Bitter Lessons of Unpreparedness.

I could blame the new hormones for this, but I won't... the below article made me cry. Why you ask? Because this blogger hit something I'm very sensitive about... making the most and enjoying the time now. Not later... now.

And I think back to this morning, with my favorite person, big or little. And I remember how tired and rushed I was. Waking late at the Spencer household does not go over well. And as always, my little one, so eager to make everyone around her happy tried singing and playing all the games I typically find endearing, only to be caught with my stern, rushed words. And I didn’t even take a second to notice if my words left her deflated.

I know I sometimes get tunnel vision and in the hurried moments of trying to make sure the boss doesn’t get mad because I’m late, that the fish don’t die of starvation, that Addison doesn’t go to school looking homeless, that I don’t forget to mail the electricity bill or to put gas in the car and strand us or in simply trying to clear my head of the numerous to do lists… sometimes I miss the field for the corn. I miss the little ways in which she tries to help and sedate. I race around trying to turn off lights and find her back pack and sweater, only to find her waiting outside on the patio with all missing items in hand. I curse under my breath when I get her head to my nose while trying to buckle her in… only to be shown two days later, she was trying to figure it out herself “to help her favorite mommy”.

I guess I should find solace in all parents trying each and every moment to keep their world’s spinning and I guess I shouldn’t tear up when I realize that we are all no different in missing moments and regretting words, but I don’t find solace. I do tear up. And I do often remind myself that I’ve got a million moments to make up for. But we don’t get more time for these make ups as the days roll on, do we?  

Article from BlogHer.com: To The Young Mom in Aisle 7

I passed the young mother several times in the grocery store as we both weaved our way up and down the aisles. She was dressed nicely -- she must have gotten off work, grabbed the kids from daycare and had to hit the store before heading home.

She was tired -- I could tell by the way her face and shoulders drooped. As I maneuvered my basket around hers in the cereal aisle, I could hear her thoughts as she tossed flavored rice cakes into her cart: I'm eating this crap but still can't lose any weight, and no wonder when I don't have any time to exercise, working all day then grocery shopping and dealing with the kids.

A son, probably four, but big for his age, rode sideways in the basket seat. A daughter -- cute little thing with her hair bobbed like her mom's -- I guessed to be around 6 or 7. She was all smiles. Neither of the kids were whiny or bratty, from what I could tell in our brief encounters, just bubbly and full of joy, viewing this trip to the store as an adventure with their mom. They were probably happy to be with her, finally. Time goes by so quickly for adults, but for kids, a day's separation seems like forever.

I love how kids can turn everything into an adventure. I'm not sure I loved it all the time when my kids were little, though, and I don't think this mom appreciated it either. Kids seem to suck the energy right out of you. It's proportional -- they become happy and energetic while you become a crabby zombie. And your crabby-zombie-ness spreads until everyone around you is a crabby zombie.

Sure enough, she was one register over when I was checking out, and by then the little girl was in tears. Maybe I'm being too harsh on the mother -- maybe the little girl, tired from school or daycare and nearing bedtime, became a brat and kept asking for something even after her mom said no a zillion times.

At first I felt relief that it wasn't me having to deal with paying for my groceries and shooshing a tired child. But then I took another look at those kids, and in their place I saw mine so many years ago and thought of all the shopping trips we'd made together ... some not so fun, but some ... yes, some were lots of fun. And I know I didn't appreciate that time I had with my kids that age, so innocent, so bubbly, so energetic and full of joy.
I wanted to tell the mom to hang on, to keep it in perspective and take it a day at a time. Heck, a minute at a time, if necessary. I wanted to tell her to soak up her kids' joy and sense of adventure instead of letting them zap her energy -- it's possible! -- because before she knows it, those two are going to be grown and she's going to be walking the aisles selecting things she thinks they'll like to eat because they're coming home to visit for a weekend.

And she'll pass a tired mom with two little ones in tow and she'll think, if only I could go back in time. There are a few days I'd like to do over, a few days when instead of spreading my crabby zombie-ness, I'd like to try soaking up their joy and wonder at the world ... if only I had the chance to do some things a little differently ... if only ...

Barbara Shallue writes about her life at http://barbarashallue.typepad.com, shares photos and information about photography at http://barbarashalluephotography.blogspot.com and is contributing editor of http://jobs4autism.com.

Whatever life may bring, I know I've already won.

Last night Addi went with me to get the mail. Addi looked down at the athletic wear catalog she pulled from the mailbox and grinned. "Your belly doesn't look like that anymore, Mommy. But mine does," she giggled. She turned around and patted my stomach. "Your belly's getting bigger and bigger, mommy."

Sighing, unable to deny the truth any longer, I replied, "Do you know why mommy's belly is getting bigger?" A confused Addison shook her head no. "Because there's a baby in there, you goof ball!"

Without hesitation, Addison jumped in the air and clapped her hands. "I wanna play with it!" she exclaimed.

"We have to wait, Addi. First, we have to wait for your birthday and then for Christmas. Then, the baby will be done sleeping and you can play with it."

"When the snow comes?"

"Yep. When the snow comes, the baby will too." I reached for my wallet and pulled out the ultrasound pictures. "See this? This is the inside of mommy's tummy."

Addi wrinkled up her nose. "That's disgusting!"

Laughing, I pointed out the head and the body of the baby. She laid on the floor and pretended to be the sleeping baby. When she was done playing, I got up to get a drink from the kitchen.

"Mommy," Addi called. "Why's your butt getting bigger then?"

While my sanity and the very threads that bind this woman together have been tested these last few months, luckily my sense of humor remains.

So here I am. 16 week pregnant momma. 

Waiting for January. And hoping it brings a little girl.

Late night conversations with the best of me.

Tonight while laying in bed, Addi wandered off on one of her many tangents... Tonight exploring babies and growing up.

"Yesterday, I went to my dads house and we colors. I went grashrr!! {Waves arms in the air} and my finger got wet."

"Really? That sounds crazy."

"And my just played at my daddy's house. Actually. And then I went eh! Eh! And we took a little nap."

Addi loves pretending... She's a very vivid imagination, one of my favorite things about her. Right now, she loves pretending to be a baby. I border on finding it adorable and.... Incredibly annoying. Its a fine line. She stayed in the roll for a couple more minutes, before I gently reminded her that she is now a big girl and we must go to sleep.

"What are babies for?" She questions.

"Uhm... Babies... are for mommies & daddies to love & play with. Then they grow up to be big girls, like you."

"My was a little baby?"

"Yep. You were my little baby. And now you're my very sweet, big girl and some day, you'll grow up and be even bigger, like mommy."

"My be a mommy?!!!!" I cannot add enough exclamation points here to illustrate her excitement.

"Yes, baby. You'll be a mommy. And a grandma when you're older."

"What about a daddy? Can my be a daddy, too?!"

"Boys are daddies, baby. Girls are mommies. Which one will you be?"

"My's a girl. Can be a mommy!! My's so excited! You ready, mommy?" She questions as she grabbed my face and pressed her nose to mine.

Am I ready?

Hell, no. Holy hell, no.
Good lord, they grow up fast.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Cute company makes all errands more fun!

- Posted using Mobypicture.com

"May the 4th be with you."

From: DJNotSteve
To: @NikolSpencer
Subject: May the 4th be with you...

Happy Star Wars day farm girl.

Hope your day is going well so far. Maybe later we can drop by Toshi Station and pick up some power converters, or perhaps hit the cantina check out the local music scene & some drinks. ;)

In any case, Saw this picture and it reminded me of you. Well, I guess when I think about you as a little farm girl in any case ;)

Have a good one, talk to you later.

From: @NikolSpencer

To: DJNotSteve

Subject: RE: May the 4th be with you...

LMAO

That totally *was* me! LOL

Addison seems to have picked up my love of Darth Vader. She came up to me yesterday with her hoodie on backwards and the hood over her face.

In a whispered, deep voice, she goes “cooo garrr. Cooo garrr. Mommy! I’m Dart Vader! Cooo garrr. Cooo garrr.”

I laughed so hard.

... And we're off!

- Posted using Mobypicture.com

...the taste still dances on my tongue.

The night before Thanksgiving 2007, having the holiday to ourselves, J and I were at the grocery store shopping for our dinner festivities the next night. Laughing and carrying all our groceries inside, my phone rang and although I am a multi-talented girl, the talent of juggling grocery bags, the door and the phone eluded me that night. Once safe inside and possessing the ability to use both my hands freely, I checked my voice mail. It was from Spencer, Addi's father.

Spencer: "We're in an ambulance on the way to the hospital."

His voice was hurried, stressed. If it were a physical being, you would surely see it collapsed in the corner, sobbing. Questions flooded my head. For whom; him or Addison? What hospital? Why? What the fuck?

Several attempts later, I finally made contact with Spencer. The fear and sadness in his voice confirmed the worst and encouraged the growing knot in my stomach; something had happened to Addison. She had collapsed, had a Grand Mal Seizure and had stopped breathing.

The trip to the hospital is a blur. I merely remember everything as an echo. I only saw black.

We were sent home after a few minor tests and some papers containing multiple prescriptions and a diagnosis of "Febrile Seizure." There wasn't much sleep to be had that night. Worry was at the edge of all our words and fear consumed our thoughts.

The following morning, I received another call from Spencer. Addison had another seizure and they were on their way to the ER again. By the time J and I arrived, she had had another seizure. Spencer was a wreck, rightly so, and promptly disappeared once we arrived to collect the pieces of himself he'd dropped on the way in. Given that it was a holiday, the neurologist was in Aruba or Bermuda or some equally far and beautiful location. Addi was moved to PICU and hooked to every wire and machine the hospital had on that floor, while we waited to be shipped to the nearest hospital with an available neurologist. Just as we settled in, she had her final seizure for the night... the first I had to witness.

Fear is often such a small word, completely unable to capture the desperation and immobilization of a moment. Addison is such a strong willed and spirited child, to watch confusion and panic consume her face and leave her limp and exhausted tore my world apart. Even now, writing this, I sit here crying... still unable to cope with the horror.

Addison has had a total of 4 "incidents". Each time, there is a series of 4 seizures. Each time, it takes 6 nurses to restrain her for an IV. Each time, I am awed by the emotional strength of this little person. We've been through several tests, lost count over sleepless nights, tested several daycares, and comforted far too many terrified cries. We're a year free now, but with each illness, I brace myself and prepare for the worst. I wonder, often, if that fear is something I will ever let go of.

Recently, I met a new friend whose son has similar, but more severe seizures. He's also been in a remission of sorts. Yesterday, there was momentary panic throughout his home as a situation all too familiar popped up.  Things like this take your legs away, leave you breathless and covered in emotional vulnerability. Listening to his worries, I was reminded of my own with Addison and now want nothing more than to hold that quirky, lively little Monkey of mine.

Hang in there NotSteve. Hugs to you and your family.

'Now I look like you, Mommy!'

{Insert dramatic sigh here} Help! I need a mommy... or a daddy!!

It goes without saying that I love my daughter more than anything. And I truly do believe she’s a very well behaved child, respectful and appreciative... all the things I could hope for.

But...

She’s the biggest dilly-dallier I’ve ever met. It takes her 15 minutes to put her boots on. They slip on. Addi and I are always running late and I’m trying my best to not bang my head on the wall every morning or scream and air kick my way out the door, but its really starting to become a problem.

My patient pants are so hard to wear sometimes. Any suggestions/coping mechanisms out there? I know all parents have encountered this at one point or another.

How do you keep your cool and not overheat?

Dear Self, Remember This.

Today, Joshy and I, put on our proverbial Thanksgiving hat and celebrated one of the many things we're most thankful for:

My little Monkey.

 

Each year her daycare holds a feast for the parents and it is highly entertaining to see the children in their environment, interacting with their teachers and friends.

Telling one of her many "stories", no doubt. Yesterday, Addi told me how her teacher Ms. Katy went to Joshy's house and they were baking cookies.

I forgot to ask him about that.

I think she just did.

These two crack me up. Its awesome sometimes to just sit back and watch the little girl she's becoming. She can hold her own in just about any situation and if you're not laughing your ass off at the end of a conversation with her, there is genuinely something wrong with you.

"Knock. Knock..."
"Wanna see my party?"

The best lunch date I've had in a while.

- Posted using Mobypicture.com

Felix The Cat. Pancakes for dinner. Photos on the kitchen floor. My partner in crime.

- Posted using Mobypicture.com

They weren't joking when they said there was going to be a test later.

Is it possible to create confidence while under influence?

I was talking with a friend the other day about weight and calories and all that crap that so many women care about. I walked away with two thoughts…

First was: within the last year and a half, I literally cannot remember a time I looked in the mirror and told myself I needed to lose weight or really even gave a rat’s ass about how my body looked. For a girl who forced her lunch up throughout her teens and overindulged to the point of obesity in her early twenties, I’m pretty proud of where I am now. So what if I have a mommy belly that’s determined to nevereverever snap back and a little extra junk in the trunk… I am woman. Hear me roar…and step away from my burger, dammit.

Second thought was: Shit.

Raising my daughter to be confident and strong in this superficial world is going to take more work than I anticipated and boy! I've anticipated a lot.  I laugh at the irony of this, though; the little girl who never left the house alone, cried herself to sleep because her step-dad / sister / husband / neighbor’s first-cousin’s best-friend’s mother said something once to make me feel insecure, molding a highly impressionable little girl. We’re starting with the ‘What Not to Do’ version, I guess.  I have a beautiful daughter… inside and out. And each time I hear my girlfriends fret and stew over their appearance, I can’t help but think of Addi… and it forces me to loudly and sometimes, dramatically, sigh.

My great-grandmother once told me something that had to do with regretting worrying so much about her appearance in her youth because by the time she had the maturity to just be herself, she was too old to enjoy that emotional freedom. I was too young and affected to pay attention to what she was saying then… my demons were drowning her out.  If only I had paid more attention to her… to all my grandmothers… when I was younger, I could lean on their words for some footing here.

Ever since that conversation with my girlfriend, I’ve been thinking about the how’s and the why’s, trying to come up with ideas and practices to start engaging in for my daughters benefit.  And because I talk to myself all the time… well, silently… but still… my internal voices keep asking random questions. Why do we women chain ourselves down with these ridiculous notions about weight and appearance?  Is it the men we’re trying to impress? Each other? Is it the negative influence of those damn Kardashians and the Lohan’s?  Why do we limit ourselves so much and let these societal influences control us?  And who, what, when and where did I stop caring?

The part that burns me… the part that makes me want to grab the microphone and start rapping on top of my soap box is why are we settling and letting someone or something else dictate how we present ourselves? When did we, as a culture, become so arrogant that we thought we had the right to force out individuality and uniqueness?

Just one more single momma with a lot on her mind.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about other people. More specifically, their opinions about how we raise our children as single parents. I've been sitting on this post for a couple weeks and Ms Single Mama beat me to the punch the other day with her brilliant post, My Decision. Once again, we seem to be living in parallel universes. I guess at some point we all encounter this situation… single parents or not. Someone, somewhere always has an opinion about how you’re raising your child and the ways in which you are failing.

I became virtually introduced to Ms Single Mama a couple years ago when she first started blogging… blogging about raising her little boy alone. At the time, my daughter was very little and I was merely emotionally alone. I had a partner, who was doing the best he could. I just couldn’t see it. Becoming a mother was the scariest and most brilliant moment of my life and I sought refuge and gained strength and insight from her words.

I’ve been blogging for a while… December 2006, I believe was my first post. It originated from the notion of keeping family and friends on the west coast apprised of the change and discoveries within our life here in Chicago, but actually turned out to be a door to one of the greatest support systems I’ve ever experienced.

I’ve a handful of friends who get all dreamy when they think about raising their kids alone… no partner to appease, come and go as you please, etc. It makes me laugh when they see it as something glamorous. Wasn’t it just a few years ago being a single mother was the equivalent of wearing the Scarlet A?

Truth is there isn’t much that’s easy about this. There’s the balance between work and home – working just enough to keep the electricity on and still spend quality time with your kid. Questions you’re not ready to answer – why doesn’t daddy live here? The constant wonder of how your decisions will shape their future. And then there’s the dating. And most of us just give up on it. But then when we’ve no date for Thanksgiving dinner we’re up against all the looks and the age-old idea that a child needs two live-in parents in order to result in a healthy functioning member of society. It’s exhausting. But it’s still the best damn job I’ve ever had.

This blog of mine has now become my little corner of the world where I say what I want about whom and rant about the things that aggravate me and work through any lingering questions or emotions I might have while showing off the best of me; my daughter. It’s unrealistic to think that this blog accurately exemplifies my everyday life. It is simply the Swiss cheese representation. There are literally 2 maybe 3 other people in my life who get the rest of the “cheese”, if you will. They know the background stories; why becoming a mother was so scary for me; they know why, when and whom raised my emotional wall and they are fully aware of what it will take to tear it down, they see the interaction with my daughter, they know her and how stable and amazing she is. Point is… these are people who get it… the work, the dedication, the sacrifices, the emotional strain and triumph these Spencer girls have gone through.

Sure, I put my stories out here, let everyone draw their conclusions… and some fail to see the whole picture and take things at face value. But then there are the others, that read, ask and interact… and it’s your selflessness, intelligence and compassion that I love about this whole adventure. There are always nay-sayers, people who attack with prejudice and inexperience. There are always those that don’t understand your vision and appreciate your struggles… and being the stubborn woman that I am with the schedule that I maintain, I’ve just no time or patience for such arrogance.

Insecurity raises my defenses, but Ms Single Mama said it best in her post ‘when you’re up against a pre-conceived image of yourself how do you fight that?’ I’m a damn good mother and I’m not going to live in fear of a few sideways opinions. My daughter is healthy, happy and loves life. She’s intelligent and compassionate, stubborn and strong-willed. She’s resilient. Just like her mommy. And that’s the way... uh huh uh huh… I like it.

Hugs to all my readers; supporters and otherwise. You all keep me going… even if it is in different ways.

We're starting a revolution from my bedroom... "Rah rah, ah ah ahh!"

This morning I wandered into my room to find Addi awake, propped up on my bed listening to my iPod. She pulled the headphones away and smiled.

"Mommy. Is this Gaga?"

"You got it."

{dramatic sigh} "I loves it." And she put the headphones back on and tapped her foot through the rest of the song with her eyes closed.

Leaving shadows... heavy shadows.

[Disclaimer: This post has been laying around my apartment, in the form of random note sheets and various text messages, since the first week of August. My. My. My. What a slacker I have turned out to be. No real reason, other than lacking in time. So, please don’t read into that… and now… back to August 4, 2009.]

So, today I received a message from The Boy today telling me he’d quit social networking and was venturing out into the real world. Kudos. High five. Good for him.

We decided the best place for him was helping keep my friend bench warm. As I’ve told him before, I’m not sure what I’m looking for so I like this arrangement better... fewer expectations, assumptions and rules.

He then texted me to confess he never thought we would have worked out anyways. Ok. Now you have my attention. Was I about to get an honest confession or simply a response filled with insecurity and anger, like so many before?

Him: You seem fixated on raising your daughter alone and more power to you and just based on what I’ve read and talked to you about, you don’t seem to be ready to settle down and honestly if you’re happy that’s all that matters. Plus, I don’t really get some aspects of your life and I don’t make judgments but some of them make me uncomfortable. I realize J was there when Addi was born and I realize he helped raise her for a year. Just seems weird that he still watches and picks her up, etc. He’s not her real parent and I just wonder if in 3 years he has kids of his own and finds out he doesn’t have time for her, how it will adversely affect her.

{Scratches head} Uhm.

For starters, I don’t want to raise my daughter alone… but I’m not going to let just anyone help in this. You don’t get a do-over and I see the ways in which my childhood has left its scars and I wish someone had taken a little more care with that. In a way, yes, Boy, you are correct. Until I find someone I trust with all of me, daughter included, I will remain fixated on raising her alone… which also answers, why I do not seem ready to settle down.

It’s the J aspect I really want to discuss. I’d be over the moon with some input here, too, from the parents that have been here, are struggling with this too. Heck, even if you’re not and you’ve got something to contribute to this… do it. You will totally make my day. [How’s that for soliciting comments?]

J is not Addi’s father. He was my best friend and roommate when she was born. Her father and I were separated. Both were in the room the day she was born. The day after her birth, a much quieter and sincere version of J appeared in my hospital room, to tell me he wanted to help me… help me raise my daughter. And that he loved me. Gorgeous baby and the man of dreams in less than 24 hours? I don’t remember what I said, but I’m certain I muttered and spoke as eloquent as a chimp reading Spanish upside down.

That was it. For nearly two years, both her father and J walked and worked side by side with me taking care of Addison… sometimes picking up more than their share when I was overwhelmed and losing balance. To her, J was just as much a father as her own. I genuinely believe he loves her and would do just as much for her as he would his own.

When J and I broke up and I moved out, the first 2 months were brutal on both Addi and I. She often stood, forehead pressed against our glass door, looking for him. Asking where he was and even crying for him. Regardless of any differences that J and I have had, he maintains a relationship with Addison and doesn’t treat her any differently than he ever has. I believe we have all settled into a much more comfortable place with the roles we play in one another’s life and I greatly value the influence J is on Addison.

So, with the significantly condensed version of the relationship between them, how can I cut that? Why would I want to? How selfish that would be on my part to take that away from her. J still is a great friend of mine, and yes, for the 3 guys that made it past date 1, he was always a problem. I understand their concern and even understand the twinge of jealousy, but if we all have the same interests at heart; one being her happiness, it seems selfish and immature of them to not understand the need for that relationship to continue… its not about me and him… its about her and him.

Are there any parents that have been in this situation or something similar present? I would love advice, criticism…thoughts in general on this. Am I really being too idealistic here? Can we all co-exist peacefully?

[Footnote: The Boy’s honesty and integrity is amazing. I appreciate the angle from which he views things and for this reason, he will always be ranked high on my friend list.]

Who shall I point the finger at; Nature or Nurture? {giggles}

This picture cracks me up! It is such a great visual representation of my daughter. Each night she comes home, she lines her shoes up. She is very organized and clean for a child... after dinner; she puts her dishes in the sink and wipes down the table. She scolds me when my room is a mess, which is often. But Addi has the greatest sense of humor and even though it frustrates me, when the moment gets too tense, she inevitably finds a way to relieve the tension.

When I saw her shoes lined up this way this morning, I couldn’t help but laugh. I had just finished telling her that I wanted all the toys and miscellaneous b.s. (of course I was more eloquent with her) cleaned up. The randomness of the shoes lined up in the middle of the living room, with one pair out of synch and another backwards, was just her sarcastic way of saying “Sure Mom… whatever you say.”

 

She makes the mornings brighter.