Wheee!

Calvin (about a week old) and Saffron when things were a lot more quiet

This morning I was watching the cat run in horror and jump the baby gate like an Olympic hurdler as Calvin was running behind her giggling and squealing. While this scene was completely hilarious and still makes me smile thinking about it, something in the back of my mind was nagging at me. About 5 minutes later I figured it out. Once upon a time, I was the cat. And my Uncle Joey with his yellow RC car was Calvin. I'll never forget the story that my great Aunt Jeanie and my Momma used to tell.

First, you may need a little back story. I was born in Pennsylvania and lived there for the first 18 months of my life. We lived with my grandparents for a while, then moved into a tiny apartment over a restaurant in downtown Waynesboro. Even then, we were over at the farm a lot. I was the first grandchild, my parents were very young when I was born, and Momma's siblings all still lived at home at the time. For a while my Uncle Joey, Momma's younger brother, didn't really know what to think about me; he didn't have much experience with babies. But apparently, when I started walking, he figured out what I was good for. I was good for chasing.

One fairly quiet day, everyone was going about their business. They were probably getting food ready. Anyway, all of a sudden this scream could be heard throughout my grandparent's entire farm house. Then they said they got a quick glimpse at me running through the room (I was running for my life!). Right behind me was an RC car being controlled by my Uncle Joey who was bringing up the rear giggly like a mad scientist. At least, that's how I remember the story.

That stupid car is still around, too. To this day I often have not-so-nice dreams about being chased by yellow cars. Now I know how Saffron must feel.

Elle

PS It's may not be the most interesting story, but I'm not the best story-teller in the world. I'm hoping to learn that skill as I get older. My great Aunt Jeanie and my Grandma Hinson were the best story tellers in the world. I miss them both so much and I love being reminded of them through the stories they told.

This could get a little awkward...

That's not only the title of the post, it's a warning. Ready?

Some unpleasant things have happened to a few dear friends of mine recently. I won't speak of their situations specifically, but I will say that the things that have taken place are unpleasant enough for me to go to a prayerful state of mind. Yes. I pray.

I pray to a God that I fully believe in. I consider myself to be a Christian. I'm not always good one, but I do try to be. I attend the same non-denominational church I've been going to since I was young. I've attended other churches with friends, but ultimately found that I don't agree with what those churches stand for as much as I agree with the one I currently attend. Though, if you take away nothing else from reading this, I hope you will remember the following: I do not agree with everything my chosen church teaches. I don't not think that my beliefs are absolute and everyone else is wrong. There are a good many points I take issue with. Over the past few years, my faith has been even tested by members of that church. But I press on because that's just how I am. I enjoy the company and fellowship of my fellow church members and it's a place where I feel safe. I don't talk about faith and religion much. It's a very private part of my life; not because I'm ashamed, but because I don't feel the need to put it out there to be judged. I also believe that if you so chose, you should find your own path to God. You don't need to follow mine. So I keep to myself. I'm happy to answer questions or direct you to a person/place where you can find answers, but I'm not an evangelist. I make far too many mistakes and am not comfortable enough in my spiritual and biblical knowledge to be a leader of any kind. I honestly don't want that responsibility.

All of that aside, the most important aspect of my personal faith is prayer. Praying helps me collect my thoughts, it calms me down, it gives me comfort, and I can do it when ever and where ever I want. Most of the time you won't even know I've done it. And hey, if it turns out that I'm completely wrong about God, then my thoughts and wishes are still sent out into the universe. I'm confident those thoughts and wishes will find their way to the person that needs them one way or another.

I understand that faith, spirituality, religion, and/or prayer isn't for everyone. I'm okay with that. As much as I may disagree with someone else's beliefs, I'm certainly not in any position to judge them. That's not my job. I've come to the conclusion that my purpose in this life is pretty simple. I'm here to be a friend, a wife, a daughter/granddaughter/niece/cousin, a mom, and a good person. I'm here to try to make the world a better place. That's it. In it's most basic form, that is my purpose. One way I know to achieve that is to pray.

This is going to get mixed responses; mostly silent ones. Some of you will just go, "Okay." Others will be disappointed in me. A few may appreciate what I've said. You don't have to like it or agree with it. All I can ask is that you respect it. Whatever your reaction is, thank you for taking the time to read this.

Elle

Rough 'n' Tough

Today was a rough one. I have expected to have some hard days- days when I'm really challenged. But this one is getting to me.

Calvin wouldn't nap yesterday or today. He's getting into things he knows he shouldn't. And while he hasn't quite gotten the hang of listening when we say, "no!", he acted like we didn't even exist today. He's been pushing his limits and testing us to see just how far he can go. I know exactly what's going on and I know that he is at that stage in his development. After our little ones learn to walk and gain some independence, most of them start testing things out. Their entire lives are one gigantic experiment and they are the tiny mad scientists. This experimentation includes seeing just how far they can push mommy and/or daddy.

Well today was the day for Calvin to launch that test, apparently. He threw a temper tantrum like none I've ever witnessed from him. I hope and pray I never have to see...well mainly hear it again. [Yes I know that is completely unrealistic, but hush. A mommy can dream!] He was getting into all of the baskets on his diaper changing table; pulling things out, flinging stuff all over his room, trying to open bottles, etc. Well, he got a hold of the Vaseline container and managed to get it open. That was the last straw for me. I did not need grease all over everything. I had a terrifying flash in my head of what might happen if he had it in his possession for a second longer. I snatched it from him, smacked his hand and started yelling. I just lost it**. Charlie came in and grabbed him and that's when it started. He was whining after I smacked his hand, but when his daddy came in, he knew he was in trouble. About 15 minutes into this episode of crying and screaming, Charlie put him in his crib. Calvin was to stay in there (with Charlie sitting in the chair across from him), until he chilled the eff out. I couldn't deal with the screaming. I had a really hard time with it. Charlie was a champ, though. He wasn't overly mean, but he was focused on getting Calvin to chill out. I just wanted to pick the baby up, give him his juice and cry. We are not the "cry it out" kind of parents. We do fall on more of the attachment parenting side of the line so leaving our child alone to scream for hours on end just isn't our style. In our mind it does more harm than good. Contact and communication is important in cases like this, even at this age. And most of the time Charlie and I agree on what actions to take when it comes to discipline or preventative actions. But today, I'm so grateful Charlie was there to take control of things because my head was not in a good place. Charlie did an awesome job handling both myself and the baby.

Like I said, I knew exactly what was going on. I told Calvin, "No!" repeatedly and he kept pushing the limit. He's got a strong will just like me. [Congratulations Momma and Daddy! The "curse" worked; I had one just like me.] I knew that he was just testing me and that this really is part of his development, but I still got angry. I got too angry. I got angry partly because I'm tired. If Calvin doesn't nap, I don't nap. And I still rely on that one or two-hour stretch where I can have some quiet time in the middle of the day to rest. It's why I can afford to sleep a little less at night. But neither of us have been getting that. So my brain isn't rested and it's already a little out of focus. Add to that the fact that this kid has a gazillion toys, but he'd rather have something he shouldn't. So instead of focusing on teaching him that those weren't to be played with, I just got pissed.

I'm trying not to beat myself up about it too much. It won't be the last time I get angry with my little guy over something that ultimately, in the grand scheme of things, just doesn't matter. It's difficult to not be listened to; to not feel respected. And while it's normal to feel upset about that, I've got to keep in mind that he's new here. He's only 15 months old and he has SO much to learn. He can't completely grasp the concept of listening to me because I know better. He doesn't know how to say "respect" much less what it means. I've got to remember to focus on breathing and being calmer even if that means walking away for a minute or two. Because I hate feeling so angry like I did today.

Elle

**I do not hit/spank/beat my child. I firmly tap the back of his hand with mine. That is my typical form of punishment. The worst I've done is popped his bottom once while he was wearing a rather thick cloth diaper and the little punk just laughed. While sometimes raising my voice is the only way to get Calvin's attention, I try to watch my temper. Today, however, I yelled. A lot.

You know you're getting older when...

I'll be 27 this year. It hit me about 2 weeks ago that I'm just that much closer to 30. I have a kid. I'm a wife. My 10 year high school reunion will be next summer. Where in the world did all the time go? I'll admit I'm nervous about turning 30. And for someone that has never had a problem turning another year older, I feel really odd about it.

I began to realize that I'm getting older when I started listening to NPR. I take their politics with a grain of salt, but I'd rather listen to NPR than any other talk shows or the same songs being played over and over again on the other FM stations. But, I think it hit home the most when I started to think about what I'd like for my birthday this year. The first things that came to mind? A compost tumbler, lumber for raised beds/planters, a deck box, a new (to me) couch, a membership to Costco or our local recreation center (rec center would probably be better because we can walk to it, unlike Costco which is 45 minutes away), and bras (because the newest bra I have I bought before Calvin was born. I mean, really.)

The point here is not that I'm putting my birthday wishlist out for everyone to see so they will buy me things. Honestly. The point is that my wishlist no longer consists of Wellies, clothes, nail polish, mp3 players, concert tickets, etc. I want sensible, useful, practical things as gifts. What. The. Hell?!

Okay fine. So I watch Doctor Who and fantasize about David Tennant coming to swoop my family and I away in a Tardis for fabulous adventures. I still have dreams at night of being Wendy having the time of my life with Peter and the lost boys in Neverland. And I still like blanket forts and stuffed animals. But now I'd only go with David Tennant I could bring Charlie and Calvin. I read Peter and Wendy's adventures to Calvin before his bedtime and will, in turn, dream about it. Calvin has inherited my stuffed animals. And Charlie and I plan on teaching our son the vital importance of building blanket forts when he's old enough.  So I guess I still get to live out my child-like tendencies through my son while I'm...growing up.

I'm sure this is something many young, first time parents go through. One day you're graduating high school. Then college is SUCH a big deal. Then you graduate and have to get a job. Paying your bills and having enough money left over for the concert next week makes you responsible. Then you're married and having a kid and you're right about where I am right now...

It's weird and conflicting and exciting and did I mention it's weird?

Elle

Something New

Well, here we are again. Yet another blog that I may or may not keep up with. I'm hoping to use this as more of a journal than a public, "Hey you! Read this!" type of thing. Many posts will likely be public, but I'd like it to still have a "Dear Diary" feel to it. I want a space where I can talk plainly and not have to try so hard at being witty. I want to be able to talk about my relationship with my husband. I want to talk about being a mother. I want to talk about how I'm really wanting and trying to improve myself. I want to be a better daughter, wife, mother, and just a better person in general. 

For the most part? I'm a happy person. I love to laugh and giggle; I think it's good for the soul. I'm a smartass and sarcasm is my middle name. My favorite movies are comedies. I enjoy finding the good in life. Sure I have fleeting moments of sadness or anger. There are a few topics that make me particularly tearful or ragey. But I work hard to not focus solely on those things. I feel it's important to look for the good, even in a bad situation. Depending on the situation, it can be difficult to keep that in mind, but I do try. Even with that, I know I can be better.

I'm not perfect. I have a LOT of things I need to work on in my life. I need to manage my time better. I need to focus on breathing when I get angry instead of just yelling and lashing out. I want to be stronger physically and emotionally. I want to focus my energy doing the most good I can. I want to have the courage to take my ideas and actually put them to use. I want to follow through with the tasks I say I will do. I need to be more active. I want to be able to teach my son meaningful skills and help him reach his milestones. I want to be the best mother I can be. I want to have a strong, lasting relationship with Charlie that will grow and flourish and make us both better for it. And I'm pretty certain that I can accomplish these things eventually.

It certainly does help to talk things out. So, I guess that's why I'm here...