Son of Eclipse

I was waiting next to a Mitsubishi Eclipse while on my way to work today. I was alone in the car (a very rare event indeed). And I had a moment to think (also rare).

The boy I fell in love with had a cherry red eclipse when I met him. He called it his girlfriend. He loved that car. (I know I have written about this before, bear with me).

When we first moved in together I knew we were making progress because he let me drive her. I didn't like that car. Not because I was jealous but because it was small and uncomfortable and he drove it like an ass. He wanted me to drive her, he wanted me to like her. I didn't want to.

About two weeks after we moved in together I parked said car in the garage and managed to scratch the entire driver's side from fender to fender. The fact that we are still together is testament to just how much he already loved me. He barely said one bad word. I was beating myself up sufficiently. The fact that I knew how much that car meant to him was enough.

The boy I fell in love with was a lean, one pack a day smoker with a snazzy red sports car. He liked to drink, party and had tattoos. He was a lot of things I didn't want in a life mate. But I loved him anyway! Total, forever kind of love.

Fast forward 6 years. He's not so lean. He stopped smoking on Christmas eve the year we started dating and never picked up another cigarette. And the snazzy red sports car was traded in for a boat of a sedan that he needed for work.

He is a man. My man to be exact. And he is still a lot of things I was not looking for in a man, which only proves that I was looking for some of the wrong things.

This man is an excellent provider, supporter, lover, father and most importantly - friend.

And two years ago we replaced his snazzy red sports car with a shiny black Mustang. A very loud Mustang. And he drives it like an ass.

I love that car. Even though, if I had my way, I would never drive it. I love it because he loves it.

This is the man that I married. He has more tattoos now, has proven that he was born to be a father and loves me better than I could have ever imagined was possible.

I couldn't have chosen better if I had known what to look for.

He turned 33 this Sunday.
I got him an ipod nano (black, to match his car).

Early Intervention

So my boy has been diagnosed with Oral Motor Dysfunction. Basically means he is not using his mouth properly. And in his case the biggest problem is with his speech. Which is great because this is more commonly diagnosed along with failure to thrive. But the linebacker does not have any issues with thriving.

I just talked to his intake person who will assign his case to a case worker who will then contact me for an inhome visit where we will set up the next visit that will be his evaluation.

I have to admit that I am a little weirded out.

I KNOW that this is a good thing. D is very frustrated by his inability to communicate and while I think he would most likely work through this on his own, I also wonder why I would make him do that if he can get help.

And then there's the identification of special needs. And please please please don't attack me on this. I just worry that early intervention might pigeon hole him somewhere that I don't want him to be.

Either way I am excited to learn what they can offer a two year old in terms of helping him control his mouth for eating and speaking. And he's so eager to be talking that I am sure he will appreciate the help.

Parenting is such a wonder.

Like I wonder what the hell I am doing...

Vengence is Mine

I have been thinking about the past. Thanks to mommy wants vodka. You should read her post. Truly terrifying (and hilarious) stuff. And don't judge me too much by my comment there. They were desperate times.

Normally, I am truly a go with the flow kind of gal. But I did have a brief moment of complete insanity.

It involved a boy. My philosophy statement about him has been that "he felt as though the world owed him something and he was determined to collect through me."

A fairly repulsive human being actually.

I was with him off and on for over two years. And while I look back at that time and shudder I also know that I would not be where I am and who I am without that experience.

"That which does not kill us..." and all that.

But truly. Being with him made me stand up and realize that I was worth a whole lot more than what he had to offer. And being with him made me understand that being alone was truly not a bad or scary thing. He did in fact help me become who I am today, to a certain degree.

And maybe I would have gotten here on my own. But I don't think I would change a thing because my freedom proclamation coincided nicely with the time I met my love. And when I truly wasn't looking I found my soul mate. My best friend.

So I thank the asshole. For inadvertently helping me find happiness. And I thank the bitch who called our apartment at three in the morning just to make sure I KNEW for sure that he was cheating on me.

Thank you.

And I hope you burn in hell for all eternity. Or alternatively, I hope you are still together. Same thing.

In other news it is my love's birthday this weekend. I am happy to say that I have no idea what to get him. I might just let him read this post...

Division

I am so frustrated!

Let me say first that I was enjoying this whole "close" election thing. Until today.
Now I am done.

What gives?

How much longer can this go on before we completely clinch the Republican for the election in November?

McCain can just slide on in.

The pack has turned in on itself and any "old" rival can take over.

I hope that the decision is made soon because I know the nation is getting weary.

And I love Hillary Clinton. And I think that she would make an excellent president. But I do not think she stands a snow ball's chance against McCain.

She needs to do what George H. should have done when "W" was conceived and PULL OUT.

There I said it. She needs to withdraw.

And it is not because she is a woman, it is because she cannot beat McCain. And that may be because she is a woman and while that sucks BIG TIME it is also the truth. She needs to accept the facts. We all do.

So I say , "please stand down Mrs. Clinton." Our country needs strong leaders who are willing to sacrifice to the greater good. Be that leader.

Obama is the best bet we have in November.

Now I'm where I want to be and who I want to be...

That is a line from a song from the musical Chess in case you were wonderin'.
One of the blogs I was reading asked about your life goals and whether you are doing what you planned.
I also watched part of the last lecture yesterday.

Seems like time to evaluate my life and answer the question.

Am I doing what I want? Am I accomplishing what I set out to accomplish.

The easy answer is yes.

The only thing I have ever been sure of is the fact that I wanted to be a mommy.

And I am a mommy.

The fact that I am a full time working mommy does not detract from my goal. I never set such strict regulations for my dream.

And it's a good thing. If my goal had been to stay home with my kids, I am convinced I would not be as happy as I am now.

My mom stayed home. She enjoyed it.

I wasn't opposed to the idea but this brings me to another thing about me that I was always sure of. (mostly because others were always happy to point it out as a flaw)

I am bossy. (I prefer assertive myself)

So it works out nicely that in my little office - I am boss.

It makes me happy to make decisions, generate business, help employees grow. I need the stimulation and the emotional fulfillment.

I don't think just any job would be enough. This job suits me. This office suits me.

And another goal. Brought on by the thousands of cheesy romance novels of my youth. I wanted to have that.

That bodice ripping moment followed by that feeling of love and security that each and every Harlequin writer tries so hard (and fails) to capture in print.

I married my love. My real love. My imperfect perfect for me love.

I am the heroine of my own romance novel.

What can get better than that? No, really.

So. I had some very loose expectations and goals for myself. And I have managed somehow to arrive at a destination I didn't even really know I was looking for. Happily.

I have a few more things to do. No question.

But I like where I am.

All in all?

Good stuff.

Ghost Towns

I have been following a couple of blogs that have been abandoned. I don't mean the ones when the author has signed off, moved or decided that blogging is just too distracting. I mean just one normal post and - poof.

I feel a strange sadness each time I click on the link and the last post is still several months old and no updates have been made.

The author's smiling face may greet me. Her (or his)family may be also be there. Frozen in time.

I have no idea what to do in this situation. Do I let the blogger still carrying the link know? Do I send out a search warrant? Should I worry?

I am a bit of a history buff. I love to explore ruins and abandoned cities. I love to imagine the world that existed there. I am a big fan of ghost towns. The question of what happened is something that I find incredibly intriguing.

This is somehow different though. I feel about these blogs in a similar way to friends who I have left behind unexpectedly. People with whom I have lost contact through no apparent fault of my own but who have, without explanation, decided that they will no longer talk to me.

Strangely, I have a couple of those folks in my history. I have no idea what travesty I committed. And they won't say.

Abandoned towns. Abandoned blogs. Abandoned friends.

All with the question: where did they go?

And why?

The Birth of a Sister

So after waxing a bit about my boy I feel I should give the girl her due.

M is the best daughter I have ever had. She is also an excellent big sister. I am sure if there were awards for this, she would win one.

One morning this week I was at my wits end and D was crying because I had taken a toy away and told him it was time to go. I was not in the mood to console him (mom of the year. right here.).

So instead I sent his sister. She trotted into the kitchen and out of sight and within seconds, his crying stopped. Immediately. When the two returned moments later they were both happy and smiling. I asked her what had happened.

"I gave him a big hug and patted him on his back." she replied while tilting her head sideways in a questioning way. And then said, "Because he was crying."

Well of course. Aren't I an ass?

M was an easy baby. She slurped happily at the breast and would doze off in my arms almost immediately when full. That last drop of milk still on her lips. That is a picture I will hold in my heart for always. I can still smell that moment.

She was quick to smile and not too quick toward tantrums. Her terrible eighteen month threshold lasted only a little bit into her second year. Only a few months of having to physically pick her up off of the floor as she screamed because IT IS TIME TO LEAVE THE STORE somehow sent her into fits and rendered her physically incapable of following direction.

At age four she is officially into Princesses and Pink and has to be convinced that she cannot wear a dress everyday. We have taken to pointing out the very nice days and telling her that she will be playing and she may not be able to do everything she wants to in a dress and remind her that she would not want to get it dirty. I am not sure which is more of of a motivation, the lack of play or the dirty dress but I am pretending it's the play time because I was never a dress girl.

She likes to have her fingers painted and always chooses very STRONG colors. Orange, Blue, Red and Purple to date. Again, that could go either way. Either she is attracted to bold vibrant colors because she will be a strong vibrant woman, or she's a future tramp. (oh okay, of course it could be both)

She is a considerate girl. She always asks for two of whatever goodie she gets so that her brother is covered. She always tells me "thank you for dinner mommy" whenever we have the rare opportunity to have a family meal.

She often hugs me tightly around my legs and snuggles her cheek into my belly. I am still trying to figure out how she got that tall! And will say "just because" when asked what the hug is for.

She is sneaky. She will often declare. "I am hungry" because she has just spied a piece of chocolate somewhere because she knows without ever being told that "I would like to have that chocolate" probably won't work. And she lies. When we were having our last bedtime potty joust she lied about having ever even sat on the potty. Bold faced but betrayed by her mischief smile.

She is a daddy's girl. She LOVES her daddy. They are best buds and have a fun and very silly time together. If she had her way daddy would put her to bed everynight (I recently agreed with her on this one and now her daddy does put her (and her brother) to bed every night...tee hee.) and it would be her Utopian ideal to have daddy at school with her, all day, everyday.

But she also adores her mommy and we have a great time together. She will dance with me and sing with me and she often requests the made up songs that have gotten us through many a daycare shuttle. She loves to help. In the kitchen, with her brother, with my beading. Almost anywhere. And she enjoys the quiet time she gets to spend alone with either mom or dad on the weekends while D is napping to ever admit that she still occasionally needs a nap.

She loves her daycare "school" and has many friends there. Her "best friend" seems to depend entirely on her mood that day but she has many to choose from. She seems to be friends with boys and girls, although she did recently declare that she does not like Diego because he is a boy. (Again, could go either way there". She has fun. She likes going to school and she likes coming home. All of her teachers and her classmates seem to enjoy her. See above if you wonder why.

So there is my girl. She is a sweet and thoughtful thing and she supports the old adage about "little ears" to the T. She is always listening. Always connecting.

I am so very fortunate that she is my daughter.

Dean - A Love Story

Much like many parents I wasn't sure what would happen when the second child arrived. I wasn't all that confident that I would feel the same way. Would love as strongly. Feel that same connection.

And when Dean arrived. I didn't.

Maya was already this person. This personality. He was just a blob.

Such a good baby. Such a sweet little soul. Oh I loved him and if you had asked me then I would have told you that I felt the same way about him as I did about my daughter.

I would have been lying. And I don't think I knew it. No one really knew it.

Except maybe Dean.

Dean suffered from second child syndrome. He was the baby we just tried to appease as we met the needs of our vocal and often whining 2-3 year old. And some day when I was not quite paying attention the sweet and adorable baby turned into an equally charming young toddler and I am not sure I saw all that.

I certainly wasn't watching as closely as I did with his sister. With Dean it was more about milestones and less about Dean. Is he sitting up, is he walking, how many words does he say?

I am glad to say that this has changed. A change brought about in small part by my daycare but also by me, my husband and most importantly, by Dean.

For a boy of few words - he says a lot.

So my little boy turned two and I know a lot more about him than I did when he was one. His life has doubled since then. My attention to him has too.

Dean likes: Spiderman, Superman and any other "man". He likes trucks and cars and loves his daddy's Mustang. He still loves Dora but he and Diego are becoming fast buds.

He ADORES anything meat. He will scarf hotdogs and steak and chicken and - well, meat with happy abandon and will eat so much he gets sick if you let him.

He still wants to try everything his sister does but he is is becoming more selective in the items he agrees with her on. He is good at sharing and taking turns and understands fully when you tell him that he will get a turn. He points to his chest and says "Nudge" which is his closest attempt at his name and also our nickname for him.

He loves musicals (Yes!) and sings and dances when Annie comes on. He also requests said CD in the car at least twice a week.

He is ferocious in his hugs and says the word clearly when he wants one. He snuggles up to you when you are sitting on the couch and will often pat me gently as if to reassure himself that I am still there, eyes still on the TV.

And I can say with open honesty that I do in fact love him just as much as I love his sister. Only differently.

He is becoming independent and assertive. He is becoming patient and understanding.


He is becoming Dean.

And I am honored to be his mom.

I gotta wear shades...

If you have not seen Obama's speech from March 18th RIGHT HERE in Philly. Click Here.

Did you click?

Did you decide not to click because you support McCain or Clinton?

Doesn't matter.

Click.

Have you seen it?

This is what I am talking about people.

I will have a much more eloquent post on the morrow but until then let me say that this is the future I want for my children. Anjali wrote a great piece on her family heritage and the "present" her children are enjoying with their granparents right now.

It is for all these reasons that I am hopeful. SO HOPEFUL.

We are a tremendous people and if we can begin to recognize that it is our diversity that makes us strong, that is our very lack of only one simple definition that defines us - we will be phenomenal.

This future understanding, this future of acceptance, is what I see when I see when I look at my kids,at Anjali's kids, my brother's kids, and when I see Barack Obama.

More later.

Oh and my Nephew Noname?

It is official:

Miles Everest.

Welcome Miles.

I am so pleased to have you in the world.