world outside avoids me, afraid that they might touch the dirt</div>
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I find myself wondering as I take life minute by minute, day by day<br />Will this taint, the feeling of uncleanliness ever really go away?<br />I see the looks on faces and I feel those whispered words<br />People think they're talking quietly, but I assure you that I heard</div>
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You say the details aren't important, truth be told, you always remember<br />You've spent minutes, days and years making sure no one forgets<br />Is it your fears, denial and disbelief that try to steal my meager hope?<br />Please remember I am human, and still struggling to cope<br />I'm not asking you to pretend, though, because it was you that I hurt<br />Because of all I know, and all you know,<br />I will just ask for some forgiveness, help me wash away the dirt</div>
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It's a rare person who really sees me, underneath my dirt and grime<br />Who treats me like I have value, and that I'm worth their time<br />It's a beautiful, heady feeling to be met with no expectations<br />I'm grateful I can share some time without any explanations</div>
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She says details aren't important , truth be told she doesn't mind<br />She's spent minutes, days and years looking for what she could not find<br />She has enough courage, acceptance and belief to help maintain my hope<br />She knows that I am human, and I have the tools to cope<br />There is no more pretending, but there's always the risk for hurt<br />But I will know, and she will know<br />I am worth more than the dirt</div>
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This blog post is mainly for me, since I am the only one who comes here, anyhow. I wrote this poem after waking up from a dream I was having. I wish I could remember the melody that was supposed to go with it, but I don't. I don't have enough of a musical gift to write actual tunes, anyhow. I wrote it from a male perspective, because in my dream, it was a young man who was struggling with the issue that he was ostracized from society, and even friends and family due to the poor choices he had made. I wasn't him in the dream, I was more of an observer. He met a girl in this dream, just as I was waking up. A beautiful girl, who was not hesitant to touch him at all. On further reflection now, though, I am kind of wondering if this wasn't supposed to end differently. Maybe he died, and she was an angel? They were both in white, the whole typical, schmaltzy ending with the breeze blowing the hair and the loose white clothing. Hmm. Now I might have to write a depressing alternate ending to this. </div>
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</span>mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-64039933625589891482014-12-13T07:33:00.003-08:002014-12-13T07:33:35.482-08:00bring on 2015, alreadyI'm not completely in the Bah, Humbug mode. No one with a 3 year old should be allowed to fully enter that zone.<br />
I am ready to be done with this year, though. More than ready.<br />
2014 will always be the year my Dad died. And my Grandmother. Those events do overshadow everything that happened in this year.<br />
That doesn't mean that fun wasn't had, things weren't accomplished, and we didn't enjoy our lives.<br />
I think it means that we actually enjoyed those things more.<br />
Eventually. And only sometimes, probably<br />
There are times when my involvement was "phoned in", because I was just too sad, or too numb, or too unsure of how I was "supposed" to be. I don't usually care about things like that. But when you're emotionally bankrupt, you find yourself caring and wondering about the stupidest, littlest things. Because those are easier to care about than the big, ugly dark things.<br />
The numbness is slowly fading, as I dig myself out of this year, and we approach what it the "fresh start" that we are promised with each new year. I am ready to put 2014 to bed.<br />
I think.mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-15269934251371188222014-09-18T10:11:00.000-07:002014-09-18T10:13:40.876-07:00LolaWhen I'm on call for Hospice, I frequently need to leave the house various times to attend to our patients needs. For whatever reason, MB has identified all the people that need my help as "Lola". Every phone call, every visit has been to help Lola.<br />
I've been on a medical LOA for a few months, now, working on getting my RA under control. But Lola has not been forgotten. Danny frequently talks about her. I think she's evolved into his imaginary friend. But there's always something wrong with her. Today he tells me she's broken her arm, and has been put in an ambulance, to go to the "hopsidal". He even called her "Lola, Lola! Where are you?"). He spoke to her on his imaginary phone, told her to get well soon, then ran off to find his Lamborghini.<br />
Poor, poor Lola.<br />
I hope someday MB reports to me that you're all better....mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-75805201774988876932014-07-21T08:55:00.003-07:002014-07-21T08:55:56.303-07:00musical evolutionMusic has always been a major aspect of my life. I think we all know that, I've done so many posts about it...<br />
I know I am getting to old cranky person status, because for at least 10 years, I've pretty much hated the majority of what is considered the latest music "top 40" stuff. (do they even still do that? Don't even get me started on the whole Casey Kasem fiasco, poor man, I hope he's resting in peace, wherever he is).<br />
Anyhow. Music. VERY FEW of the recent contributions get any attention from me. MM feels the same way. Lord help us when MB starts choosing for himself....<br />
Instead of the latest stuff, we find ourselves evolving into certain types and genre's. Our latest foray has been into<br />
wait for it<br />
Blues guitar.<br />
Blame Eric Clapton (whom, for the record, I've always liked). We've watched all the Crossroad's festival concerts, (I really have an overwhelming desire to meet Clapton and ask him why the heck Sheryl Crow was put in the lineup) and picked out our favorites (for him, Gary Clarke Jr, for me Susan Tedeschi/Derek Trucks band) and have shopped them on iTunes. Between them, and Captain Bogg and Salty for the Boy, our car rides are interesting.<br />
Its funny to me, this evolution. Ive always liked the music style, but never really thought to seek out more. I think some of it is the current easy accessability to any kind of music you really want. It used to involve going to a store and having to manually purchase things to hear them. Now, I can see it, think of it, or remember it, and have it in less than 5 minutes. That hurts my brain a little, to this day. I've always had a wide variety of music, Metal, rock, classical, country, Celtic, Now, I have blues....<br />
I do still draw the line at Rap, and Screamo. I really didn't ever appreciate Grunge, either. And techno. And Disco. (shudder).<br />
As far as MB goes, well. We work hard to give him a good musical foundation. He loves to sing, he's not a huge fan of dancing, and will play with any musical instrument he can get his hands on. I hope he evolves into good musical taste. If he doesn't, well, they make really good earphones, now...mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-85226136363570460452014-07-07T13:24:00.002-07:002014-07-07T13:24:47.303-07:00what to do, what to doI realize my blog is barely limping along, and I am probably the only one reading at this point, but so much of the good of the last 8 years of my life is located here, so I am not going to just throw that away. Maybe someday I will print it, put it in a 3 ring binder, and move on. Until then, its just going to take up its sliver of space in the interwebs.<br />
my what to do conundrum comes from finding myself with actual TIME.<br />
MB is three years old, and, much to my delight, (and MM's, too), very bright and curious. Because we have no other kids, (nor will we, besides MG, who does not reside with us), we are at the point where MB needs, and deserves, to be spending time around his own age group, learning, playing, and growing. So, he now goes to a preschool, all day, 2 days a week. Today being the first day. He has been going to this preschool, but just a few afternoons, before I went to work. So, he's not unfamiliar with the kids, teachers, or concept. Its just now an all day event.<br />
The irony of this, is that I am now home, full time. My RA has just got me so spun right now. The stress of every thing just did me in. The meds aren't working as well as we'd hoped, and my rheumatologist made the decision that I will be off any kind of work for AT LEAST four months, but in all probability, permanently. So here I am, free as a bird..a handicapped bird, but none the less. For 2 full days a week, I am off on my own. Which, hasn't happened since I was pregnant. (and technically, he was even with me then...). I had no trouble filling my time before MB. And as I look around our house, I see, easily, a million things I COULD do. probably SHOULD do. And WILL do, just in my own time. I also have a responsibility to myself to rediscover what down time really feels like again. To go out on a walk with my camera, or fall asleep in the hammock. Or go somewhere that isn't my chair, and read a book. I know to do these things, but my brain. I've kind of forgotten HOW to do them. But, I am sure I will figure it out.. its like riding a bike, right?mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-48861238134142682022014-04-28T10:30:00.001-07:002014-04-28T10:30:47.275-07:00LightbulbHaving a toddler is crazy. Pure craziness. Every day is a different day, and despite what all these parenting experts recommend, the day IS run by the child. Not that MB is making big decisions, but if he's cranky, or tired or argumentative, it sure does alter my plans. I'd rather not be running errands with a cranky kid, thanks.<br />
The last few weeks, though, have really blown my mind. He is learning so fast that I can't keep up, practically. He's truly a sponge. Speaking in understandable sentences, telling us what he wants, expressing emotions (sad, mad), jumping off things, picking on the dog. Suddenly, he's a kid. Not a baby, moving out of the "toddler" age, into full blown, energetic, regular kid. It's really amazing to watch. It's like his little inner light bulb came on, and each day it gets brighter and brighter.<br />
By evening he is exhausted from all he's taking in. He gets irritable and bratty, then, thankfully, goes to sleep. The next day, we do it all again, and he learns even more. And lets not even talk about how fast he's outgrown his pants. mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-25114302639900719182014-04-15T20:27:00.001-07:002014-04-15T20:27:55.639-07:00The other sideSo, now I'm on the other side. My Dad, my longtime hero, died peacefully and comfortably on March 31.<br />
My days have kind of passed in a blur. MB and I spent the last few weeks staying with my Mom, being noise in the house for her. Distracting her when we could, supporting her when we couldn't, and just putting one foot in front of the other, trying to find our balance after losing an important level of our foundation.<br />
I'm home, now, re establishing a comfortable life pattern for MB, doing the things I know I should be doing. Finding laughter and enjoyment in life. But Dad is never far from my mind or my heart.<br />
He would not expect, nor want anyone to wallow in grief. To stagnate. He'd kick our butts for even thinking that was an option. I do my best to focus on what he would consider the most important; my young son. And my family, but, really? Especially my son. My Dad was a champion of children, and providing comfort, love and stability for them. Without sounding like a corny song, they are the future.<br />
Onward, then, I go. I cry when I need to, laugh when I can, and love, always. I'm off work for another few weeks, and I need that time to get myself more steady, to find yet another, new normal.mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-221240241013044212014-03-29T16:56:00.002-07:002014-03-29T16:56:40.009-07:00New meaning to the word agonyMy Dad is dying. It's his time, he has cancer for the third time, and we lost the war. As I type, he's going through the process of leaving us. He has only hours to days left. He's pain free, and clean and comfortable, which is so important to us all. But this waiting! Knowing what's happening, and that we are powerless to stop it, and that, now, I don't want to stop it!! He needs to be completely free of his pain and frailties. Even working as a hospice nurse does not, did not give me a full understanding of how this feels. Being on this side is exhausting. I don't like it. It's going to make me a very different nurse, I think.<br />
After the weekend, if he's still with us, we will bring him home, and care for him there. I will bring MB and we will live with my parents, until he's gone.<br />
Oh, how I'll miss him.<br />
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mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-37189756513839554102014-03-07T09:11:00.000-08:002014-03-07T09:11:40.483-08:00ZzzzzzzOh, man, was I not prepared....<br />
The milestones of MB's young life have been flying by, and in a blink of my eye, he's a walking, talking, curious child. He has opinions that he very clearly expresses, and no longer relies of Mom and Dad for every little thing.<br />
Recently, MG flew our little nest for the frozen tundra known as Minnesota. After much wailing, and teeth gnashing, the room she left was cleaned out, painted, and carpeted. Then came the advent of the big boy bed..<br />
Oh the joy. The excitement. The pirate madness of it all.<br />
Except the one thing....<br />
Sleep.<br />
He doesn't want to sleep in the damn thing.<br />
He wants to sleep with us.<br />
He is up and down as much as he was when he was an infant. We dutifully get up, put him back, give kisses, and sit by him until he falls back asleep. IF he falls back to sleep.<br />
This is, apparantly, a common problem with toddlers. I was really not aware of this. Had I known, I might have not been I. Such a hurry for a big boy bed.....<br />
But it has to happen sometime, right?<br />
Now if you will excuse me, I need more coffee....mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-56988341692123412502014-01-02T13:15:00.000-08:002014-01-02T13:15:48.042-08:00In which I discover a new pet peeveWe enjoy going to eat out in restaurants. Probably too much, but there you go.<br />
MB has been learning how to act in public, and, he's pretty dang good, for a 2.5 year old. We only go to family friendly places, he does NOT run freely, he says please and thank you. He knows what a napkin is, and uses silverware appropriately. He does talk, laugh, and, yes, occasionally squeal, whine , cry or shout. But he is a kid, I'm not expecting perfection.<br />
What makes it 10 times harder for us to teach him good restaurant behavior, however, are the people around us that want to egg him on and play with him.<br />
He is adorable. I totally get that. He smiles, and flirts, he sings on occasion. I'm glad they think so. But hey! He needs to settle down, and eat!! Wave hello or whatever, but don't sit there and make faces at him, talk at him, wave, and otherwise rile him up THE ENTIRE TIME. Give it a rest! Eat your meal, too!! I'm trying to teach him to be respectful of other people, and their space, but it's mighty hard when the other people keep demonstrating otherwise...<br />
I don't wanna be a grouch. But I do want to eat in relative peace....mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-33855534720847241232013-10-26T09:53:00.001-07:002013-10-26T09:53:24.751-07:00The end of an era<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Roxie, the Scarlet Harlot, has left the driveway.....<br />
<br />
Over the last months, it started to become very evident that a change was needed. As fun as she was to drive, various needs were not being met. I always have a bucket of traveling nurse junk in the back, so driving around with the top off just wasn't feasible. The kids were getting more and more crowded in the back seat (Jeeps really aren't meant to be family cars), and there were days when my RA made it very painful to get UP into it.<br />
Add the fact that we were almost constantly adding oil, and you can see where this is heading.<br />
We made the painful decision to trade her in. My new car is very nice, roomy for all of us, has lots of fun bells and whistles on the inside, (seat warmers, yay!), and doesn't guzzle oil.<br />
But it will never be my topless, wind in your face Roxie....<br />
I hope she finds a really cool home with people who appreciate her...<br />
<br />mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-34444049010027135932013-10-16T10:53:00.000-07:002013-10-16T10:53:47.095-07:00I have a sadHoly Hell.<br />
<br />
I did an unusual thing today, in the spare few moments of quiet I'm getting, while Sesame Street is on.<br />
I went and read some old blog posts, from the year 07, when I met MM. And I discovered something.<br />
I was writing. Fairly well, too. About things I'd forgotten about, or how I felt. Or useless things. But I was writing.<br />
Daily.<br />
I had things to say. And when I didn't I found things to say.<br />
And now? Where are those words now? Where'd my brain go? I know it's here, somewhere, and it contains more funny family antics (though washing a Turkey in the shower is hard to beat). It has more opinions about this world, and what's in it.<br />
But I seem to have lost it.<br />
I'm not writing anymore. The cob webs have set in. The hinges on the box are rusty. And though I am currently happily living life, loving where I'm at now, in it, looking back, at those old posts?<br />
Makes me sad.<br />
I lost something, and I'm not sure if I can find it, again....mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-48006544013194764502013-08-12T21:38:00.004-07:002013-08-12T21:38:58.049-07:00I wonderI'm all for girl power. Empowering young women to know themselves be themselves like themselves. <br />
I notice, now, though, all the empowerment messages directed at girls, and I wonder...<br />
<br />
What about the boys? Aren't they beautiful, too?<br />
Don't we worry about their self esteem, their sense of worth, their image of the self?<br />
Are we in danger of over correcting, trying to make up for the gender un equalization that is still ever present in society?<br />
As the mother of a boy, I worry about this. I wonder how he's going to perceive this world, and it's messages. I look to my nephews, especially my oldest one, who is a kind, sensitive, friendly 13 year old. He's acutely conscious of how people perceive him. He's not a small kid, by any means. He comes from tall, solidly built stock. He is not fat, just solid. But people, including spiteful school nurses, and skinny, vegetarian doctors belittle him about yet. (Yes, the doctor did. Enough so that it even made my brother in law upset and uncomfortable. ).<br />
I really hope by the time MB gets older, we can gain and maintain equality. All children are loved, accepted, valued. No matter their gender. They can be who they are, without self doubt. They'll love themselves.mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-37851919408860879802013-07-24T13:15:00.001-07:002013-07-24T13:15:43.953-07:00Searching for a wellI'll preface this by stating (what I hope is) obvious. I love my son. I cannot imagine life without him, nor do I want to.<br />
<br />
But there are days when I think I'm just going to lose my shit. And now that he's 2? It's happening more often. He's so physical. Pulling, bouncing, touching, throwing things. Constantly. Sneezes on me, wipes dirty hands on me, dumps juice, water, cereal, what have you, everywhere.<br />
I know. I KNOW. This is what they do. And most of the time, I can roll with it. I get it. He's learning. He needs to touch, feel, explore. He needs to be told what's wrong, what's right. And he's a smart little booger. So he gets it.<br />
But me. What about me? (She whines selfishly). I have days where I have no patience for this. I don't want to be a mean snarky Mama, but geez!!! How much pizza sauce do I have to wear!!!! I close my eyes, and imagine a deep blue well of patience. And I need to draw up another bucket before the rope snaps. And some times that rope gets pretty frayed.<br />
His hours at the pre school do help. I miss him during that time, but I also get some personal space. I've had very little personal space, lately. I'm wondering if I should start picking one or 2 days a month to send him to pre school for a few hours on my day off. So I can have a whole afternoon without any demand, work or kid. Will I feel guilty doing that? Probably. Especially the first time. I'm guessing and hoping it will help me replenish my well, though.<br />
I'm open to any other ideas and suggestions though.<br />
Or you can tell me to shut it and suck it up..,mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-36291039560133115212013-07-02T17:53:00.000-07:002013-07-02T17:53:03.845-07:00Im exhausted!!! We are at that time in our life where MB is now on high alert, full run do not walk fun. So what to do for his second birthday? Epic trip, of course!<br />
<br />
He and I spent Sunday-Thurs. am at my parents house, staying with my grandmother (his "Nana-2") so that my parents could go off on a much needed 50th wedding anniversary trip. For him, that was fun in itself. He got to terrorize Nana's cat, try to wreak Nana's house, and spend a day being spoiled by one of his Auntie's.<br />
MM and MG joined us Thurs. am, and we departed onto the beginning of his birthday extravaganza. We made our way to SF, where we checked into our hotel, which was across the street from the SF Zoo, and less than a 5 minute walk to Ocean Beach. On Thursday evening, we walked down to the beach and MB saw the ocean for the first time. He is very much not afraid of it. He let the waves lap at his toes, and ran both towards the water, and away. Laughing the whole time. I'm glad. I don't want him to be afraid of it. Exercise caution, YES. Be afraid? No. I love the ocean and beaches. I want him to, as well.<br />
Friday, his actual second birthday, we loaded up the stroller, and tackled the SF Zoo. What a place! I wish I could tell you he was enamored of all the animals and was amazed by all he saw. But I won't lie. He liked it, but, it might have been too much. When he was out of the stroller he was running around like a crazy man, not looking at much beyond the seagulls. When he was in the stroller? He was eating chex mix. He did like the Prarie Dogs, and he liked the little kid petting zoo area. The rest of it? Meh. But the rest of us enjoyed the Zoo, and all it had to offer. Except the Sea Gulls. Some poor little boy dropped his sandwich at lunch? And it was a blood bath. Scared the crap out of me. Those birds are horrible.<br />
After the post Zoo nap, we took him to the Rainforest Cafe on Fisherman's Wharf for dinner. Once there, he was actually enamored of the fish tanks. They had wonderful fish tanks at this particular restaurant. He was also very enamored of the cupcake he was given. Not so sure of the people singing at him, though.<br />
Saturday found us getting out of SF, and headed towards Bodega Bay. We stopped on the way at a restaurant recommended by my best friend, and had some incredible Italian Food, made for us by Nonna, herself. Yum! MB could not slurp the Spaghetti fast enough. After that, we went to the Nicholas Greene memorial. You may remember Nicholas. He was killed in Italy (drive by shooting) and donated his organs in Europe. In thanks and remembrance, a memorial was built, using bells that were sent from all over Italy. Its a beautiful memorial out in a place I think hardly anyone gets to. Im so glad we went. MB tried to collect rocks and other small things constantly there, and was NOT amused when we prevented him from just doing as he pleased.<br />
From there, we drove to our hotel in Santa Rosa, played in the pool, had a less than memorable dinner, then went to bed. The next day, we visited the Charles M. Schultz museum, which was amazing. We had breakfast at the Warm Puppy Cafe, where we watched part of a figure skating competition, before we saw the museum. We saw classic strips, Sparky's drawing desk, the Snoopy labyrinth, and a bunch of fun stuff. Then, we headed home.<br />
All told, we travelled over 800 miles from Thurs- Sun. MB turned 2, and we celebrated every minute of it.<br />
Im still in recovery mode......<br />
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<br />mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-88736557763032479972013-06-11T16:51:00.002-07:002013-06-11T16:51:51.892-07:00difficult subject, read this at your own risk. I have been hemming and hawing about whether or not I would really write this blog post, and I may not, honestly, hit publish, but here goes nothing.<br />
(blame my job)<br />
<br />
Related to some of the death visits I've gone to, lately, I've been thinking about how I would handle life if MM should die before I did. I actually started this thought process with the internal discussion of how I would be if he were here with me, receiving hospice care. Neither of which I like to think about, but yet, I am faced with death and dying, its what I "do" now. I think its natural that I have these thoughts.<br />
I shy away, initially, with the same thought I think many of us cling to, "we will be old and grey and doddering, having lived our lives and all will be well".<br />
But I can't get away that easily. Not with what I see. I see too much maybe. What I mean by that, is I see things so personal to a family, especially the spouses who lose the person they've been married to for decades. Grieving is a very intimate, private, thing. But yet, they welcome me to be a part of it. And I try so hard to be a comfort.<br />
But I digress... what I get from seeing these walking wounded spouses is varied. I see strength. I see a deeper love than sometimes I am comfortable seeing. And I see loss, and lost. That look in their eye, wondering how they are going to put one foot in front of the other, for as many days as they have left, without their other.<br />
And I see their children struggling to understand, and struggling to help them. And honestly? Nothing any of us can do will help them.<br />
And in the quiet night on my way home, my brain goes there.....<br />
"Who's going to die first, me, or MM? I WANT to die first." Then I try to reject that, because I think I am being selfish. "But I don't want to be that walking wounded spouse!" My heart screams that. To even consider the death of MM takes my breath away. It puts such a grieving sadness in my heart to even think about it, that I'm afraid of how its going to feel if I have to survive it.<br />
2 sides to every coin, though, right? If I died first, I do not doubt at all that MM would be the walking wounded spouse I discussed above. Its not going to be any better or easier for him. So there is pain, no matter what happens. And I don't want to hurt him that way, either.<br />
We talk about it, actually, and he very decisively tells me that he is going to die first. Like its pre-ordained, and I don't have a choice. And that scares the F&%$ out of me when he says that. I HATE IT WHEN HE SAYS THAT, because he does seem to just know. Some of it, is, I know based on his family health history, (which I will not discuss here, that's too private) but my family health history is wrought with bad and cautionary tales as well, so I reject that, on both of our accounts. Especially since the birth of our son, we've both been trying to live better and take better care of ourselves, because we have a little kid. So much to live for. We want to see it all, see him grow, fall in love, have kids. Live. We want to see both kids settled, and happy. We want to know we did a good job, and left them in a good place. THEN, maybe, we can rest. And, I guess, whomever the Lord takes first, well, the Lord will also give the other one the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and survive.<br />
But it doesn't stop me, my brain, my heart, from thinking, considering, and yes, somehow, "pre"grieving the loss of my best friend, my partner. The father of my son. The man I waited so long to find. No amount of time feels like its going to be enough. But, I am also smart enough to live each day, love each day, and not think about this all the time. To live my life, day by day, and think about all the fun the future holds.mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-15714589190745947672013-05-16T15:07:00.001-07:002013-05-16T15:07:38.736-07:00Head gamesBoys and sports. The two things are linked forever. The minute someone finds out they're having a boy, it starts. Blankets with sports themes. Onesies, mobiles, toys. As they progress in age, it intensifies. T ball sets. Basketball hoops, for the bathtub, and outdoors. Footballs, soccer balls. Jerseys tailored for the small "little man". Golf clubs, and hockey sticks, too.<br />
Yes, absolutely MM and I embrace these things. As a whole, we enjoy sports, and think eventually playing one, if he chooses to, would be a positive thing for MB. We also have run the gamut on the musical instruments, books, and puzzle things. We're not one track minded raising an athlete come hell or high water.<br />
But we've been noticing things, lately. And starting to discuss things. Specifically, the risk of concussions, and head injuries, related to sports. Especially football, and hockey, but also any other sport where an object can be lobbed at high speed or "headed" into any sort of net.<br />
Now, understand. We are not the kind of people that are governed by our fears. You can't fully embrace life if you're hiding from everything that can hurt you. BUT. And it's a big but.<br />
I don't want my child damaged like that. It's horrible. It's scary. It can limit his potential in life. It can even change his personality. More studies are being done, showing just how impactful these injuries are.<br />
So, we wait, after all, he's not quite 2. We ponder the possibilities of advancement of safety features. We kind of hope he gravitates towards the lower risk sports. Baseball, basketball, water polo? And if he falls in love with football, well, we cross that bridge when it comes, and support him no matter what....<br />
<br />mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-37235710865188069252013-05-11T09:06:00.002-07:002013-05-11T09:06:18.226-07:00MHPLately, I've been seeing a lot of patients that live in Mobile Home Parks. There are many small ones here in my little NoCal town. For the most part, they're very nice. Good landscaping, big lots, and mobile homes sure have improved over time. It's been a long time since I've seen what is lovingly referred to as "trailer trash".<br />
What entertains me, though, are the names of these MHP. "Wagon Wheel", "Ponderosa Pines", "Olympia Glade", "Mountain Air". Just to name a few. They sound like either bad westerns, or air fresheners. Or a combination of both.<br />
If I were somehow in the position of naming a MHP, though, I'm almost afraid of what I'd call it. How about "overpriced fancy box parking", or simply, "pink flamingo", or maybe "gnome haven".<br />
I think I'd live in a place called Gnome Haven. Might be creepy, thoughmielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-88374553090294638882013-04-17T11:22:00.000-07:002013-04-17T11:22:07.579-07:00Not so pleasant. Also no surpriseToddlers are full of snot.<br />
I think it makes up 90% of their body weight. (The other 10% being drool).<br />
MB and I have had a chest cold for about a week now. Every time I think we are improving, we relapse. Part of the issue is I've had a junky work schedule lately, and a lot of late night/early morning calls. I had to call in sick today, because I have no voice. No bueno..<br />
But this boy of mine....good gravy!!! So much snot! MM and I have given up the idea of unslimy clothes right now. On top of the cold, he has 2 upper molars coming in, which has ratcheted up the secretion production to epic amounts. Add water (like a hot bath, or, a full sippy) and you can increase that 1000 fold! We were so desperate this weekend we even became lemmings and bought pre packaged "boogie wipes". (For the record? Those things are great. Moistened with a little saline to help clear the nose. And they're grape scented. He lets me use them with less of a fight).<br />
I am anxiously awaiting the end of this snotty plague, but the amount of snot covered laundry it's generating has me cowering in a corner, contemplating fluff and fold...mielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297470152405804448.post-76857556017324280482013-04-08T15:32:00.001-07:002013-04-08T15:32:33.409-07:00Pleasant surpriseMustang boy has quite the fan base, among the people that we know. He's a smily, energetic, vocal, bouncing kind of kid, and people like that.<br />
A pleasant surprise for me, though, has been what happens frequently, when we are out and about, running errands or whatever. Other boys come up to him and engage him. Various ages, from boys about his age, to teenagers and even beyond. They talk to him, high five him, give him knuckles, smile, wave. It always thrills him, and in turn, me.<br />
I just never really expected the friendliness, really, especially from teenage boys. To have one smile and laugh at his antics, then high five him over his mad iPhone skills was awesome. This was in a hair cutting salon.<br />
Very seldom will girls engage him. They smile, some manage a wave, but by far, the young men are much more friendly. When MB is older, I hope he will somehow, retain this fingerprint, and be friendly with the "little guys" he comes across, too. Until then, I'll just keep enjoying the surprisemielikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07801703299451079370noreply@blogger.com1