I have been putting off writing this post because the topic is sad, and it is hard to know what to say and it strikes fear into my heart, truth be told.
Katie Granju is a blogger I have come to appreciate through her writings on Babble and at her personal blog. She is a very honest, open writer and blogger and has just experienced a loss that is probably the worst a parent can ever experience, the loss of her oldest son, Henry.
Henry was 18 when he died on Memorial Day. He died as the result of injuries he sustained from a brutal beating during a drug deal gone wrong, and then from the drug overdose he took after the beating. The ordeal is outlined pretty clearly on both of her blogs.
I have cried many times while following her updates after he was hospitalized, and I have been reading her updates regarding the investigation into the beating and drug deal, as well as what she has to say as she revisits Henry's struggle with addiction and how she and the family dealt with it.
It is horrible to lose a child, of that I have no doubt. It is probably terrible no matter what the circumstances, but I can see how she is struggling with the idea that somehow she failed him, that this might have ended differently if they had only found that one thing that worked for him to get him into recovery. He had been through a variety of addiction programs, including two extended stays at residential facilities, and yet within weeks of his return from the last stay, he was using again. It is safe to say that Henry was not at the point where he was ready to let go and let God.
I have never smoked pot, or taken any illegal, controlled substances. It just scared the crap out of me to consider doing it as a child/young adult, and as an adult I came to recognize that my own chemistry was not one that mixed well with certain kinds of drugs. I also come from a family with a history of addiction. Katie's story is one that hits close to home, and makes me stop and wonder how things will go for Cooper.
I don't question at all how Katie and her husband and ex-husband handled the situation with Henry. It is not for any of us to judge. When you are dealing with addiction, you are up against a tornado and quicksand covered in fog and slime. It is a life out of control, and only at the point a person says "I am helpless against this" can they begin to heal. Sometimes it doesn't happen soon enough. I cannot imagine the pain that Katie and her family feel.
This is where all of my fears about parenting crystalize. Now that Cooper is in my life, the idea of losing him, in any way, or of him being hurt by his own hand or by others, is just nauseating, potentially paralyzing. Can you even protect them enough, and yet allow them the freedom to be their own person, learn about life and grow? How do you educate them about the dangers of drugs - and I will say this out loud here - POT IS DANGEROUS. Specifically if you are an addict. The problem is that people often try pot before they ever know if that is an issue for them. It is the way they found out they are an addictive personality. Sure there are some people for whom it is nothing. They try it, they move on. But for many, it is a dangerous and slippery slope.
Dealing with the question of drug use, experimentation, alcohol use, etc. is something that we, his parents will learn to navigate I guess, as he grows. Bob has been down this path with mixed results with his older children. Ultimately though, no matter what, you have very little control and that is where the anxiety lives.
I pray for Katie and her family, hoping that by writing his story she finds some solace, and brings more awareness to the issue of drug addiction and treatment.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
The one in which I eavesdrop on a yoga class and see a better world...
As I have mentioned before, I am taking yoga again. In exchange for one class a week, I do a few things for the studio, including checking in for our class, and maintaining the Facebook page for the studio. I wrote this note on the FB page this week after taking class.
I usually take the Wednesday night 5:15 class, and because I handle check in for that class, I try to be early. This means that I am there when the class before ours is ending. This is a class for young girls, taught by Christyn S. As I stood in the foyer yesterday (it was rainy and cold otherwise I would have been outside on the steps) I could hear her walking the girls through a pose that involved partners. I didn't peak in to see what they were doing, but it sounded like one person was being supported in a position by the other person.
I could hear her telling them what to do, and then I could tell they were doing the pose, and there was a lot of "Whoo hooo!" and "Yes, that's IT" and general sense of accomplishment going on in there. After they had switched and done the pose with the other person being supported, Christyn said something that I thought was fabulous. She congratulated them all on doing the pose and doing it really well, and she was proud of them because she saw that not once did the person being supported in the pose ever seem to expect to just be supported, that that person worked just as hard to maintain the pose as the person who was providing the support. The pose was about team work, and in all the cases, she saw each girl working together with her partner to do the pose well, as a team and she was so proud of them for working so well together.
I don't recall if I have said this here before, but I sort of loath partner poses. I am a Yankee born and bred, and I like my personal space and I REALLY don't like touching other people, other sweaty people, or having them touch my sweaty person. I mean, I don't KNOW most of the people in our class nearly well enough to, you know, TOUCH them other than to maybe shake hands. I am being a bit dramatic, but that is what my brain says when any instructor - JUSTINE - suggests we do a partner pose. I really do get a bit weirded out when someone stands too close to me, or, heaven help me, hugs me and I am not prepared for it.
But as I stood outside of that class yesterday, I thought what if I had had the opportunity to do yoga when I was 8, 9 or 12 years old, and had gotten used to doing things like partner poses early on, and how would my personal outlook on life have been altered if someone had in such a positive and encouraging manner praised teamwork at that age, you know, outside of my parents who did a great job, making sure I knew how to share with my brother and friends? I am a pretty good team player, but I am also 45 and have had 20+ years of working life to get good at that.
These days it seems the message we get from the world is ME ME ME and ME first. We have seen first hand what that kind of self centered approach has gotten us as a society - a credit crisis that has us looking at the worst unemployment numbers since the Depression, companies closing after decades of being in business, and an oil spill in the Gulf that is threatening to ruin the environment and way of life for fisherman and coastal communities for a very long time, to name a few.
The fact that Christyn was, in such a positive and enthusiastic manner, encouraging and reinforcing the concept that teamwork is good, that all parties have to put out effort to make something work right, to me is awesome. I don't know if in the moment those girls heard the message the way I did, but I assume that this is probably a normal part of how she teaches class, and I hope that because these girls are taking this class, and might continue to take classes after this one ends, that they hear that message, and it sinks in and sticks. Because I truly believe they will be better citizens of the world for it.
So kudos to Christyn, and thank you too, for helping in your way, to make a difference in this world, one yoga pose at a time.
I usually take the Wednesday night 5:15 class, and because I handle check in for that class, I try to be early. This means that I am there when the class before ours is ending. This is a class for young girls, taught by Christyn S. As I stood in the foyer yesterday (it was rainy and cold otherwise I would have been outside on the steps) I could hear her walking the girls through a pose that involved partners. I didn't peak in to see what they were doing, but it sounded like one person was being supported in a position by the other person.
I could hear her telling them what to do, and then I could tell they were doing the pose, and there was a lot of "Whoo hooo!" and "Yes, that's IT" and general sense of accomplishment going on in there. After they had switched and done the pose with the other person being supported, Christyn said something that I thought was fabulous. She congratulated them all on doing the pose and doing it really well, and she was proud of them because she saw that not once did the person being supported in the pose ever seem to expect to just be supported, that that person worked just as hard to maintain the pose as the person who was providing the support. The pose was about team work, and in all the cases, she saw each girl working together with her partner to do the pose well, as a team and she was so proud of them for working so well together.
I don't recall if I have said this here before, but I sort of loath partner poses. I am a Yankee born and bred, and I like my personal space and I REALLY don't like touching other people, other sweaty people, or having them touch my sweaty person. I mean, I don't KNOW most of the people in our class nearly well enough to, you know, TOUCH them other than to maybe shake hands. I am being a bit dramatic, but that is what my brain says when any instructor - JUSTINE - suggests we do a partner pose. I really do get a bit weirded out when someone stands too close to me, or, heaven help me, hugs me and I am not prepared for it.
But as I stood outside of that class yesterday, I thought what if I had had the opportunity to do yoga when I was 8, 9 or 12 years old, and had gotten used to doing things like partner poses early on, and how would my personal outlook on life have been altered if someone had in such a positive and encouraging manner praised teamwork at that age, you know, outside of my parents who did a great job, making sure I knew how to share with my brother and friends? I am a pretty good team player, but I am also 45 and have had 20+ years of working life to get good at that.
These days it seems the message we get from the world is ME ME ME and ME first. We have seen first hand what that kind of self centered approach has gotten us as a society - a credit crisis that has us looking at the worst unemployment numbers since the Depression, companies closing after decades of being in business, and an oil spill in the Gulf that is threatening to ruin the environment and way of life for fisherman and coastal communities for a very long time, to name a few.
The fact that Christyn was, in such a positive and enthusiastic manner, encouraging and reinforcing the concept that teamwork is good, that all parties have to put out effort to make something work right, to me is awesome. I don't know if in the moment those girls heard the message the way I did, but I assume that this is probably a normal part of how she teaches class, and I hope that because these girls are taking this class, and might continue to take classes after this one ends, that they hear that message, and it sinks in and sticks. Because I truly believe they will be better citizens of the world for it.
So kudos to Christyn, and thank you too, for helping in your way, to make a difference in this world, one yoga pose at a time.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Hello Universe, it's me, Midlifemama...
So yeaaaaaaah, after that week with the auditors and blahblahblah, I had another week where I felt like every time I turned around, I was doing something wrong. Turns out some of that was PMS. Whee. But the other part was me, kind of being distracted and doing stupid stuff. Awesome.
Then on Monday we got word that The Bob's mother was admitted to the hospital with funky heart stuff. She had a mild heart attack, and what had previously been diagnosed as "a touch of emphysema" was probably full blown emphysema, and now might be more than that. He went up Thursday, and Cooper and I went up Saturday. She is in a rehab facility now, trying to work toward a point where she could go home again. But she has to be able to take care of herself, which is starting to look iffy. Whee.
Cooper refused to sleep by himself in the second bedroom in her apartment. Which meant he ended up sleeping with me in the other bedroom. Where the cat was. 4:30am and Cooper is awake announcing to me that the CAT! She's in the WINDOW!! KITTY!
Did I say Whee already?
The good news was we didn't hit any real traffic going up or coming back. She lives in Lewiston Maine, which is a hotbed of activity. If by activity you mean they had a tornado touch down in the town next door, and you too can have dinner at Dudley's at the Ramada Inn where they have a buffet with 30 senior citizens. We know how to have a GOOD TIME. But we realized that dinner buffets are perfect when trying to dine with a 3.5 year old whose idea of eating out is "how fast can you get in and out of any dining establishment".
Speaking of dining out with Cooper, my friend Harvey the jazz man performed at Ryles Jazz brunch a week ago, and invited me to sing with him. Below is a 1 minute segment of me doing Summertime. I had never performed this song with him other than in rehearsal before. I was a bit nervous. Harvey has invited myself and Matt, the bass player from our college group to work with him as a trio to perform out in the big wide world. This is an exciting and nauseating prospect. More about that another time. Let's leave it at Midlifemama is trying to find her bliss where she can and taking whatever opportunities the universe offers her to stretch her wings and not think about financial aid for a few minutes. One of the most gratifying moments of my life recently was Harvey's face when we were done with this song and I knew he was proud of me. He told me later it was a very professional performance. Which is a high compliment coming from Harv.
Then on Monday we got word that The Bob's mother was admitted to the hospital with funky heart stuff. She had a mild heart attack, and what had previously been diagnosed as "a touch of emphysema" was probably full blown emphysema, and now might be more than that. He went up Thursday, and Cooper and I went up Saturday. She is in a rehab facility now, trying to work toward a point where she could go home again. But she has to be able to take care of herself, which is starting to look iffy. Whee.
Cooper refused to sleep by himself in the second bedroom in her apartment. Which meant he ended up sleeping with me in the other bedroom. Where the cat was. 4:30am and Cooper is awake announcing to me that the CAT! She's in the WINDOW!! KITTY!
Did I say Whee already?
The good news was we didn't hit any real traffic going up or coming back. She lives in Lewiston Maine, which is a hotbed of activity. If by activity you mean they had a tornado touch down in the town next door, and you too can have dinner at Dudley's at the Ramada Inn where they have a buffet with 30 senior citizens. We know how to have a GOOD TIME. But we realized that dinner buffets are perfect when trying to dine with a 3.5 year old whose idea of eating out is "how fast can you get in and out of any dining establishment".
Speaking of dining out with Cooper, my friend Harvey the jazz man performed at Ryles Jazz brunch a week ago, and invited me to sing with him. Below is a 1 minute segment of me doing Summertime. I had never performed this song with him other than in rehearsal before. I was a bit nervous. Harvey has invited myself and Matt, the bass player from our college group to work with him as a trio to perform out in the big wide world. This is an exciting and nauseating prospect. More about that another time. Let's leave it at Midlifemama is trying to find her bliss where she can and taking whatever opportunities the universe offers her to stretch her wings and not think about financial aid for a few minutes. One of the most gratifying moments of my life recently was Harvey's face when we were done with this song and I knew he was proud of me. He told me later it was a very professional performance. Which is a high compliment coming from Harv.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Can anyone say LIFE COACH?
Oh HEY there! Long time no post. It was a horrible no good very bad week here in MidLifeMama land. Summer is supposed to be a carefree, lazy, floating in the pool staring at the clouds time of life, right? Not so much. I think I want to move to Australia.
Side note: I must say that a lot - not so much. Because the other day we offered Cooper a sampling of a new cereal, Chocolate Cheerios, which The Bob seemed fond of, I am kind of on the fence about. He took a bite, and handed me the bowl. I asked him if he liked them. "Not so much" was his response. That kid makes me laugh.
Which is a good thing, because I need all the laughter and happiness a soul can get these days.
Thursday was the breaking point. I had spent all of my time at work working on two huge and very stressful things, one is the evil thing I cannot talk about, and the other is the annual audit of our office. The audit is stressful because this is an outside agency who comes in to make sure you are doing your job correctly, and there are reports to run, files to pull, trees to kill by printing pages and pages of screen shots because they cannot see the information they need. Then you get to the point where they are done, and you get to hear about the mistakes you made. This year went pretty well, but the one thing they found was a process issue, and resolving it means closer coordination with the student accounts office, and after the week I had had, I sort of broke down. In front of the auditor. Which was AMAZING. She is a very nice person and not at all trying to make me miserable, and had it been JUST her or JUST the other evil thing, I probably would been OK. But I wasn't. There was crying. Whee.
So I got home, and ordered pizza because I was NOT going to be in charge of one more damn thing that day. The Bob was all "OK" and I was all "The Mama's armor has some fractures, do NOT ask me to make any decisions beyond pepperoni or black olives."
When it came to Tubby Time as we call Cooper's bath, Cooper did what he has begun doing at bath time, Naked Dancing to Music by Nightlight. I don't know exactly what this says about his future extracurricular activities in the teen years, but he likes to get naked, turn out all the lights, get some music going on the radio and dance before he gets in the tub. This particular evening we found some quieter music, and he sat in my lap with his hairbrush microphone, and he sang along with the music and it was MAGICAL. He didn't know the songs, but he has an ear for music, and was humming along pretty much in tune most of the time.
By the end of tubby time, I felt worlds better. I am still stressed, but eventually it will all be over. But in all seriousness, this has made me stop and wonder what OTHER career could I embark on at the age of almost 46 that would not involve going back to school, and I could support my family doing? I am coming up el blanko.
Side note: I must say that a lot - not so much. Because the other day we offered Cooper a sampling of a new cereal, Chocolate Cheerios, which The Bob seemed fond of, I am kind of on the fence about. He took a bite, and handed me the bowl. I asked him if he liked them. "Not so much" was his response. That kid makes me laugh.
Which is a good thing, because I need all the laughter and happiness a soul can get these days.
Thursday was the breaking point. I had spent all of my time at work working on two huge and very stressful things, one is the evil thing I cannot talk about, and the other is the annual audit of our office. The audit is stressful because this is an outside agency who comes in to make sure you are doing your job correctly, and there are reports to run, files to pull, trees to kill by printing pages and pages of screen shots because they cannot see the information they need. Then you get to the point where they are done, and you get to hear about the mistakes you made. This year went pretty well, but the one thing they found was a process issue, and resolving it means closer coordination with the student accounts office, and after the week I had had, I sort of broke down. In front of the auditor. Which was AMAZING. She is a very nice person and not at all trying to make me miserable, and had it been JUST her or JUST the other evil thing, I probably would been OK. But I wasn't. There was crying. Whee.
So I got home, and ordered pizza because I was NOT going to be in charge of one more damn thing that day. The Bob was all "OK" and I was all "The Mama's armor has some fractures, do NOT ask me to make any decisions beyond pepperoni or black olives."
When it came to Tubby Time as we call Cooper's bath, Cooper did what he has begun doing at bath time, Naked Dancing to Music by Nightlight. I don't know exactly what this says about his future extracurricular activities in the teen years, but he likes to get naked, turn out all the lights, get some music going on the radio and dance before he gets in the tub. This particular evening we found some quieter music, and he sat in my lap with his hairbrush microphone, and he sang along with the music and it was MAGICAL. He didn't know the songs, but he has an ear for music, and was humming along pretty much in tune most of the time.
By the end of tubby time, I felt worlds better. I am still stressed, but eventually it will all be over. But in all seriousness, this has made me stop and wonder what OTHER career could I embark on at the age of almost 46 that would not involve going back to school, and I could support my family doing? I am coming up el blanko.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Reflecting on beauty...
I don't know Chookooloonks but I have been checking out her blog, and she just announced she has a book coming out that intrigues me.
She is obviously a talented writer and photographer, and since I have begun embracing Twitter, I have been following her there.
This book focuses on how each person is different, and how that difference can actually make us beautiful. To quote from the website: "This book is designed to connect, inspire and encourage you to reconsider those attributes that make you unique, and reframe them as characteristics of distinction -- maybe even your superpowers."
Superpowers! Now we are talking. Because as I look age 46 in the eye (July 7th!) and am more and more aware of the impact of aging on my physical body (hello shoulder, you haven't bothered me lately, what's up?) what with the extra pounds and puffy eyes, I feel less and less beautiful physically. But through the eyes of others, like a three year old boy, I am crazy talented.
Let's review just a short list of my amazing, mad skillz: I can read, I can cut paper with sharp scissors and use glue. I am allowed to touch the remote and drive a car. My powers are ENDLESS.
Even with adults I can appear rather superfabulous. I produce tasty, even delicious meals using only leftovers and a can of diced tomatoes. I can find that missing thing that no one else can find, and is usually being demanded by the aforementioned three year old. That voice, that demand, makes his father almost blind to the point he can't find the door out of the house much less that third fire fighter that goes with that particular fire engine that Cooper has decided he MUST PLAY WITH NOW.
At work I am The Problem Solver. From helping a student figure out how to pay the bill to finding the jam in the copier, I am that go to person. Got a baby bird that fell out of a nest? Call me. Need some feminine hygiene products or a band aid? Come to my office. It isn't like I advertise these talents, but people seem to assume that I am a well supplied, prepared, and come armed with bird related wisdom. FYI...all I did about the bird was get an empty box, scoop the bird into it without touching it and plopped it under a bush nearby. After that it was on its own. The world has enough Sparrows.
My point is I don't think we give ourselves enough credit when it comes to the things we do everyday, but that we are really good at. That make us that person others seek out in times of happiness or sadness, or to help a bird in distress. We don't see those skills, those talents as beautiful, but we should.
I am looking forward to reading The Beauty of Different, and I am making it my personal mantra for the foreseeable future to consider my considerable talents, and to find the beauty in them. In me. Thank you in advance Chookooloonks for redirecting my mindset.
She is obviously a talented writer and photographer, and since I have begun embracing Twitter, I have been following her there.
This book focuses on how each person is different, and how that difference can actually make us beautiful. To quote from the website: "This book is designed to connect, inspire and encourage you to reconsider those attributes that make you unique, and reframe them as characteristics of distinction -- maybe even your superpowers."
Superpowers! Now we are talking. Because as I look age 46 in the eye (July 7th!) and am more and more aware of the impact of aging on my physical body (hello shoulder, you haven't bothered me lately, what's up?) what with the extra pounds and puffy eyes, I feel less and less beautiful physically. But through the eyes of others, like a three year old boy, I am crazy talented.
Let's review just a short list of my amazing, mad skillz: I can read, I can cut paper with sharp scissors and use glue. I am allowed to touch the remote and drive a car. My powers are ENDLESS.
Even with adults I can appear rather superfabulous. I produce tasty, even delicious meals using only leftovers and a can of diced tomatoes. I can find that missing thing that no one else can find, and is usually being demanded by the aforementioned three year old. That voice, that demand, makes his father almost blind to the point he can't find the door out of the house much less that third fire fighter that goes with that particular fire engine that Cooper has decided he MUST PLAY WITH NOW.
At work I am The Problem Solver. From helping a student figure out how to pay the bill to finding the jam in the copier, I am that go to person. Got a baby bird that fell out of a nest? Call me. Need some feminine hygiene products or a band aid? Come to my office. It isn't like I advertise these talents, but people seem to assume that I am a well supplied, prepared, and come armed with bird related wisdom. FYI...all I did about the bird was get an empty box, scoop the bird into it without touching it and plopped it under a bush nearby. After that it was on its own. The world has enough Sparrows.
My point is I don't think we give ourselves enough credit when it comes to the things we do everyday, but that we are really good at. That make us that person others seek out in times of happiness or sadness, or to help a bird in distress. We don't see those skills, those talents as beautiful, but we should.
I am looking forward to reading The Beauty of Different, and I am making it my personal mantra for the foreseeable future to consider my considerable talents, and to find the beauty in them. In me. Thank you in advance Chookooloonks for redirecting my mindset.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
It was just one of those weeks...
I feel like I have been going a mile a minute lately. Even right this minute I am keeping my eye on the clock because in 10 minutes I need to be over at Cooper's school to have his parent/teacher conference. Yes, even at 3 they have them. But that is cool, because they send you this evaluation that tells you all the great things you need to know, like he is on target with all these developmental milestones, and they say things like "We love having Cooper in class and we will miss him when he moves up to the next class". So it is a good visit.
I have done things like meet Bossy and a bunch of other fun bloggers like DaddyScratches and Meg of The Members Lounge to name a few. Meeting Ms. Bossy was great, and yes, she is THAT thin.
Things at work have been crazy, and then I cannot think about the oil spill in the gulf without wondering how do we become less dependent on oil and natural gas because if you think that is a clean fuel, you need to know my friend Pam whose life has been made hell by natural gas drilling.
This is why I cannot read books like The Omnivores Dilemma. I would probably stop eating if I knew more about where all my food comes from.
Anyway, that is a bunch of random thoughts, just to say HEY I am still alive and well, and hope you are too. Later. Must go hear how great my kid is now.
I have done things like meet Bossy and a bunch of other fun bloggers like DaddyScratches and Meg of The Members Lounge to name a few. Meeting Ms. Bossy was great, and yes, she is THAT thin.
Things at work have been crazy, and then I cannot think about the oil spill in the gulf without wondering how do we become less dependent on oil and natural gas because if you think that is a clean fuel, you need to know my friend Pam whose life has been made hell by natural gas drilling.
This is why I cannot read books like The Omnivores Dilemma. I would probably stop eating if I knew more about where all my food comes from.
Anyway, that is a bunch of random thoughts, just to say HEY I am still alive and well, and hope you are too. Later. Must go hear how great my kid is now.
Monday, May 10, 2010
It's Perfect...
Yesterday was Mother's Day. The day started out with me waking up far too early for the time of night I went to bed the night before. I had gone with our neighbors (The Bob stayed home for a variety of reasons including but not limited to a lack of child care options) to a gathering for another set of neighbors who will soon be relocating to Maryland. We went into Boston to a place called Gaslight, which was loud but nice. I had been at a birthday party with Cooper for one of his friends from school just before going, so I had eaten pizza and ice cream and didn't need to order more than a glass of wine and enjoy my friends' company.
As the evening wore on, it became apparent that the neighbors I drove with were, well, drunk. So I said to the husband, "Am I the designated driver?" to which he responded by handing me the keys. The good news - his Accura is a nice ride. The bad news - I had to be the heavy and almost drag his lovely but seriously inebriated wife out of the restaurant at 11:15pm and try to keep her from flashing her tatas to the entire bar on the way out. That gal is a GOOD TIME for sure. She is quite hilarious actually, drunk or sober. What was supposed to be a quick evening out to celebrate with the neighbors became a repeat of many of my younger days, when I was the only sober person in a group of happy but silly and drunken people who all think that, after 5 cosmos it would be a GREAT idea to order shots, and then someone suggests going dancing and the sane and tragically sober person who is suggesting that if you are in charge of Mother's Day brunch tomorrow at your house, at 9am, for all 25 members of your immediate family who live in the area, you might want to leave now before you get MORE drunk, is such a an ol' stick in the mud no fun party pooper pants.
No one actually SAID that, but for anyone who has been that sober person, you KNOW THE LOOK.
Anyway, I am normally unconscious, in my bed, by 10pm most nights, so getting home and in bed at 11:30pm was LATE for me. We planned on going to brunch at Mel's, this great diner type place, first thing to beat all the other families with the same brilliant idea, so off we went at around 7:15am. We had a very nice breakfast, and not once did my child say "ALL DONE" and then insist on leaving. He was not interested in actually eating, but he was having a good time.
After that we went to Target, as I needed to pick up a gift card for my work study student who is graduating next weekend. Cooper LOVES Target, the place where all things Spiderman and Iron Man live. He immediately began asking for the Iron Man items he has been coveting since seeing them in a catalog. They involve a helmet that completely encompasses the head (a VERY important aspect to masks and helmets, according to Cooper), doohickeys you put on the hands that light up and an arc light that goes on the chest, that look like the repulsers that Iron Man has. Target sells all of these items, and after perusing them, I asked The Bob what, if anything, did he feel we should purchase for Cooper while we were there. The option of leaving without anything was real, but did we want to consider buying any of them?
We decided, since they were all on sale, to purchase the helmet. It was what Cooper wanted the most out of all of them. On the ride home I unpacked and assembled it, and he was thrilled. We arrived home and he ran in the house and was walking around the living room being Iron Man, when he turned, put the visor up on the mask and said to his father "It's perfect."
With that one little statement Cooper pretty much summed up my Mother's Day experience. Who doesn't want to provide, if at all possible, that item that fulfills your childs' aspirations, whether it is for a plastic helmet with eyes that light up and a British voice that makes statements like "Iron Man, return to Stark headquarters immediately" and then makes rocket noises, or something more lofty.
Motherhood. It is a lot of things, from frustrating to joyous and everything in between, and for at least a few hours yesterday, it was perfect.
As the evening wore on, it became apparent that the neighbors I drove with were, well, drunk. So I said to the husband, "Am I the designated driver?" to which he responded by handing me the keys. The good news - his Accura is a nice ride. The bad news - I had to be the heavy and almost drag his lovely but seriously inebriated wife out of the restaurant at 11:15pm and try to keep her from flashing her tatas to the entire bar on the way out. That gal is a GOOD TIME for sure. She is quite hilarious actually, drunk or sober. What was supposed to be a quick evening out to celebrate with the neighbors became a repeat of many of my younger days, when I was the only sober person in a group of happy but silly and drunken people who all think that, after 5 cosmos it would be a GREAT idea to order shots, and then someone suggests going dancing and the sane and tragically sober person who is suggesting that if you are in charge of Mother's Day brunch tomorrow at your house, at 9am, for all 25 members of your immediate family who live in the area, you might want to leave now before you get MORE drunk, is such a an ol' stick in the mud no fun party pooper pants.
No one actually SAID that, but for anyone who has been that sober person, you KNOW THE LOOK.
Anyway, I am normally unconscious, in my bed, by 10pm most nights, so getting home and in bed at 11:30pm was LATE for me. We planned on going to brunch at Mel's, this great diner type place, first thing to beat all the other families with the same brilliant idea, so off we went at around 7:15am. We had a very nice breakfast, and not once did my child say "ALL DONE" and then insist on leaving. He was not interested in actually eating, but he was having a good time.
After that we went to Target, as I needed to pick up a gift card for my work study student who is graduating next weekend. Cooper LOVES Target, the place where all things Spiderman and Iron Man live. He immediately began asking for the Iron Man items he has been coveting since seeing them in a catalog. They involve a helmet that completely encompasses the head (a VERY important aspect to masks and helmets, according to Cooper), doohickeys you put on the hands that light up and an arc light that goes on the chest, that look like the repulsers that Iron Man has. Target sells all of these items, and after perusing them, I asked The Bob what, if anything, did he feel we should purchase for Cooper while we were there. The option of leaving without anything was real, but did we want to consider buying any of them?
We decided, since they were all on sale, to purchase the helmet. It was what Cooper wanted the most out of all of them. On the ride home I unpacked and assembled it, and he was thrilled. We arrived home and he ran in the house and was walking around the living room being Iron Man, when he turned, put the visor up on the mask and said to his father "It's perfect."
With that one little statement Cooper pretty much summed up my Mother's Day experience. Who doesn't want to provide, if at all possible, that item that fulfills your childs' aspirations, whether it is for a plastic helmet with eyes that light up and a British voice that makes statements like "Iron Man, return to Stark headquarters immediately" and then makes rocket noises, or something more lofty.
Motherhood. It is a lot of things, from frustrating to joyous and everything in between, and for at least a few hours yesterday, it was perfect.
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