When I was little, one of my favorite things to do was go through my baby book and read all the randomisms my mother had jotted down. I liked knowing what I was like as a baby. I liked hearing what we did for holidays, where we went, who we spent time with, what I liked and didn't like. I liked seeing my first scribbles with crayon, and how my doctor visits went. Isn't it funny how we are all taught to be humble and down to earth, but let's face it, one of the best things to do is read an entire book about you- written by the one person who basically thinks the world of you.
I knew if and when I had a baby it would be my own personal goal to write every moment of that kid's life down. It sounds exaggerated, doesn't it? But it's what I wanted. I wanted my baby to know how much we loved him, from moment one.
The first year of Monkey's life is pretty well recorded. I have every doctor visit and its outcome, I have a play by play of each month of his life, I've even used up every inch of the inside cover writing random stories of funny things he's done. I have pictures showing his changes month to month, and in the back there are two sealed envelopes- one from me and one from his daddy- that he can someday open and read and hopefully be reminded of how special he is to us.
Now, as we get closer to Monkey's second birthday, I realize that the baby book has been a bit neglected. In my slight defense, the book itself is set up for more detail for the first year of life, and then just a page each for every year after that (for birthdays). Still...I have been trying to keep writing little stories of him. I want him to know how amazing he is, even at such a young age. And how amazed by him I always will be.
Isn't it funny how pure love can be? My love for Monkey is just that. Other loves- boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, friends even- are always tainted with something. With kids, love is just love. It's as simple and as easy as that. There's nothing complicated about it. It really canopen your eyes. Soon, Monkey will be able to read and look at his baby book on his own (I'm still a bit protective of it- well, I worked hard on it!). And I hope he enjoys it. I hope he smiles at it and cherishes it and that it reminds him of where he came from- wherever he ends up going in this crazy thing called life.
Sometimes, when things just don't seem to go your way, do you ever feel like just hiding until the storm is over?
Yesterday, I went shopping. Well, I went to go help a friend shop, rather. She is going on a big fun trip to NYC, Philly, etc and needed some warmer clothes, so another friend and I went along to help. The Monkey tagged along as well.
I ended up feeling like the third wheel. Not really because of what my friends did, but because I was different. I had the kid; I had the cart. When it came time for our friend to try her clothes on, both of them took off to the dressing rooms, while I stood guard over the cart and purses. It was just a nasty flashback of second grade and me being the little chubby girl that got left out of things alot. And so, instead of just trying to get more involved in conversation, I left the moment they both returned from the dressing rooms. I retreated. I escaped. I went to my car and cried. It was completely irrational, and I'm not making anyone out to be the bad guy; I just felt sad and lonely.
Why is it that being the third wheel hurts so much? Why does being an odd number have to feel so awkward? The fact is that I don't have a plethora of friends, at least not here, makes it even worse. I feel like I don't really have anyone to talk to about this. And the ones I do have are single, or childless, or both. They aren't in the same place as me, so they don't really understand. They don't get that I might have to leave early because the Monkey is cranky and ready for his nap. They don't understand that I can't go down the shoe isle because Monkey will grab all of the shoes off the shelves (well...who can blame him? I wanted to, too...gosh there were these adorable purple ones that were just calling my name...). And they don't seem to understand that while I am in a different situation, I'm there because I want to be involved. I want to be included.
Its hard to have such a wonderful family, such a great kid, and then still wish for freedom. That's what makes me feel so guilty. I want it all. And then I think that if I did have it all, in some magical way, I still wouldn't be satisfied. Perhaps that's just the woman in me.
This morning, the Monkey was playing around and hid in one of the cupboards in the kitchen. He tucked himself in, and said "Bye bye!" as he shut the door. I couldn't help but wish I could fit into the cupboard and hide out, if only for a few moments. Sometimes you just don't want to deal. But...you have to. That's part of the beauty of being a grown up. Learning to face things that bother you, fighting your way to what you want, compromising in times that require a straight head.
I grew up around animals. No, not my siblings. There was always a pet in our house for as long as I can remember. Cat, dog, chickens, cows, pigs, a horse.....okay, those last few weren't actually IN our house. I remember I dated a guy who never had a pet ever growing up. Because of it, he didn't really like animals. And then I wonder why we never lasted.
Now, since we are renting a house still, we can't really have a dog or cat. Not that I really want one right now- the Monkey's still too young and we just don't have the time to properly care for a high maintenance pet. Enter.......the Tiki.
Tiki was my house warming present when we moved to our new townhouse over a year ago. A long time ago, when the BFF and I first lived down here on the Disney College Program, we saw a guy who sold turtles out of a van on the side of the road. Sounds sketchy, but this dude is awesome. He knows everything about turtles. And we vowed that someday we would buy turtles from him. So when we moved, the BFF bought Tiki for me. He's one of the best gifts I've ever gotten. I immediately named him Tiki- because its a great name for a turtle, no? Plus, he is so low maintenance. All I need to do is feed him and clean his tank occasionally. I'll even scrub his shell with a toothbrush so it doesn't get slimy. He likes to try and bite the toothbrush- he's pretty scrappy, for a little turtle.
Lately, his tank has been sitting in the kitchen window sill- he seems to like the natural sunshine a lot more than his light. Whenever I come into the kitchen he will swim to my side of the tank and look at me. He's probably hoping for more food, but I pretend its because he loves me.
We've all seen them. Those kids in a restaurant that just won't mind. They won't eat, they yell really loud, they throw food, they stand in the booth and stomp their feet, and reach over to the next table to bother others. And we've all been annoyed by parents who just can't seem to control their young.
I used to see these instances and I would silently vow to myself that my child would never act that way. My child would never misbehave. They would never act out in public, they would never cause a scene, and everyone would think they were perfect. Um. Yeah. Can we say....delusional?
Last night, the hubby and I picked the Monkey up from daycare, and then decided to go to dinner. Before the food even came, Monkey was pouting, throwing his crayons on the floor, and eventually began to wail with tears and everything. I took him outside for a few minutes to help him calm down, and when we returned, he refused to sit in his high chair, refused to eat, refused to do anything but sit next to me in the booth and put his crayons in and out of the little box they came in. Okay, so this sounds like its not really that big of deal, right? I know. I over-reacted. A lot. I got mad, I cussed, I stopped making pleasant conversation. It really bothered me that my child was that child. I was that horrible mother that everyone was judging. It did not feel good.
Once we got home, I realized some things. First off, Monkey is usually pretty good in public. He's been pretty much everywhere from the time he was born. But he had been in the car for a good 45 minutes, and then we expected him to sit quietly for another 30-45 minutes. That's an eternity for a 21 month old to sit. Second, no matter how good of a parent you are, your kid- especially when they are still pretty young and just don't understand how to behave in public yet- there are going to be times that just aren't that fun. Kids aren't perfect. Neither are parents.
I felt so guilty for being so upset. What did I care what the people at the restaurant thought about me, or my kid? I didn't know them. And, honestly, while he was being bratty for him, he wasn't the worst. Sometimes...it just happens.
Now, I just kind of laugh at that girl I used to be. That girl that was judgemental and thought she knew it all. When, really, she had no idea.
Is it me, or is Michael Buble not completely adorable?! Definitely the Harry Connick, Jr. of my time. I remember when I first became obsessed with his music- it was Valentine's Day, 2006. I just remember working at a credit union at that time, and a lady I worked with brought his CD in for romantic inspiration, or something. We listened to it all day, over and over. The guys in the office were sick of it by mid-day, and yet we continued jamming out to "Home". I've been a faithful fan of Michael's ever since.
His version of this song, "Me and Mrs. Jones", seriously gives me goosebumps. I think when I first bought this CD, I listened to this song on repeat for a straight month. I was obsessed. I still am. : )
Yesterday, I was driving and listening to his latest song, "I Just Haven't Met You Yet"...and, of course, I love it. I cannot wait for his new CD to come out (this Friday, folks). He's just so classy, and everytime I've seen him in an interview, he is absolutely hilarious. And he's cute. He's just the whole package.
Isn't it great how a certain genre of music can make you feel one way, while another does something totally opposite? That's why I don't quite understand why people only say they listen to one type. That's so boring, so vanilla. I'm constantly looking for new music to connect to, and I don't care what station plays it, I don't care who sings it. If I hear it and I somehow click with it, great. Most of my burned CDs are random mixes that will jump from Michael Buble to Dolly Parton to Bare Naked Ladies to Hinder to Jimmy Buffett to Garth Brooks to Shakira....you just can't limit yourself. There's no fun in that!
So I'm walking up the steps to our front door, coming home from work today, and I notice how cute the Monkey's new little art project is. And then the thought crosses my mind that, wow, I am just a great mom for coming up with these cute little ideas. And I'm horribly thrifty, because instead of buying decorations (are we sensing a deja vu' blog entry???), I have a good time making some with my little boy. Genius.
Well...okay, this is why its funny. Its construction paper that has been colored on by a 21 month old, that is then obscurely cut into pumpkin and leaf shapes and taped to the windows. Score! Its not fancy, its not cool, it kind of actually looks a little silly to everyone else- I'm guessing. They don't light up, they don't make spooky noises, they don't give out candy, they don't even last that long in the windows because the Florida sunlight fades them pretty quick. And yet, they are probably my favorite decorations ever. I think they are wonderful. And I will tuck them away for next year, and probably laugh about it then too. But so what? When I came home from work today, they made me smile.
Okay, so first off, I want to apologize for the kind of dark, not so great, picture. : )
Now, this was just too cute not to blog about. My little Monkey Man is, nine times out of ten, awesome at bedtime. He has his bottle, and then I literally just put him to bed, wide awake, and he'll chill out and go to sleep with in 10-15 minutes. And for the most part, he's been like that since he was about 4 months old. Did I mention I love my child?
So, this night, Monkey apparently didn't think he was ready for bed. He has a little toy that plays lullabies and then a light show of flowers, moons, stars, etc on the ceiling. Needless to say, he loves it. He usually lays down to watch it, but I guess this night he just needed a better view. So he piled all of his little pillows together up in the corner of his crib for the perfect viewing spot. When I came to check on him, this is how I found him.
Is he clever or what? He had fallen asleep and just looked like an angel (from a mother's perspective, of course!). But I was just so impressed with his good idea. And it cracked me up, so I had to take a picture.
Isn't it funny how kids can teach us things? Even if they aren't our own children, they stillseem to have some insight to pass on to us adults. Whether it be creating the perfect little chair in their bed, noticing something completely random that our older and "wiser" brains skip over, or simply stopping you for a hug out of the blue, they just seem to know so much more. I've always thought that rather than getting smarter with age, we actually dumb down quite a bit. Sure, I can use a fork and knife; but Monkey can laugh at anything, and is amazing by everything. What I wouldn't give to have that back. We lose it as we get older; we need the biggest and best. When you're a child, you can play with the box a brand new toy came in and be entertained for hours.
I really do think I've got Monkey to keep me young. Even though it doesn't feel like that everyday! : ) But he reminds me to stop and smell the roses- and to enjoy the show as it plays out. And for that, I will always be thankful.
