Ok so here is today's lesson in genetics.... Take one man with thick, curly, black hair. Add to that a woman with straight, fine strawberry blond hair. What do you get? Me with mousy brown hair and a head full of strategically haphazard calics.
I have one calic that is just shy of being in the right place on the front of my hairline which makes for a wicked crazy part, and volume in a place where it's really not needed. I have to use tons of mousse and bobby pins and blow dry for hours to get the look I want. Most of the time I am too tired to deal so I just let my hair fall where it may.
My brother was blessed with the same hair and when we were younger it was a competition to who could wake up with the crazier alafalfa style do in the morning.
My son ,as it were, has received this hair curse. I decided to get him a cute little hair cut that was short on the sides and longer on top. Which all that really does is showcase were all the calycs are.
So in the mornings before we go to school I come into his room with a wetted washcloth in hand and a hair brush. As he sleepily rolls off his pillow... there it is "baby bed head" Most metrosexuals would kill for this style.
I hope for his sake that future popular culture does not adopt the slicked back look as commonplace...
Dear Jack, I apologize in advance for any future agony this may cause you.
Love, Mom ;)
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Learning and growing... sort of.
Jack is getting old enough to be independent from me for extended amounts of time, and take basic instructions, and he's also old enough to ask billions of questions… mostly “what’s that?”
He is two and a half and his mood swings from total and complete bear to sweet angel of light to chief mommy button pusher. Not too many shades of gray between those three.
Besides being charming and sweet and happy the personality trait, to the good, that I recognize the most is how helpful he is, when he wants to be that is. Other times he can be as a said before, a real bear.
But it’s fun to watch him help and learn chores. Right now the one we are going through the paces about is him taking his plate to the sink when he is done eating. The key to success? REPETITION!
We started out small. I would give him his snack in his room, a yogurt cup with a plastic spoon. He would sit at his table and chairs in his room with the instructions “throw the cup in trash and the spoon in the sink.” And then I would let him to it.
Time would pass and he would come to me with minimal yogurt smoodge to be wiped off his face. “All done!” --- We will see about that I thought.
So I went into his room and in the trash were the yogurt and the spoon inside. So I would take the spoon and praise him for the good he did… All the parenting magazine say praise is good. Tee hee and then gently correct him about the placement of the spoon. Then we would walk into the kitchen and put it in the sink together.
This happened a few more times with the spoon ending up in the trash. Then one day it stopped. He came to me “All done” . We went to check the trash and no spoon! So we rushed to the sink …. No spoon. So I checked ALL the trash cans in the house. At this point thinking that I may need to call an ambulance and that a plastic spoon is going to show up on a chest x-ray of my son. "where is the spoon?" I asked. "It's right dare" he would answer pointing at nothing.
Not under the bed, the kitchen table… no where. HUH.
So the next day at snack time I pulled the drawer open to get a spoon and sure enough the crusty yogurt covered spoon is laying in amongst his other clean (now unclean) spoons. Then Jack points to the spoon and goes “ I did it” yes Jack .. you did it. It was so sweet and cute I was the furthest thing from being annoyed.
We are still on the dirty spoon in the drawer phase and it not uncommon to find a dirty spoon or fork in any drawer in the house at anytime. I kind of like it that way. It reminds me how he is learning and it’s so innocent and sweet and it gives me a smile every time. Maybe one of these years I will teach him to put his spoon in the sink.
He is two and a half and his mood swings from total and complete bear to sweet angel of light to chief mommy button pusher. Not too many shades of gray between those three.
Besides being charming and sweet and happy the personality trait, to the good, that I recognize the most is how helpful he is, when he wants to be that is. Other times he can be as a said before, a real bear.
But it’s fun to watch him help and learn chores. Right now the one we are going through the paces about is him taking his plate to the sink when he is done eating. The key to success? REPETITION!
We started out small. I would give him his snack in his room, a yogurt cup with a plastic spoon. He would sit at his table and chairs in his room with the instructions “throw the cup in trash and the spoon in the sink.” And then I would let him to it.
Time would pass and he would come to me with minimal yogurt smoodge to be wiped off his face. “All done!” --- We will see about that I thought.
So I went into his room and in the trash were the yogurt and the spoon inside. So I would take the spoon and praise him for the good he did… All the parenting magazine say praise is good. Tee hee and then gently correct him about the placement of the spoon. Then we would walk into the kitchen and put it in the sink together.
This happened a few more times with the spoon ending up in the trash. Then one day it stopped. He came to me “All done” . We went to check the trash and no spoon! So we rushed to the sink …. No spoon. So I checked ALL the trash cans in the house. At this point thinking that I may need to call an ambulance and that a plastic spoon is going to show up on a chest x-ray of my son. "where is the spoon?" I asked. "It's right dare" he would answer pointing at nothing.
Not under the bed, the kitchen table… no where. HUH.
So the next day at snack time I pulled the drawer open to get a spoon and sure enough the crusty yogurt covered spoon is laying in amongst his other clean (now unclean) spoons. Then Jack points to the spoon and goes “ I did it” yes Jack .. you did it. It was so sweet and cute I was the furthest thing from being annoyed.
We are still on the dirty spoon in the drawer phase and it not uncommon to find a dirty spoon or fork in any drawer in the house at anytime. I kind of like it that way. It reminds me how he is learning and it’s so innocent and sweet and it gives me a smile every time. Maybe one of these years I will teach him to put his spoon in the sink.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Opinions are like assholes....
So I have been in a custody battle with my ex for the last year and a half. I don't know if you would call it a battle with him per se, but with myself to make sure that Jack has the best possible care.
Jack's father lives in San Antonio and in the beginning after our split I felt really strongly that Jack was too young to go bath and forth for visits. So he has been with me and in so many words his father has an open invitation to visit. He hasn't really accepted that invitation. So in the eyes of a lot of people in my family he is a schmuck. Which, well, my opinions are my own....
Jack is getting older and before he gets too old, for several reasons, he needs to know and have a relationship with his father. So I have been dealing with Jack's dad and his dad's new girlfriend to work out a visitation agreement.
I have never messed with my ex's once they were my exes so this whole talking to and exes new girlfirend is new territory for me. For Jack I would walk through fire so, while awkward, I do it. She isn't that bad, actually, it could be a lot worse. In fact, it really kind of facilitates communication between Jack's dad and myself.
I am not going to run out and be this woman's BFF by anymeans, but if it means that I have a rational person on the other end of the phone to discuss Jack's well being in lieu of his father, so be it.
Anyway, that's not really what I wanted to write about. It's more about the decision NOT to fight his dad to the death over custody. It's been a long couple of years, and I can say that I have loved every minute I have had with my son. He is such a special and wonderful little person and he has such a mind of his own. He has come to a point where he is a little older and he can travel and he is aware of his surrounding. He's not my little baby anymore. While I am so very protective of him, I have to share him.
So we have been discussing a visitation schedule that is best for a two year old who's parents don't agree on anything and live five counties away from one another. Talk about a tall order....
It is by no stretch of the imagination one of the hardest things that I have had to deal with. I am tired, and mentally drained and I cry... A LOT. I have a great, awesome, support group.
Having such support also means that these people that you care about and that care about you have an opinion. And on an issue like this it's usually a strong one.
I focus every ounce of my energy in not making the wrong decision, so when someone doesn't agree with the course of action that I want to take it's really devastating. Not just because I want everyone to think like I think, but with such an emotional issue sometimes communications get broken down and people say things they don't mean. I am definitely guilty of this.
If I can describe it.... It's like for someone that works with coworkers on a team and you all have to have the same information and discuss the best course of action and eventually the right answer surfaces almost on it's own, but it's getting to that right answer that is kicking my ass. I hope it comes soon... It's feels close, but I still have a road ahead.
Jack's father lives in San Antonio and in the beginning after our split I felt really strongly that Jack was too young to go bath and forth for visits. So he has been with me and in so many words his father has an open invitation to visit. He hasn't really accepted that invitation. So in the eyes of a lot of people in my family he is a schmuck. Which, well, my opinions are my own....
Jack is getting older and before he gets too old, for several reasons, he needs to know and have a relationship with his father. So I have been dealing with Jack's dad and his dad's new girlfriend to work out a visitation agreement.
I have never messed with my ex's once they were my exes so this whole talking to and exes new girlfirend is new territory for me. For Jack I would walk through fire so, while awkward, I do it. She isn't that bad, actually, it could be a lot worse. In fact, it really kind of facilitates communication between Jack's dad and myself.
I am not going to run out and be this woman's BFF by anymeans, but if it means that I have a rational person on the other end of the phone to discuss Jack's well being in lieu of his father, so be it.
Anyway, that's not really what I wanted to write about. It's more about the decision NOT to fight his dad to the death over custody. It's been a long couple of years, and I can say that I have loved every minute I have had with my son. He is such a special and wonderful little person and he has such a mind of his own. He has come to a point where he is a little older and he can travel and he is aware of his surrounding. He's not my little baby anymore. While I am so very protective of him, I have to share him.
So we have been discussing a visitation schedule that is best for a two year old who's parents don't agree on anything and live five counties away from one another. Talk about a tall order....
It is by no stretch of the imagination one of the hardest things that I have had to deal with. I am tired, and mentally drained and I cry... A LOT. I have a great, awesome, support group.
Having such support also means that these people that you care about and that care about you have an opinion. And on an issue like this it's usually a strong one.
I focus every ounce of my energy in not making the wrong decision, so when someone doesn't agree with the course of action that I want to take it's really devastating. Not just because I want everyone to think like I think, but with such an emotional issue sometimes communications get broken down and people say things they don't mean. I am definitely guilty of this.
If I can describe it.... It's like for someone that works with coworkers on a team and you all have to have the same information and discuss the best course of action and eventually the right answer surfaces almost on it's own, but it's getting to that right answer that is kicking my ass. I hope it comes soon... It's feels close, but I still have a road ahead.
Friday, July 2, 2010
One year and a half years... and counting
I woke at 3:00am, with the ringing of the phone. It was my aunt . "Are you awake?"she said, sounding chipper, she's been up for hours, I thought. "Yes" I lied. Julie had succeeded where my alarm had failed. I was now, awake. I eased out of bed, wonderd into the kitchen, and stumbled around as I waited for the coffee to brew.
The one saving grace was how easily Jack went down so,while marginal, I did get some sleep.
I sipped my coffee...Everything was ready; I had showered the night before and laid out mine and Jack's clothes. This afforded me time to stare mindlessly into the mirror. I brushed through my hair and tried to scrub away the dark circles underneath my eyes with soap. I put on my pink jacket and matching skirt, made my bed, smoothed out my hair and put all my essential into my big oversized purse. I headed to Jack's room to change and dress him carefully before he woke. I debated putting on his shoes, and decided that it's best I should; if I were trusting someone else to watch him I didn't want them to be troubled with taping the velcro straps across his tiny feet. In that moment I believed that I was the only one that knew how to fasten his shoes...
The one saving grace was how easily Jack went down so,while marginal, I did get some sleep.
I sipped my coffee...Everything was ready; I had showered the night before and laid out mine and Jack's clothes. This afforded me time to stare mindlessly into the mirror. I brushed through my hair and tried to scrub away the dark circles underneath my eyes with soap. I put on my pink jacket and matching skirt, made my bed, smoothed out my hair and put all my essential into my big oversized purse. I headed to Jack's room to change and dress him carefully before he woke. I debated putting on his shoes, and decided that it's best I should; if I were trusting someone else to watch him I didn't want them to be troubled with taping the velcro straps across his tiny feet. In that moment I believed that I was the only one that knew how to fasten his shoes...
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