What's My Age Again?

I have been reading other people's posts on their blogs, and they are all reflecting on lifes journies and what made them who they are today. So, I decided that since 2 of my friends shared some of their inner most private stories, that I would talk a little bit about my background. Just understand, that its not that interesting!

For starters, I grew up in a much different setting then my husband did. He grew up in a more city setting with close neighborhoods and lots of friends. He did some things that hes not real proud of, but we arent here to talk about him, now, are we? I grew up in a little town, where I still live, that is sort of backwood's country. At least it used to be. Now we have all these city people moving in and they are bringing their attitudes and rudeness with them. But, for the most part, Gloucester kind of embodies the southern/waterman personality. Do not associate me with Guinea. That is a country of it's own. I dont even travel into Guinea. They are their own little community. I live further north. Where there are country stores where you can get barbeque and chips for supper and a good cup of coffe for $1.
Everything was fine until around 99 and my father started to get really sick. All of the time. The doctors diagnosed him with different things, but it turned out that he has alpha1antitrypsinimmunodeficeincy disease. Thats a pretty big thing for a 15 year old to know about. And that was just when he was diagnosed. He hadn't worked for 2 years. So there was no money coming in from him. Just Mama. Well, we weren't making it. So, I got a job as soon as I could, and I would deposit money in her checking account every 2 weeks. Before that, I used my babysitting money to buy groceries. Don't get me wrong, we got what we needed, but not a lot of extras. I worked as many hours as I could and still went to school. I didnt get to hang out with my friends very much. Where my co-workers were my age and going to movies and buying cd's, I was worried about the power and the mortgage. I helped raise my sister because Mama worked and Daddy was sick a lot. I cooked, I cleaned, I took care of him, I helped her with her homework. We went to court a lot and fought the shipyard where he worked because they made his disease so much more than it would have ever had been because they didnt provide the proper safety equipment men like Daddy needed. My grandfather worked in the same shipyard, and my uncle works there also. Papaw died of emphysema and asbestosis, never smoked a day in his life. I used to go and hock Mama's jewelry and cry after I did it because I knew what a sacrifice it was for her. In the end, all she had was her wedding set. But she never let me see her cry. We lost our case twice and everytime it was so devestating. In 2001, a friend of mine, Jeremys and Charlies committed suicide. And I felt so guilty. And the most heartbreaking part, was her 8 year old sister Kylie asking me if Christine didnt love them anymore. It was hard enough to deal with that pain, but all I could say through my own tears was no baby, no, she loved you, she just didnt love herself enough. Even today, 6 years later, I still am haunting by those little blues eyes, with tears pouring out of them. I havent talked to her Mom since she left. I still carry the guilt. I always will. In 2002, I was in a horrific car accident. I was t-boned, and my car looked like a horse shoe. The guy hit the drivers side of my car so hard that he broke the passenger front seat, and crushed my seat completely around my body. My friend that was in the car, unhooked her seat belt and got out the back door thats how jacked up the car was. I couldnt get out, I was trapped. There was smoke and gas everywhere. I had glass in my thigh, I stupidly reached down and yanked that out, so I was bleeding. My friends face was cut, so she was bleeding pretty bad, and it was all over her, all over me, we didnt know who was hurt. I had been stabbed in the abdomen by God only knows what. It was 2 little holes that looked like a snake bite. I still have the scar right below my belly button. I couldnt feel my legs. Mama had just had surgery and my Dad and sister were at the store for her, and I called her and told her I had been in an accident. The rescue squad had to break the seat to get me out. I still couldnt feel my legs. It turned out I broke my pelvis on both sides. I couldn't walk. If you can't walk you cant work. I can't work, we have no money. Well, I had the ct scans and everything, had a little internal bleeding, but was for the most part ok. They wanted to admit me to the hospital, and I refused. We couldnt pay that bill. So, I went home, against their advice, and laid in the pull out bed of the couch. I had to pee in a bucket off of the edge of the bed, because I could slide myself to the foot of the bed. After about a week, when the bones didnt grind together everytime I moved, I instructed Daddy to get me a computer chair. And I would slide onto it from the bed and pull myself through the house. I could slide on to the toilet at that point. I could lower myself into the bath tub. 2 weeks after the accident, I had to get up on crutches and basically learn to walk again by myself. I didnt do it when anyone was home because they pushed me and expected too much. Daddy was going to a job counseling center to see if they could find him something, anything, to do. They couldnt. No one wants to hire a terminally ill man. I made myself get stronger everyday, and I went back to work. That was in March, in May, Daddy called me at work and told me that the judge had ruled in his favor. We won. I remember falling on the floor because my legs gave out. I fought so hard all those years, and now, it had paid off. But I felt so much older then 19.

But all of that got me where I am now. I met Jeremy, got married, have a beautiful baby, and Daddy is holding steady at 97% lung capacity. And I still take care of him. Old habits are hard to break. But in the end, I know I wont and dont have any regrets. Everything happened for a reason. Even if it didnt seem good at the time, most of the events made all of us closer. I wouldnt change a thing.

My Little Sponge

I have to tell you that I have noticed that Lucas is becoming more aware of things. It's almost overwhelming to see him looking at everything, taking everything in. And now he's starting to grab things: the pretzal my Mom was eating, the ink pen I was writing with, anything he can close his fingers around. (Note to self: Do not allow him near ANY utensils...) Sometimes I wonder if he is trying to destroy his sweet little face. I have already made it a point that he gets to hold nothing that has tiny pieces that he can rip off with his mean little hands and swallow. Pretty soon, he'll be crawling. Hes trying to roll over completely. I have to tell you, having a baby is good for the old ego. He can be crying and fussing, and all I have to do is take him from whoever has him, and he buries his face in my neck, grabs my hair and calms down. It makes me feel good. And breastfeeding really is a bonding time for a mother and her child. We sit in the living room, and we just look at eachother, and I talk to him. I tell him all kinds of things. It'll be nice when hes old enough to respond and understand what I mean.

While things are good with Lucas, I almost can't say the same for Jeremy and I. Thats one thing about us: we love passionately and we fight just as passionately. And unfortunately, there seems to be an issue with our well defined roles. Before Lucas, we each did what we did. We each did whatever had to be done, and for the most part, we worked as a team to get it done. Since Lucas was born, those roles have become undefined. And right now, its more like survival then it is team work. And it isn't pleasant. Sometimes, I feel like we go around in circles and never come to a conclusion. He can't see past his sacrifices. I can't see past the fact that he doesnt recognize how difficult it is to be responsible for another person every morning. If you are a Mom, you understand. We are predominantly the ones who take the kids to the babysitter and pick the kids up. This is double time for me because I work an hour and fifteen minutes from where I live. One of my babysitters lives in Poquoson, which is 20 minutes from where I work and 45 minutes from my house. He goes there 2 days a week. It's tiring. Especially when you leave home at 6:30 in the morning, and dont get home until 7. Its like a tug of war. And its ridiculous. So, we start to get snippy, and then it turns into an out and out fight that ends with Lucas hysterical, me in tears, and Jeremy spinning in a new dimension of pissed off that I have never seen before. Deep down, I know its all the stress, but also in my secret heart, I wish it didnt have to be that way. He asked me Sunday night if I had stopped loving him. Stopped loving him? Do you ever stop loving someone? How does that happen? How can you just stop loving someone? How can you just not care anymore? Because its not easy for me. I dont think I would ever stop loving him. I am smart enough to know that you can love someone, you just cant be with them, and that isnt even our situation. I cant even define us sometimes: its like we are friends, lovers, enemies, and partners all jumbled in to one big bubble, and who knows what the outcome actually is. Its insane. We say stupid things to eachother. Things that hurt. But then on the flip side of it, we can say some of the most romantic and lovely things to eachother.

I am looking forward to a week on the beach. We started to fall for eachother while we were at the beach. It just has this magic about it: so much power, and beauty, its to the ground what the stars are to the nights sky. I know, I am so silly. Hes mad at me, and I am writing about how much I love him.

Friday...

What in the hell is going on around here? I was sick last week, and this week, my sinuses decide to act up. Thats 2 weeks of crappy feelings and I am sick of being sick!

Work absolutely sucks. The attitudes from some people stink. And I can't even pump without 50 interruptions. And for the most part, I dont mind. There are only three people that respect my privacy. 2 K's and an A. Everyone else, just knocks and barges in. No matter that my breast is exposed. And if thats not bad enough, they dont even bother to shut the door all the way. I dont know what to do about it. If I pump in the conference room, I still wont get any peace. For the most part, I am covered, but its still awkward when you have an 80 something year old man standing in the office. I just had to vent about that.

Lucas is good. Ask him and he will tell you. Did I ever tell you how hard it is to be a parent? Oh, I didn't? Let me tell you now: Parenting is hard. I have discovered that things that I used to be able to do in record time, now take me twice as long. Number 1 because I want to be playing with Lucas. Number 2 I am just so tired anymore. And its ridiculous. Lucas has slept through the night since I brought him home from the hospital. I can nurse him anywhere from 10 to 11 at night, he will sleep until 8 if I let him. But I just have no energy. Its like, I sit down to nurse him, and he sucks the life right out me. Its insane. He laughs now. He thinks everything is funny. He sits in his bouncer seat and goes "heeeh-heeeh" its so cute. And if you go "A-BOO" to him, he gets that real deep belly laugh. Its great. He plays with his feet too. But he has this terrible habit of pinching. I told you my sinuses were acting up, so my face was a little swollen the other night, I swear there was a leperachaun in there beating me with his sheleily stick. And Lucas reaches up and pinches the snot out of my face. And not only did it hurt, but because I didnt feel well, it almost catapaulted me into heart attack country. I had to give him to Jeremy. I just wasnt up for being a Mama that night. And thats the other thing. Jeremy does most of the stuff now while I tend to the baby. I feel guilty. Although I know I shouldnt. I drop Lucas off at the designated baby sitter and pick him up during the week. I do the grocery shopping. I take care of him when we are home. So what if he cooks and does the dishes? I sit at work and think about all of the things I need to get done at home. I think about all that I need to get done at work when I am home. Its insane. I worry that Lucas isnt getting enough tummy time. He hasnt rolled over yet. I guess all of these anxieties will eventually fade. Right?

What is up with swimwear?

I am trying to decide whether we are at that point in the season where things are pretty much picked over, or if swimsuit companies are trying to send out a message that if you are anything bigger then a 12, you dont belong in a bathing suit. Yesterday was the most depressing day I have had since Lucas was born. Don't get me wrong: I had a few days after he was born where I would just stand in the shower and sob, but it passed. This was an all out depressing situation. I went on the search for a bathing suit, because since I am nursing, my bathing suit from last year, well, lets just say, my cups runneth over. I go to hecht's so that I can use my Macys card. Nothing. It was either size 8 or size 22W. By the time I left there, I was feeling a little low. I know, I just had a baby 3 months ago. But I cant help it. I am leaving for vacation next Saturday. The thought of getting into a swimsuit makes me sick.

Lucas is great. God love him, he woke up this morning all grins and smiles, and it nearly broke my heart to leave him. I never realized that being a parent was so wonderful. Even on bad days, its wonderful. I can't believe that this time last year, I was sitting in the bathroom, waiting for the answer on the little white stick. I can't believe that at first I felt utter panic when I saw the plus sign. And dread, as the plus became more pronounced. There I was, sitting on the edge of the tub, by myself, holding the answer in my hands, trying to figure out how to tell Jeremy. But then suddenly, I remember feeling elated joy. I was pregnant. There was a baby growing in there. Who cared what anyone else thought? I was having a baby. I already knew it was a boy. I just knew it. I remember when I was driving to work, and felt him kick me for the first time. It was awesome. So, everytime I feel down about myself, I am going to think about all of that, and feel good all over again.

I am looking forward to my vacation. I need to get away from all of the stress of my life. Chaos follows me everywhere, I swear! I am looking forward to the beach, nights out on the balcony. Nights in the pool. Nights up late playing cards...too bad its only a week!

Wow...its Friday.

Its Friday. And dont get me wrong, I am excited because tomorrow morning I will get a little snuggle time with Lucas. But not much. I have to get my hair trimmed at 10, then I have to get home, clean the house, make Jeremys birthday dessert and then go help my mother-in-law get my brother-in-law moved out. So, its looking like I am going to be pretty busy. Whew!

Lucas grows more and more everyday. I just wish that I could keep him this age. This is the perfect age. Where its a clean slate, and they dont know that there are evil people in the world. Before I was a mother, I was more understanding to things. You know, I would be like, "well, look at this way..." Now, I am like, "Flush 'em and feed 'em catfish heads" or, "No, he isnt misunderstood. Hes an asshole." I guess as you get older you realize more about whats going in the world around you. And most of it sucks. I know that seems pessimistic, but its the truth. At least right now, hes learning things for the first time. He really is a beautiful, sweet boy. I am sure that will all change when he gets older and becomes his own little man.

Jeremy is great. Working so much I hardly see him, but great.

I have no energy, can you tell? No clever antics, no clever posts. Maybe Monday will be better.

Frumpy and fearless!

All I can say is that its a good dag on thing that no one looks at me anymore! I am so frumpy and terrible looking that I should placed in a cedar closet for the rest of the season. I am still carrying around baby weight-on top of the weight I was carrying when I got pregnant- and I am still wearing maternity clothes. Lets just say that my grooming experiences are way less than exemplary and include and are usually limited to, combing my hair, brushing my teeth, plucking my eye brows. Thats about it.

I can't do it. I just can't do it. I can't be like that woman on the Nutrisystem commercial who had a baby, and went from a size 10 to a size 4 again, can bring home the bacon, and cook it, and take care of the baby and give her man a good lovin'. I can't do it. But I will tell you what I can do: I can keep my son alive, fed, clean and for the most part entertained, as well as go to work and try to keep the house clean. But thats it! I can not do one more single thing. The house has reached such epic messy proportions that I feel like I will never win this rat race. If you come to my house and see dog hair on the couch, and the end table is not dusted, well, I am sorry. I just cant get anything done. Lucas is a precious, darling, sweet baby....but the little hellion only sleeps for like a half an hour. And usually, the second I set him down in bassinet, he'll wake up. Or I'll just be filling the sink up with water to wash dishes and he'll let out the first wail. I wait. He lets out another wail. I get to him and realize he has spit out his pacifier. I give back, and rub his head until he falls back asleep. I go back to the sink and turn off the water thats about to overflow. He wails again. I go back. He pulled the pacifier out. (you would think since hes smart enough to yank it out he could put it back in, but no!) I give him the pacifier back. He spits it out. I put it back. He spits it out. Now, hes laughing. This is a fun game. And I am seriously lecturing him. Then, I realize this is just another lesson in futility and I pick him up and we start over. I doubt I will ever see the bottom of the sink some days.

But, despite my craziness, I always manage to have Lucas looking wonderful: hes clean, and in a cute outfit. However, I look like death half defrosted from the deep depth of hell, with spit up on my shirt and nasty feeling teeth because in the hustle I forgot to brush them. I have also discovered that waking him up in the morning when I am ready to nurse him instead of waking him up before I am completely ready to walk out of the door is much easier. It keeps me from having my if-he-cries-for-one-more-second-I-am-jumping-out-the-window freak outs. But when I take him out, I never realized there were so many baby blanket patrols out there. And they will not rest until every bit of soft skin is covered. Hes a hot and sweaty baby, people! Leave me alone! Its summertime! Can he stay uncovered already? I never knew there was a worldwide conspiracy of concerned citizens against blanketless babies. Usually, by the time I get where I am going, hes cooing and watching everything going on around him that I forget all about them. I just promise myself that when I am older, I wont be that way. Yeah, right!

13 weeks and I want to stop counting!

Little Lucas is 13 weeks now, and it seems like just yesterday I was sitting here blogging and wishing he were born already. I wish time would just stand still for just a while so that I can continue to enjoy all of him, just like he is now. Its like that song, Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol...I just want to lay there and forget the world. Its amazing to see him see things for the very first time. His ocean blue eyes just light up and he grins that beautiful one dimple grin. Hes just beautiful. Heres a picture of him I had taken a week ago:
https://www.searsphotos.com/dep_order_portraits.asp?tag=98E36A1D83FE494E915B009155E092413EAFDA47B45148BF9D3591EA33307D6D&ImageIndex=2&state=&sessimgid={48A49476-659B-469D-9D39-18FDB1F0C458} Unfortunately, it wont allow me to paste the actual picture here. And its wonderful when I take him with me places and people tell me how cute and handsome he is! I like to tell him how cute he is..."Mama thinks you are so cute! Yes you are...." and "Can Mama steal your sugars, Butter?" Can Mama steal your sugars? Yes, I will admit, my son has turned me into a blubbering idiot! Even Jeremy joins the game. "Daddy? Have you ever seen such a handsome feller?" and he responds, "Nope, not as cute as wittle Wuke." And so the games go on and on.

My cousin Jessie who happens to be Lucas' 2nd cousin, loves Lucas. She stands there, with her curly hair in pig tails, her chubby legs close together, a big smile on her cherub cheeks and puts her little hand on her chest and says: "Baby Lucas is my best fwiend." Its so adorable. I get there to pick him up from Nany's (my grandmother, Lucas' great grandmother.) and Jessie runs to him and says, "Here her is. Di, heres Baby Lucas. Heres my best fwiend." And I correct her: "here HE is." and she responds with "Here her is. Her is a boy. I am a girl." She still hasnt mastered the he/she him/her thing. Then she proceeds to kiss him: "I take her pacifier and kiss her lips." or, "I love her foots." or "His head is so soft, and hes so cooooootttteeee!!!!" or he lets out a fuss and shes right there: "Whats wrong squirt??" I wonder who taught her that?? She was telling me yesterday how excited she is that Baby Lucas is going to the beach with her. I am sure hes excited with her. I will never pry her lips from him now! But it really is sweet that she loves him so much. Shes not jealous a bit. She wants to hold him, buckle him in his seat, kiss 50 times goodbye, tells him she'll miss him while hes gone. And she will see him later. Or, shes standing in my way telling me if I take her baby Lucas she will have Pop-Pop spank my butt. Its hysterical. Shes a character all right. And I just wonder how much longer she will keep wanting to kiss her cousin Lucas. Should I be concerned about that? Does it count as "kissing cousins?"