Highlights!

Yesterday my friend and I were talking about the new year that is a few hours away now. She asked me what were my highlights from this year. I told her I would really have to think about that one. Hers was treatment for a medical condition

which made her life a lot easier and more healthier. I told her I knew that hers was going to be that. She had been suffering with this medical problem for years and finally she found a way to get it taken care of. I am very happy that she did. 

So, then I started to think about myself. Well, this year I didn't do anything so amazing like have a baby, get married, move to another state or country, climb a mountain, ski across country, break a world record or anything like that. I was thinking I had more low lights then highlights. After all, I have been through a lot with my mom with her getting sick and all the stuff that goes along with that. But, that highlight would be she is still here with me. She is slowly getting better the best she can. She won't be fully her old self again not with her onset of dementia but she is still here and I get to talk to her everyday, share with her things about how and what I am feeling, cook for her and take care of her when she needs me. I hope to have her here for a lot more years. Of course the low lights would be the medical bills but, that will all work itself out even if it takes the next 20 years to pay them. lol I am just feeling blessed that she is still with us.

Then I thought about my son. He didn't do anything so spectacular this year. He was just being a kid. He went from 9 years old to 10 years old and now has a 13 year old attitude. But, we still laugh together and he is not sick and I am so thankful for that. I have read about a lot of kids that were not so fortunate and are not with us today. I am glad mine is and thriving. A highlight for him this year was an unexpected one. Last week he got a Christmas card in the mail. That part was not so unexpected but the person who sent it was. It came from his paternal grandmother. She hasn't sent him a card since he has been born. She barely acknowledges his existence. He has got all of two gifts from her in ten years. One was a big wheel when he was 2 that his father never could figure out how to put together. The other was a musical toy that she got from the thrift store when he was first born. So, to get this card was a surprise and an ever bigger surprise was the fact she put $20 in it and wrote a personal note. I had to call and find out if she was okay and of course my son called to thank her too. 

Next I thought about all the things that I do have that lots of people don't and as long as I have the basics I am pretty good. I have food, a roof and clothes. And I thought about a time not so long ago, about 7 years ago when I didn't. I feel blessed just to wake up everyday in a bed, my own bed. And I feel blessed to have a kitchen. I missed having a kitchen. It sounds strange to miss a kitchen but I did and even missed cooking. 

And I thought about my health. I am lucky to be in good health. Not the best but I am improving that over time. But, at least I am not in a hospital fighting for my life. I feel blessed for that too.

So, I told my friend that my highlight of the year was surviving the year. All the ups and downs and in betweens. I am still here to see another year. 

Happy New Year!

Hope

A few days ago I was talking to my mom about her sister, my aunt. Back in the day my aunt and I were very close. She was also very close to my mom. I grew up with her kids, my cousins and for a long time they lived next door to us. Then things went bad about 8 or 9 years ago as things sometimes do in families. Things got complicated and people said and did things that shouldn't have been said or done and then silence began between two sisters who were so close for over 60 years. Unfortunately, the silence started right before my son's second birthday so he never really got to know his grand aunt at all. He has met her and she has held him as a baby but he doesn't remember her at all. In fact, he told me that he forgot that his grandma had a sister. He heard us talking and only then did he remember that she had one.

He asked me basic questions of what she looked like. I had a picture that I showed him and then the questions got harder. He asked what happened between her and grandma and how come they don't talk anymore or why she doesn't visit. I really didn't know what to tell him. I didn't really want to rehash the exact story. I thought it would be too much for him to understand. Heck, I don't even understand it sometimes. I didn't want to make the story so simple that it would just lead to more questions from his little inquiring mind that I know I wouldn't have the answers to. I pondered that question in my mind for a minute and then I told him that sometimes things happen in families and with friends that make a person angry so angry that they can't talk to the person for a while until they aren't angry anymore. That was the best I could come up with. I really didn't want to get into who did and said what. He would learn that when he is older. I am sure that someone will give him that blow by blow but until then I thought that he didn't need to know now. I hope that never happens but knowing this family I am sure that one day someone who knows will communicate the whole terrible story to him. 

Of course, he asked more questions and I changed the subject casually. I am not sure if that was the right thing to do but I did it nonetheless. I told him that maybe one day he will see his grand aunt again. I hope that someday he will and that someday his grandmother and her sister will talk again and all of what happened back then will be water under the bridge but in reality I know it probably will never happen but one can have HOPE. 

Family Pictures

Well, another holiday has come and gone. Thanksgiving was a small event with a lot of food at my house. I don't have a lot of family that I celebrate the holidays with anymore. Now, my family celebrations consist of 5-8 people depending on the holiday. Times have changed and we have with the times. I guess that it was time for a change like it or not. Holidays used to be a bigger celebration when my grandparents were alive. Two tables were necessary. We had one for the grown ups and one for the kids. Back then it was 5-6 kids and about the same number of grown ups. I loved the kid table even when I wasn't a "kid" anymore I still ate there with my cousins and my sister and brother. The grown up table had too much drama for us. We couldn't talk about kid stuff at the grown up table and we couldn't eat our food the way we wanted to without getting lectured on the right fork to eat the turkey with. Of course it was confusing with 50 forks on the table who knew at 10 years old which one to eat the salad with and the turkey with. All we knew was that a fork was a fork. But, my step grandfather he was very specific which fork was which and what to it with which. Hence, we stayed at the kid table with only one fork involved. At the grown up table they were always talking about boring things that we didn't want to hear, mostly how we had misbehaved over the month leading up to Thanksgiving. Us, kids on the other hand would talk about the fun we had misbehaving and how we tried not to get in trouble. 

The kids table was just far enough from the grown up table so we could talk in peace. Of course, we always thought we were talking quieter then we really were and the grown ups heard just about every word we said but we had fun anyway. Pie time was our favorite time. We all got to pick what kind of pie we wanted to eat and nobody ever picked that minced meat pie that my grandfather would always get and nobody would eat it but him. After the pie there was always some little treats to take home. 

Those were the days. I miss those days and wish sometimes that I could repeat them with my son. But, my grands are gone and so is the house that my grands used to live in. They wanted it, the house, to remain in the family, after they passed but as I found out after people die other people become vultures and mean and nasty and so the house unfortunately was utlimately I consider buried with them. In other words sold to someone else. So, this year and all the years since then the family, cousins, aunts, uncles haven't spoken to each other basically, the few that are left on my mom's side, and each have went different ways. We moved to a small apartment in a neighborhood that is so-so. My aunt kept her house in the small city she has lived in since her second child was born and she kept her rental property which my mom rented from her for over 30 years before she moved, my uncle moved into a senior housing complex, my sister got married and moved to an apartment with her husband, the cousins some live with their parents and a couple live on their own in the same city my aunt lives in. They all have their own holiday celebrations I would imagine. I see pictures posted on Facebook from time to time with them eating turkey or opening Christmas gifts. I see pictures of their kids and grands and it makes me a little sad. Sad, because this is what we have become as a family. 

I regret not taking pictures when we were all as one big happy family sitting around a table or tables happily talking and en\joying eachother's company. I loved taking pictures but back then didn't have a camera. Sometimes I would have an inexpensive camera, the old fashion back in the day kind, where you needed film and had to go and actually get the film developed. I was thinking about that over this past Thanksgiving when we were all stuffing our faces with turkey and dressing and mashed potatoes. Thinking about how I missed all the picture taking opportunities back in the day. I wished that we were a more picture taking family 30 years ago. I wished that we had captured all those happy moments of all the celebrations and picnics we had back then. I wished that all the pictures in my mind could be printed out and I could frame them and show them to my son. 

Of course, none of that is possible now. I have the memories that I share with him and even though we don't have the "traditional" family celebrations that we had back in the day I still want to take some pictures for him so he can tell his kids about back in the day and show them in pictures. 

Too Small!

My son is "crazy" in a good way though. I don't understand kids sometimes and he is no exception. Now, my son is into basketball and football. A few years ago his grandmother, his dad's mom, gave him some jersey type shirts and pants. They were similar to basketball pants and shirts. He wouldn't have nothing to do with them. At the time he didn't wear anything with no sleeves. And to him those shirts had no sleeves. So, I put them in the "maybe one day he will want to wear them before he gets too big to wear them box" in the closet. So, time went on and on and on and he never once showed an interest in wearing anything but his "normal" shirts and jeans. That all changed two nights ago. 

I saw him rummaging in a small box that was in the closet. It didn't occur to me what he was looking for and neither did I ask since I was on the phone trying to get a bill straight for my mom. By the time I was off the phone and the rummaging was done I knew what he was looking for because he was wearing it.  He walked out of the room with a blue basketball type shirt on. It was too sizes too small and I have no clue how he managed to squeeze himself into it. But nevertheless he had it on and it looked like any minute it would tear and pop off of his growing body. He was smiling at his discovery of a too small shirt. I was shaking my head. I reminded him that he is not in that size anymore that he is two sizes bigger almost. He told me well, he didn't want to wear it until now. I couldn't disagree with that all I could do was continue to shake my head. Then  he tried to stretch it down more to the top of his shorts. It didn't work. So, he pulled it some more this time from the back of the shirt. He was determined to try to make this shirt work for him. Finally after a few minutes of pulling and twisting and wishing that the shirt would fit him he gave up and took it off. 

I gave out a sigh of relief that he finally figured out that the shirt was way too small and moved to the next room giving myself an invisible pat on the back. That happy feeling didn't last long. He came out of the room a few minutes later with another shirt on. Of course, this one was too small too. I think this time I think a size and half too small. I didn't say anything and he figured out that there was no amount of pulling and twisting that was going to make that shirt fit. I think it is time to buy him bigger basketball shirts. Perhaps for Christmas.

Being a Kid

When I was growing up I loved going outside to play with my sister and cousins who lived right next door. So, I can understand why my son likes it too. I used to be somewhat of what they called a "Tom Boy" back then because I liked to climb trees, play baseball, run and jump and keep up with all the boys in the neighborhood, they had nothing on me and everything they did, almost everything, I did too. I did have some common sense not to try to jump off of the garage roof like one of my friends did back in the day. He didn't get hurt luckily but it was not a very smart thing to do and when his parents found out I didn't see him outside for a month. But, I did have my moments of doing dumb things like riding my bike down a hill and using nothing but my feet to stop it at the bottom of the hill and wear out a good pair of sneakers. My parents didn't appreciate that too much and I was grounded for a week after they looked at my shoes.  

So, yesterday while my son was in the house taking a break from the outside for a while looking out of the window and pouting about why he could not go out and play kick ball or whatever kind of ball some neighborhood kids were playing at the time I noticed that one of the balls they were playing with ended up in the sewer. I was thinking oh well, that is the end of that ball and that kid might be in trouble once he explains what happened to his ball to his mom or dad. But, to my horror that didn't happen. I saw the kid go to the swer and bend down all the way to the ground and lie flat on the street and attempt to crawl in the swer to get the ball out. I ran outside in shock and horror and told him not to do it. It was just a ball for pete's sake and the boy looked at me like I had three eyes and said that it was no big deal he has done it before and never gotten stuck or hurt. Well, I didn't want him to proceed with this in my mind nonscense and so I told him that might be the case but did he know that rats live down there and that he might see one or worse. The little boy looked shocked and said no he didn't know that. And just around that time his mom joined us with the same look of horror on her face that I had. Needless to say that ball stayed right where it was and the little boy got a long lecture as his mom took him home. I also told my son not to ever, ever go in a sewer

to get anything if a ball goes down there let it stay there. He agreed. I just hope that he actually listened to me. 

When my son did go back out to play they kicked the ball over the man's fence next door. We don't have a yard so they basically play in front of the building and next to the man's fence next door.  I had warned my son about that too. Not to do it because there was going to be a time when the man next door would get tired of them ringing the bell asking for a ball that belonged to one of them. That day came yesterday again when he politely asked them not to do it again and gave them all apples which one of the boys proceeded to throw at another boy.  These boys don't have the best manners in the world. The neighbor got upset about that too as anyone would and asked the boy not to throw fruit or anything else at anyone. The boy complied and they all left the yard. 

Like I said I have done some dumb things too when I was growing up but these kids really take the cake sometimes as I watch them play. The things that they think are great ideas have me shaking my head for days.  Today is kind of a cold outside so my son is playing alone for now and I doubt that anyone will show up and since today is Sunday too, which is a slow not having kids outside too much day I suspect that he will get bored playing by himself in the allotted time I have given him and be ready to come inside for a change. Most days I get the why can't I stay out until midnight begging. (ok not really midnight but you get my point) Today will be different and to me that is a day that is all good. 

Fence Hopper

have 3 nephews and noticed that boys do the darnest  things when they are little and my son is no exception. I remember that all of my now grown nephews "escaped" from the house when they were little and they all ended up around the corner at the mini market eating ice cream. I remember all the things that their friends told them to do and they did it. Most of those things got them into trouble but nonetheless they did them anyway. I remember my oldest nephews friend grounded from Halloween one year and actually made a "rope" out of sheets and blankets, similar to what you see on an old black and white movie, and climbed out of his bedroom window to go trick or treating when he was 8 years old. Of course, he got caught and got in trouble and couldn't eat any of his Halloween candy that year and was banned from trick or treating for the next year. That next Halloween his parents watched him more closely and there was no sneaking out. Just going to the door to give out candy in his monster costume. 

So, it came as no surprise when yesterday my son did something not so smart. My next door neighbor's house looks like a compound. I kid you not. You can't see his house from the street. It is hidden behind a tall fence and you would have to be a giant to see anything but the few trees that hang over the fence and a couple of flowering plants that hang on the other side. Other then that you can't see anything. From my porch I can see part of his side yard and a sliding glass door and one apple tree. That is it and only because my porch is a little higher then his house. But, just passing by it you might miss it. It reminds me of a house that a celebrity would live in if they lived in this neighborhood. House far from the street  secluded in the back where nobody can see you come and go if you didn't want them too.  I guess he is sort of like a celebrity though since he was on Oprah in the 90's. He wrote some book on diversity or some books on diversity and he gives courses to other people on that subject. One year he had a seminar at this house and passed out flyers that asked the neighbors to be quiet because they were filming it.  So, I guess he is well off, upper middle class and can afford to have a house hidden away from the prying eyes. 

Now, the trouble with that is the neighbor kids, including my son, who like to play ball. Any kind of ball, especially their version of football which involves kicking the ball as well as throwing it. So, you can imagine that the ball has traveled over his fence many times in spite of me telling them to be careful and play not so close to his fence. At first he was nice about getting the balls for them and throwing them over the fence when he was home. I cautioned them, my son and his friends again, and even told them I would take my son's ball away if they couldn't seem to keep the ball on their side of the world. They did good for a while. But, with kids, nothing good lasts for too long especially when you are playing a ball game. 

Yesterday, I heard one of them say, "Oh no." I knew that met only something bad. I went out to see and sure enough not one but two balls had been kicked "accidentally" over the fence and the guy was not home. They agreed to wait until he came home to ask if he could get the balls or if they could get them. That agreement lasted all of ten seconds. I then heard my son's voice calling me. I went to investigate. He was over in the other yard and said he was stuck. I saw him standing up so I said what did he mean stuck. He said he can't get back over the fence. I held back the urge to lecture him on the spot. I said I would save that until we found a way to get him back on the side of fence he was supposed to be on.  It seemed that the way he got over, climbing on top of the garbage can on the other side of the fence was not a good way to get back over because of course the garbage can he used was on the wrong side of the fence. But, he said that his friend who went over in the past said that there was something on that other side that he could climb on to get back.  Of course there wasn't. I told my son to go to the gate in the front of the compound and try to open it. He tried. I tried and neither of us could. I rang the door bell positioned outside of the gate in the hopes that someone might be visiting the man and they might be inside and open the door and the gate. No such luck. 

Then I got the idea of crates. Yes, we had some old crates that my nephew, whom I call, "Fred Sanford" from Sanford and Son the TV show, because he is a junk collector and always has been. If it is at the curb with a free sign he will take it. I went and got the 3 crates and hurled them over the side of the fence where he was stuck and told him to stack them and climb up on them that should give him enough height to hurl his butt back over to the other side. That worked. 

So, when the neighbor got home my son asked him for the crates back. He gave him a puzzled look and my son told him the story. He was nice about it and he asked my son and his friends not to throw or kick any more balls in his yard. I guess he got tired of retrieving them and the crates and being stuck were probably the straw. I figured that much. I gave them all a long talking to about the balls and playing too close to his yard and then told my son to come inside with his balls for the rest of the day because he knew better.  He was not a happy camper and proceeded to wine and beg to go back out and give me and the neighbor an apology but that didn't help his case any and he was grounded for the rest of the day. 

I know that people say that boys will be boys and I guess they are right. But, when I look back when I was his age I hate to admit it but I did almost the same thing. Climbing a fence to get a ball but I didn't get stuck. I guess what they say about apples and trees applies too. 

Tricks and Treats and Births

I have always enjoyed Halloween although I never really considered it a "real" holiday but when I was little I loved getting dressed up and going out with my sister and cousins getting free candy. Back then there were no cell phones so if we were a tad late coming home we would try to sneak in and pretend that we didn't know what time it was. It didn't work but we tried. Back then my sister and I never brought costumes we always just used what we had in the house and dressed up in whatever and made our own costumes. One year, my aunt and uncle had just come back from Hawaii a couple weeks before Halloween and they brought us back some souvenirs. I got a fake grass shirt, a lay, and a fake flower for my hair so that year I was a hula dancer. I put the skirt on over my pants and all the other stuff on and I was the talk of the neighborhood. I can't remember what my sister was but probably something similar. One year I was a hobo, dressed in old clothes that were too big a little and mis matched. Another year I was a homemaker with curlers in my hair, a robe and tennis shoes. And one year I was just dressed up in my mom's old clothes and called myself a professional woman. Everyone used to say that my costumes were so creative. My father took us out and my mom stayed home. 

So, every year since my son was about 2 we have been going out trick or treating. This year, as in every year since we have moved to this neighborhood almost, we have gone to our old neighborhoods to trick or treat. Because around here there are mostly apartments and businesses and nobody really gives out anything. And we like to go and see how things have changed back in our two old neighborhoods. We only have two that we have lived in since he was born plus this one. So, my son bugs me as soon as he wakes up in the morning about what time we are going and what he is going to bring to put his candy in and he was more anxious then I was at his age. The time finally came, almost. My sister wanted to come and so after work she came over and we went to take her to cash her check and on the road we were trying to figure out where to go. We passed by our first old neighborhood in Albany, CA. Drove down the street we used to live on and they fixed up our old house we used to live in with lights and halloween decorations and it looked really nice. There were a large group of kids already in line trying to get to the door to get some free candy. We decided to do a little more driving. We saw a few more kids out, mostly little kids under 5 and so we made the decision to go to our last old neighborhood north of where we live now.

The street we used to live on at the time we used to live there was filled with kids mostly around the same age as my son was back then. One neighbor used to laugh and say that the neighborhood was filled with 2 year olds. There were a few senior citizens who had been there for years and owned their homes and knew us because at that time we lived in my grandmother's old house and everyone knew her and they always saw us coming and going over the years. So, we were known as Elsie's grand kids and great grand kids. 

Well, we couldn't go trick or treating on that block because it was blocked off and no cars were permitted to go down that street nor were any lights on in any of the houses.  I guess that street was boycotting Halloween. The scrooge of Halloween lived on that street, all of the new people who moved there probably.  I don't know who lives on that block now. The last time we trick or treated that block was two or three years ago but times have sure changed down there. There was only one house that was decorated and that house sat on the corner, not really connected to that street.  I was speechless.  But, I was thinking that was okay we had other houses and places to go to around there. 

We migrated near the little tot park and parked. Now, there they celebrated Halloween like it should be celebrated. Almost every house was decorated with pumpkins and lights and ghosts and it was like a Halloween wonderland. My son was happy and so was I. We got out of the car and proceeded to trick or treat every house we saw decorated and that was a lot of houses. In the first fifteen minutes his small happy meal sized Halloween bucket was almost full. Not only did they give candy away but they gave you more then one. Halloween bliss came over everyone. I was getting ready for my personal sugar high once we got home. I almost got tempted to eat a few bite size snickers bars before we got home but I restrained myself and my son and we carried on.  What we did notice was a lot more families were together trick or treating. I saw a lot of grandmothers and grandfathers going along with the parents of the kids enjoying Halloween just as much as they were. They giggled along with the kids at the sight of all the decorated porches and jumped when they got to houses that played scary Halloween music. They chatted with me about their grand kids and about their memories of Halloween. The parents were busy taking pictures of kids who for the most part were all under 7 and making sure the said thank you after they got their treats. It was nice. Some parents dressed up with their kids. I was not one of those. Even though I enjoy Halloween my days of dressing up I think are gone with the wind.  But, the parents who did dress up were cute. 

We stopped at one house and this older woman opened the door who kind of reminded me of  my own grandmother. She asked my son who he was, which was Naurto, and she asked all about his costume and asked him could he hold on a minute because her 90 year old mother wanted to see his costume. He proudly stood on the porch and waited for her to see him and told her all about his costume and the cartoon which gave him the costume idea.  They talked to him for a little bit and gave him more candy and told him to have a nice night. I think that was the best part about trick or treating, those two ladies who were interested in the stories my son had to tell about his costume. 

On the way home the night just got better. Not because of the boat load of candy that I was secretly plotting on "stealing" some from my son and putting myself on a mini sugar high, which was pretty darn good too, but my sister got a text from her step daughter who said that she had had her baby girl.  So, we had two reasons to celebrate Halloween this year. And next year we will have a new person to take trick or treating with us. It can't get better than that. 

Lesson Learned

My son had to learn a life lesson the other day about money. One that we all eventually learn over and over again sometimes. There is this little boy who lives at the corner in this huge apartment building with his mom. He comes down to play with my son from time to time. This little boy is a year younger then my son but more street smart then my son and he knows it too. I try to cut off as much of the "bull" as I can but sometimes things happen and they have to learn. So, this particular day they were outside playing and they got the bright idea to ask permission to go to the corner store. I said it was ok, since we know the owners of the store pretty well and the store is about 3 minutes away walking distance. My son collects his $3 that he had from his allowance and off they go. They come back in the allotted time and the little boy is happily eating chips and holding on to an ice cream bar in the other hand. My son is drinking some lemonade he got in a can. All seems good between them.  They happily play for another 45 minutes until the boy's mom comes to pick him up and my son comes inside too. A little while later my son said that he spent all of his money at the store. I only saw him drinking one can of lemonade so I knew that was not possible if he spent his money only on his stuff. One can costs 75 cents not $3. Then he tells me that the little boy didn't have any money so he asked to borrow $2 telling my son that he was hungry and his mom was not home so he didn't' have anything to eat for hours and hours. I am not sure how true that was but I let him continue. So, my son said that he felt sorry for him and let him borrow $2 the boy said he would pay him back the next day. I really didn't believe it but held my tounge and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

So, the next day came and went and no little boy. He didn't see that little boy for a week and when he did that same little boy was walking from the store with another little boy holding on to some chips and a soda. My son asked him when was he going to pay him back. The little boy just looked like my son was speaking a language which he couldn't understand and sort of shook his head and kept walking. The boy he was walking with said that their friend just borrowed money from him too. I told my now upset and confused son that sometimes people will borrow money from you with no intention of paying you back it is just a part of life. A cruel part of life that we all had to learn. You can't lend money to everyone.

My son was not happy but he understood that he learned a lesson that day. He still plays with that little boy from time to time but he will never loan him money again he says. He says the next time he is hungry he will just make him a sandwich and feed him. I think he made the right decision.

Hawk Mom

My son loves playing outside. When I tell him to come inside it is like I am telling him to walk the plank or something. I do understand his love of the outdoors though. Way back when in the late 70's and 80's I had that same love for the outside. I would stay outside all day in the summer time with my sister and cousins. I think that my mom preferred it that way most of the time and so did my aunt. But, when it was time to come in it was just time and nobody liked it but nobody did any pouting or  moping around or mumbling certain words that we weren't allowed to say under our collective breaths. We did as we were told. When those street lights came on we better be in the house ten seconds later. We knew that if we didn't that we would be in big trouble and not be allowed to go out and play the next day. Those were the days.

Flash forward to about 30 years later. Now, it is my son's turn to play outside with the neighborhood kids. But, it is a whole lot different. I have to almost shadow his every move, almost. I tell him that he has to stay in front of the house where I can see him and he can see me if I go out to the front porch and he definitely has to stay in hearing and running distance to the house if he needs to run inside. Most of the kids he plays with have brothers, sisters, or cousins that kind of watch each other's back but he is an only child and really doesn't have that kind of support and is not really close to any of them to be treated like kin folks. So, therefore I am a little too protective sometimes with his outside activities. The neighbors aren't like the neighbors that I grew up with. When I grew up they all looked out for you. If you were doing something that you weren't supposed to they told on you and you got in trouble. Now, these neighbors could actually care less unless you bump their car playing ball accidently, or you are a little too loud when they are trying to read inside their homes or you are disturbing them in another way then they might look out of their collective doors to tell you to be more quiet and even that is a long shot and doesn't happen too often. Around here to each their own. It saddens me to a point to see this. I am more old school I guess. If I see a child doing something that is wrong I will tell him and tell his parents. The parents don't seem to mind me telling them but neither are they anywhere in sight when their kids are all over the neighborhood  for hours at a time.

So, I went to check on my son as I do like every 5-10 minutes just to check to see what he is doing and whom he is doing it with so his friend says to him, "Oh there's your mom AGAIN." and he made a face like he was going to faint. I just smiled and said, "Yes it is me again and I will be back again, and again and again if that is what it takes to keep you all safe."  The look on his face was a Kodak moment. I don't think he expected that answer. Nor did I expect to give him one. I guess one of the drawbacks of apartment living is that since there is no backyard or front yard that it makes it harder to play where you are supposed to play. But, nothing I can really do about that right now but tell him where he can and can't play and watch him like a hawk. Some day he might thank me for it. Maybe. Or at least tell his children how granny was when he was 9 when they are 9.

Party Planning

I have never been a big birthday celebration person. Sure I like the cake, ice cream and even blowing out the candles. But, parties have never really been my thing. I had one big birthday party at my grandmother's house when I was either 7 or 8. That was it. My grandmother would have loved if I had big parties every year at her house. She loved everything about parties. If she hadn't become a nurse she probably would have been one awesome party planner. I guess I am not big on parties partly because my mom wasn't either. 

I didn't think my son would want enormous birthday parties either and for 9 years he really didn't. But, this year all that changed for his 10 th  birthday coming up in December. I have a huge headache just thinking about it. He wants all of his newly friended neighborhood kids. There are two whom live directly across the street. And the rest live down the block he just met a couple weeks ago. I am not sure if any of them 
Would come since when he asked the two across street one immediately chimed in and said they can't come they have football practice without even knowing any other details. I chalked it up to kids being kids. But, I remember when I was a kid and someone said birthday party with free cake, ice cream, and goody bags I was begging my mom to go. I guess times and even kids have changed. They don't get excited about simple backyard parties anymore. In this case a parking lot party since we don't have a backyard or a bigger place. I was hoping by this time we would but life had other ideas. I just do the best I can.

So, anyway, in late November I will set out on the task of putting the finishing touches on a party that I apparently need to start planning today. I just hope it doesn't rain.

Wise Words

When I was pregnant with my son this older lady about my mom's age told me having kids when you are older is great except for one thing that you won't have the energy as they get older and you go through " the change" as she put it. That was something I never thought of. I  was just happy to be having a baby.  
I began to think about it that day. Then I shook my head and said no that won't be me. Little did I know a few years later probably around the time my son turned five. My energy was leaving me faster than I could count to ten. I said to myself out loud this was ridiculous. So, then just as I was attempting to get myself in better shape or some shape period menopause crept up or peri menopause as they called it snuck up out of nowhere. My energy level quickly went to none. But I was determined not to let this get the better of me. I changed my diet, got more excerise and was on the road back to me. 

Today, I still have a lot of work to do and occasionally I think about that conversation many moons ago with that wise woman.

And We're Off!

Today was a day filled with energy. Not my energy though. My son rode his bike yesterday 3000 miles, OK, not that many, but when you start off walking behind the bike then gradually a slow jog to a full out run and then yelling for him to stop because you can't feel your legs anymore it felt like that to me. I was thinking I need a motorized scooter like you see on the commercials to keep up with this child. But even that might not be fast enough. 

So, all the while when I was trying not to collapse on the sidewalk I was thinking the light at the end of this long road would be he'd be good and tired and bedtime would be a breeze. That one thought kept me going for blocks, past barking dogs, cats, people and a few birds over head. I was so looking forward to him coming in the house and eating dinner and taking his bath and going to bed early. I was going to bask in my me time and ice my sore knees after I soaked my aching feet. But, needless to say that didn't happen. He just got more energy after dinner and wanted to play a few rounds of go fish. I thought how nice a brother or sister would be right about then to play with. Right about then I would have even ignored any arguing about who was cheating who he might have had if he would have had a sibling. But, unfortunately, by the time I had him dreams of a second child faded as fast as my aging eggs. 

After three hands of go fish he might not have been done for the night but I sure was. Before my head hit the pillow I think I was asleep. 

Twenty four hours later my son wanted to bike ride again. He said he had fun yesterday. I crawled to the door almost. As we walked down the 17 stairs leading to the garage where the bike was I was thinking I am way too old for this then I laughed for no reason at all and we were off. 

Happy Noise

As my son was making his usual night time noise in the kitchen sliding his skateboard from one end of the kitchen to the other I was thinking how quiet my place used to be about 15 years ago. Back then I lived in a two bedroom house with a backyard and a small flower garden on the side of the front porch. I didn't plant but watered and admired the green thumb of the previous owner. The neighborhood was the most quiet one I had ever lived in. Not much traffic went down that street even though it was off a main street and a couple blocks from a popular park. 
 Living alone was an adventure in quiet for me since I had just moved away from home where 6 people lived including 2 small nephews. For the first 6 months I didn't know what to do with my new found peace and quiet. I used to go outside in the backyard and sit on a patio chair I had got from the thrift store and just dit and read on my days off. 

I thought that after I had kids I would miss this quiet. I thought that I would and thought that it would not matter if instead of quiet I heard laughter in the backyard from my future sons and daughters. Yes, I had planned in my mind to have more then one. I thought about all the things I would do with my family. All the picnics in the backyard and water balloon fights in the front yard, all the board games to be played in the family room and movies watched in the den. I thought about the bickering they would do like me and my sister did everyday when we were young which put us in more time outs in our room that we can count using all of our collective fingers and toes. 

My family fantasy was perfect. The reality was a whole lot different. My  family in reality consists of one child and me. The house I lived in then is long gone out of the family. But, one thing in my fantasy remained true, I don't mind noise. OK, not too much most days. I have to be honest. And honestly, my sons laughter makes me smile.

Halloween Talk

It is the season for Halloween. But, my son has been doing the free candy Halloween season for months. Probably every since last Halloween. Needless to say, as probably most kids who celebrate Halloween do, he loves it. I have heard Halloween talk night and day and day and night. His costume changed about three times which is about right for him. He finally decided on Naurto last week. I told him once it is brought no changing his mind. He shook his head in agreement and said that he's sure. 

I remember the very first Halloween that he and I celebrated. He was almost a year old. We lived on a family friendly loving Halloween block at that time. The house at the corner was decorated from top to bottom. Ghosts in the yard, pumpkins on the roof, orange and white lights twinkling everywhere. In every window there was something spooky or cute looking out at you even a huge spider climbing down the side of the house. That was the go to house of the neighborhood. They gave out the good candy. 

Josh was walking back then. He started a month before. Even back then he probably had an inkling something good was coming so he needed to be ready. So, decked out in his first costume of many, a pumpkin costume, we walked from our house to the corner and back then counted the "loot" for mom. OK, Josh did get a sucker or two but the rest I happily ate. 

 As the years went on, Josh has been Spiderman three time, Superman once, Batman twice, A baseball p,ayer twice, and I am sure a couple more I can't remember right now. But, they are all captured on pictures tucked away in photo albums to show his future son or daughter some day so they can point and laugh like he did when he saw one picture of me dressed like a hula dancer on Halloween when I was around his age. And I thought I looked cool. 

Smiles

My son, Josh, was never what you would call an outgoing type of person. He wasn't quiet once he got to know you but he was quiet if he didn't know you and would take a long time to warm up to you. He was the type of baby that wouldn't not go to anyone that he didn't know, ever. He would just look at you like "I know you don't expect me to go to that person over there that I never met before in my whole baby life. No way, not going to happen. Don't even try it." So, I just sort of knew that when got older that probably wouldn't change too much. If he knows you well, he will talk you to death. Ask you every question he can think of and tell you every story he can remember but that is only when he gets to know you and that may take some time.

When he was a baby, probably around 6 months old or so, his paternal grandmother came to visit him. He  hadn't seen her since he was a newborn so he had no clue as to who she was. So, she stood there in a bright reddish wig, cherry red lipstick, her pants pulled up to her chest, mismatched socks on that you could plainly see because her pants were too short and pulled up too high, and she had on these dangling star earrings. She scared me a little and I knew her. So, Josh took one look at her and he let out a yell that I never knew could come out of such a little body. That yell probably was heard a half a block away. So, I was holding him trying to calm him down telling him that was his grandma and he wanted no part of the whole thing. She had brought him a toy rattle, a soft one, and she gave it to him and he threw it on the ground. He wanted no part of that either. He finally stopped crying and then he just looked at her and gave her a baby dirty look. She held out her hands for him to come to her and he looked like this woman has to be kidding me. For real? I tried not to laugh out loud but in my mind I just couldn't help it I was laughing and holding it in.  But, I couldn't hold it in when Josh's father made a joke and told his mom that Josh couldn't take all that "ugly" she was just too much for him. She got the joke and laughed too and said that oh she didn't mean to scare him.  I was laughing and then all of a sudden Josh started laughing too. Apparently, he got the joke too, or probably just laughing cause everyone else was most likely.

Eventually, he warmed up to her and occasionally, he would allow her to hold him for a minute or two. After all, she still was a constant presence in his life. He saw her only a few times per year and she only lives 40 minutes away.

Today, almost ten years later, he is still that same person that won't really talk too much to you unless he knows you.  So, it surprised me when we went to the rehabilitation nursing center where my mom is recovering for hip surgery, when he self proclaimed himself as the "greeter" he greets everyone that we see and he talks to them and shares stories with them and they all know his name. He said he just wants to make them smile.  And smile they do.  

No Monsters or Rats Under the Bed!

Last night I went to sleep early. I had an exhausting day to say the least. We spent the majority of the day visiting my mom at the rehabilitation center while she recovers from a broken hip. So, I barely got my head on the pillow good and I was out like a light. As I was happily dreaming about good things. I think. Then something happened. At first I thought I was still dreaming but nope it was no dream. I let hearing crunching noise and a slight rumbling of paper. It sounded like someone was crinkling paper, balling it up right before you throe it away. With my eyes still closed I was thinking we had rats, huge rats munching paper at the foot of my bed and my feet were hanging over the side. Next will be my toes. OK, maybe I have been reading that monster under the bed story one too many times with my son and my imagination got the better of me. 
I slowly opened one eye and then the other and sat up slowly. I  was glad the room was not totally dark and secretly giving myself a high five for letting my son convince me to put up the Christmas lights to act as a night light.  I looked around the room and right by my bed was the "rat". He was my son and he was eating cereal, fruit loops, right out of the box. That was the rattling paper noise I heard and the crunching and munching him too. I never did figure out what the other noise was. 

I should have known. I asked why in the world he was up at that hour. I was thinking it had to be late. After all, I was sleeping so I knew it had to be late. My son looked at me like I was nuts. He then proceeded to say it was only 8:15 pm. I  laughed and he laughed. I told him to finish up eating what he called a snack and we both went to sleep after I made sure there were no crumbs on the floor for the "rats" or " monsters" to munch on and I kept my toes under the covers.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

When my son was about two and a half I took him on his first train ride. Here we have BART, Bay Area Rapid Transit

and we were taking a short trip to the store, this little plaza two cities over from where we lived. At the time my son loved wearing baseball hats and so he had quite a little collection of them. He had a lot of the local baseball teams hats that were toddler size to fit his head. His grandmother brought the bulk of them and so I got him all dressed up in his little jeans and matching jean jacket and shoes and a matching baseball cap.

We took the short walk to the BART Station which was probably about ten blocks from our house back then and he was more excited riding the escalator then anything I thought. So, luckily it was in the middle of a work day so not many people were at the station coming and going and I for one was glad. I am holding on to his chubby little hand telling him things about the sights and the sounds of the train and the train station and looking at the few people that were there and then it happened. We could see the train coming out of the tunnel down the tracks getting closer and closer and he was getting more excited by the minute laughing and talking and then he did something that was so unexpected as most things that he did at that time were and sometimes still to this day. He took off his hat and he tossed it on the tracks and laughed and laughed. I was thinking for a minute, oh no, how am I going to tell his grandma that he lost the favorite hat she had looked all over the mall to find. I know this because she told me that story every time she saw him wearing it. So, I knew that story by heart about how she  looked in about twenty million zillion kid stores to find just the right hat for him and about how she was in the mall for so long she forgot where she parked her car and it took her another 15 minutes to find it but it was all worth it to find the right hat for her youngest grandson and  to see how happy he was once he wore it.

Needless to say I was not looking forward to breaking the news to her that her favorite hat was thrown on the train tracks by her favorite little grandson. But, I laughed right along with Josh and the rest of the people there. It was something that we definitely could not get back so either we had to laugh or cry and we chose to laugh.  He kind of reminded me of Mary Tyler Moore show when she twirls around and throws her hat up in the air. Well, similar to what he did but minus the music and the opening credits.

So, we had fun at the little plaza and got a few things we could carry on the train for the ride home and even got a new hat that stayed safely in the bag until we got home. The next train ride I made sure he stayed hatless until we were safely off of the train.

When I told my mom the story about that hat a few days later I thought she would be mad at me for letting him throw it on the tracks. I was all ready for my come back speech on the way the 2 year old act sometimes and especially my 2 year old but she didn't say anything she only laughed like we did and then proceeded to hand him another hat.

Bottom of My Purse

When my son was about 2 years old I was walking home from work one day and decided to stop at a clothing store to get my son some new clothes. So, I was browsing around in the kids department and found a couple of outfits. I got two identical outfits because they were on sale in two different sizes so I got his size that he wore at the time then went up a size. I figured at 2 he would care less and I was saving a dollar we both win. I was thinking go me!!! 

I get to the register and the woman who was slightly older she looked at me over the top of her glasses and she reminded me of my math teacher in the 4th grade. She asked me how many kids I had. At first I thought it was an odd question then I thought she was being nosey like people are. So, I  almost called her by old teachers name, Mrs. Buick, and I told her one. She said twins? I was thinking did she hear me?  I repeated myself and said no, just one. I started digging in my giant bag that was a tote bag which doubled as a purse looking for the cash to pay for clothes for my "twins" and I pulled out two little balls, one sucker, two hot wheels cars, an old teething ring and something which had turned green or was already green naturally I couldn't tell. Since I was holding up the line with all my digging for my wallet the cashier sighed loudly twice, the woman behind me totally understood since she actually did have twins and a 3 year old. 

That was the moment I realized how much my life had changed. As I threw everything back in my bag including the bag of clothes I happily walked home with all my treasures, old and new. 

And almost ten years later if you look in my bag you will probably see some stuff that belongs to my son. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Full Circle

Today I experienced Motherhood at 76.  I visited my mom in the nursing home where she is recovering from a broken hip and hopefully will be returning home sometime this week. So, today the roles were sort of reversed. I took care of her and I was thinking this is how she probably took care of me when I was younger. I had to convince her to eat the lunch that they provided for her. Even though she complained that she didn't like the food because it was bland and tasteless, almost like I used to complain about not wanting to eat my vegetables when I was younger, I did manage to bribe her to take a few bites promising her dessert later. Yes, just like she used to do to me sometimes but her dessert was something like custard with a  crust not appealing to me or her but nonetheless she managed to scarf down a few tiny bites before she said she had had enough.  She also had enough of the bland ice tea that they served with it so I gave her some sprite instead which they said she could have.  Hot sprite beats bland ice tea any day in her book.

So, as my son was helping her manage the sprite, holding the straw in place for her and telling her to take tiny sips at a time I sat there and thought back to all the times I had told him the same exact thing when he was sick, which thank goodness was not that often, and now he was telling her and helping her when she is sick. He was also hovering like a "daddy bird" around her and wouldn't let her lift a muscle to do anything and was getting nervous when she tried to lean a little too forward in the wheel chair which she said was the most uncomfortable chair she had ever had the misfortune of sitting in. My son tested that out when she got back in bed for a short nap. He thought it was an awesome chair because it had wheels, that was no surprise to me.

I watched these two for a long time today, just watching and observing and thinking and by the time lunch was done and meds were taken and my mom was trying to rest in the mists of all the yelling in the halls, loud conversations, alarms going off, one of them hers, and all the hustle and bustle of these places, I came to realize that motherhood for me has come full circle.  I was a mom at 41 and my mom was a mom at 26. Since I don't have a daughter, I won't be able to watch her be a mom but I think that my son will make a darn good parent some day.

 

Rose Colored Glasses

 As I get older I never really have thought about what that all means. I know that the number changes every year and the candles on the cake grow and they grow so much that you just don't want to set the cake on fire so you use the two numbers sometimes to make your age. I never really thought about what it is really like getting old. I guess I only concentrated in the moment and never really looked into the future too much. Aging never really bothered me at all. I would say oh it is just a number but I found out this week just how that number can affect your quality of life.

My mom had me when she was 25 a few months from her 26th birthday so she is going to be 76 on her birthday in October. I recently noticed her aging sort of slowing down in many ways. Walking slower, talking slower and more deliberately sometimes. Sometimes she would have to think a few more seconds to answer a question and I thought that is all a part of aging. I was thinking that in about 25 years give or take a year or two that I could be her, walking slower, hesitating more with my speech and getting a few more wrinkles and graying of the hair and thinner bones. She is a beautiful woman to me and always will be. Then something happened that scared me. She went to the hospital. She hates hospitals with a passion and anyone who knows her knows that. So, it was scary for me and her when that night I had to call 911 because I thought she was having a stroke. Unfortunately, I was right she had a small stroke but then she suffered another injury while in the hospital a broken hip.  I realized how fragile she is and how fragile life is. I realized that I can't take her for granted any more and just assume that she will be here for the next 5 or ten or fifteen years. I can't assume that she will see my son graduate from junior high or even high school in 8 years.  I think that my life and her life flashed right before my eyes that night as the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance and took her away.

Today I visited her at the nursing home where she is recovering from the hip. Today I saw an much older woman, a woman with more wrinkles and more lines from life that I had ever noticed before. I noticed her thinning hair and more grey hairs then before. I noticed her demeanor was not the same. Her laughter was gone. Her smile was gone. Her words were there but her memory was confused sometimes and she thought she was at home in the comfort of her own bed, watching her own television. She wanted her red sweater, the one she wears when she gets cold. She didn't want strangers parading in and out of her room, poking and prodding her like she was just a piece of meat. She didn't like sitting in a room that was not her own. She didn't like not waking up in her own bed in the mornings and eating her own breakfast not some tasteless food that is placed in front of you and if you eat it you eat it and if you don't they can care less and remove the food when your time was up. She doesn't like a time limit and wearing a diaper not being able to walk to the bathroom and having to look at her roommate using the portable potty in the corner of the room.  This is not her idea of spending one minute of her golden years in a room she doesn't recognize with people she doesn't know coming and going.

I had to be her voice today and I had to be a loud, bossy, bold voice today. I will always be her voice when she looses hers. I hope that she never does and when these dreadful two weeks are over by some little miracle she returns to us as good as she left us.

Now, I know what getting older is about. I have taken off my rose colored glasses today.

No Theme Required

The first year is what I call the year of no sleep. But it was filled with first foods, walking, crawling, no more bottles ( for the most part. We still had the occasional bottle before nap time and bed time against all advice from the know it all moms)  but sippy cups were his favorite thing to drink out of, and he loved Cheerios. We got rid of the baby swing he out grew and the bassinet was a distant memory. Our lives were filled with walks to the park around the corner, playtime with other toddlers at the park, and toddler proofing everything in the house. 

His first birthday fast approaching. Everyone kept asking me what his theme was going to be for his party. When I looked at them like you gotta be kidding they apparently felt the need to school me about first birthday parties themes. One of my friends was having a Winnie the Pooh theme party, one was having a Sesame Street party which she had been planning for 7 months. A friend of a friend was having a princess themed party for her daughter which was booked 10 months in advance. ( so like when she was 2 months old, the baby) The only thing I wanted to do when my won was 2 months old was sleep for more then 4 hours. The last thing on my mind was party planning.

I always thought a cake, a gift and a couple of balloons would be good. Never did I dream a one year old needed a theme party. I thought only celebrities did that cause they had money to do it.
Guess I was out of the loop. 


Well, what had happened the week of my sons birthday was nothing I could have predicted. My grandmother died 7 days before his first birthday. Her funeral was going to be on his birthday. I didn't have a theme nor was in the frame of mind for a theme. That day after the funeral after we came home I took out the small birthday cake I brought the day before and the balloon which I tied to his highchair. He ate his cake, a piece of his cake, got chocolate all over his face and hands and I clicked off a few pictures and his first birthday was a rap forever immortalized in a million pictures. 

No theme necessary, just a happy one year old.

Growing

Someone told me that by the time her baby was 6 months old he slept through the night. Another mom bragged her daughter slept through the night at 5 months. I looked at my son who was older then both of those babies at 7 months and he had yet to sleep through the night. He would sleep through most of the night and would wake up once. I would change and feed him and back to sleep he would go. I was starting to think he was falling behind the other babies. 
I asked his doctor if this was normal and the doctor assured me nothing was wrong with him after about the fifth phone call to his office he said to relax more and just enjoy these moments because they don't last long. So, I tried. And I decided he was right I need to capture as much as I could of his babyhood which was slowly slipping away. I was thinking in 4 short months he would be a whole year old then two and three and then pre-school and college would not be far away. 

I brought the best camera I could afford on Amazon. It wasn't expensive but better then the throw away cameras I got at Walgreen's. I was on a mission to capture every smile, frown, funny face, laugh I could. And then something incredible happened. At 8.5 months just when I was getting the hang of trying to capture every little thing he started walking.  I cried tears of joy and sadness. My baby was growing up too fast. And a month later he was running. 

Home At Last

Two weeks before Christmas I brought home my bundle of love, my son. Home was my moms house, the duplex she rented from her sister. It was already a full house with my two out of three nephews living there plus my brother and mother and now my son and me. All of us crammed into a two bedroom with a makeshift bedroom in the old dinning room. The table was replaced with bunkbeds and a portable closet on one side and on the other side of the room was a tall but small dresser. I told my mom I didn't understand why she just didn't move years ago when at the tender age of 19 my sister had her first kid or even sooner when our family grew when my brother was born when I was 14. She didn't have an answer. I knew she wouldn't and when she doesn't she changes the subject.  Which she did. But, I suspect she got too comfortable over the years and the years went by and she got older and more set in her ways. 

She turned her attention to her new grandson. So did I. While I was in the hospital a woman from my baby group I went to while I was pregnant delivered a basinette that was from her daughter. I was grateful because a crib would have taken up a lot of the room. But, I ddid have a crib unassembled that my sons father's mother gave to me she brought from a thrift store along with a changing table. 

After everyone got introduced to him I put him down for a series of two hour naps, feeding and changing. I slept when he slept. I slept in a semi sitting position because of the c-section I couldn't lie completely down if I had any intention of getting up again and so it began. The first month was hard and I was walking around with serious bags under my eyes and I couldn't tell you what day of the week it was if you paid me a million bucks.  Then I got mail. Not the social security card for him I expected but a bill from the hospital. I had insurance and I looked at the bill in horror. 97,000 total. From then on I called him the 100k baby. 

It took me 4 months and a million calls, letters and e-mail to get the bill taken care of in addition to taking care of a newborn and no sleep. 

Homecoming!

Five days after I had my son I was told I could go home. So, I was patently waiting bin my room for the wheelchair. OK, I know in the movies they had wheelchairs and the mom is holding the new bundle of joy with the dad carrying the balloons and flowers. Now, of course my little fantasy bubble as bursted when not only did I not get a wheelchair and a cute orderly Wheeling me out I actually had to find a nurse to ask when I could go. So, thankfully the nurses station, if that's what you call it cause I don't know, was right outside my room but there were no nurses. So, I wandered around which the security guard cautioned me not to do unless I was a patient. I showed him my still attached hospital bands. 

So, a couple minutes later after I went back to my room two nurses came in and I told them I was supposed to check out. One gave me a black bag filled with formula, coupons, and a few more things for the baby. I told my sons father to take the bag to the car check that the car seat as secured properly.  Then both nursed disappeared. I sat waiting. So, I got tired of waiting and once again went in search of a nurse. I found one. She checked my paperwork and said I was good to ho. Then she checked my hospital tags and the ones on my baby to make sure the right mom and baby were going home together. 

By that time my sons father was back and informed me he pulled the car in front. I was glsf I didn't have to remind him. So, the nurse picked up my baby and I half joked about my wheelchair and cute orderly. She half smiled and said no it wasn't done like that anymore. I almost asked by how many years had I missed it but didn't. She explained that she had to carry the baby to the car it was hospital policy. So, we all walked to the elevators and squeezed in with two other people, probably visitors. I walked slowly behind the nurse and my sons father. He turned around twice making sure I hadn't gotten lost in the non existent crowd. He formed his lips to say something but once I shot him the evil eye he thought better. 

Once everyone was seat belted in the car we were on the road for the 15 minute ride home. 

Sonogram #1

I had my first sonogram when I was 5 months pregnant. I remember it was the day after my brothers birthday. I drank more water then I had probably ever drank in my entire life that day. Thankfully the bathroom was just a few steps from the room they put me in for the sonogram. And the wait time was minimal from the time I checked in at the front desk to the time they called me into  the room for the test. 

My sons father was with me and of course the only sonograms I had witnessed were on TV. On TV they have huge screens that would give some TVs a run for the money in real life. The woman would usually be in a bed that looked comfortable and she usually had at least three or four pillows behind her head and the hairs on top of her head were never out of place. And dressed in unrevealing hospital gowns that magically close in the front and back they smile and their gown is carefully lifted off of their big or medium size bellys and something that looks in between slime and jelly is placed on the tummy and a doctor usually smiles at the couple, the husband sitting on a stool right by the gorgeous wife holding her hand as they lovingly gaze at each other and look at the screen in font of them as the doctor points at the screen and says the baby is a healthy boy or girl.

Well, my experience was a whole lot different from the fantasy in my mind. The room was dark and reminded me of what a dark room must look like back in the day when pictures were developed that way routinely. It was a large room. On one side was a small stool. That's where my sons father was directed to sit by the technician. She was an older blonde woman with a short haircut wearing pink scrubs and no smile. She then motioned me to the table on the other side of the room where the table was. The same sort of table that's in any doctors office anywhere nothing special. It was hard and uncomfortable and only had on pillow on the end of the table. I hobbled up on the table fully dressed and laid down as told. The screen was on my left side along with the technician. I couldn't see it even if I turned my head in that direction. I was not happy until she gave me a mirror and asked if I wanted to see. I thought that was a dumb question of course I did. I was told to lift my shirt just enough to uncover my stomach. I did. She then put the goo  stuff on my stomach that to my surprise wasn't cold at all. So, then the sonogram began. I held up the hand mirror and felt bad for my sons father whom I knew couldn't see a thing from a stool across the room. They never told him he could move closer so we both assumed he couldn't. I looked in the hand mirror the best I could and my son wasn't having any of it and kept moving around like crazy. I asked if it was a boy or girl and she pointed to the screen and said boy. 

It probably took all of 20 minutes from start to finish if that long. I got a few grainy pictures and off to the bathroom I ran. 

After I got back home I was looking at the pictures and in one picture from the sonogram my son had his fist raised like when you are excited after spinning the wheel on the Price is Right and you get a dollar. I know. That's what I get for watching the price is right every morning.  Then a name came in my mind. No, not Bob Barker. But, the name Joshua.  

I knew that would be his first name. My sons father laughed and said it must have been divine intervention or something that gave me that name.o looked at him and smiled and said yep that's his name. 

We Did It!

The longest night of my life turned out to be the longest 3 days. I was checked, prodded and poked not too mention moved two hundred times per minute by the various nurses. I had never had my blood pressure taken so many times in my life. I had never been hooked up to do many things either. 

By day 3 I was secretly cursing my sons father only because he was the only person other then the room besides the never ending parade of nurses and doctors. When I was waken up at 4 am and still no progress in dialating past 6 cm I said to the nurse enough was enough. Although I was not looking forward to go home to a hot leather couch as a bed but I was more then ready to have this baby.

The doctor explained to me about caesarian sections and said that the scar won't be too noticeable in case I wanted to go to the beach wearing a bikini. Now I was flattered that this doctor thought my body was good enough before pregnancy to wear a bikini. Little did he know the last time I wore anything that resembled a bikini was in the ninth grade. But, I just nodded in agreement. 

 I was rolled to the operation room which looked nothing like I had envisioned. The ones on TV have lights overhead and phones for the doctors to use in case. I don't know what in case the phones are for but I see them on TV and in some movies. And classical music is always playing. My operating room was more of a big and wide open space and to my right was another room with a wall in between the two rooms. No door on my room or the room over as far as I could tell. Two men lifted me on to a table like surface and one nurse commented to the men to be careful cause I as heavy. I gave her the evil eye. Of course I was heavy then her size 0 little non pregnant body. I almost said something but common sense returned to my labored brain just in time. 

My sons father was told to sit on a stool after he changed into the appropriate scrubs. Of course they didn't direct him he could move the stool so he wouldn't have to look at the bloody parts of everything. So there he sat in horror watching the operation from about 20 feet away. 

I don't like the oxygen masks they made me wear but it was necessary. The little rust colored pills they gave me to settle my stomach but about halfway through the pills made me sick and there I was throwing up in a little sliver pan the anesthesiologist held for me since I could not move my arms or anything else. He assured me that it was fine and I was fine. 

I then heard a little while later the doctor singing to the top ten pop song on the radio and a few minutes later the doctor said that it was almost time. And then the baby was here. The nurse took him to the other side of the room with my dons father closely following behind her. Two minutes later I heard his first cry. 

I could not really see anything just hearing his cries told me he was healthy. It seemed like forever before I finally got to see him. I was still being stapled back together and the nurse brought him to me. I kissed his little cheek and two seconds later I was out like a light snoring. 

The next time I woke up a nurse was standing over me and my new born son was in the baby bed thing beside me. 
I looked at my so through groogy eyes and whispered hello Joshua we did it. 

Longest Night

I thought I would be in labor for hours but not days. In my mind I was going to the hospital be induced, screaming at everyone and after a lot of pushing and sweating and probably more then a little swearing the baby would be born and I would hold him saying how beautiful he was and crying tears of joy that my baby boy was here. 

Not how it happened in real life. After more and more painful contractions I did something I didn't plan to do and asked for an epidural. The nurse looked at me pitifully and I rolled my eyes with the contraction and felt no shame. I was there for two days almost and wasn't making any progress in my dialation and I now completely understood the full meaning of labor and understood why women did a lot of cursing and screaming. 

The nurse reminded me that after I got the shot I would not be able to get out of bed. At that point I didn't care if my feet every touched the floor for the duration of my stay. So, I said that was fine while my sons father was napping on the couch they had in the room to make it more comfortable for everyone. Everyone meaning him I guess since he was the only one using it. Before I had the shot I did wake him up. 

A doctor returned with a different nurse and once they looked at my chart and noticed my decline into senior citizen hood, from the look I got I assumed that I was close to right. The nurse told me her mom didn't have her until she was 45 and the doctor said his mom didn't have him until 43. I guess in an attempt to make me feel better. It really didn't help. 

I sat on the side of the bed preparing myself for more pain but the doctor said it would feel like a pinch. I wasn't sure that I believed him but as long as it wasn't as painful as the back to back contractions I was feeling I was good. 


A few minutes later I was laying in bed pain free. The nurse and doctor left and they said get some rest. Rest was impossible since every five seconds someone was coming in and out to check blood pressure, reading the contraction machine I was hooked up to or taking my tempature. Not too mention moving me from one side of the bed to the other cause the baby preferred the left side at midnight and then the right side at 3 am. So, I was rolled from side to side with a pillow between my knees and later an oxygen mask covering my nose and mouth. 

I was in for the longest night of my life so far.