e and I had our worst day yet. He was mad at me. I was mad at him. He screamed. We both cried. Naps were a bust. It was just really really bad. Can’t say why. I can say I shouldn’t have been frustrated or angry or mad. This kid is clearly going through a lot and has so many huge feelings and is such a small small person and I should have held his hand and gave him a hug and helped him work through them instead of having to take a time out of my own. I shouldn’t have taken it personally, because it wasn’t personal. I have so so much to learn. I have so much growing to do myself.
A had a terribly long meeting on Tuesday. He was gone gone gone so e, boom, and I held down the fort as best we could.
Not much to report, aside from a return of cold cold weather that still hasn’t quit.
These two-liner days aren’t bad. They’re quite wonderful. But we seem to be so busy doing things we’ve already done, that there’s not much to add.
Perhaps I should have started counting my days from today, my birthday.
It is, after all, the beginning of my 27th year.
And a marvelous start it was. A took at day off of his business trips, stopping in from Connecticut and spending a few precious hours with me before he took off again to Key West. He showered me with kisses and squeezed me with hugs and then gave me presents to boot: a new pair of kicks, a book I’ve had my eye on for ages (Freestyle by Carl Paoli) and the sweetest note I’ve ever read.
We went to the gym (where I did 100 squats at #120, and took a whopping 37:56 to do so) and then we went to Swing’s and I had some birthday tea. Over to MOM’s to get some birthday groceries and back home to take a birthday shower.
A left on his jet plane and my original family took over, with a surprise birthday call from my dad and surprise birthday yarn from my mom and a surprise birthday dinner at my favorite place to eat, complete with a sweet birthday hug from my big little brother who towers over me. I held strong to my Whole30 for the main course with an indulgent grassfed ribeye topped with buttah, but caved on the birthday ice cream. I do intend to go into bean’s first birthday with a happy disposition so I will keep eating consciously, but I won’t begin another Whole30 until after his birthday celebration.
It was so wonderful to see my family. I missed Karl and the gang and Maddy, but got a wonderful call from the former and distracted the latter from her studies with various memes and virtual lols.
Finally I get to fall asleep to the soft breaths of my sweet angel, the greatest blessing, the person who opened up the world to me. It was a good year, an excellent birthday, and the year to come will be grand, wherever we may go.
A was away all day, learning how to preserve life when it slips from the liver’s grasp. As the sun prepared to set, he arrived home with a furrow in his brow. In each of those dummies he saw bean, and the vision shadowed his usual ready smile.
He taught me what to do and now we both know at least a little bit. We pray that if we ever have to use it, it will be enough.
I passed the day in a daze. It was not my best showing. Even while playing with bean it felt as though I was only going through the motions. That small effort to bundle us up against the return of the cold seemed exhausting, so we stayed inside instead.
Bean and boom weren’t so conflicted. They chased each other around the living room and then went on their separate ways, boom to keep watch at the window and bean to examine his most fascinating toothbrush.
Bean has been peeing and pooping on the toilet since he was two weeks old. We didn’t “catch” everything but it was part of a game and a way to break up the cycle of nursing and sleeping, nursing and sleeping, cuddling and nursing and sleeping. He seemed to have fun. We sure had fun. All was well.
Fast forward four months (right after his second DTAP and rota by the way) and he broke out in awful eczema, the worst being in his diaper area. The doctor said it was yeast and gave us a prescription. We used it for two months with no improvement. We switched from cloth diapers to disposable. Still no change. I eliminated even more from my very strict diet. Still no change.
It cleared up on its own (maybe with a little help from a magical concoction of beeswax, olive oil, and lavender but also maybe it had just run its course) but by eight months, the potty had turned into a “once in the morning” type of thing rather than an “every hour, half hour, ten minutes, two hours” type of thing. The disposables were so absorbent, bean no longer squirmed when he was wet (or about to be) and my instincts were completely dulled to his pee times.
Once the big scare came around, and the eczema reemerged and every single one of his little poops turned into pure torture for him, and my heart broke and my mind spun, I figured why not add a bit of spice to life and let bean go without a dipe. And that’s how things are now. He’s free, and peeing everywhere. Everywhere, that is, except the toilet. And the bathroom sink. He doesn’t mind the kitchen sink though (the window helps.)
A insists he wears a diaper when he’s home (bean’s peed on him twice, once in his work clothes.) The funny thing is, bean’s figured out how to take his diaper OFF, which he usually does right before he makes another puddle.
We’re still working on the toilet stuff. It’s not so hard to clean up pee, and he rarely poops (maybe once every four or five days. Or ten.)
It’s just a little humor as I find that the world is a much much much scarier place than I ever knew it was. Kind of like bean’s pee, I have little control over where or when anything happens. But with love, with attention, with patience, I can get it going to the right place eventually (the pee, not the world.) At least there’s that.
And really, when you’ve got someone to love, what more can you ask for?
bean’s gummy smile will soon be relegated to photographs. His first tooth (the top left central incisor) is cutting its way through. He’s been a champ throughout the process, only waking at night with a bit of pain and fussiness. Other than this he’s returned to his happy-go-lucky self and thrilled is too weak a verb for my disposition.
He’s growing so fast and changing so much. It’s been 45 weeks since he arrived on the scene (and 86 since he was conceived.) I used to count the days, then the weeks, now the months. Soon, the years.