Thursday, November 30, 2006

this must be love

Benjamin, last night I was on my way down the hall to check my email when I smelled something horrible through your door. It couldn't be. It was. Diarrhea. How much of this can you possibly contain in your little body?

Sighing in defeat, I opened the door to change you. You were in a deep sleep, sprawled across your bed on your back, a peaceful look on your face. I felt bad that I had to do anything, but I couldn't let you lie in it.

I'm not going to give you the details because some of them are so terrible they will embarrass you when you run for Congress as a Democrat when you are older.

However, I will say it was green and it required nearly twenty-five wipes and, per the doctor's instructions, I had to collect it with a little spoon fashioned just for this purpose.

Son, I know more about you than you will ever want me to.

And through all the wiping, the changing of the diaper, the changing of the pajamas, through everything, you slept peacefully, and it says a lot about how much I can love you when I can barely breath because it is so gross, yet I manage to look up at that beautiful sleeping face and feel so in love.

Monday, November 20, 2006

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Thursday, November 16, 2006

it's been a long time, my friends

Obviously, I'm not a blogger for a living. Or else I wouldn't have been gone so long. So much has happened. Halloween. The election. Ben starting preschool. And you've had to go through all of this without my insight. I'm sorry. I truly am. So here we go:

1. The election. Obviously, I wanted to pee happiness and sit in that warm, welcoming puddle all night long. It was the best election of my life. If we would have lost, I was considering Canada. Seriously.

2. Halloween. I was George W. Bush for about thirty seconds, until I began to suffocate and the smell of latex or vinyl overtook my sinuses. Ryan lasted a lot longer as Donald Rumsfeld, and so did his headache. So basically, I spent the night in asweatshirt that said "I hate myself" but it didn't make any sense. I know you care most about Ben. Well, I had a really cute grasshopper costume for him with antennae and everything. When I tried to catch him and put it over his head, he ran screaming from me, and every time he saw it he screamed and ran. So that didn't work. He ended up in his Superman pajamas with red socks pulled up to his knees and a cape. (Pictures forthcoming)

3. Preschool. Ben began preschool on Monday. Preschool away from family. All alone. With a bunch of kids and adults he doesn't know. I kept waking up the night before his first day, remembering essential preschool types of things like putting his name on everything in marker, wondering if I bought the right kind of pull-ups (I didn't), thinking of everything the teacher needed to know about Ben, finding away to encapsulate him into an introduction. "This is Benjamin. He doesn't talk much, but he can say the whole alphabet, and he's really smart and funny and has great dexterity and likes other kids but is shy to interact and has a hard time with transitions and sometimes likes his space and loves to play outside and has a speech therapist that wants to come in and observe him with the other kids and he knows his colors but he can't say them and he hasn't been pottytrained and he has asthma but it mostly isn't severe but sometimes is..." You see where I'm going with this. I can't put Ben into an introductory statement.

Despite all of my worrying, Ben had an amazing first day. He ate all of his lunch and snacks, slept well, interacted with the kids well, and was happy to see me but not desperate to see me when I picked him up.

The next day, however, was more difficult. Yesterday was worse. Today was better. I think it's going to be good for him, but it is hard to make these sorts of decisions. I want them to love him as much as I do.

One major problem with the school--they play creepy children's Jesus songs.

On Monday, the song was about being in Jesus' army and the refrain was a bunch of little kids yelling, "Yes sir!" I don't think Jesus had an army, do you? Maybe it was an army of goodness, like the Carebears?

Today, the song was a version of "B-I-N-G-O" wherein the letters were replaced with, you guessed it "J-E-S-U-S." Not too catchy.

He will only be there for one year. Hopefully, he will learn to talk, but he won't learn to hate homosexuals.

4. Ryan gone all weekend. Ryan was gone all last weekend, which is one very good reason why I didn't write anything here--I was busy being a single mom. It was almost like being with a newborn again--no sleep or showers and Ben wanted to be carried all day long. I think I learned that single moms deserve to be carried on pillows by servants who fan them and braid their hair. Ben and I missed Ryan, and our house was very quiet because Ryan is the one who runs into walls for Ben's amusement and carries him on his back and chases him everywhere. We did puzzles and went to the playground, but it wasn't the same. It felt very strange.