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Grateful

I am thankful.

For family. Good food. A warm home. My job. My coworkers.

For turkey-induced naps. Pumpkin pie piled high with whipped cream. Sage dressing. Candied sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top (heavenly!). Really good gravy.

For my husband. His help in the kitchen, around the house, with our son. His love. His smile. His laugh.

For our son. His giggle. His dimples. His yummy, munchable cheeks and toes. His smile.

There’s so much more, really. That only touches the surface of how blessed we really are. Right now I’m just busy enjoying it. I hope you are, too.

Looking forward

Food, food, food, gotta clean, food, food, vacuum, food, pick up toys, food, food, foo—ooh, something shiny!

That has been my mind today. Planning. Trying to get things done. Hoping I don’t forget anything terribly important. For a large part of the day I ran around the house without sitting. I was afraid that if I sat down I would lose all momentum.

I got a lot of prep done. Probably could have done more, but I was tired. Fortunately, hubby will be helping me in the kitchen so I don’t have to shoulder everything alone. He’s an excellent prep chef (and more, really, but tomorrow he’s working prep) and will probably do a lot of chopping and sautéing for me. If our kitchen were bigger, we could cook together. Instead we’ll be taking turns. One of us at the stove, one at the cutting board. When we can.

Since we have to wrangle the little one and keep him away from the hot stove and flying knives, I think one of us will be out of the kitchen most of the day. Unless daughter shows up early, in which case we can rely on her to entertain the boy. (One can only hope.)

In spite of having a lot still to do (I really only have a head start on one dish), I am looking forward to tomorrow. We haven’t hosted Thanksgiving ourselves before. I get to have the food exactly the way I want it, we don’t have to leave the house, and we get to spend time with family.

That, to me, has the makings of a perfect holiday. And I am grateful. Happy Thanksgiving, y’all. I hope your day is filled with love.

Two years – so far, so good

Today is my son’s second birthday. Originally I wanted to write a beautiful tribute to everything he means to me (us).

Instead, I spent time just watching and enjoying him today.

Mid-morning, just before his nap, he sat on his little foam couch next to the toy box, his feet up in the air and resting on the side of the box. He grabbed a piece from his toy garage that is somewhat like a straw and was blowing into it, making noises. He’d pause every so often, throw his head back in glee and just laugh.

If I close my eyes, I can still picture the joy in his face. That big smile with the gapped teeth and dimples. Bright eyes, half closed in the middle of laughter.

That? Is the best part of my day every day. I am so grateful for every minute of the last two years. And I wouldn’t change a thing. Happy birthday, boobah. May you continue to bring joy to those around you.

Up Chuck!

One of the golden rules of babyhood. Never, ever, hold them over your head just after they’ve eaten.

Our son couldn’t have been more than four or five months old at the time. Daddy was playing with him, as he does. It’s so awesome to watch — a father with his child. He would hold him in the air, coo at him, then hold him close.

But one night it was a little closer to mealtime than was, well, safe. Daddy held the boy up above him, and the boy belched. And spit up.

Right into Daddy’s eyes and mouth. Ugh.

I cringe and laugh simultaneously every time I remember that. Maybe partially in relief that it wasn’t me. Ah, parenthood.

The boy & me


The boy & me

Originally uploaded by lola goetz

Still alive. Trying to enjoy the boy, and get some scheduling issues straightened out for my sanity’s sake.

But isn’t this the greatest pic ever? He’s not crying, he’s laughing. And we were both having a good time with the self-portraits.

Man, I love this kid.

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Mom as Jungle Gym, A Modern Art Piece

I was in the dining room, squatting down to look at something on the bottom shelf of our baker’s rack. I didn’t even see it coming.

Whack!

A very large car starts moving over my back and shoulders.

Wait, let me back up. My son is obsessed with cars. It’s really anything with wheels. If an object has wheels, he must have it.

Earlier this month, he threw a fit over a rain gauge that had a tractor on it. When I finally figured out what he wanted, I got it down for him. And then he threw a fit because the wheels wouldn’t move on the stupid thing. It was the funniest and most pitiful thing, all at the same time. He was so disappointed that the wheels were immobile.

So we have these cars (Ridemakerz, which we LOVE) that have been sitting on top of our stereo since last Christmas. After we got home from Missouri, the boy noticed them. As in, would not stop until we got them down for him. Point, whine. Point, stomp feet, whine. Repeat. I really don’t mind him playing with them, so I got them down for him.

And they have not left his side since. He even sleeps with them now. These cars are not small. They’re about 10-12 inches long. But he loves them and runs them all over the place.

Me, included.

So this car starts running across my back. I’m leaning over enough that he can balance the car on my shoulder and it will stay. So he leaves the car there so he can go get the other one. He brings it back and runs it all over my back, too.

I’m amused, but also glad there are no cameras around.

I think that I’m my son’s favorite playground. He’s constantly running his hot wheels cars all over me, too. Or when I’m laying in the floor, he crawls across me. Over. And over. And over.

So I’m a jungle gym. Or a car track. Or just a really soft play toy.

And I actually love every minute of it. Being a mom is so cool.

Walking in a spiderweb

Okay, so I’m really tired of seeing that wifi post up there, so it’s prompting me to drop in, ever-so-briefly.

We (the boy & I) are visiting family right now. There’s a lot of “Outside!” and “Turn on the ceiling fans!” going on around here. And grandparent snuggles. And inappropriate food smuggling (thanks, Dad). And CARS.

My boy is happy. So am I.

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They never left me

disillusionment

I was 20 years old when I ran away from home.

Yes, I do think you can run away even when you already moved out of your parents’ home. And that’s what I did.

I was married. Going to school. Working. My then husband was having a hard time keeping jobs. It was always something. He didn’t get along with management or someone got promoted over him and that person didn’t like him. Or he’d be late too many times. I was so tired of asking for money to help us pay our electric bill. We had a very small house payment (we lived in a mobile home) and could barely make that.

I felt trapped. I had signed on for this. I was miserable. Embarrassed over our finances. So young that I hadn’t a clue what to do. I came from the camp that believed you don’t divorce. So I tried to make things work.

The ex had lived in California before and felt sure he could get a job back at his old employer. He was so sure there were more opportunities there. He wanted to leave. I didn’t want to let go of my family. Eventually he wore me down. But I was too afraid to tell them. Afraid they’d tell me how silly it was. I already knew it was a bad move. But I so hoped that something, anything, would be better than the way it already was.

So we packed everything up and drove to Cali. I called my parents after we entered Palm Springs. I cringe to write that out. Those words hold so much pain. So much hurt. That *I* inflicted. I don’t blame the ex for that. He wanted me to tell my parents. I was so afraid. Afraid of their disapproval. Afraid of them talking me out of it, or seeing the disappointment on their faces. So I ran away. Avoided it.

It took a long time to rebuild that relationship. They never stopped loving me. Never broke ties. I was so ashamed of what I’d done to them that it took a while for me to ask for their forgiveness. In the meantime, my ex took advantage of those broken ties to fill my head with lies about them. Things they had (allegedly) said to him when I wasn’t around.

My parents aren’t like that. I knew that deep down. They have never said anything bad about anyone who has done them wrong. They would not make snide comments. Other relatives? Yes, they would. But my parents? Never.

It took three more years of heartache, of hearing lies about my family before I finally realized what was going on. That I could leave. That it was enough. That I didn’t have to take it anymore. People divorce. We make mistakes when we’re young. We don’t always choose well.

But I am so grateful that my family stuck by me. Even when I hurt them. And didn’t really deserve it.

I left them. They never left me.

Park it! Or don’t.

fountain, with natural history museum in background

Since living in San Diego, we have never taken advantage of the Balboa Park Tuesday promo. Each Tuesday of the month, different Park museums offer free entry to county residents. We’ve talked about it, but never gone. Until today. Sort of.

We stopped and grabbed some sandwiches to eat at the park. (By the way, Whole Foods Turkey Bacon Avocado wrap? Awesome.) When we got there, we knew things didn’t look good when all of the parking lots were full. But we stumbled upon a lot we didn’t even know was there and voilá a few empty spots.

Today’s museums included Reuben H. Fleet Science Center and the Natural History Museum. We walked around for a while, looking at things and making our way towards that end of the park. Oh lordy.

It was so crowded that they wouldn’t let you take strollers inside any of the free places. And we have a crapload of stuff in the stroller – diaper bag, cooler with milk, my purse. Which means we’d have to unload and carry all of the stuff PLUS our 35 lb. toddler. No way I’m leaving any of that stuff in the stroller. And we have to carry the boy. We can’t let him walk around — he’ll get creamed. He’s still a little wobbly and needs plenty of space to wander around.

And a crowded museum ain’t it.

I really wanted to see the museums, but it’s abundantly clear that we need to wait until the fall, after school starts. Then maybe the crowds will be a little more reasonable.

The kid fell asleep as we walked around anyway, as it was way past his naptime.

We decided to head home for a bit to give all of us a chance to rest before J’s archery practice later. And then we headed back almost to the same place. Yeah, a little silly, but we were all pretty tired.

While J does his archery thing, the kid and I walk around. There’s a playground, but he’s still just a little too young for it. Too many bigger kids running around who wouldn’t watch out for him. But nearby there was a nice area of grass. I put his shoes on him and let him go.

Have I mentioned how much my child hates shoes? He’s a regular little hillbilly. His grandparents would be so proud! He’d much rather run around barefoot. But in a park where I don’t know what’s been in the grass, sorry kiddo, it’s shoes for you.

He didn’t walk much last week, but this time he took off. And when he gets to the sidewalk he really takes off, squealing and grinning the entire way. But after a while there were too many bicyclists zipping by. And with us so close to the sidewalk, it would be easy for him to jet out in front of someone.

So when he wouldn’t hold my hand, I had to put him back in the stroller. Did I mention the boy has quite an independent streak? Um, yeah.

DSCF1296.jpg

But really, can you resist that face? I don’t think so.

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Mama said there’d be days like this

You know how motherhood sometimes just chews you up and spits you out?

Today is one of those days.