New House, New Job, New Scar

Finally, I’m getting around to blogging again. (Maybe, I should set a goal of once a month since once a week seems to be impossible.) Every time I do sit down to write I either get distracted by other items on my never-ending to do list or I find myself engulfed in a cycle of writing, reading, re-writing, and re-reading then I give up or run out of time. Over the last few weeks I have seriously considered deleting the thing altogether. However, after a lot of thought I realized that this blog isn’t just for me. It’s for our family back in NC that can’t be here to attend birthday parties, hand-out Halloween candy, or take trips to the park. It’s for CJ who won’t remember this time in his life but will one day want to know what he was like and what we were like so he can make comparisons to his own life and children. Finally, it’s for other moms who like me are overwhelmed by the joy, frustration, love, and anxiety that motherhood has brought into their lives. So, I’m going to keep it up, but this time I’m going to take the advice of another blogging mom “write it, don’t edit it, and hit publish”….that being said please excuse my errors an remember my motive is not to become a great writer but to become a great mother.

This month has been insane for many reasons. First, Dustin and I have decided to resume our search for a new home and as a result we have spent the past two Saturdays house hunting and the past two Sundays arguing about said homes. I have always believed that we are pretty good arguers, if there is such a thing. We come from very different families (my being loud and unafraid to yell, his being quiet and more reserved about conflict) but the two of us combined are surprisingly balanced. I don’t feel the need to yell because he doesn’t yell back and he typically doesn’t hold things in because he knows I’ll just pull it out eventually. That combined with our long history means we normally handle conflict fairly well. However, that has not been the case when it comes to this whole house-buying process. We are on two completely different pages about almost everything. The only thing we do agree on is that we need to buy something and we have a very limited budget. Aghhhhh, not the fun experience I hoped house hunting would be.

On top of house hunting and Dustin's crazy 10 hour workdays, I have recently started working again. I’m tutoring three days a week, for 3-4 hours a day. This probably doesn’t sound like a lot of hours to you working moms, but after two months of being a full-time stay at home mom this has been a shock to my system and to our family routine. The work hours really aren't that bad, but the commute is kicking my butt. My main client is in Ballard, my once a week clients are in Snohomish, and my sitter is in north Everett, so I probably spend 2-3 hours a day just driving. I now understand why Dustin hates his daily trips to Seattle and back so much. However, even though my house is a disaster again and my "from-scratch meals" are few and far between I am enjoying getting out and doing something sans CJ a few days a week. He is a great kid but he has recently taken to pushing mom's buttons. Every chance he gets, he's drawing on his white t-shirts, throwing toys at our furniture, and using Ellie as his own personal foot stool. Needless to say, work gives my buttons a much needed break.

Now, if all the work and house drama weren't enough, we had a pretty traumatic experience a few weeks ago. We were invited to a friend’s house for a party and while we were there CJ was bit by their dog. I didn’t see it first hand, but according to my husband and others in the room, CJ walked up behind the dog to pet him, which he had been doing all afternoon, when the dog got spooked and reacted. I honestly believe the dog’s intention was simply to snap at him and warn him, but unfortunately that is not what happened. Instead, he managed to slash CJ’s face just below his eye and across the bridge of his nose.

As soon as I heard the commotion I ran into the living room and saw every mom’s worst nightmare, BLOOD! From the moment I looked at his face, I knew it was serious and I immediately lost my cool. He was screaming, everyone else was saying “He’s okay! He’s okay!” while I shouted “He’s not okay, he’s not okay, he’s bleeding!” I think I was just as hysterical as he was, so thank God for my husband, who took CJ from me so he could assess the injury, and for great friends who calmed me down.

Dustin’s assessment didn’t last too long because as soon as I got my whits about me I ran upstairs to the bathroom, took CJ from Dustin and announced “We’re going to the ER NOW!”

The closest emergency room was only a few minutes away. However, not long after we checked in, they looked him over (horrible experience having to pin down your injured child while strangers poke and prod them) and quickly decided it was too extensive for them. They called in a plastic surgeon and we rushed to meet him at Children’s Hospital in Seattle. We had the option to ride in an ambulance or drive, and since Dustin felt pretty confident with his ability to get us there quickly, we drove. The entire way there I hugged CJ close to my chest and cried. I could not believe that I had allowed something like this to happen to him. It didn’t matter that we had known this dog for years or that we had even vacationed together with no incidences like this. My job was to protect my child and keep him safe and on his face was visible proof of my failure.

Luckily, Children’s Hospital is an amazing place with an awesome staff. They took such great care of us. There was no waiting for a room, very little waiting for a doctor, and most importantly a very considerate and comforting staff who reassured me that this type of thing happens to children all the time. So after 5 hours we were stitched up and heading home with reassurance from the doctors and nurses that he would be just fine in a few weeks.

They were right. Three weeks later CJ’s face looks soooooo much better. In fact the people who see him now ask if he scratched himself and are completely baffled when I tell them what actually happen. Apparently, his plastic surgeon was a miracle worker. Of course, I'm hoping that he will have little if any long term scarring. However, if there is a noticeable scar we will just remind him that it's all good because as my sister in-law said "chicks dig scars!" 

Here are a few pics of our little man and his scar. The first two are about a week after, once the stitches had dissolved and the third is from a few days ago. (I've chosen not to share any from the hospital or the first few days afterwards because they are too graphic and I cry every time I look at them. 

 

He's still so stickin' cute!

 

New Baby, New Year, New Perspective

It’s been entirely too long since my last post. My goal when I began this blog was that I would post something at least once a week. Clearly, that hasn’t happened. However, I can say I have a great reason for my writing hiatus, and here he is.

Diego Thomas Cervantes Jr.

My only sister gave birth to this wonderful little man August 8^th and being the awesome big sister that I am ;)  I decided to fly down for the month so I could help out and of course spoil the crap out of my new little nephew. So, for almost an entire month I have been a doting aunt and a single momma to a very busy 14 month old, which allows for very little computer time. However, tonight I felt compelled to write, so here I am at 1:30 in the morning busting out a post that has been on my heart today.

**Warning** This is not a light-hearted update filled with adorable baby pictures that one might expect given recent events…I promise I will write one of “those” post once I have returned home and established some semblance of my normal routine.

This week, as my colleagues return to their classrooms and prepare for another school year, I have found myself having a bit of a pity party. While I am relieved to not have the stress and anxiety that comes with a new subject, new classroom, and new students I am also jealous. My Facebook thread is filled with pictures of classrooms all cleaned-up and decked out for a new year and I have no such accomplishments to share. My email is filled with welcome back letters and schedules detailing how my former colleagues will be spending the upcoming workdays. While they are reconnecting, chatting about their summers, and brainstorming awesome lesson plans over doughnuts and coffee I will be changing dirty diapers, washing dishes, and begging a toddler not to ride our dog or climb on the dining room table. Finally, I’m jealous of their paychecks! (I know this one probably makes some of you laugh out loud, especially fellow teachers who know that the last reason they teach is for the money.)

For the last year Dustin and I have been trying to figure out how we can move into a larger place. After the baby came our small, cozy condo turned into a toy cluttered, crowded little matchbox. We have managed to make it work by getting a storage unit, but paying money every month to store baby items, out of season clothes, and Christmas decorations seems crazy and counterintuitive. However, with a mortgage higher than our condo’s current market value (that’s right we bought at the height of the market) and no guaranteed income from me, a new, bigger house seems out of reach.

Then it happened, clarity came through Facebook. While trolling my newsfeed during breakfast (that’s right I’m a bad mom, I read Facebook at the breakfast table while my son plays with his pancakes) I came across the post of an old, high school friend announcing that her mother’s 15 year battle with cancer would soon be ending as hospice has been called in so that she can enjoy her final days at home surrounded by her loving family. This news really rocked me, because this family has seen so much pain and suffering at the hands of this horrible disease. My friend, not only had to watch her mother battle through doctor appointments and chemo through most of her teens and twenties, but she too received her own cancer diagnosis at the age of 27. We are the exact same age and we both have beautiful sons to raise, but while she is at home fighting cancer and saying goodbye to her mother I’m complaining because my house isn’t big enough. This is when I heard God saying “REALLY, ROBYN, GET OVER YOURSELF!!!!!”

I’m sitting here wallowing in self-pitying and questioning God’s plan for my life because I don’t have exactly what I want, while others would give their right arm to be in my situation. I work for an awesome school district that allows me a leave of absence so I can test the waters and see if this stay-at-home mom thing is really for me. I have a wonderfully supportive husband who has been fortunate enough to maintain stable employment with a great company for the past seven years so we can afford for me to make this choice. And I have my health! I am so blessed, yet so ungrateful at times.

So, as many teachers and students are setting goals and making plans for this new school year, I want to set some goals and make some plans of my own, so that I can live this next year with purpose.

1. I will be more grateful. Every day I will acknowledge at least one thing that I am thankful for.
2. I will choose optimism over pessimism, greeting new challenges with the faith that I can and will overcome them with patience, perseverance, and prayer. 
3. I will take better care of this body and work on loving and accepting it and it’s flaws. This is the body I was given. It has allowed me to do so many wonderful things including bring a life into this world. The least I can do is accept the stretch marks and extra pounds as what they are, a badge of honor to remind me and all others what an amazing miracle my body was able to accomplish.
4. I will relish every moment I get to spend with my son and my husband, as we are never guaranteed tomorrow.
5. Finally, I will make a conscious effort to complain less, because it’s annoying, counterproductive, and nobody really cares. They have their own personal struggles to deal with.

Our First Playground Bully

A few months ago, while trolling Facebook, I came across a post by another mom of toddlers that mentioned an “amazing place” called Playdate Café. It is a mini-coffee shop with a play area specifically designed for kids ages 0-6. While I thought it was a great idea I never really made it a priority to get by there. However, after a few terrifying trips to a few mall play areas and playgrounds where my time was spent chasing my active little man through a virtual minefield of too big toys, easy to miss steps, and running, unruly, unsupervised little heathens that were all twice his size and completely oblivious to his existence…I now see the appeal of a play area specifically designed for little ones. So, yesterday we finally got a chance to check it out and in many ways it was mommy heaven!!! (I know I have a few local mommies that read this blog, so at the end of this post there is a list of +/- for Playdate Café, so you can decide if it's a place you want to try out some time.)

We arrived around lunch time and since they have a strict policy against outside food I got the opportunity to sample their organic food options. They had a decent variety which made it easy to find food for a picky toddler like mine. Everything tasted awesome, and despite him being a bit distracted by the other kids playing we had a pretty peaceful lunch before heading into the play area.

The play area is fully fenced and offers a wide range of toys and activities for busy little ones with short attention spans, so CJ was hyped. He ran from toy to toy in complete amazement clearly having a hard time deciding what to play with first. Finally, he settled on a shopping cart (wheels and storage space are two of his favorite things right now). As he made his way around the play area loading his grocery cart with little trinkets, it happened…our first encounter with a playground bully.

A shorter but clearly older boy with a napoleon complex walked up to CJ and reached for his shopping cart. Being the awesome sharer that he is (mommy brag), CJ smiled and babbled a few pleasantries clearly expecting this little guy to be his new best friend. However, as soon as little Napoleon’s hands landed on the cart it became clear that this was not going to go the way CJ expected. Before he knew it, the cart was yanked from him and pushed away. CJ immediately did what any self-respecting momma’s boy would do; he teared-up and ran straight to me. Little Napoleon’s mother was MIA and I was not about to lecture someone else’s child on the importance of sharing, so I scooped CJ up and made a beeline for a little tikes police car, the closest toy with wheels. This seemed to do the trick and he climbed in and took off. Then not five minutes later, CJ had backed himself into a corner (he only knows how to drive backwards) and was getting out to move it, when little Napoleon showed up and attempted to commandeer the vehicle by wedging himself between CJ and the car, knocking my son down in the process. Thank god, his mother ran over to take control of the situation because I was literally seconds from yanking the little devil out of the car myself. She had a younger child strapped to her and I know another slightly older one playing nearby, so it was clear that her hands were full. She apologized and we all moved on. However, similar incidences occurred with the same kid and a few others until CJ finally decided to play on the slide at the far side of the play area. Each and every time a toy was yanked out of his hands or he was pushed to the ground my son, reacted by crying, running to me, or hitting himself out of frustration. He never took a swing at the other kids, and while I know this is a sign of his innate gentle nature (which I seriously wondered about since he has no problem taking a swing at momma or biting a chunk out of my arm) I must admit I’m a little bummed. I guess I always thought my little boy would be tough, outspoken, and demanding just like his momma. I never imagined I would have to teach him how to stand-up for himself. Here I was completely prepared to reprimand him for taking toys, hitting, and biting, but he didn’t do any of those things. In fact, he did the one thing I was not prepared for. He backed down, and I have no idea how or when to teach him to stand-up for himself without turning him into a bully as well. For right now, I’ve decided to let things go and allow him to be his gentle, accommodating self, but in the mean time I’m pricing out karate lessons just in case ;)

Playdate Café Positives & Negatives

- It’s not free. Admission is $8 for walking children (definitely a negative of having a 9-month walker) and $6 for a crawler or sibling. Admission is good for the entire day, but I honestly I can’t see a parent of a little one staying that long so it feels expensive especially when you play to by food or coffee.

-/+  You must wear socks, and if you forget they will sell you a pair for $1.50. This might not be a big deal for most people but I rarely wear socks unless I’m working out and this one caught me by surprise. It’s great to know the play area will be cleaner, but definitely an added thing to remember with my already taxed brain capacity.

-/+ No outside food allowed, except water, milk, or formula. Again this is a mixed bag. The policy is there to keep the play area safe for kiddos with allergies and they do a fairly good job of providing healthy, organic, and gluten free food options. However, again, it is an added cost. I might consider playing for a day if I could bring snacks or lunch from home.

+  Entire hallway of padded changing tables, which means no more waiting in line with a squirming, stinky toddler.

+ The décor is perfect. It is bright, colorful, and engaging for little ones. They even thought to hang butterflies over the changing tables which was a godsend to this mom, who would honestly prefer to wrangle a greased pig than to change a poopy diaper these days.

+ The high chairs are not your typical restaurant high chair. They have trays and I have always found mealtimes to be easier with highchairs like this because the child is better contained, there is more support for the younger ones, and no shared table space which helps to keep things out of little one’s reach when necessary. **This is so important to us that we have gone so far as to choose our restaurant based solely on their high chairs from time to time. Crazy, I know!**

+ A fenced play area. No more chasing your child as they make a beeline for the street, parking lot, or exit. **My first thought was it’s like the dog park, yay!!!**

+ Many options for all ages (0-6 that is). They have a jumpy house, mini-ball pit, fire pole, and large slide for the older kids. For the really young ones there is a separate fenced area with smaller softer toys. And there are even a few different areas set-up for imaginary play like a fire truck complete with firemen clothes for the really creative ones.

+The space is really accommodating for adults. There are comfy couches inside the play area and tall bar seating surrounding it so you can relax and chat with others while still keeping a close watch on your little ones.  

The Good the Bad and the Ugly

I've wanted to write a post for the last week but every time I sit down to write I get pulled away before I can finish and never seem to make it back. So now that the little man is down for his morning nap I'm determined to whip one out. Don't count on it to be enlightening, inspiring or even well written. I'm in “get it done” mode.

The Good

Since before CJ was born, I knew I wanted him to take swim lessons. I have never been confident in the water and because of that I avoid certain activities like the plague. My poor husband loves the water. As a licensed scuba diver, he would love nothing more than for me to go on a dive with him, but I’m not having it. So my goal has been that if I can’t be his diving buddy hopefully I can give him a diving buddy by raising our little man to be comfortable and confident in the water.

Day 1

So, last week, CJ started swim classes at McCollum Park and we’re convinced we have an Olympic Swimmer in our midst!!!  Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration but he's definitely the best in his aqua tots class…he’s also the oldest but that’s beside the point. The first four days were a bit rocky. He had a death grip on Dustin and spent the majority of the time scanning the deck to find his momma, so I was banished to the bench. Thank God for the zoom feature on my camera, otherwise we would have no pics.

Now, Friday and yesterday were different stories. This little man went into the pool with a smile on his face and loved every minute of it. By the end of the day yesterday he had stuck his whole face in the water, jumped into the pool multiple times, was using the wall to push off of, and was kicking his little feet like crazy. He’s officially a water baby and I couldn’t be happier or prouder. 

Day 5

 

The Bad

You probably can't see it, but he's got a
serious bruise on his forehead where he
repeatedly banged his head against his crib
last night because he was so frustrated.
Poor Baby!

Middle of the night wake-ups have returned to our house and this momma is clueless and sleepy. Roughly every other night the last two-three weeks CJ has woken up between 3-5 am and refused to go back to bed without a bottle. There have even been a few nights where we caved and just went right in with a bottle and that didn’t work. Last week, we had a night where he woke-up at 2 and didn’t finally go back to sleep until 4:30. It was so bad that Dustin actually told me to send him to the sitter for the day just so I could sleep because he knew my patience would not hold out with such little rest. (Did I mention, my husband is AMAZING!!!!)

We really have no idea what is causing this and are even more confused as to how we can/should handle it. None of our old strategies seem to work and as we approach the “bye, bye bottle” age I’m horrified our house is going to become a no-sleep zone. Ahhhhh, the joys of parenting! As soon as you get one thing figured out they change the rules on you.

The Ugly

CJ has fallen in love with dirty diapers and his diaper pail. It is beyond disgusting.  Diapers have to be trashed immediately because if not he will literally hug them squeeze them in his hands like sticky little stress balls. He has also taken to playing with his diaper pail. He loves to drop things in there and then try to dig them out. Yesterday, as I was taking out the bag of dirty diapers I discovered two of my favorite pens in the bag and had to fish them out myself, which was probably one of the most disgusting things I've ever had to do. My entire arm smelled retched and the pens were so bad I had to toss them even after a thorough scrubbing with hot water and antibacterial soap. Buhhhh, it’s so gross! So the diaper pail has taken up permanent residence on top of CJ’s changing table because I refuse to stick my hand in a bag of 3 day old dirty diapers ever again!

I had just taken out the bag, thank God, because
 this is all of the clothes he pulled out of his drawers
and stuffed in here.

Diaper Pail's New Home

The Story Behind the Blog

For the last month or so, I’ve wanted to start blogging again. (I use the term “again” loosely because while I’ve tried to blog on multiple occasions, I’ve never managed to write more than 2 or three posts before giving it up.) But, every time I sat down to write my first post, I found myself with too much to say, too little time, and too much self-doubt. As I sat on my couch (typically after midnight), proofing, editing, and rewriting my potential “first post” I always managed to convince myself that it just wasn’t good enough, that no one would want to read it, and that I would never be able to keep it up, so I would abandon the whole idea and head to bed.

Last night, while trolling Facebook in lieu of blog writing, I came across a post titled “Keeping it Real.” It was written by a mother of three who is most definitely a more accomplished blogger and from her post a more enlightened mother. In it she wrote, “Parenthood isn’t about perfection. How could it be? At its core, it is the business of imperfect humans raising other imperfect little humans to the best of their ability and loving them with everything they’ve got.” --- (WOW, that was powerful!!!) Now, to most of you this phrase probably seems obvious or insignificant, but it really resonated with me. For as long as I can remember I’ve been a self-proclaimed perfectionist. While it has definitely contributed to many of my accomplishments/successes in life, it has also hindered me on many occasions. It’s an impossible goal and pursuit of it commonly leads to disappointment.

Before becoming a mother, I was able to escape my imperfect life by dreaming about that next phase where things would change and finally become PERFECT. When my parents were divorcing and my household was chaotic and uncomfortable, I looked forward to college where I would be able to get away from it all and be on my own. When I felt overwhelmed by term papers and a lack of finances I dreamt of the day when I would finally have a full-time teaching job. (Yeah, I’ll admit, that one was pretty stupid considering teaching is one of the few professions that require homework on a regular basis and the pay is less than desirable.) When despite losing 40lbs I felt fat, I looked forward to getting pregnant because it would be the first time in my life where I would be able to celebrate my midsection versus sucking it in or attempting to camouflage it with each new outfit. And finally, when the baby weight had spread to all parts of my body, I was 9 days overdue, and a sweaty exhausted mess I dreamed of my son’s birth so that I could finally have my body back and be the PERFECT mom.

However, I sit here now, one year later, with 30lbs of baby weight to lose, a guestroom full of unfinished laundry, and an adorable son who bites me every time he gets sleepy, hungry, frustrated, excited, and well pretty much anytime he feels like it. My life is not perfect and it never has been, but unlike the past, I’m not looking forward to that next phase because I really want to enjoy this one. My son will only be this age once and I want to experience every minute of it (even if it comes with bruises and teeth marks). So, I guess my only option is to get over it. It is time that I learn to love my friends, family, myself, and my life for exactly what it is, perfectly imperfect.