Everyone Has a Stop Sign

I know, its been a little bit since I last checked in. I really do try to post at least once a week, but things get so hectic, sometimes, I just dont get around to it.

Thanksgiving was a blast. It could have been better, but as usual, my selfish, self centered addict of an uncle tried to ruin it. Hes like a disease. One you think has gone away and learned its place, but then all of sudden it flares up and steals the attention. Or hes like a poisonous weed, sucking the happiness out of everything. Anyways, for Lucas' first Thanksgiving, it was fine. He got to spend some time with his Uncle Larry. Lucas adores Larry. He kept laying his head on Larry's chest. Whether Larry thinks so or not, some day, he will be wonderful with his own kids. Lucas is eating solid food, and he felt like such little man sitting at the table, eating his peas and sweet potatoes and rice cereal. I am a little sad that hes growing up so fast. And I feel like I am not even there to see it. I am at work for 8 hours of the day. We spend roughly 2 hours in the car. And that only leaves about 3 hours at home. And by then, I am exhausted. I feel like I should be interacting with him. Not plopping him on a quilt with his toys and sitting in my recliner, staring at the television. And then comes the next question: where does this need to always be on come from? Does the pressure come from society? From within ourselves? Yeah, probably ourselves. In addition to society and tv shows. Before Lucas was born, I became a discovery health channels freak. It was like an obsession. I watched every maternity ward. Cried and prayed through every episode that I wouldnt be like that woman. No drugs and screaming. I would bury my eyes in the pillow when some poor woman received an epsiotomy. And then they cut to the new family at home, and the baby is now a toddler, and the mother is chasing him around, all clean and crisp and beautiful. And here I am now, with a 7 month old and some days, feeling like I havent showered in 10 years. And its strange, because we dont expect our kids to be on all of the time. In fact, we live for the moments they are asleep. If Lucas is tired or overstimulated, and I try to make eye contact to engage him some more, he will look over my shoulder. I try again, and he shifts his eyes down and goes into his own little daze. I imagine him holding up a small stop sign where under the word STOP, hes scrawled: "Bothering me! I'm busy processing reams of new information. Try again later." Just yesterday, we were at a birthday party, and he had been passed around more times than a football. Finally, he just sat in my mothers arms, and at that point, his stop sign would have said: STOP: "engaging with me! I'm all socialized out."
And just like Lucas, I vary in what I can give day to day. Sometimes, I am the energetic mother. Holding Lucas on one hip, making dinner, and cleaning the bathroom. Other times, I am the over stressed mother, dealing with all of life's little quirks, and trying to soothe the teething baby while other women commiserate silently, trying to help me through it. And sometimes, I am just the disheveled mother. Somebody's wife, mother, somebody's daughter, just sitting in the recliner, utterly exhausted. And at that point, my stop sign would be facing me, saying STOP. Just stop. No one can be on all of the time. Ignore the parenting books. Ignore the feeling that your son will be missing out if you arent on the floor demanding that he stop eating his sock. Sometimes, babies dont need any stimulation from you.

But, the other night, while innocently playing on the floor, he was bitten by a dog. (My computer screen just sprouted eyes and rolled them in pure exasperation. Okay, not bitten, but nipped accidently.) I was so outraged that this dog, this mutt, had bitten my child, that I snatched him off of the floor and held him to my chest, his poor little screams muffled as I held him tightly. Right before it happened, they were sitting there quietly, eyeing eachother lovingly. I wonder if Lucas felt as betrayed as Anna did in Chasing Liberty when she found out Ben was hired by her father to protect her. I wanted to jump in the owners face, and yell at them, my spit flecking their cheeks, "Why weren't you watching your damn dog? What kind of owner are you??" The problem was, the owner was me. It was right after dinner time, when Jeremy usually takes the dogs out for a potty break and time to romp. Lucas was lying on the floor playing. Jeremy brought them back in, and Julien flopped next to Lucas. Everything was fine. Then all hell broke loose. Lucas had reached over and grabbed a fistful of Juliens fur. And proceeded to yank it back and forth and up and down with all of the force he had in him. Julien just snapped at him. And I dont blame him. I have told Lucas hundreds of times not to do that. But hes 7 months old. He doesnt understand. But it scared him. I jumped out of the chair and shouted, "Julien, you bit him???!" Julien ran to Jeremy whimpering. acting like he was properly chastised. I, on the other hand, was furious. "Julien, we dont bite, we dont bite at the baby." I must have said 85 times. We have to be gentle with Lucas, and I am telling Lucas at the same time, you have to be gentle with puppy. He doesnt understand. Talk about talking out of both sides of your mouth. I went Julien and pinched his lips together and stared him in the eyes and said: WE. DO. NOT. BITE. EVER. NEVER. AGAIN. DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND. ME.? He was the first to break eye contact. Lucas was fine. Everything was fine. Except me. Bjourne is the most easy going dog. He just goes with it. Lucas tries to poke his eyes out, Bjourne just gets up and lays somewhere else. He usually fixes Lucas with the you-can't-get-me-here stare, because-you-can't-crawl yet, look. If Lucas tries to jam his cahonas into his throat with his foot, Bjourne rolls to his stomach. Bjourne is just like that. Julien, on the other hand, takes these things as invitations for rough play. I take it as an invitation to whip some dogs butt. He likes to decide on the stressful days to come in from being outside and poop on the floor. Then, as I am on my hands and knees cleaning it up, he comes in and tilts his head, almost like he is saying, "Just trying to give you a little distraction." I have enough of those, believe me.

We went last Wednesday and picked out our first live Christmas tree together. I took the camera, and Jeremy was ragging on me: "You are not going to take pictures in Lowes, are you?" I say yes, I absolutely am. And I proceed to explain to him that I want pictures of Lucas' first tree. And he tells me he doesnt even remember his own first Christmas tree. Exactly. If his mother had taken pictures, he would remember. Lucas will. I will be sure of it. So, we looked at different trees, and I snapped pictures, of Lucas pointing his fist at some, kicking some. He has to touch everything with his foot first. In fact, thats how we Christmas shopped for Jeremy. I held up two options, which ever one he kicked is the one we bought. It was great.

We are going to decorate the tree tomorrow night. I am sure I will have some wonderful things to tell you about that. Until then...