Ramblings of a Blogging Mom

Growing up, especially when I was a teen, I remember numerous (possibly hundreds) of times that I said, "I will NEVER do that!" after my parents did something I thought was completely heinous. Don't judge...you know you did the same damn thing. Like for one, I SWORE I would never get divorced. And now look at me. I also swore I wouldn't yell at my kid, say the phrase "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about", tell my kid they can't do something just because everyone else is doing it, or lick my finger and wipe my kids face with my slobbery digit....among like 73 other things. I can officially say...I have done..and will probably do again..all of these things.

However, there are plenty of things my parents did do that I hope I can live up to. Or at least do half as well.

My mom is really crafty. She sewed almost all of my Halloween costumes and prom dresses. She can paint, sew, cook, draw, and write. She also did some really fun things. Sometimes on the weekends she would let my brother and I "cook" while she fixed us breakfast. And by cook I mean she let us make a ridiculous mess. We would take empty 2 liter Diet Pepsi bottles and put water, milk, egg shells, and God knows what else in there. I am sure it was ridiculous to clean, but it's one of those things I will always remember. Along with things like making gingerbread houses. She would let Chance and I make these gingerbread houses at Christmas time. And we made them. But we also made a ridiculous mess to go with our masterpieces. And she NEVER said anything about it. I am sure when she woke up the next morning to go to work she thought a nuclear bomb went off in her kitchen. But she never said a thing. ((I would have had a meltdown of epic proportions)) My mom pretty much was up for anything. If I wanted to get all dressed up for no reason, she would play along. If I wanted to perm my hair (ughh..big mistake..all 3 times) she would perm it for me. My mom would do whatever spontaneous, ridiculous thing us kids wanted to do. And I HOPE I can be like that. I hope Bowen remembers painting his body and the floors. I hope we get to do silly things like "cook" breakfast. Mostly, I hope I can make Bowen's childhood fun and silly and make him feel like a kid as often as possible, because that is what I love about my mom.

And then there is my dad. OH my dad. The dad that used to put rubber bands in my hair instead of hair ties. The dad who always told me that it doesn't matter what everyone else is doing or if it will make me lose friends, if something is wrong, do the right thing. The dad that taught me how to fight dirty after I got my ass kicked for the first time. (he said eye ball gouging was definitely ok, along with earring ripping out, and biting if necessary lol) The same dad that watched me fail miserably at my first debate tournament when I was in 8th grade (in my defense I was going up against 10-12th graders and I had never had formal training) and made me feel like I didn't actually suck ass. (And I REALLY sucked ass) My dad has been a shoulder to cry on, a hard ass, embarrassing (VERY embarrassing), but always had the best advice. Still does. He has survived cancer, raised a hellion of an eldest daughter, can be the sweetest guy in the world, or the meanest SOB you've ever met.

SO....as a parent...I know I am going to make a jillion mistakes. I am already to at least a million so a jillion may be setting it pretty low. I yell a lot, I have wiped Bowen's face with my spit covered finger, and threatened a spanking when he was already crying. (I didn't follow through though) I've also been known to serve popcorn and popsicles for dinner, let paint cover both of our bodies, and let him use an entire box of bandaids on his "boo-boo's" in one day. I hope one day when Bowen is older he remembers the ridiculous things we do and will do. I hope I can offer the advice I have been given, teach him how to throw a good punch, and always have a literary piece that fits every situation. I hope I can live up to my the good that my parents have done and don't repeat any other mistakes they have made. Aside from the few I already have.

And that is my insight for the night. I'm a mom, but I'm human. Really, I am just trying to figure out this whole parenting thing one day at a time. And, like most things I do, I have a couple of hiccups every now and then. But, as Bowen lays next to me sleeping peacefully, I realize that I'm not doing too bad. He is healthy, smart, and pretty damn sweet. And with any luck he will make it through his childhood and teenage years with minimal therapy and no criminal record.

Missed Life Lessons

Growing up my mom always made her and my dad's bed every day. I think she tried for like...a year..to get me and my brother to make our beds ever day, but she eventually gave up. Anyways, I always thought that being a grown up and a mom I would have a neat, well put together house, and my room would be clean and organized and my bed would be made every day with cute decorative pillows. Now I am a grown up and a mom...and shit could not be more opposite.

Let it be said that we don't live in filth. But our house is not ever completely clean..like no toys on the floor, everything dusted, bedrooms clean with beds made. Nope. That shit never happens. I never make the bed. Ever. Even when I wash the sheets and everything. I throw them on the bed, throw the comforter on, and call it good. Today was the first time in like a week and a half that Bowen's play area downstairs was picked up. And right this very minute, there is a large train track...half assembled...covering that very floor again. ((I did sweep during the 20 minutes it was clean)) And I'm looking at my dresser right now, with its drawers half closed with shirts and bras hanging out of it. (At least they are off the floor) So point is...I think there are much more important things to do (like play "catch" with Bowen and eat popsicles in the backyard) than worry about my house looking like a room in Better Homes and Gardens. (Not that I could ever "design" a room that looks that awesome. Not one of my skills)

My favorite thing about weekends is that we don't have to rush to get out of bed, we can all snuggle in bed and be lovey. This morning Jason and I woke up before Bowen (which I don't think is ok...if baby is sleeping then mommy should be able to sleep) and were quietly talking about how Bowen had slept on my pillow with me all night AND left a massive drool spot on the bed. Shortly after Bowen woke up and we were all talking and playing and watching cartoons when Jason made the remark that today he was going to make Mommy and Daddy's bed.

Bowen looked at Jason so completely confused and said, "Make it into what?"

Which of course made us start cracking up. I wish I could have taken a picture of his facial expression because it made it soooo much more hilarious.

So anyways...I realized it is kind of sad that my child doesn't know what it means to make the bed. Am I failing as a parent? Isn't this one of those things we are supposed to be teaching him? How can he know what all the words to "Like A G6" but not know what making the bed is?

Wait..wait..wait. That's right. I'm too busy teaching him that its not ok to constantly touch his penis even though it is HIS penis, that the word "shit" is ONLY used by grown ups, and that he can't bust my ass, only I can bust his ass. THESE are necessary and important life lessons...making a bed can wait until he can actually carry a sheet without tripping over it 45 times. Alright..I'm all good, at least for another few years.

Party in the Potty

Holy balls its been a minute since I've posted last. But I guess that is what happens when you get a promotion, have family in town, have birthdays to celebrate, and diets to cheat on. Oh life. It really SOUNDS a lot more interesting than it is...because it really isn't.

My sweet, sweet boy turned four. Trips me out that he is that old. But he recently told me, "Mommy..I'm your best friend and you're my homie" And that reminded me that I really don't have a baby anymore.

Another thing that reminded me that my son is definitely not a baby was a recent trip to go potty. Only in my life could things go so horribly wrong.

A week ago I was in a dr's office lobby and I knew that as soon as we got into the actual office he would need to pee. So I drug him into the bathroom with me. He peed, then I decided I had to pee. So I sit down. And he loudly says, "MOMMY!!! Are you going poop?!" and I said, "SHHH and no!!! I am just going pee!" He looks at me and says, "Well standing up means pee and sitting down means poop. You're sitting down....SooOOoo...that means poop." Once again, he was yelling this at me, but I replied with a calm, "But I'm a girl..I don't have a penis..so I have to sit down to pee." Then..slightly horrified he yells, "YOU DON'T HAVE A PENIS!?!?!?" Pretty sure the people in the building across the street heard this entire conversation. ((Really..why are all bathrooms so damn echoey?))

In reality we were in the bathroom less than 5 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. And I had to walk out into the lobby filled with people giggling and smiling. And because of this I felt like I had to clear some things up to these 5 strangers and said, "Just for the record..I did not poop and I definitely do not have a penis."

Which made the group erupt into laughter.

Maybe I should get out of the travel coordinator business and try being a comedian. I have plenty of embarrassing moments (like everyday) that entertain people. Watch out Kathy Griffin..I am going to take over.

Bowen Is A Big Boy

Tuesday, June 14th, at 10:12 am central time...my beautiful little boy turned four years old. FOUR! Ok...first of all..this makes me feel old. Second of all...where the fuck did time go? And thirdly...thank Jesus he doesn't expect a big party and whatnot.

It literally seems like yesterday that I was huge pregnant and crying at the gyno's office because he wouldn't sweep my membranes and get the kid out of my body. ((not what you were expecting?)) I can't believe it has been 4 years since I held him for the first time and bawled when the hospital did his pku tests. I can't believe I have been a ma..mom..mama..and mommy for four whole years. I can't believe he is alive and healthy after four years in my care!! ((just kidding...I actually never doubted myself in this area))

Bowen and I have a seriously tight bond. He was my little miracle baby and we have been through a lot of shit together. We are SO much alike and, at times, he really grates on my nerves...but he is the only thing that gets me through life. Bowen is my little angel on Earth..and though he seriously tests my patience...I absolutely cannot imagine not having him in my life.

I have heard that there is no bond like the bond between a mother and her child and I never fully understood it until I knew I was having him. And now I understand why moms can lift cars off of their children who are trapped underneath them and kill people who do harm to their kid. Bowen has made suuuuch a huge impact on my life (and not just financially) and I hope one day he feels the same about me.

I don't want to get too mushy and out of control...but my baby isn't really a baby anymore. And though I am so excited to see what the next year brings and watch him continue to grow and learn and develop...I am also a little sad that sooner rather than later, I will just be an annoying mom who doesn't get smoochers and snuggles. So for the time being I am going to smother him in snuggles and smoochers and relish every sweet second. Because I don't have a baby anymore, I have a big, four year old boy!

Boys Will Be Boys

Raising a boy is weird and gross and awkward and awesome..all at the same time. I don't think there is a day when I haven't gone to bed and thought, "Did that really happen?" or "Did he really say that?" Some times..ok a lot of times...I wish for one day where something ridiculous didn't happen. But in all reality, it keeps things interesting and I wouldn't have it any other way.

A couple weeks ago Bowen and I went to Jason's soccer game. Bowen and I were sitting in our chairs, soaking up some vitamin D, when he says..loudly.."Hey mommy...I have a penis, he has a penis, he has a penis, he has a penis, he has a penis.." While pointing to all the players on the field. I said, "Bowen do not say penis again. IF you say penis again I am going to take you home." (empty threat...I know...never a good idea) He looks at me. Looks at the field. Looks back at me (with a glimmer in his eye) and says, "PENIS!"

Bowen told me a couple of days ago that he would always be my baby. Of course, melted my heart. And I gave him a big squeeze and some smooches. Then he asked for a popsicle. I should have known that he was just buttering me up for something. I told him no and he replied, "I'm not your baby anymore!" And then, "And I'm not your fwiend anymore eider!" If I didn't truly believe that parents should not be friends with their kids, my heart would be broken. BUT since I do believe this..I am just fine with it...and 100% sure I will hear it a million more times.

And then there was yesterday....Now..let it be known, I have the gassiest child known to man. He wakes up in the morning, lets one rip. He climbs into the car, one "accidentally" pops out. He moves, he farts. It is really a sad situation. So yesterday, I was standing in the kitchen and I made him pick his toy up off the floor. And he farts. So he smiles this HUGE smile and says, "MOMMY!!! My toot just said HI to you!" Glad something likes me.

I thought about getting into the PHYSICALLY disgusting things boys do...I mean they have a small thingy with a HUGE hole to aim into, yet there is ALWAYS pee on the toilet. WTF?! But that is just too much to get into in one day. So here is your nugget..of boy raising nastiness.

The Not So Happy Blog

Voltaire said, "Tears are the silent language of grief." I have to agree. Because this weekend had started with so much joy and hope...and ended with tears. And all these tears say all the words that I want to...but can't.

I like my blog to be cheery and funny and silly. I like to think that life is short so we shouldn't take things too seriously. But sometimes bad things happen and things aren't always funny or cheery. And I am pissed and sad and a mess.

For the past month I have been telling Jason and a small few that I am pregnant. I didn't have the test in hand proving it...but I knew. I KNEW. I've had a baby before. I have been pregnant before. I knew. I was sick, had headaches, intense sense of smell, exhausted, constipated, bloated..the whole shebang. What I didn't have was a positive test. They kept coming up negative. This did not help my case with Jason. But I am telling you...I knew. And Saturday I had the proof. I had the test proving that I wasn't going crazy.

Jason knew that when I found out I was pregnant with Bowen, my ex husband was at his MOS school for the Marine Corps. Bowen was planned so he was waiting to hear the news. I wrote him this little poem and texted him, and then sent him a pic text of the test. Anyways..I thought it was cute and special and I wanted all of that and more for Jason. He, of all people, deserved it. Anyways I took the test before softball practice..looked at it an hour later and there it was. So I raced to Walgreens and grabbed a balloon that said 'OMG CONGRATS' and a couple of gift tags that were pink and blue and said baby, and two pacifiers. I told Jason to meet me at home and taped all this shit to the front door.

So he pulls in and sees the door and is speechless. Like totally..didn't know what to say or do...he unloaded the back of the truck. (Because we were moving for a week) Anyways..I had been excited for a month. And he got excited. And suddenly everything felt right with the world. I was so happy and was happy to have the sickness and bloating and get fat and feel kicks. So we called his family and told them and a couple of close friends.

That night Jason decided I needed to take another test just to take it. It pissed me off..not going to lie. We had an appointment on Thursday and would be doing a blood test and exam so it would be like 180% for sure proof. I felt like I showed him the proof..what else did he need? But he kept insisting. So Sunday morning I took a test and it came back negative. And I was pissed. I have to tell you..I was already worried bc all my tests were coming back negative. I didn't have that issue with Bowen. And now all these worries swarmed me. Jason and I broke in the new house with an argument that morning. I was pissed at him for pushing it. I was pissed that it came back negative. I was scared. And finally..it dawned on me that the reason why I didn't want to take the test was because I was scared of the results. And they came back with my fear.

Later that day I started spotting. Of course I freaked out. I called two friends who were nurses and they both assured me that it was common (which I knew) and that the fact that I didn't have cramps was a good sign. I was still worried so Jason was googling it over and over again. Of course the word miscarriage came up a few times. NOT a good thing to hear. But I decided to go to bed, call the dr in the morning, and pray for the best.

Monday morning I knew it wasn't ok. I was bleeding a lot and freaking out. Jason and I dropped Bowen off at school and then went to the dr office. I walked in, told them the situation, and immediately got in. My urine test came back negative..again. They did a blood test and got us in the ultrasound room. I immediately started bawling. I was scared shitless.

Anyways...the doctor told us I was having a miscarriage. And that it was common. And that it was mother nature's way of taking care of something that wasn't forming right. And that we can try again in 3-4 months. (but we weren't trying to begin with) And blah, fucking blah. Not helping. So the dr and Jason leave so I can get dressed and I cried.

I lost my baby.

Monday sucked. I mean I was obviously sad. I felt like my body betrayed me. I felt like being a mom and making babies is what I do, I am good at it. And now...I wasn't. I had let my family down and Jason down. I felt like this was my fault. Somehow I caused it. I was the one who should have been protecting my unborn child and it died. It was really, really hard.

And Tuesday rolled around and I was fine. I was seriously fine. Until right before bed. I saw pictures of a pregnant girl, ready to pop, and I was sad. I should be looking forward to that. I should be reading 'What To Expect When You're Expecting' again. I should be puking and happy because I was puking. I should be shopping at Motherhood Maternity and Pea In A Pod. But I'm not.

So today was awful. I cried in the shower before work. I managed to make it through the day and say what everyone expects you to say..that it is ok, it wasn't meant to be, that God has another plan, that I can try again. And with a sad smile. And I did it. I did it ALL day long.

But the day is over. And I am at home and I can finally say what I feel and want to say. So I am going to do it.

I know that people say shit that doesn't help..that doesn't do any fucking good..because they don't know what else to say. I know that. But let me tell you, it is bullshit to hear that you can try again, that you will get pregnant again, that something was wrong and it was for the best, or that God has a plan. Can you guarantee this? Can you tell me FOR SURE that this won't happen again? That I will DEFINITELY have another baby? I didn't think so. So no..that does not make me feel better. And I don't give a damn if something wasn't forming right...that does NOT help. If this baby had been born with two heads, one eye ball, and four ears, I would have loved it. I would have loved that baby as much as I love Bowen. And obviously Jason and I will try again. We are human..we like sex..and eventually we will want to try for a baby. So thanks for the permission. And no..that did not make me feel better. And I believe in a higher power. I believe in God. But at this moment...God's not on my good side.

This is what I know. I feel like I lost Bowen. I know what it is like to be pregnant and feel all those amazing things that makes it wonderful to be a mom. I know what feeling you get the first time you see your baby, the first time you hold it in your arms. I know that intense feeling of love that you can't describe to anyone. And I had all of that. I could picture that. I am telling you that I KNEW I was pregnant. And I loved that baby...negative test or not. I knew it. And it was taken from me. I feel like Bowen, my baby that I snuggle every night, has been taken from me. So I am grieving just like that.

So I appreciate all of the "I'm sorry"s and kind words and even the stupid things people say, like you can try again. I do appreciate it. Thank you for caring. It means a lot. BUT in case you ever have to tell someone again, just an "I am sorry" and "that is so shitty" and "if there is anything I can do for you let me know" is all you should say. Because the other stuff is just air. It doesn't help. It is the same as if you lost your own child. You would appreciate the fact that everyone cared and was concerned...but nothing would help.

Anyways..so there it is. There is the depressing, pissed off, and mess of my life right now. And I think I am in the pissed off stage of grief, so I am venting. It is not fair. I hate that I spent a month being sick and tired and trying to convince people of something and I have nothing to show for it. I hate that I was close..I was having another baby...and it was taken from me. It was stolen from me. And it is bullshit.

I hate to sound like, poor pitiful me, because I can't imagine having a miscarriage at 15 weeks or 6 months...or anything. It is awful. And my heart goes out to anyone who has had to deal with that. My heart aches for any parent who has lost a child. No parent should ever live to see a child pass away..whether they are in your uterus or out. It isn't fair. It is shitty. But here is my moment. I am sad. I am mad. And some day I will be fine. Some day I will move past this and it will just be another sad memory and something that happened. Maybe even something that made me stronger. But for today, it is shitty and I hate it. I hate every last bit of it.

Saving The Best For Last

When I was growing up I was really into the Thundercats and The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Cool cartoons. Legendary cartoons. None of this Barney and Chuggington bullshit. I, of course, have a child who loves one of the shittiest cartoons ever. I am talking about Thomas the Tank Engine. WHY? WHY does he love this British cartoon? I mean who says "cheeky" and "bust my boilers"? Thomas..that is who. Anyways..he is slightly obsessed. And because I am an awesome mom I took him to A Day Out With Thomas like 2 years ago, back when I was single momming it. It was awful. So we skipped last year..but this year...I decided to give it another go. But this time..all Bowen knew was that we were going to California (bc lately he is obsessed with California)...not about Thomas.

So Friday I woke up sick. Sick enough to get sent home from work. I went to the dr that day and basically they did nothing for me. Jason suggested that I stay home and he would take Bowen to California to spend the day with Thomas. But this was a memory that I just couldn't miss. So I packed up a billion kleenex, some allergy medicine, tylenol, and grouchily got in the car.

We head out on our trip..where yelling (from me..I will admit it) immediately began. We had been driving for maybe 20 minutes when I said, "Oh F*&$!!!! I forgot the tickets!!!!" Because to ride Thomas you have to have tickets. So...we turned back around.

After we were seriously on the road we drove and drove and drove. Stopped at the infamous Peggy Sue's Diner. Let me just say...Peggy Sue has probably seen better days. It was disgusting. And disgusting is probably an understatement. Jason and I split the french dip and it was awful. I swear the meat had to be like a week old. Bowen wouldn't even touch his chicken nuggets. And the whole place made me feel like I needed a really hot shower. So...20 wasted bucks later we were back on the road.

We made it to our very nice hotel with an almost ran stop sign, me yelling a few times, and Jason getting confused by the GPS about 3 times. BUT we were alive.

Saturday morning, Bowen woke up at the ass crack of dawn asking if we were in California. I felt like death warmed over and tried to snooze a little longer. Once I was finally awake we went to breakfast and then headed to our final destination of Fillmore, CA. I don't know which town we slept in...all I know is that we stayed at the Hyatt and it was super duper nice.

On the way into Fillmore we had to stop at a train crossing and that is where Bowen found out his surprise. I saw that Thomas was on the back of the train so I told Bowen to look out the window and watch the train. And then he saw him! And his eyes lit up and he was SOO excited. It was totally worth the 6 hour drive while being sick.

We rode Thomas, colored some Thomas pictures, stamped with some Thomas stamps. Jason and Bowen went through the Thomas maze. And after about an hour and a half..we decided it was time to go home. ((Yes..we drove 6 hours for an hour and a half of 3 yr old bliss. MOM OF THE YEAR right here..))

Anyways...Poor Jason had to put up with a super cranky Sarah. And Bowen was cooped up in the car. But it was a good time. And a memory was made. And we all made it out alive. But the best part of the whoooole trip was when I threatened to bust Bowen's ass (don't remember why) and he replied with, "IF you bust my ass, I'm gonna bust your ass!!!"

I'm just glad we are on the same page now.