Donnie turned 10 on the 10th. Stevie will be 8 next week. We decided to have a combined birthday party for them because they have so many friends in common now. I spent a couple of weeks planning and tweaking and Saturday was the big day.
Don woke me on Saturday morning because I was crying in my sleep.
I had been dreaming of the family. We were all spending a weekend day playing in the background. Don was there throwing sticks to Ramona. Donnie and Stevie were chasing a squealing little girl with brown hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a red t-shirt and blue pants. She was beautiful. I knew instantly that she was mine. Ours. She was our daughter. I watched Ramona run circles around the little girl and thought to myself, "I haven't been a good Mom to her. I never realized I wanted her or loved her until this moment. But I do. I love her so much!" I began to think about how thrilled I was that he had the most beautiful name in the world for her when suddenly she fell into the pine straw that covers out backyard. Suddenly she was gone. As I realized that I couldn't remember her name anymore, I realized that I was dreaming. I realized this child wasn't mine. She's not there. We never had her. It hurt. It hurt so much that I started to weep in my sleep.
Don woke me.
"I just had the strangest dream. We had a beautiful little girl with brown hair and blue eyes. And then I realized she isn't real. And it hurts so much!"
Don, not realizing what was going on told a joke.
"No, Emma is here. Emily. She is just down the hall in her room."
Emma, was that it? No, I realized he was joking. He couldn't really know what was going on in my head. He sent Stevie in to cuddle with me for a little while. His cuddles helped, but now I can' shake the feeling that our family isn't finished. We are missing someone very important.
Emma?
Nora?
Rose? I can't remember her name, but I feel like we aren't complete until we have her.
I talked to Don about it yesterday. He is not as convinced as I am. I can't blame him. I have been the queen of the "We are finished, please don't ask me about more children" club for the past 8 years.
We haven't made any decisions, which for the time being means no, we aren't going to try to have another baby. Not that we ever tried in the past, they were just miracles that happened to us when we least expected it.
Where did this come from? Did this dream just happen because of the impending birthday party marking the boys growing up? What am I thinking? I am almost 35 and the boys are getting older. Do I really want to do this again? When I close my eyes, and see her little face in my mind, the answer seems so clear. In reality, the answer isn't as simple.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Parade or Book Club?
I am in the kind of pickle only a true nerd can find herself in.
I joined a book club at the local library - solely based on the fact that the first book we are to read is "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy". Obviously, a club that starts with that book is right up my ally, right? They scheduled the first meeting at the same time as the Dragon*Con Parade. What were they thinking?
So, dear friends, book club meeting or parade?
Things to keep in mind: we like to take the boys to the parade as part of Stevie's birthday celebration; the book has special meaning in our family as Don's father used to read it to him as a child.
Vote here!
I joined a book club at the local library - solely based on the fact that the first book we are to read is "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy". Obviously, a club that starts with that book is right up my ally, right? They scheduled the first meeting at the same time as the Dragon*Con Parade. What were they thinking?
So, dear friends, book club meeting or parade?
Things to keep in mind: we like to take the boys to the parade as part of Stevie's birthday celebration; the book has special meaning in our family as Don's father used to read it to him as a child.
Vote here!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Scenes from our house on the night of the first day of school.
Juris Mommy: (to Donnie) Do you have homework?
Donnie: No. There is only parent homework. You have to do it.
Juris Mommy: I have homework? What am I supposed to do?
Donnie: I don't know. I just wrote it down. When I have a homework assignment you expect me to know what it is. So when I saw "parent homework" I expected you would know what to do.
I look in his agenda and under homework today I see he has written "Parent Homework". I have no idea what that is supposed to mean. If this is how the 4th grade is going to work I don't think I am going to like it.
Donnie: No. There is only parent homework. You have to do it.
Juris Mommy: I have homework? What am I supposed to do?
Donnie: I don't know. I just wrote it down. When I have a homework assignment you expect me to know what it is. So when I saw "parent homework" I expected you would know what to do.
I look in his agenda and under homework today I see he has written "Parent Homework". I have no idea what that is supposed to mean. If this is how the 4th grade is going to work I don't think I am going to like it.
Friday, August 12, 2011
The news I never had a chance to tell you
Did you get the weather report from Hell on February 12 of this year? I ask because it would be a memorable you. Think back. Ahhh, yes. There it is. You remember now. It was snowing in Hell that day, wasn't it. Yes, yes it was.
After fifteen years of quiet needling by yours truly, and at least three years of begging from the boys, Don finally gave in. We adopted a dog.
This is a huge deal in our family. Don once stormed out a of a lake house on a weekend away with friends because someone told him, "if you really loved your kids you would get them a dog." (Luckily that was one tense 3 hour drive we didn't have to make, because he calmed down.)
Don doesn't have what you would call the "animal gene". When he was a boy he was attacked by a cat. He spent a few days in the hospital with wounds so deep that he could see the tendons in his hands. I imagine that was a pretty sight. Since then he has had no interest in having a pet. He didn't want to do harm to animals, of course, but he didn't want one in his house, either.
I don't know what happened around Christmas of 2010, but he told me we should think about getting a dog. I cautiously looked at pet adoption websites, wanting to find a dog who needed us. A good friend helped me look, and suddenly we found her.
A yellow lab mix who really needed us. She had belonged to a wheelchair bound woman who had lost her job. The woman took all five of her dogs to the vet and asked him to put them to sleep. She just couldn't care for them anymore. The vet refused, but placed with with a rescue organization. Our girl was the last one left.
She was painfully shy when we drove to the farm to meet her. She was scared of us, and terrified of the boys. We heard her story and learned that at about eighteen months old, she had never had a family. She had always just been another dog in big pack. No one had ever treated her with the kind of love that a family would. In short, this beautiful girl needed a family. She needed us.
We adopted her on February 12, 2010. The boys named her Ramona Geraldine, because the family loves reading the Ramona Quimby books together. She has come a long way. She loves me, and she adores Don. She is getting better with the boys, finally letting them pet her and play with her. She passed her Canine Good Citizen test when we took her to beginners obedience classes.
After fifteen years of demanding that we would never have a "beast" in our house, what does Don think of our Ramona?
Why, he absolutely loves her, if course! No one spoils her more than Don does. (Did Ramona get a bite of steak tonight? Does she need a treat? Does she need a belly rub?) I'm not saying "I told you so" though. Sometimes you just smile, show him the picture, and let him see for himself.
After fifteen years of quiet needling by yours truly, and at least three years of begging from the boys, Don finally gave in. We adopted a dog.
This is a huge deal in our family. Don once stormed out a of a lake house on a weekend away with friends because someone told him, "if you really loved your kids you would get them a dog." (Luckily that was one tense 3 hour drive we didn't have to make, because he calmed down.)
Don doesn't have what you would call the "animal gene". When he was a boy he was attacked by a cat. He spent a few days in the hospital with wounds so deep that he could see the tendons in his hands. I imagine that was a pretty sight. Since then he has had no interest in having a pet. He didn't want to do harm to animals, of course, but he didn't want one in his house, either.
I don't know what happened around Christmas of 2010, but he told me we should think about getting a dog. I cautiously looked at pet adoption websites, wanting to find a dog who needed us. A good friend helped me look, and suddenly we found her.
A yellow lab mix who really needed us. She had belonged to a wheelchair bound woman who had lost her job. The woman took all five of her dogs to the vet and asked him to put them to sleep. She just couldn't care for them anymore. The vet refused, but placed with with a rescue organization. Our girl was the last one left.
She was painfully shy when we drove to the farm to meet her. She was scared of us, and terrified of the boys. We heard her story and learned that at about eighteen months old, she had never had a family. She had always just been another dog in big pack. No one had ever treated her with the kind of love that a family would. In short, this beautiful girl needed a family. She needed us.
We adopted her on February 12, 2010. The boys named her Ramona Geraldine, because the family loves reading the Ramona Quimby books together. She has come a long way. She loves me, and she adores Don. She is getting better with the boys, finally letting them pet her and play with her. She passed her Canine Good Citizen test when we took her to beginners obedience classes.
After fifteen years of demanding that we would never have a "beast" in our house, what does Don think of our Ramona?
Why, he absolutely loves her, if course! No one spoils her more than Don does. (Did Ramona get a bite of steak tonight? Does she need a treat? Does she need a belly rub?) I'm not saying "I told you so" though. Sometimes you just smile, show him the picture, and let him see for himself.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
All Grown Up
The boys have started watching this show, "All Grown Up". If you haven't seen the show, it is about those babies who used to be called "The Rugrats". Now they are tweens, and my kids think they are the greatest thing ever.
For some reason, this switch from baby cartoons to more mature shows has reminded me that my husband and I are grown ups now, too. We had our weekly lunch together this week and I broached a big subject. We need a will.
We should have had one years ago. We have a 10 year old and a 7 year old for goodness sake! We both understand the legal implications of not having a will. We can both even anticipate the kind of family fight that would occur if something happened to us and we both died without one.
I decided at lunch today that it was time to have one of those grown up conversations. I came into it just knowing that Don wouldn't want to talk about it because it is such a morbid subject. Death. Money. Custody. Estates. Benefactors. Guardians. Executors. They just aren't the kind of subjects you want to discuss during the only time you get to spend one-on-one during the week. We both kind of feel like we are still teenagers, so this grown up think is hard to take. Eleven years of marriage and two kids later, we still kind of feel like we are pretending at this adult thing.
He looked so happy. Sitting in the booth at IHOP, eating his blueberry pancakes. He had no idea that I was thinking such morbid thoughts. I took a deep breath, interrupted my very important point about why the new companion on "Doctor Who" just isn't doing it for me and spit it out.
"We need a will."
"I know."
"I know, but we really need one."
"You are right."
"We need one now."
"Yes."
It was that simple. The conversation just flowed. Suddenly, we weren't the kids we always pretend to be. We were the grown ups. We were having a grown up conversation. One that didn't involve work! We made choices and decisions. You know what? It wasn't so bad. At that moment being a grown up wasn't so bad.
Sure, the conversations that lead to the final document are going to be difficult. Who gets the boys? Who sells the house? Where does that money go? The point is that for the fist time, we are both ready to have the conversation. For the first time, there is nothing more pressing in the way. No more law school. The Bar Exam is so far behind me that I no longer break out in a cold sweat when I think about it. We are both lucky enough to have jobs. We have a home. This is it. This is the next grown up step.
And I made it wearing really cute shoes.
So maybe I am not ALL grown up. But I am getting there. It isn't as bad as I thought.
For some reason, this switch from baby cartoons to more mature shows has reminded me that my husband and I are grown ups now, too. We had our weekly lunch together this week and I broached a big subject. We need a will.
We should have had one years ago. We have a 10 year old and a 7 year old for goodness sake! We both understand the legal implications of not having a will. We can both even anticipate the kind of family fight that would occur if something happened to us and we both died without one.
I decided at lunch today that it was time to have one of those grown up conversations. I came into it just knowing that Don wouldn't want to talk about it because it is such a morbid subject. Death. Money. Custody. Estates. Benefactors. Guardians. Executors. They just aren't the kind of subjects you want to discuss during the only time you get to spend one-on-one during the week. We both kind of feel like we are still teenagers, so this grown up think is hard to take. Eleven years of marriage and two kids later, we still kind of feel like we are pretending at this adult thing.
He looked so happy. Sitting in the booth at IHOP, eating his blueberry pancakes. He had no idea that I was thinking such morbid thoughts. I took a deep breath, interrupted my very important point about why the new companion on "Doctor Who" just isn't doing it for me and spit it out.
"We need a will."
"I know."
"I know, but we really need one."
"You are right."
"We need one now."
"Yes."
It was that simple. The conversation just flowed. Suddenly, we weren't the kids we always pretend to be. We were the grown ups. We were having a grown up conversation. One that didn't involve work! We made choices and decisions. You know what? It wasn't so bad. At that moment being a grown up wasn't so bad.
Sure, the conversations that lead to the final document are going to be difficult. Who gets the boys? Who sells the house? Where does that money go? The point is that for the fist time, we are both ready to have the conversation. For the first time, there is nothing more pressing in the way. No more law school. The Bar Exam is so far behind me that I no longer break out in a cold sweat when I think about it. We are both lucky enough to have jobs. We have a home. This is it. This is the next grown up step.
And I made it wearing really cute shoes.
So maybe I am not ALL grown up. But I am getting there. It isn't as bad as I thought.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Remember me?
Forgive me readers. It has been 1 year and 5 months since my last post. Please forgive me. I doing it this time. I am coming back. I am not sure if there is still anyone here to read it, but I am writing again.
Today is Donnie's 10th birthday. 10. Ten. Double digits. His golden birthday. I can't believe it.
I tried to look though my old photos to see the day he was born. Then I remembered my portable hard drive crashing a couple of months ago. Ten years of pictures gone in one second. His birth. Gone. His first steps. Gone. Everything gone.
I have learned my lesson, of course. Our pictures now all live in the cloud so this doesn't happen again. Actually, they live in a couple of clouds so that I don't have to depend on any one company to keep the memories safe.
Anyway, speaking of memories. I remember you, my old readers. I hope some of you are still there. I am still reading you.
Today is Donnie's 10th birthday. 10. Ten. Double digits. His golden birthday. I can't believe it.
I tried to look though my old photos to see the day he was born. Then I remembered my portable hard drive crashing a couple of months ago. Ten years of pictures gone in one second. His birth. Gone. His first steps. Gone. Everything gone.
I have learned my lesson, of course. Our pictures now all live in the cloud so this doesn't happen again. Actually, they live in a couple of clouds so that I don't have to depend on any one company to keep the memories safe.
Anyway, speaking of memories. I remember you, my old readers. I hope some of you are still there. I am still reading you.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Day 2
Day two was much like Day one. We saw more focus during the weekend homework we gave him. I could certainly tell when the medication was wearing off.
We were at the grocery store at about 3:45. It had been eight hours since I gave Stevie his pill. We ran into his old pre-k teacher. Stevie kind of lost it. He was jumping around, screaming a little and at one point it looked like he was trying to get into a physical fight with Donnie -- all in the name of getting more attention from Katie.
Today is the first test at school. It should be an interesting day.
We were at the grocery store at about 3:45. It had been eight hours since I gave Stevie his pill. We ran into his old pre-k teacher. Stevie kind of lost it. He was jumping around, screaming a little and at one point it looked like he was trying to get into a physical fight with Donnie -- all in the name of getting more attention from Katie.
Today is the first test at school. It should be an interesting day.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Day 1
I finally figured out why I have been such a spotty blogger for the past couple of years. When I was in law school and studying for the Bar Exam, I had something to write about. I had a problem and goals to accomplish. Once I was hooded, passed the Bar and had my license, there was less to write about. Being a mom and an attorney isn't as hard as being a student and a mom. There was no longer a "big thing" to write about.
Times have changed.
I have briefly blogged about Stevie and our concerns whether he had ADHD. We struggled with getting him tested, because we didn't want to label him. We aren't into medicating children, and so we picked a pediatrician and a psychologist who shared our vision. The past two years have been filled with frustrations in dealing with behavior modification and schooling.
Stevie is in Kindergarten now. He is at school with Donnie and he is loving it. He is, however, having trouble. His impulse control is almost non-existent. In a classroom full of 27 students, his teacher has had enough. We aren't sure if he will be allowed back at the school next year. As big supporters of Catholic education, this has been a real blow for Don and I.
We finally went through the process of having the full ADHD evaluation. We got the diagnosis we expected. Stevie is a smart, creative and happy child with ADHD. He is the most joyful person I have ever met. The idea of medicating him and turning him into a zombie kid was pretty frightening.
Yesterday we took the report and met with Stevie's pediatrician. He has known Stevie since he was about 6 hours old. I think even he found himself surprised to recommend a medication for Stevie. After many assurances that the medications have come a long way, and this one would not turn him into a zombie, we agreed. He will only take it on school days, and it is supposed to be a time released drug that will wear off at the end of the day.
The doctor suggested we try it out this weekend so we would be able to look for any ill effects ourselves instead of hearing about them through a teacher. We are an hour into the experiment. Stevie took the pill like a champ. He was so proud of himself. No ill effects so far. He is calm and doing his weekend homework without any problems. This isn't that different from the way he usually behaves on the weekend, so I am not so sure yet. Updates, I promise, will follow.
Tuesday is a big day. We will meet with his teacher and some administrators. I think the big decision will be made that day. I can't tell you how much it will hurt if they say he can't come back.
Could you turn down this face?
Times have changed.
I have briefly blogged about Stevie and our concerns whether he had ADHD. We struggled with getting him tested, because we didn't want to label him. We aren't into medicating children, and so we picked a pediatrician and a psychologist who shared our vision. The past two years have been filled with frustrations in dealing with behavior modification and schooling.
Stevie is in Kindergarten now. He is at school with Donnie and he is loving it. He is, however, having trouble. His impulse control is almost non-existent. In a classroom full of 27 students, his teacher has had enough. We aren't sure if he will be allowed back at the school next year. As big supporters of Catholic education, this has been a real blow for Don and I.
We finally went through the process of having the full ADHD evaluation. We got the diagnosis we expected. Stevie is a smart, creative and happy child with ADHD. He is the most joyful person I have ever met. The idea of medicating him and turning him into a zombie kid was pretty frightening.
Yesterday we took the report and met with Stevie's pediatrician. He has known Stevie since he was about 6 hours old. I think even he found himself surprised to recommend a medication for Stevie. After many assurances that the medications have come a long way, and this one would not turn him into a zombie, we agreed. He will only take it on school days, and it is supposed to be a time released drug that will wear off at the end of the day.
The doctor suggested we try it out this weekend so we would be able to look for any ill effects ourselves instead of hearing about them through a teacher. We are an hour into the experiment. Stevie took the pill like a champ. He was so proud of himself. No ill effects so far. He is calm and doing his weekend homework without any problems. This isn't that different from the way he usually behaves on the weekend, so I am not so sure yet. Updates, I promise, will follow.
Tuesday is a big day. We will meet with his teacher and some administrators. I think the big decision will be made that day. I can't tell you how much it will hurt if they say he can't come back.
Could you turn down this face?
Monday, July 20, 2009
It isn't even opposite day
Yesterday was one of those days when the frustration factor was at 10. Don was working from home, so he was around, but he wasn't available for any parenting purposes. The boys had a babysitter the night before, and that always makes them full of beans. I had been bugging Don about how we really needed to start going to church on a regular basis, and at about an hour before the last Mass he reminded me that I should be getting everyone ready instead of sitting on the couch reading. Grrrrr. (I realize this makes him sound like kind of a bear. Nothing could be further from the truth, it was just one of those days that I was "in charge" so he could get some much needed work done).
About 25 minutes before we needed to walk out the door I told the boys to put their shoes on. I went about getting myself presentable and walked downstairs to get them in the car. Donnie was in the living room ready to go and playing a Lego Star Wars game.
Me: STEEEEVVIIIIIEEEEEEEE!
Stevie: (from the kitchen) Stevie's not here!
This is the usual response from him when he doesn't want to do what I have asked him. I walk into the kitchen and see two socked feet sticking out from the island. I immediately lose patience and switch into what the boys call my "big voice."
Me: Why didn't you put your shoes on?!
I ask this as I round the corner of the island. I see Stevie and his teddy bear on the floor. Both of them are tangled and tied up in kite string. Stevie is laughing at me.
Donnie: (calls from the living room) He told me he had been kidnapped, Mom, so I just left him there for you to find him.
Nice.
About 25 minutes before we needed to walk out the door I told the boys to put their shoes on. I went about getting myself presentable and walked downstairs to get them in the car. Donnie was in the living room ready to go and playing a Lego Star Wars game.
Me: STEEEEVVIIIIIEEEEEEEE!
Stevie: (from the kitchen) Stevie's not here!
This is the usual response from him when he doesn't want to do what I have asked him. I walk into the kitchen and see two socked feet sticking out from the island. I immediately lose patience and switch into what the boys call my "big voice."
Me: Why didn't you put your shoes on?!
I ask this as I round the corner of the island. I see Stevie and his teddy bear on the floor. Both of them are tangled and tied up in kite string. Stevie is laughing at me.
Donnie: (calls from the living room) He told me he had been kidnapped, Mom, so I just left him there for you to find him.
Nice.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Ahhhh spring. A time of germs
Our house has been living with the flu for the last two weeks. Our doctor was shocked at the positive flu screen because he thought the flu season ended about three weeks ago. Donnie had it first and then me. It made for a wonderful spring break.
Last night I commented that we are finally starting to be a healthy family again. I only cough at night and Donnie seems fine.
I forgot to knock on wood.
Donnie woke me up at 2:00 AM and told me he was sick. At 2:30 he vomited on Stevie's bed. At 2:45 I cleaned up Stevie's bed.
At 6:00 AM Stevie wet the bed.
I need a laundry fairy.
Last night I commented that we are finally starting to be a healthy family again. I only cough at night and Donnie seems fine.
I forgot to knock on wood.
Donnie woke me up at 2:00 AM and told me he was sick. At 2:30 he vomited on Stevie's bed. At 2:45 I cleaned up Stevie's bed.
At 6:00 AM Stevie wet the bed.
I need a laundry fairy.
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