I wonder

I'm all for girl power. Empowering young women to know themselves be themselves like themselves.  
I notice, now, though, all the empowerment messages directed at girls, and I wonder...

What about the boys? Aren't they beautiful,  too?
Don't we worry about their self esteem, their sense of worth, their image of the self?
Are we in danger of over correcting, trying to make up for the gender un equalization that is still ever present in society?
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. ).
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.

Searching for a well

I'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.

     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.
     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.
    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.
     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.
I'm open to any other ideas and suggestions though.
Or you can tell me to shut it and suck it up..,

Im 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!

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.
     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.
     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.
     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.
      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.
     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.
All told, we travelled over 800 miles from Thurs- Sun. MB turned 2, and we celebrated every minute of it.
Im still in recovery mode......

difficult 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.
(blame my job)

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.
     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".
     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.
     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.
     And I see their children struggling to understand, and struggling to help them. And honestly? Nothing any of us can do will help them.
     And in the quiet night on my way home, my brain goes there.....
"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.
      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.
    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.
     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.

Head games

Boys 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.
    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.
     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.
     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.
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.
     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....

MHP

Lately, 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".
     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.
     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".
I think I'd live in a place called Gnome Haven. Might be creepy, though

Not so pleasant. Also no surprise

Toddlers are full of snot.
I think it makes up 90% of their body weight. (The other 10% being drool).
     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..
    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).
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...