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Archive for June, 2010

I prefer my roads well-traveled, thank you.

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

Ever since I wrote this post I’ve been thinking about that Robert Frost poem.  I used to LOVE IT. I didn’t care if it was cliche or was read at almost everyone’s graduations (Aim for the moon, then if you miss, you’ll land among the stars!) but I have to tell you, all of a sudden, I don’t buy it.

Sure, there are plenty of people that do extraordinary things.  People who invent things or discover things or create things.  But honestly, the vast majority of us will live lives in a smaller (yet not unimportant) way, our legacy being our children and the strangers we made into friends and the change we put into play in our communities or jobs or just our homes.  And for some reason, even though the stats are against us, we try to convince children that they need to be extra special.  Smarter.  Faster.  Destined fo great things. Greater than what their parents did.  Greater than what their grandparents did.

What’s so wrong with what they did?

When I graduated college, when I got married, before I had a child, I wanted to be a name.  I wanted people to hear my name and want my opinion and think I was intelligent, a good judge of worth, someone worth listening to.

Now I want to raise my son well.  I want to help provide for my family.  I want to love and support my husband and reach out to my friends and be there for my Mom and Dad and brother if they should ever need me one day.  I want to read good books and teach school and have life insurance.  And a small house.  Maybe a dog, if Camper convinces me one day.

All of this has been done before, it’s the human way.  Some of us will break off, do amazing things that will influence the entire world.  The rest of us will influence a smaller, just as important world.  We’ll give babies baths and administer tests or deliver mail or cook dinner or operate a piece of machinery.  The path we’ll go down has deep ruts from all the people who have gone before, but they are comfortable ruts, carved out by people who loved us and dreamed about our futures.  And by sticking our wheels in those ruts, we’ll go through all kinds of experiences and learn sadness and joy.  And that kind of ordinary life sounds extraordinary to me.

Just sayin’

To My Camper, 21 Months

Saturday, June 19th, 2010

*I usually post his letters over on his website, but I think I’m locked out at the moment. I’ll post it there, later. UPDATE: Remembered my info. Head over there for this same post but with better pictures :)


Dear Camper,

My baby jumper. The inevitable has happened, and you are now almost unstoppable. You’ve gotten out of your crib, making your father and me resort to desperate measures to keep you in. With the crib mattress sitting on the floor in your crib, and one rough night behind us, peace has been restored and you once again love your bed and your sleepies. Phew!

So, what have you been up to, besides this jumping out of the crib mischief? Well, I would have to say some of the sweetest things you’ve done so far have happened this past month.

Take for instance yesterday. We were at the park (PARK!) when one of your little friends saw a bug and FREAKED OUT. He was terrified, his caregiver gave him some lovins and set him up to play in the sandbox. You waddled your little self over to the sandbox to play. When you saw him with the tears in his eyes, just getting over being upset you walked up and put your hand on his shoulder and patted him and said,

“Ooo OK?” and he pointed at the scene of the crime and said, “Bug!”

La La and I watched from across the park, and I think both our hearts melted into little puddles seeing your natural sympathy, your willingness to check on someone else, your desire to make sure he was OK. And the fact that the little boy told you what was up was pretty cool, too! I think that was your first conversation, witnessed and understood by people around you.

Today when we brought you to the lake. I thought you’d be scared of the water. As a matter of fact, I didn’t bring your swim diaper or wear my swimsuit because I was SURE we were beach-bound. But we had hardly arrived when you barreled out into the lake and walked around, following the other children in their floaties and yelling “BOAT!!!” as if they were put in the lake for your own amusement. I ended up stripping you down and running out of the spray on sunblock. Scared of sun burn, I eventually had to use the rub in kind. Just as I got you all sunblocked up you took a step and face planted in the sand. You reminded me, in that instant, of a sprinkle donut. Sand and rocks stuck to the thin layer of sunblock on your chest. But you were so brave. We’ll definitely have to go back.

You’re starting to REALLY communicate. You can tell us what you want, “Cup, cold, peeeese” means water with ice. “Boat peeese” while you’re in the BAP. “Cars, peeeeese” on rainy days and “Ca! Ca!” usually starts us singing for a little while. You also say thank you, sometimes you don’t even have to be prompted, and you still love to cuddle and give snuggles and kisses.

Speaking of cuddles, your second sentence, and the one we hear a million times a day is, “I need a ‘ug.” The first iteration of this was “Mom-ee, I need ‘elp.” But when you realized that we would sometimes tell you to try it on your own, you quickly found that we rarely resist being asked for a ‘ug. It the safest, quickest most surefire way of getting any adults compete attention. And your hugs are GREAT.

You still love trains and cars and Blue’s Clues, although we hardly watch TV anymore thanks to the WONDERFUL OUTSIDE WEATHER. I’m going to really have to do some prep work for this winter to make sure we don’t go back to our old habits, again. It’s been nice watching you recognize birds and clouds and airplanes and lawnmowers. I love when you’re on the swing and you take the hat off so your hair blows in the wind. It reminds me to chase after those little feelings that make every day enjoyable, no matter what else is going on. And my favorite thing? I love when you sing. The other day in the car you were singing quietly to your self, and as we listened we heard,

“I ah ah ah ooo Gooooddddd, eh eh eh me heeerrrrreeeeee.” La La and I were like, “IS HE SINGING CHILD OF GOD??? NO WAY!” Excellent, kiddo. I love to hear your voice.

Well my Bubbs, my jumper, my sweet boy, I love you every day. For all my days and more. I’m glad you’re 21 months old now. Time to start planning your birthday party again! Almost two. Crazy, yo.

Love,

Mom

All our solutions were either asinine or against the law.

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

SO.  Last night.  Yes, the night of nights in which my dear son decided to try to jump out of his crib.  Would’ve made it to, but I found him clinging to the side.  I think he freaked himself out.  He’s started to wake up at different times of the night demanding to sleep with us, and just the last two nights he wouldn’t go to bed on his own at ALL.  That’s right, just after I wrote this post about our ideal bedtime routine and his exquisite cuteness, he called it quits.   And John and I were left, sitting on the floor of his room, wondering if the time for a toddler bed had arrived.

We were freaking out. Panicked.

I want you to understand, I think we’re good parents.  We talk to Camper, play with him, he’s is never out of the care of someone who loves him.  (That one is not necessary to be a good parent, it’s just a choice we make because we have people around him that love him that can also babysit sometimes).  He’s well adjusted and happy.  And I think, even with all the shitake we’ve gone through this last year or so, we’re pretty happy to.

But that happiness is waaaayyyy dependent on sleeping.

And my sleeping well is contingent on NOBODY TOUCHING ME OR LOOKING AT ME OR BREATHING IN MY DIRECTION (and if you think I’m exaggerating I’m really not just ask John) and John’s good night’s rest depends on being able to wear the CPAP machine.  Neither of these things can happen when Camper is in bed with us, because a) he likes to smash his skull into John’s and b) he likes to kick me in the, well.  In a place that girls don’t like to be kicked.

ALSO, when it took 15 minutes to put him to bed (and that included PJ’s and tooth brushing) I had blissful unwinding time.  John would come home and we could eat, or chat, or go for a run or watch TV or I could clean if I needed to or do the laundry or go to book club or go to bed early or watch a movie or talk things out that needed to be talked out or answer the phone when a friend called or…you get the picture.

But last night he didn’t go to bed until after 10.  And by then it was a frantic dash for bed ourselves, just to make sure we got some sleep in.  4am he woke up freakity freaking out and I went in to sleep with him and he woke me up at 5, his nose pressed to mine, saying “Mom-ee?”

Holy crap we needed a solution.

We did brainstorming while we driving around last night trying to get him to chill the frick out.  We though about a new nightlight, in case he was afraid of the dark.  The one we’ve used his whole life is suddenly dead, which makes me sad because it is the light up globe I’ve had since I was a wee girl.  We got a new nightlight and also picked up a bedrail, because our other “brainstormed ideas” included converting his crib to a toddler bed and then sitting in there as he fell asleep until he learned to stay in it, or putting the rail on the twin bed and cosleeping in his room with him.  Other ideas included tying his legs together (WE WERE TIRED PEOPLE, AND OBVIOUSLY WE WE NOT GOING TO DO THIS ONE! Remember the rules of brainstorming? You’re not allowed to veto illegal ideas until a later stage!)(this by the way was very much like the time I thought we should medical tape his pacifier to his face.  I was really tired, then, too, and quickly saw how that was a bad plan) and creating various barriers around his crib with walls, dressers and then covering the floor with pillows, etc.  None of that had to happen, though, because he did fall asleep in the car and slept til 4am and THEN, TODAY, we came up with

THE SOLUTION.

We lowered his crib.  Now I know what you’re thinking. “But Erin, his crib was on the lowest setting already.  You blogged about that when you went through the recall last year” and yes, it was. (And wow.  Not only did I blog about that but I REMEMBERED that I blogged it. Pathetic.)  But I wondered if the floor would work, and it does.  I’ll have to take pictures to show you how NON GHETTO it looks, but it turns out that the wooden platform that the mattress sits on could be lowered completely to the ground and didn’t slide out from under the crib, and the mattress can sit on it without and dangerous situations happening.  I even jumped my own butt into the crib to check it out, and it passed muster.  I’ll get around to taking a few pictures, and if you can see any potential dangers you’ll have to let me know.

And then he cried again.  He cried at naptime and then he cried at bedtime, and I’m left a little confused.  I’m into the whole attachment parenting thing, but in my experience we’re ALL HAPPIER and ALL SLEEP BETTER (even Camper) in different rooms.  We’ve had a couple rough spots in the past, usually after he’s been sick, but there has been maybe one night of fussing and then he’s back to blowing kisses and snuggling in.  But I think I’ll watch closely this time to make sure he’s not feeling too alone.  It’s hard for me to think of sacrificing MY alone time, but if he needs me to sit in there with him while he falls asleep, we might have to consider it.  We shall see, we shall see.

All I know is that once we finally got him to fall asleep this afternoon, we couldn’t get him OUT of his crib.  After three hours John and I took turns trying to get him to wake up, and he’d open an eye at us and then snuggle back in.  Maybe he’s just trying to prepare us for teenagerhood?

Sigh.

To Be Invited

Friday, June 11th, 2010

Oh life.  To be honest, I have a really good life.  But sometimes I think reading other people’s blogs and catching up with people on Facebook gets me down.  Maybe if the things I left behind would just stay behind, I could be happier right now.  Maybe without all the pictures and records I could have just faint memories to make me happy, and then of course the people who are still in my life to share things with now.  Things that we share NOW.

But no.  This weekend will be the Scranton reunion.  Class of ’05.  Interestingly enough, although I started out at Scranton in ’01, I didn’t graduate in ’05, and I didn’t graduate from Scranton.  I graduated in ’08 from BYU, a world away.  My junior year in college brought a lot of changes.  I hadn’t concerned myself with who I was for about three years.  I basically immersed myself in a new group of people, a new culture, a new place- with good and bad results.  About three years into it I was happy with what I had become.  I found friends that I love with my whole heart to this day.  I learned how to be a good friend to them. (Still learning.)  I figured a lot of stuff out about education and the direction I wanted my life to go, and I wasted a lot of time doing nothing.  Being 18, 19, 20, 21.  It was glorious.  But then I realized that with this new self that had developed, someone more confident and happy and more educated- that I needed to add back in some of the things that made me who I was before.  And that meant God.  Now Scranton was a Jesuit University, which meant that we talked about God a LOT.  Theology was part of the curriculum.  There were statues of Saints on the campus and every afternoon the bells on one of the dormitories rang out in hymns. (3pm?) And I will always, always love the Catholic faith.  I don’t know if it is nostalgia or appreciation or just the truth and friends I found there, but I love it.  And I always will.  But during that time I had forgotten what it meant to be a Latter Day Saint.  I had gotten really relaxed about my specific religion, and I thought that I needed to figure out whether I believed it for myself once and for all.  Long story short, I figured out that I did.  I really, really did believe in the LDS faith, and when I figured that out I realized that I needed to do something about it.

So I went on a mission.

I remember a lot of my friends and professors asking me, “Why now? Why not wait a year and graduate and go then?” And I had no answer except “God can see my life from beginning to end.  If he thinks it should be now, who am I to question?” And I knew that I was supposed to go.  And it ripped my heart out.  And with every graduation picture I see, or reunion that I don’t get an invite to (people who take a leave-of-absence and never come back aren’t on the list) it STILL hurts.  But even now when I ask myself that question, “Why now?” I see faces in my mind.  People in England, where I went, families that were hurting that the Gospel put back together.  Maybe any missionary could have done it, maybe anyone with our message could have offered those people what they were looking for.  But I was there.  I did it.  And I’m amazingly grateful for those pictures in my mind, the faces of people who taught me what Christian service was.

And then BYU.  I finished my degree, planted my shallow roots in an area just long enough to find John.  Possibly the only person in this entire world to be as loving and as patient and as perfect for me as I need him to be.  And then there was my Camper.  Our baby that we were going to wait until we were financially ready for, our child that we were going to wait to have, which we didn’t…end up waiting for…And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  And we struggle.  Every day we struggle to provide for ourselves, to use what little time and energy we have to build a life for our little family, and we love each other.  And we get to live with my parents, who are devoted, life-long parents.  People who relish the nearness of their grandson and their children.  And through all of this I’ve learned what family means, and how amazing it is to have people to count on.  People who make life better, who bear each other’s burdens.

And even still, this weekend, that life I gave up beckons me.  It calls and makes me wish I could have had BOTH lives.  The one I have now filled with people, and the one I left behind with graduation hats and tassels and me finishing a PhD right now and becoming the academic I always wanted to be.  But I can’t have both, and I’m glad that out of the two, I have the one filled with love and people with arms to hug me a little hand reaching out to me to help him go down a slide.  I just wish, I guess, that I got an invitation.  That I could go and show my friends from then who I am now, introduce them to John and Camper and catch up.  I wish that in giving up that last year that I could still belong to that group of people.  That would be nice.  Even though I would be welcomed, if I could afford to go, people would want to see me again.  Still, it would be nice to get an invitation.

While I was on mission a woman gave a talk and asked us to think of sacrifice less as sacrifice, as more as consecration.  We weren’t giving things up for the Lord, we were giving things TO him.  And we were asked, that day as well, “Do you really think that what you’re giving up in any way compares to what He has to give you?” So I cling to that.  To think that I’m already so blessed, and that what I gave up will seem small.  This heartache I feel is nothing compared to what I’ve been spared NOT following the way that I know I should go.  It’s the hardest part about not being two travelers.  Not even one and a half.  Just me, and I am where I am.  And it’s a good place to be.

I’m gonna need another Twizzler.

Tuesday, June 8th, 2010

Way long day.  Not bad, just long. In all of it, though, I’m just amazed by my son lately.  I thought in lieu of a play-by-play (I taught piano, ate a Twizzler, did laundry, etc.) I’d give you a list of new Camper-like activities. For those who care to read.

-When he lays down at night now, instead of asking for an extra hug, he lays all straight so that I can cover him up with his BANK (soft blankie, the fleecy kind) and then his quilt, made by La La.  Then he rolls onto his left side, blows me a kiss and closes his eyes.  Every. Night. Every. Afternoon.

-About once an hour, at least, he’ll yell out, “Mommy! I need a ‘ug!” And then he gets a hug.  Sometimes he wants if from Daddy, La La or Pop Pop, but the inkling for a ‘ug can come at any time.  High chair, toy car, sitting on the couch.  I worry a little that it means he’s somehow emotionally unstable…but I actually think he’s just copying us.  Because he’s got 3 adults that needs hugs from him all day long, too.

-Last Wednesday? I think? he switched from calling me “Mom Mom” and John “Dad Dad” to Mommy and Daddy. I have no idea why.

-His two favorite books right now are The Little Engine that Could (Choo Choo!) and Kiss Kiss, a story about a baby hippo who forgot to give his mom a kiss before going out to play one morning.  Both come from Emily.  Thanks Em :) He runs into his room and says, “Choo Choo!” or “Kiss Kiss!” before every “sleepies time.”

-He’s starting to put on little “skits” for his toys.  He’ll walk them up to each other and say, “Hi! No! Bye!” and then walk them away.  Or his favorite, “I need a ‘ug!”

-One of his favorite, more violent habits is to suddenly yell “EYES!!!!” and poke whoever is holding him in the eyes with his fingers.

-When you’re holding him, he’ll stretch his arms out to the sides and then bring his palms to rest on your cheeks, squeeze and say “Ug.”

I think he’s obsessed with ‘ugs.

My life is either way too exciting or way too boring, but either way I’m a horrible blogger lately.

Saturday, June 5th, 2010

Today my mother and I spent at least 20 minutes sharing, line by line, our favorite Cosby episodes and causing each other knee-slapping laughter.  We bought tomato plants, but I think we left them on the front lawn by mistake.  John caught major bad guys at work, and although he is still WAY under payed he is no longer unappreciated.  At least this week.  Left to my own devices this evening I first watched that part of the Will Smith vampire movie when the little boy is separated from his mother because her eye scan doesn’t go very well (TRAGIC, I CAN’T DEAL WITH THAT CRAP) and then a medical marvels show about some little girl who had half her body amputated for no reason, and has a disease where her body is slowly turning to bone.  With that on the brain, I then switched to New Moon, which John will surely mock me for when he gets home.

Life may change soon.  Just enough that I don’t go crazy.  Or it may not, and I’ll have to keep it together because that’s what life is about.

Either way, I’m going to take some Nyquil in about 20 minutes and hopefully sleep peacefully until Camper wakes up at the Butt Crack of Dawn.

And does this.

062

And some of this.

bed

Until we get our behinds out of bed and he does some of this.

115

Night, all.