worth the wait

One of the best parts of having a child for me is when they hug me. They don't have to, but they do, because they love me and want to be close to me. But Elliott hasn't really been interested in hugging, so when I try to hug him, he pushes away and squirms out of my arms so he can run away and throw himself on the ground and roll around. Because that's what he likes to do. But lately, after naps and after waking in the morning, he's been lying his head on my shoulder for whole minutes at a time. At first I thought it was just a fluke, but now he does it every time he wakes up. And it's awesome. After carrying him in and pushing him out of my body, after suffering sleep deprivation, after two years of endless screaming, he finally lets me know that he will endure physical contact with me, at least for a couple of minutes. Sadly, I will take what I can get.

my boys

 
 
 

working from home

Thursdays are my "work from home" days. This could mean a variety of things. Here are some duties on these days: taking Ben to speech school, attending playdates, shipping things I sold on ebay, cleaning the house, posting lesson plans onto my online courses, responding to work emails and phone calls, making and going to doctor's appointments, etc. It's a busy, unfocused day. I'm having a hard time at work right now. I'm under a tremendous amount of stress and one person in particular is making my life stressful. Yet I am home trying to be a good mom and deal with that without letting it take over. So after a great amount of stress all day, I look over at Elliott, and he is scooting himself across the floor to stack some nesting blocks, which he has gotten very good at. He is trying to talk, and, in the middle of stacking his blocks, he says something sounding like momma and gives me a huge smile. This makes me smile, too, and erases everything at work. In just this week, Elliott has made huge strides. He's been hugging and kissing us and playing more with Ben, right now Diego is telling him to clap clap clap and he is clapping. This is huge for us.

Earlier today at the park, Ben had a playdate with his friends Anna, Zoe, and Isabelle from speech school. Isabelle's mom brought Chicken McNuggets to the park for everyone to share. In theory, I know that McNuggets are bad, but Ben, who eats the same exact foods day after day, except for his obligatory one bite of "something new," took a McNugget and ate the entire thing. Without gagging. I was so excited, I asked him if he wanted a Happy Meal after the park. With a toy! And a chocolate milk! And apples! (I snuck that one in.) He said, "Yay! McDonald's!" Yes, I know this should probably make me feel terrible, but for once, I agree. Yay, McDonald's. Your ingenious blend of fats and salts (with a healthy dose of peer pressure) have made my son eat something new, and like it. He ate four more McNuggets later, as well as one slice of apple.

i wish i wish i wish

I'm happy where I live, and I love my job. I'm getting tenure next year. But man do I wish I could apply for this job: http://www.islandreefjob.com/. They give you a three bedroom house! In Australia! And all you have to do is blog about it! I can just picture Ryan, Elliott, Ben, and me snorkeling and swimming, and lying around in the sand. For sixth months. In Australia. Getting paid lots of money. It's killing me.

just one of many

Thank you, W., for the understatement of the year: "Clearly putting a 'mission accomplished' banner on an aircraft carrier was a mistake."

Clearly.

worry, worry

We've been weaning Elliott from the bottle. He was doing great until he went back to daycare this week. There, he sees his cousin Cameron's bottle, and all the memories flood into his overstimulated little brain, and it is too much for him to handle. He does angry somersaults on the floor, steps on Cameron's torso, throws blocks and hard plastic toys over his shoulder that hit other children. He screams and screams. When I pick him up after work, I apologize a lot, but I feel frustrated because it isn't my fault either. I don't whisper in his ear, "Hey kid, can you be an a-hole at daycare today? That would be hilarious." I feel embarrassed, like I am doing something wrong. I don't know why he acts likes this. It's not just daycare; it's everywhere. At the Wild Animal Park, he tries to run past the posted warnings into the area where all those giraffes, gazelles, and LIONS live. He screams when we stop him. He throws his sippy cup forcefully onto the floor when he is done drinking. He slams his head into his high chair, crying out in pain, when he's done eating. I remember the first several months when I thought I had a calmer kid on my hands and I realize that I have nothing of the sort. That's fine, but what do I do about the fact that he isn't saying anything regularly, that he doesn't appear to care (or even respond, really) when I tell him "no?" How do we get him to learn, to speak, to interact better? It's especially painful when I see him around my friends' son, my sister's daughter, and the kids at the playground, who are all the same age or even much younger. I love this beautiful little boy, but I feel like such a crappy parent sometimes.

resolutions

Ryan and I spent New Year's Eve watching Hancock, which we deeply regretted. We then watched the Carson Daly/Dick Clark coverage. Carson Daly is like a benign tumor; he sort of bugs you but he isn't really doing any harm. Dick Clark, on the other hand, made me very aware of my own mortality, instilling a fear in me for the coming year. Time to retire, Dick.

I usually suck at resolutions, especially ones involving weight loss, but here goes:

1. Complete a triathlon.
2. Set clearly defined boundaries and stick to them in all aspects of my life.
3. Lose 10 pounds.
4. Stop cussing in front of the kids. This will be very hard in, say, traffic.
5. Read more.

Ryan says New Year's resolutions are bullshit. We'll see what he thinks when I'm reading a book while I sprint my last laps of the triathlon in the pool, 10 lbs. lighter than I used to be, yelling "bananas" when the person in the lane next to me wins.

bad couple of days

I've been a mess these past few days. Yesterday, I was just overly emotional and really sick. I was supposed to go out with Ryan and some friends and family, but instead the day ended with me lying in bed, puffy eyed and coughing and sad. I eventually gave into my illness and emotional exhaustion by taking off my jeans and putting on some flannel pajama pants at about 6pm. Once you put on the pajama pants, there is no return. I fell asleep around 8:30pm after watching I Am Legend on HBO.

Today, I am resolved to get back on track. I will organize the toys. I will finally order photos. I will exercise. I will not cuss at anyone. I will be someone other people want to be around.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 

thank you, nbc

I have a passion for really horrible reality television, and now that my semester is wrapping up and I'm almost done with my grading, I'm looking forward to a little show called Momma's Boys, produced by Ryan Seacrest, and my expectations are deliciously low. Here's the trailer:

I watched the first episode last night, and it was all that I dreamed it would be. (Racist mom + minorities dating her son = excellent reality television). I even made Ryan miss the Lakers game (a game they won by 1 point), and he admitted that it was worth it. It was definitely worth it.

Next up? That show Tyra Banks and Ashton Kutcher are making.

This is what I call celebrating the holidays.

all i wanted was glasses

I went in to get my eye exam this morning and was told that I have an allergic reaction in one of my eyes as well as "abnormalities" in my other eyes due to my contacts. So I needed to pony up (pony up?) and buy a new pair of glasses, one that I would actually wear. Luckily, I had an eye exam and glasses benefit I didn't know about through Kaiser that covered everything. So I got an awesome pair of glasses and was getting them fitted, when the optician asked me what I did for a living. I explained that I taught English at a community college, and he said, "Tell me the truth. Do they want to learn how to speak English?" I assume he was talking about Mexicans, but I told him that most of my students really work hard and show interest once they gain confidence in themselves. He proceeded to tell me that he didn't like how we were teaching kids about evolution because it clearly is a lie, and also how no on Prop. 8 people should stop whining about having lost. "If we had lost," he told me, "we'd just accept it. We'd move out of California," he continued, chuckling, "but we'd accept it." At this point, I just wanted to fuck with him, and I mentioned how much I had loved living in San Francisco and New York. He told me, I swear, that Oklahoma is the place to be, and that he was getting out of Redlands because it lacked diversity. "They're taking over, if you know what I mean," he said. I think I do know what he means, unfortunately, and I'll be very happy for him when he moves away from me.

sippy cup genius

Ryan hates the word sip but I'm guessing he hates the word sippy a hundred times worse, even more than he hates the word McFlurry. In any case, Elliott finally, FINALLY drank more than a couple of drops from a sippy cup today, and it wasn't milk. This is one step closer to getting him off of the bottle, which his doctors are pressuring us about. Ben didn't care what form his milk came to him (or even what type of milk it was); he just wanted it. Quickly. But Elliott, he cares about the brand of milk, the type of bottle, the position he is in, and so forth, so this is a huge accomplishment. I finally feel as though I got this kid's attention long enough to actually teach him something.

feel like killing yourself?

I didn't either, until I watched the documentary Dear Zachary last night. Not only did Ryan and I cry hysterically, we ended up sleeping in Ben's room last night. Watching this film is like repeatedly getting punched directly in your heart with brass knuckles.

on a lighter note

Gun control, anyone?

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/seahawks/2008450648_nflnotes30.html
wait...there's more...
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27963920/

the other side

Early on, I suspected something was wrong with Ben because while he showed an interest in reading, in building, in walking, in coloring, in learning in general, he didn't show an interest in communicating. He didn't wave goodbye like most other toddlers. He didn't look us in the eye. He learned to say his letters but he wouldn't say mom or dad. In fact, he would lay awake at night, in the dark, repeating his letters until he fell asleep. He used to melt into tears and collapse into the ground and scream when the tiniest part of his routine was changed. This worried me tremendously. He seemed to be in this fog, this dreamy little letter-filled world of his own, that he couldn't or didn't want to escape and I couldn't penetrate.

We are on the other side of that tunnel now, and Benjamin tells jokes and tells me that he loves me, and looks me in the eye. Best of all, I know what his voice sounds like now and he wants to tell me what he did today and what he thinks is funny. He wants to tell me when he is mad at me and why. I waited so many months to hear him talk to me like this, and he does now. Sure, he's anxious and obsessive sometimes, but he has friends, he does well in school. He has caught up and I am not so worried.

Now we are entering another tunnel with Elliott. He is almost two, and he doesn't say anything at all. We had him evaluated yesterday and they told us that, aside from his physical skills, he is developmentally at the level of a 9-12 month old. They want him to see a psychologist and a geneticist. A therapist will begin coming to our house to work with him twice a week. I know it could be worse, that he could be missing legs or have a terrible illness or something like that. I know it is stupid to think that I did something wrong, or that I have some weird gene that causes my kids to not be able to communicate. The worse part is, I don't know what is on the other side of this tunnel with Elliott. We all just have to work through it together and hope for the best.

the crazy one and the worried one

Elliott will not let me hold his hand as he crosses the very unstable bridge at the park. My biggest fear was that he would fall through the side and land headfirst on the wood chips, which are a considerable amount of feet below. This fear was realized yesterday--he fell and slipped right through the side of the bridge head first, landing on his face. I tried to catch him, but my arms moved too slowly. I scooped him up to comfort him, aware of the eyes of the entire playground on me, the mother who couldn't catch her baby, or at least get him to hold her hand. But Elliott didn't want me. He pushed away from me, stopped crying, and climbed right back up. He continued to not allow me to hold my hand, screaming at me every time I tried. Elliott doesn't care about consequences. He will walk into to something, fall down, get up, and walk into it again. Why does this worry me? OH YEAH. All of the dangers that lay ahead of him in life.

Ben is on the other extreme. While his little brother is diving off the bridge, he is cautiously crossing the little toadstool things at the park, slowly moving from one to the other, clutching onto Ryan the whole time. Last night, he asked me why his aunt and uncle couldn't live with us. I told him we didn't have any room. He asked me why I couldn't buy a room. I said it didn't work like that. I told him that all his aunts and uncles and his grandma and grandpa have their own houses. "When you get bigger, you'll have your own house too," I said. He likes to tell me that he will have a job (teaching writing with Ryan) and a car of his own one day, but he didn't like to hear about this house he would have. "I don't want my own house," he said. "I want to live with you, Mom." Just about made me cry.

This will not be cute when he is 25, but it is extremely cute right now. I hate that one day he won't always want me to scratch his back or hold his hand or read him Care Bear books (thanks, Bridge!).

One of these photos is of Ben and the gingerbread house we made. The other depicts Ben's rendition of our family. Don't see Elliott? He's the tiny one, down in the corner. Ben says when Elliott gets older and he can talk, then he will be friends with him, but not right now. Ben has this imaginary world called Blueland, and he says that Elliott is not allowed to go there either because he isn't big enough. So while they don't hate each other (yet), they aren't quite BFFs either. Hopefully that will improve with time...
 

 

photos, finally.

It took me long enough.