Mommy, Etcetera

[mommyetc]

Love & Hope

I vividly remember pulling up to his school and seeing his class outside on the playground. I looked for him among the crowd to dote on him from my car for just a moment, but what I saw wasn’t what I expected. Behind the crowd of laughing children, in the far corner, there he was. Playing alone. I remember thinking “maybe he’s just shy.” While being timid isn’t a cause for concern, I must of had a subconscious intuition because my heart sank.

He had this obsession with arranging his toys and would “work” on aligning them so perfectly for hours, but he never actually played with them (or at least what I would of considered playing). I thought that maybe he had a touch of OCD. My heart, however, knew there was something more there as it hurt a little every time he wasn’t interested in pretending our living room floor was lava or that he was a superhero.

He began getting in trouble at daycare for his temper. It broke my heart to think that maybe he was upset that I had to work and was displaying his anger over our separation with aggression. His teacher suggested a program, Tuesday’s Child, for a preliminary evaluation. I figured it couldn’t hurt.

My heart was in my throat every Saturday over the 6 week duration of the program. Nervous for the results, anxious for answers, but in a way, also relieved to be among other parents whom had similar experiences with their children. “Possibly ADHD, but he’s too young to diagnose” the program supervisors said. While I let out a sigh of relief sitting across from the director that day, something still did not satisfy the overwhelming feeling of uncertainty in my heart. “Well, they’re the professionals,” I thought.

A little over a year passed. He became impulsive and unpredictable: throwing tantrums and fits over automatic hand dryers in public restrooms and randomly making loud alarm sounds. I thought, “he needs to be reevaluated.”

As I sat across from an early-childhood psychologist, he said “he meets all of the criteria for Aspergers Syndrome, also referred to as High Functioning Autism”. I felt the tears welting in my eyes as my heart shattered into a million pieces. The doctor went on “…you know what I think? I think you knew all along.”

He was right.

Did I do this to him somehow? Is he going to be bullied? Why my son?Will he have friends? vaccines? Will he need special education classes? Will he get married one day? Can he play sports? Why couldn’t I protect him from this? If I promise God I will do anything, can he let my boy be ok?

It took some time, a lot of sleepless nights, and even more countless tears, but I’m finally starting to think clearly for the first time. He was showing me all this time that he was unique, but I couldn’t see it. I spent so much time mentally convincing myself out of what was right in front of me. I didn’t need to know everything about Aspergers, I just needed to know my son. I didn’t have to blame myself for his diagnosis, he didn’t. I didn’t have to feel sorry for him, because he wasn’t sad. He is still my perfect and healthy little buddy that I love more than my arms can stretch. Aspergers will never take that away.

Aspergers is what my son has, it’s not who he is. It does not get to decide what he is capable of or what his future looks like. It doesn’t get to weigh on my heart or take precious time away from us that should be spent setting up festivals with perfectly aligned toys or practicing fire drills with the most realistic imitation of an alarm sound you’ve ever heard. It might not be your “normal”, but it’s our normal. And you know what I think? I love our normal. There are still questions that I think of from time to time, but for the most part we take it one day at a time, with hope and love. Exactly what I have felt in my heart since the day he was born.

[mommyetc]

Not so self, selfie: #daretobebare

Personally, I love selfies. I think they exude confidence and there is nothing more beautiful than a confident person. Some would argue that those taking selfies are seeking attention or approval by attempting to generate likes and compliments. Gratifying our insecurities in the process. Loving yourself, both inside and out is no easy feat, as we are all our worst critics.

That being said, there are now apps and filters to “perfect” skin, make-up, etc. Is it still a selfie? I’ll admitt, I’ve experimented with ‘perfect 365’, an app that downloads your image and refines your look to “perfection.” While I loved (and laughed at) the looks created, I felt like I didn’t look like myself at all. How is it a selfie if I don’t look like myself? How is it confident to retouch a photo until I’m satisfied with gleaming white teeth and baby smooth skin. It’s simply not realistic and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that in order to feel beautiful, you have to achieve this level of unrealistic “beauty”. It’s not fair to share these retouched images claiming it to be a selfie. Thats not the standard I want to set for myself and it’s certainly not the standard I want to relay to my daughter.

I am not as confident as I should be, but I’m trying. When I look in the mirror sometimes it’s hard to see the good when I constantly criticize my imperfections. My facial profile is all sorts of imbalanced, I have unwanted freckles and blackheads, I often look exhausted, and I get the occasional pimple. I started this blog to step outside of my comfort zone, and this is no exception. I want to feel confident in my own, unedited, imperfect skin. I want my daughter to recognize her allure and not subscribe to unrealistic standards.

Does this mean I’m writing off make-up, whitening toothpaste, or facial creams? Definitely, not. That’s crazy. I will probably always be the girl that doesn’t go to the grocery store without my face on (I delivered my children with full face make-up on, let’s be serious) but I am taking a stand against supporting and sharing retouched images. I am accepting and embracing my imperfections and working on loving my god-given features. And one step further, I dare you to join me! Take a natural, no make-up, no filter, untouched selfie with the hash tag #daretobebare! Together, we can create a message of genuine confidence and true beauty to all women and girls… or at least take a step in the direction!

[mommyetc]

The Coffee That Never Could

Yesterday was THAT day. The kind of day that almost as soon as my feet touched the floor, everything that could go wrong-did. I knew my only chance to get me through it was that glorious cup of motivation, coffee.

I walked downstairs half asleep to find a ravaged poop diaper all over our new area rug, thanks dog. Prepare the coffee maker.

My two year old expressed her desire for oatmeal by pouring the entire container all over the kitchen floor. I’m not sure if the oatmeal mess was the worst part or the fit of rage that followed, as now she wasn’t able to have it for breakfast since she fed it to the floor. Start the coffee.

When my 2 month old’s face turns bright red, I know what’s about to go down. That little man is pushing, pushing for poop and a whole lot of it. Just when I naively assumed he was good and ready for a diaper change based by the look of relief on his face, I was surprised to find he wasn’t…mid diaper change. Not even close. A whole lot more poop, and yes- the infamous wild firehose pee that baby boys are infamous for. I could barely keep up with baby wipes and before you know it, little man needed a bath instead of a simple diaper change. Pour a cup of coffee.

Alas, the children are content. Perfect time to do something wild, like brush my teeth before noon. Just as I sat on the couch to enjoy my first sip of coffee, the doorbell rings. Here I am in all my morning glory with regurgitated formula in my hair, no make up or bra, in my pjs. “Gutter Monkeys here to clean your gutters!” After stumbling through a brief conversation, he finally went about his business and I, to mine. Put the coffee in the microwave, heat for 30 seconds.

The gutter guys were done fairly quickly as apparently there wasn’t much to clean and something wasn’t properly installed in our system. As he was explaining this in great detail to me, my little dog that runs faster than a bolt of lightning made her way through my legs and out the front door. You’d think gutter guy would maybe stop explaining his gutter giborish, but he continued despite me frantically shouting my dogs name. Eventually he forfeited communicating with me , “I’ll just call your husband, you seem distracted.” He’s quite observant. Get the dog inside, to find my daughter sitting happily atop a caffeine waterfall having poured out my cup of coffee on the kitchen table. Pour a new cup.

My seven year old had a half day of school yesterday, which translates to having to expedite my morning and early afternoon agenda with my little ones. This includes my shower, typically done when both are napping- the ONLY moments of sanity and “me time” my days have afforded me. Because of my daughter’s dip in the caffeine pond, she had to jump in with me. She’s a water hog. Enough said. Get her and myself dressed, baby in the car seat, out the door we go. Left the coffee on the counter.

As they eat their lunches, I am now desperate and determined to have that cup of coffee. That was of course, until the fries had come to the end of the bag with only one left. Logically, split it in half and everyone’s happy. Realistically only one of them is going to be content as splitting it makes no sense to a two year old and a seven year old. And so, war breaks out. I ate the fry. Where did I set down that coffee?

Kids do the darnedest things, don’t they? Like letting lightning bolt dog out because “she looked like she wanted to play”. Once again, she was out of the house and over the fence before there was a second to react. Fortunately, a gentlemen caught her a few houses down. Unfortunately, He wanted to give me his thoughts on her escape. The man asked where her leash was, I explained she was accidentally let out. He asked where her collar with tags were, again- I explained she was accidentally let out. He went on to explain the importance of having a dog with both of those things outside of my home. Again, I explained she was accidentally let out. And then he said “well, next time your probably not going to get her back.” That’s it, I quit. I arrogantly responded “you’re probably right, I won’t.” He responded with “that was a very snide response young lady” and truly, I just wanted to cry right there and then and curse the day but instead, I apologized, took my dog, and walked away from the man. All I wanted was to sit and drink my coffee that was now cold, again.

The rest of the day was a blur of temper tantrums, hyper activity, stubbed toes, and spilled milk. It was almost comedic. Almost. I had given up on coffee by dinner as the last thing I wanted was to not be able to fall asleep, so I opted for something that would surely tuck me in- Don Juan’s Margaritas.

In my peaceful drunken state, suddenly my day became clear. Was it frustrating and utterly chaotic? Absolutely. But, my children are happy and healthy, there is a roof over our heads, and love in our home. It wasn’t that bad.

I woke up today with that thought of appreciation and laughed to myself as I walked down the stairs to find a chewed up toy instead of a diaper. Each day has it’s own struggles and highlights. Some days we may be running on empty, but we keep going anyway. For the days that we struggle (and we all struggle) I believe in positive thinking, and when you’ve exhausted positive thinking, margarita therapy.

A few final mentions: To the gentleman who caught my dog, I’m sorry for being so rude- I agree with you completely. As a matter of fact, I began putting her collar with tags on inside our home as well and when she got out today, a neighbor knew where to return her. Wish I was kidding.

"No one said it was going to be easy, they just promised it would be worth it." Harvey Mackay

[mommyetc]

Baby Girl X

Upon opening my baby book, the first few lines will read: “Not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone, but still miraculously my own. You didn’t grow under my heart, but in it.”

She wasn’t allowed to hold me, feed me, much less legally name me for the week following my birth as the paperwork around my adoption was finalized. The hospital tags read “Baby Girl X” , a girl without a name between parents.

I could just see it, my loud-mouthed Italian Mother standing at all of 5 ft nothing sneaking passed the nursery window just to get a peek at me for those seven, seemingly impossibly long, days. Fortunately for my mom, she worked in the hospital where I was born, so suddenly her position in the blood bank found purpose in the newborn nursery regularly. Or at least, for seven impossibly long days it did.

The nurses assured my mom they would take extra care of her baby girl. Though, I would assume they’d tell her anything to give her peace of mind in those days of limbo. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she could of felt, but if there is anything that I am sure of it’s that my mothers heart is possibly bigger than her mouth. It takes a very special woman to feel genuine maternal, unconditional love through only a few short glimpses of a baby through a glass window.

Seven impossibly long days came and went. She then was finally able to hold me, feed me, and alas- name me. A name, a mother, an unbreakable bond that took seven impossibly long days to have a lifetime of a mothers love. She was worth the wait. I, Gina Marie, formerly known as Baby Girl X was worth the wait.

There are currently over 100,000 children in the United States without a family or home to call their own. I was one of the lucky ones, most haven’t been so lucky. For more information please contact your local adoption agency.

Xoxo

[mommyetc]

Mommy, etcetera

For me, the most natural form of self expression has always been writing. I’ve never been very fashion forward and truly, I’m not sure if the clothes I wear could give justice to what’s in my heart. While music speaks volumes to the soul, I lack one important pre-requisite; talent. So, that’s out too. I’ve never actually understood art, I can certainly appreciate it- but I’m not the type to look at something abstract and find a deep meaning to tie to it. I believe finding your way in self expression is a very intimate, personal journey and is unique to each of us.

Whats in a name? I’ve read that your early 20s are these fabulous years designed to find yourself, discover your calling, and start on this incredible road to adulthood. I suppose I sort of catapulted at the starting line, giving birth to my first child a few months shy of my 21st birthday. In those moments, I remember thinking ‘well, this is it. This is who I am now, a Mom.’ No more, no less- a Mom. Looking back, I now realize that was only my beginning. Yes, I am a mom first and foremost (and that’s amazing in itself) but I am much more than that! I have accumulated lots of backroads, pitstops, and whoops I got lost- souvenirs along my journey that collectively have made me who I am.

I’d like to introduce myself as MommyEtc. My alias representing my strongest role accompanied by all of my life’s souvenirs- the odds and ends of my being.

I am so happy to be here, to put my thoughts, dreams, and fears exposed for anyone to see. To essentially be naked in front of strangers in a poetic sense is the most exciting and terrifying thing I have done to date. With this risk and responsibility, I vow to keep my blogging real and true - respectfully.

I figure if I could manage to inspire even just one person, make one person laugh, bring one person solace this will all be worth the potential humiliation and/or rejection. Cheers to taking chances!

Kindly,

Mommy, etcetera