Cold

Little Timmy is fighting his first cold, and it is safe to say that he is not handling the blow gracefully. Despite trying every Mom trick I could muster, yesterday I could do nothing to soothe my little guy. He was cranky from the moment he woke up until he finally fell asleep (after screaming in my arms for an hour.)

I feel horrible for not being able to adequately comfort my baby. I also feel guilty for becoming annoyed with his grumpy demeanor. Logically I know that he is only seven months old, but I swear at times it felt like he was deliberately being difficult. 

I spent much of yesterday holding him, walking with him and rocking him. He spent the majority of his day wiping his nose into my shoulder, spitting his food all over me, and screaming in my ear while pulling my hair.  The exchanges were most definitely unbalanced. Of course, there is no such thing as reciprocity when it comes to parenthood.

By the time Scott came home from work I was beyond frazzled. Unfortunately Timmy didn't want his Daddy, voicing his displeasure of being handed over by screaming with more gusto. He might have been feeling yucky, but his cold certainly did nothing to impair his volume output. For a little baby he can certainly be loud!

Perhaps sensing the neediness of his baby brother and not wanting to be overshadowed, Robby was extremely high maintenance last night. I love my little Koopa dearly, but he definitely tested my patience. He wasn't ill-behaved, he just required constant attention. I found myself hiding in the bathroom just so I could have a moment without a snotty nosed screaming baby and a chatty, seemingly nonsensical eight year old.  I'm definitely not getting mother of the year for yesterday's maternal showing!

I'm hoping that today is a better day and that my little guy is feeling better. I miss his gummy little smiles and squeals of happiness. I'm tired of being used as a giant kleenex and punching bag. I am fairly certain I am suffering the most with his cold.

Flash Mob!

Yesterday turned out to be one of those days I will never forget. The weather was abysmal, dreary with the moist cold that cuts through clothing and attacks the bones. Typically I would curl up in front of the wood stove and work all afternoon, but I had plans with my little Koopa. We were going to the Air and Space Museum.

A few days ago I received an email announcing a holiday flash mob at the museum. Witnessing a flash mob has been on my bucket list since I discovered the concept on YouTube several years ago. I vowed that, should the opportunity ever arise, I would jump on board.  I was initially a little hesitant about Robby missing school, but since the performance was scheduled at the museum, I took it as a sign from the cosmos that we should definitely attend. After all, museums are educational, right? 

Monday afternoon Robby revealed his plans to his friends who immediately asked if they could go. What was going to be a small little family excursion turned into an impromptu field trip. After clearing the trip through their parents and the school, we were all set for our big adventure. Needless to say, everybody was all smiles Tuesday morning.

I had forgotten how much Robby loves the Air and Space museum. He seemed to remember everything he learned from our previous visit, excitedly offering the tour to his friends. (It's strange, he can remember types of planes and engines, yet always seems to forget to put his socks and dirty underwear in the hamper.) 

While Robby was explaining the "Nazi planes" to his friends, I started to chat with some Air Force wives casually standing nearby. After a few minutes of mild chit chat they let me know the best places to stand to view the performance. On their cue I ushered the boys to our prime location and waited for the performance to start.

Wow! It was simply amazing. I got chills watching them perform and tears started to stream down my cheeks towards the end of the performance. It was absolutely beautiful. Robby and his friends seemed just as impressed, yet not nearly as emotionally moved as I. Timmy even enjoyed the show, saving his crying for the drive home.

I am so glad that I pulled Robby from class for this experience. He was able to visit the museum and witness something that few people ever experience. (And so did I!) I understand that the Air Force Band will be producing their own video, but here was my view of the action.  Timmy enjoyed the performance, you can hear him cooing along with the bells at the beginning of the show.

25 Trash Bags of Christmas

Saturday afternoon I arrived back home in VA, driving an SUV stuffed with shopping bags.  Scott and I had a great time with our traditional Black Friday shopping spree. One might think we enjoyed it a little too much when looking at the sheer mass of our loot. (In our defense, the packaging for baby toys is considerably larger than the plastic or plush trinket inside!) Schlepping everything inside the house, it became abundantly clear: we have too much stuff.

Surveying the tables, counter tops and book shelves in my living room and kitchen quickly revealed the issue.  While we are not outlandish consumers, we do tend hold onto things far past their prime. We certainly aren't hoarders, but neither Scott nor I (and now Robby) are particularly good at purging "collections."

Our kitchen counter tops, spacious and beautiful, are concealed beneath the mountains of papers. Most are paper copies of bills we pay and receive electronically. We have another three stacks of catalogs, carefully separated into piles determined by my enjoyment of the publication. I don't know why I save them. Despite my intentions of running a hot bath, pouring a mug of hot chocolate to sip while leisurely paging through them during a long hot soak, I know it will never happen.  I'm lucky if I can rummage through one or two in the bathroom. 

The desks in our dining room have been converted into a real life Jenga board with items teetering on the brink of collapse. Expired snack sized bags of Cheetos that were never eaten because I no sooner found them in bulk, that Robby declared himself to be more of a "Pringles" man are scattered helter-skelter. I have several half used cans of powdered baby formula in assorted brands and sizes that cannot be donated because they have been opened. I have held onto them in case we need to switch brands again. 

And the art supplies--don't even get me started!  I have shoe boxes full of unwrapped and broken crayons, kept because someday we might melt them into molds. Scraps of paper holding Robby's doodles (primarily happy faces) are everywhere. Markers without lids, lids without markers, and old glue sticks have filled at least four mason jars.  (There are probably more jars but I haven't yet attacked the pile of construction paper in the corner. 

We bought new towels on Black Friday because the last time I acquired new towels was when I graduated from high school in 1992. I tried to put them away in our linen closet to be met by an avalanche of linens. Pushing my shoulder against the door to keep it from opening because of the force of the pile, I realized we needed to change. Christmas is right around the corner which is going to add to the clutter.

I have decided that every day from now until Christmas, I will throw out at least one bag of trash or donate a bagful to charity. Slowly we'll make a dent in our clutter. I'm hoping that, in this case, slow and steady will clean the house! 

Addiction

Today is my brother's birthday and this morning I find myself missing him dearly. He is celebrating his birthday in Texas where he is in the midst of a personal war with addiction. Although I haven't seen him years, we used to be close. I have scores of precious childhood memories shared with him. Then addictive substances entered into his life, and the brother that I knew growing up vanished, leaving a monster in his wake.

I  haven't written about my brother in the past, telling myself that it was out of a quest to reserve his privacy. It is only recently that I realized that my silence was stemmed in shame. He should have known better; he should have been stronger; we should have intervened sooner.  In some situations, hindsight only increases the pain. Letting go and letting him battle his demons has changed everybody in our family.

I have come to accept that I need to let him fight his battle and hope that someday he will return to my life. I will always keep my arms open but my heart guarded. The pain of watching him slip into relapse is torturous. I will never give up hope because in this situation, that is really my only option.

I turned 40 and realized that I no longer have a need to hide behind social conventions. So many are living through similar battles in our families, yet we are mute on the issue. In my situation the silence stemmed from embarrassment. I'm not embarrassed by my brother. I have seen him journey through hell as he fought to become and remain sober.  I realized that the embarrassment rose from the desire to convey a mythical vision of family life.

Our family is not perfect. We are a group of flawed individuals who are trying to muddle our way through life.  We are most certainly not the Cunningham's (from Happy Days, my standard of familial perfection as a child.) I'm tired of trying to conceal our dysfunction. Hiding in shame and embarrassment is only perpetuating the isolation that those who love an addict suffer. 

My brother is fighting addiction, and I still I love him dearly. Sometimes I am so angry at him I want to pull my hair out. At other times my heart breaks when I reflect on the potential that is lost.  Through all the tears shed and sleepless nights, I will always hope that this time he will find his way to recovery. I doubt he'll have a birthday cake this year, so I'll make his birthday wish on his behalf. May this year be the one in which he recovers. 

Shopping!

My goodness yesterday was busy. It felt like I was in constant motion from the moment I woke up until I finally fell into bed at night. It's a good thing that my leg has fully recovered, allowing me to be mobile and help my Mom host everybody for Thanksgiving!

Scott and I began the day with an early morning trip to Kmart. We made the trip despite the fact that we didn't really need anything, mainly because it is tradition. Being alone is a rare luxury, and we decided to take full advantage of the opportunity by going out for breakfast. I think the last time we had breakfast without kids was last Thanksgiving. 

As soon as we arrived back at my Mom's we began working to get everything together. Tables needed to be set, chairs needed to be arranged and side dishes needed to be prepared. Luckily we had lots of eager little helpers!

After the visitors arrived the day became a blur. Thankfully I had lots of adults anxious to hold and love on Timmy, freeing me up to help in the kitchen. By the time everybody left my little baby was exhausted from entertaining all of his older cousins.

Yesterday was busy but wonderful. Although I was in constant motion, I wouldn't have had it any other way.  After the difficult summer, I'm so grateful that I'm in a position to be able to help my Mom.

Now we're off to brave the Black Friday sales.  Hopefully I'm not pressing my luck by joining the hoards of bargain hunters this morning.  Wish us luck!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Today is one of my favorite days of the year. Although I love Christmas, there is something magical about Thanksgiving. The smells of the turkey roasting in the kitchen mingling with the laughter from my cousins laughing in the living room makes me feel happy and loved.

This year, looking at Timmy and Robby together, I realize that counting my blessings would be impossible. I have so much to be thankful for and I wouldn't be able to name them all without bringing myself to the point of exhaustion.  I am so incredibly lucky.

Timmy is my little miracle. He was conceived against all odds, and although he was born early he is now thriving. Being his Momom is one of the greatest blessings in my life.

Robby has grown into an amazing big brother. Although he has had some growing pains as he adjusted to the new role, he has made me so proud. I love and adore him beyond description.

Scott is a wonderful husband and father. He is strong where I am weak and we have come to compliment each other. This has been a difficult year, but he has stood by my side and supported me throughout all of the struggles, surgeries and pain.  

My Mom is simply amazing. She exudes unconditional love and grace. I don't have the words to express how much her love and support have meant to me. She is my role model and my biggest cheerleader. If I can be half the mother she is I know I will be doing right by my boys. 

Today my heart is overflowing today with gratitude. The year has not been easy, but this Thanksgiving I am celebrating being a Mom to two. I have an amazing support system of family and friends. I have no doubt that I would have been lost had I not had them. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Student Talks

Yesterday morning Robby, Timmy and I packed up and headed to school. Of course this time it was different because we weren't going to Robby's school. We were planning on spending the morning at the school of my niece and nephews where I had been invited by their teachers to share my story.

I absolutely love talking with school children about living with an amputation, prosthetics, and disabilities in general. This time my talks were more personal because of three proud little faces in the audience. The excitement that was radiating on the faces of my nephews and niece made my heart smile. 

While I was talking with the classes, Robby thoroughly enjoyed looking around the classrooms of his cousins. I was proud (and relieved) that he remembered his manners and did not blurt out anything inappropriate.  (His cousins attend a religious private school where Robby's descriptive language would certainly be discouraged.) Thankfully my stern reminders about demonstrating only his best behavior were heeded.

Because my Mom had an appointment and wasn't able to watch Timmy in the morning I brought him along. Taking him into public for long periods of time is a bit of a crap shoot.  Most of the time he is pleasant and happy, but when he becomes tired or hungry, all bets are off. The stars aligned yesterday, and Timmy remained cooing and giggly for most of my visits. He definitely charmed the students and staff with his broad gummy smiles!

I love that my nephews and niece view my amputation and prosthetic use as a badge of honor.  For them, having a one-legged Aunt is the norm. But they are also old enough to realize that their experience is unique. Not everybody has an Aunt who can remove her leg, and in their eyes that makes me special and brag worthy. I'm glad that they see my "disability" as an asset.