Thursday, October 7, 2010
rude awakening today
it's always the day you change the sheets, comforter, pillows, crib toys, that the blasted diaper won't hold up through the night. talk about rude awakening.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
sick child
having a sick child has got to be one of the hardest challenges as a parent. it's ever worse if you are a working parent, or single parent or whatever. my son has had a months long bout with ear infections. i go into the doctor they give me an antibiotic and i'm there again a week later, averaging 2 times per week for a few months. very expensive i might add. now its his turn to get the surgery. i made the call to the ENT before the refferal. it was my instinct and i was getting sick of just being sent home without an answer and only a prescription.
it's exausted me at no avail. the waiting room at the pedriatician, the co-pay. its a dance. a dance that has left me feeling like i've been training for a mental marathon. putting your kids health in the hands of others, namely anyone BUT the doctor. there's all these people involved and the doctor does about 10% of the work. its so much energy wasted. you never see the same person, no one knows the child's history. how has this happened. how did pediatric practices turn into this? how can a doctor work under such conditions? the ever revolving door of little faces that look diffrent every time they see them? so many medical mistakes i'm sure.
and this week? i'll probably go three times. three copays. next time pre-op. surgery. all the time off work. there's gotta be a simpler way.
it's exausted me at no avail. the waiting room at the pedriatician, the co-pay. its a dance. a dance that has left me feeling like i've been training for a mental marathon. putting your kids health in the hands of others, namely anyone BUT the doctor. there's all these people involved and the doctor does about 10% of the work. its so much energy wasted. you never see the same person, no one knows the child's history. how has this happened. how did pediatric practices turn into this? how can a doctor work under such conditions? the ever revolving door of little faces that look diffrent every time they see them? so many medical mistakes i'm sure.
and this week? i'll probably go three times. three copays. next time pre-op. surgery. all the time off work. there's gotta be a simpler way.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
what it means today, on hump day
motherhood today means putting everything on hold. this includes but is not limited to: well earned mental breakdowns, sex dates with your partner, travel, career ambition, hair appointments, funerals, and even death.
xoxo
xoxo
Monday, March 15, 2010
my mother, myself
on friday i picked up my mom, who had just announced that she was leaving her life in ecuador to come live the american dream. we have a history so i said that was great, but i could not help her. she has other kids, other family. full of hope however, i decided to have stay with me instead of my sisters (they had guests staying with them) until sunday morning wheni had to go to an event.
full of hope and wine i drove to the airport to find a woman in need of affection, a mental health professional and some tough love. we held. i offered my help on the condition she tell the truth. SHE SAID SHE WOULD. unfortunatley her disease lied for her, from the first syllable.
on her physical appearance, i dont recall much, all i could see were bruises, the remnants of a black eye, maybe "clumsiness" marks on her legs. i could not look closely as my head would blow and my heart would break.
i had my weekend planned with her. but i've never said planning was my forte. made baked chicken (excellent), pizza for dinner. disaster for breakfast. sunday she lost it. she cant be around us unless we can offer her love via money or buying things, buying her love. her parents did it, my father did it, now she expects it from us, her children. she cant love you unless you have something tangible in return, a cell fone, a small beauty sample, cash. its all the same.
LOVE=THINGS to her, sometimes favors. any other love, she cannot comprehend, she doesnt have the tools, my old shrink would say. i say spoiled brat. wah wah lollipop syndrome. shut her mouth with something. her attention span isnt what it used to be, and her grandkids werent enough. i'm broke, emotionally and financially bankrup, so she has no use for me.
she didnt want me. she wanted to use me. two diffrent things.
she broke things, threw cell fones. my own private naomi campbell. and just like naomi she blammed everyone but herself. blah blah. typical addict behavior. the police were rung (a first for me) and like white trash it all went down on my porch. she left and that was it. just a lot of broken glass and pride to sweep off the ground.
i was called many names including pig, and was wished the worse wishes anyone ever wants to hear. my mother wishes me the worse. aint that something. well i got the worse mom, so i guess bejezus heard her.
and in a cloud of chaos she left. i stood up for myself, for my kids and she's gone. i wish i could say i was liberated, but my shackles are only stronger now. but i set some boundaries. I AM NOT YOUR MOTHER. nothing sadder that parenting your parents cause it comes with the mourning of the dead parent. and right now i'm mourning the loss. the loss of my family, the loss of my parents and the loss of my mother.
of my family all i have is the bag of bones, which one day i will ash on top the remains of canudos. until then, who knows. like i said im in mourning.
full of hope and wine i drove to the airport to find a woman in need of affection, a mental health professional and some tough love. we held. i offered my help on the condition she tell the truth. SHE SAID SHE WOULD. unfortunatley her disease lied for her, from the first syllable.
on her physical appearance, i dont recall much, all i could see were bruises, the remnants of a black eye, maybe "clumsiness" marks on her legs. i could not look closely as my head would blow and my heart would break.
i had my weekend planned with her. but i've never said planning was my forte. made baked chicken (excellent), pizza for dinner. disaster for breakfast. sunday she lost it. she cant be around us unless we can offer her love via money or buying things, buying her love. her parents did it, my father did it, now she expects it from us, her children. she cant love you unless you have something tangible in return, a cell fone, a small beauty sample, cash. its all the same.
LOVE=THINGS to her, sometimes favors. any other love, she cannot comprehend, she doesnt have the tools, my old shrink would say. i say spoiled brat. wah wah lollipop syndrome. shut her mouth with something. her attention span isnt what it used to be, and her grandkids werent enough. i'm broke, emotionally and financially bankrup, so she has no use for me.
she didnt want me. she wanted to use me. two diffrent things.
she broke things, threw cell fones. my own private naomi campbell. and just like naomi she blammed everyone but herself. blah blah. typical addict behavior. the police were rung (a first for me) and like white trash it all went down on my porch. she left and that was it. just a lot of broken glass and pride to sweep off the ground.
i was called many names including pig, and was wished the worse wishes anyone ever wants to hear. my mother wishes me the worse. aint that something. well i got the worse mom, so i guess bejezus heard her.
and in a cloud of chaos she left. i stood up for myself, for my kids and she's gone. i wish i could say i was liberated, but my shackles are only stronger now. but i set some boundaries. I AM NOT YOUR MOTHER. nothing sadder that parenting your parents cause it comes with the mourning of the dead parent. and right now i'm mourning the loss. the loss of my family, the loss of my parents and the loss of my mother.
of my family all i have is the bag of bones, which one day i will ash on top the remains of canudos. until then, who knows. like i said im in mourning.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
officially a lepper
thank you facebook, you have confirmed what i have been suspecting for the last couple of months. new mom=lepper. nobody wants anything to do with me, especially now that the thing toddles and walks into things (to borrow from dana carvey) just like a drunk midget. and its no secret nobody wants to hang around with a drunk midget or his handler.
along with the misterious dissapearance of sex, is also the disapearance of friends, even family. they scatter like flies and even lie to me in regards to their whereabouts, house parties and/or drinks tey have together. but the evidece is there via drunken facebook pics. now thats what i call official confirmation.
along with the misterious dissapearance of sex, is also the disapearance of friends, even family. they scatter like flies and even lie to me in regards to their whereabouts, house parties and/or drinks tey have together. but the evidece is there via drunken facebook pics. now thats what i call official confirmation.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
aftermath
after the confession i made to myself (and later to my spouse over the phone) i have been judging myself and my abilities to raise children. "How could you ever show prefference" is what i always told my father. i always always always had that complaint. he was not fair with his affection, and i believe that i havent been either. since patrick left, and giving into the pressure of nik being left out i have neglected my baby in an emotional level. this is just my own phsychoanalisis but i think i might be on to something. after ten years of having one, i have no idea how to balance 2. the love the affection, the face time, all of it. i'm not sure what i'm doing. i mean i know how to do the work. i just dont know how to balance it out so that both kids get their fair share of mom.
what i am sure is that after being totally surprised by my own admission i have made a concious effort to stop making excuses and start looking at myself from outside when it comes to my kids. so what if the baby is high maintenance? i need to stop comparing him to the boy and just give it up. the thing needs me like no other and i'm giving in. sue me.
what i am sure is that after being totally surprised by my own admission i have made a concious effort to stop making excuses and start looking at myself from outside when it comes to my kids. so what if the baby is high maintenance? i need to stop comparing him to the boy and just give it up. the thing needs me like no other and i'm giving in. sue me.
Monday, February 22, 2010
missing ending
something happened with the last post. so here is the ending
my epiphany comes in that sort of feeling i get with or towards andes. he's my little stranger born into us, part of the future but not the past because his dad is not around. he's like a visiting uncle. i feel betrayal to both the darczuks and andes. what can he latch onto as a little boy, if there is no papa? how can i betray my husband who does exsit and be both? i've always wished i had a penis, and i so more today than ever, for the children i mean. but until then come home darling. just come home. the darczuk famly limbo is becoming hard to handle.
my epiphany comes in that sort of feeling i get with or towards andes. he's my little stranger born into us, part of the future but not the past because his dad is not around. he's like a visiting uncle. i feel betrayal to both the darczuks and andes. what can he latch onto as a little boy, if there is no papa? how can i betray my husband who does exsit and be both? i've always wished i had a penis, and i so more today than ever, for the children i mean. but until then come home darling. just come home. the darczuk famly limbo is becoming hard to handle.
confession
as my days grow darker and my depression seems to worsen, i decided to go to nyc to visit my husband. i took the firstborn with me, and was touched when he thanked me with a kiss for "taking me to see daddy" that's a lot for nik, who is a thankless child in a thankless age.
new york was as usual bitter and sweet. we try to figure out what to do, we are not tourists and we are not locals. the theme of my life continues just with a diffrent twist. pat and i are trying to be in coupledom and balance the need to be a family for at least 2 days. the balance is off on friday, perfect on saturday and terrible on sunday when we all quiet down and the cruelty of the situation becomes apparent. we have to go. get on a plane and go. again. it never gets easier. on the contrary it gets harder. there are no surprises anymore. i know what i'm coming home to, i know what my children are lacking and i know that there is no end in sight. same goes for their father, my dearest, he knows the same yet he diligently drives around trying to entertain ourselves, keep nik happy nd get in some time with me. its all but impossible and we end up just thankful to be together.
it was during this trip that i realized i havent bonded with the baby the way i should or thought i had. i always feel like he's an intruder. unintentionally. i love him, adore him, but he's not part of the family, because my patrick is missing. the family aint complete and there was never a family for him to belong to. just a single mom and a brother. he's my son, nik's brother but he does not have a daddy, the same way that i dont have a husband.
my epiphany comes in the
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
posts get less and less frequent, mostly because i have no life. well no life apart from that of caregiver, chauffer, maid, cook, mother. i've graduated to some sort of single motherhood that i did not expect was there, behind the door i opened when i let all this happen to me.
"this" is getting married young, having no career, being brought up without aspiration, not living within my means, beeing a late bloomer, being a coward, being scared, depression, anxiety, parental divorce. the list could go on, but i certainly cant listen to myself whine, much less expect anyone else to.
i'm my harshest critic; i get that. i'm my everything at this point. my travel agent, my cheerleader, my sister, my cousin, my aunt, my husband, my friend. my war is my own and i have no one else to share it with. my pain is so specialized that it's become hard to find a kindred spirit. my mom friends actually get the part where we want to die at night when the baby's unconsolable because of the ear infection, but that's about it. i'm not putting down their support by any means, but as my family disentangles from me as quickly as my creditors i feel that i'm nothing but alone. and for the first time in a while, or ever LONELY.
i've managed to pick up the pieces that were available and made my nest, a new place to start fresh. a roof for my children, a schoolbus. but i have no one to share it with. even with all this i'm always filled with doubt. have i done the right thing? is all this shit i've orchestrated leading me to the path of greatness? i've given up on that path, but am helping pave it for my kids at the moment. seems to be the only option, but what, what is that feeling of desperation that is still lit within that says "dont forget gaby"? what is it? and more important, why wont it stop?
"this" is getting married young, having no career, being brought up without aspiration, not living within my means, beeing a late bloomer, being a coward, being scared, depression, anxiety, parental divorce. the list could go on, but i certainly cant listen to myself whine, much less expect anyone else to.
i'm my harshest critic; i get that. i'm my everything at this point. my travel agent, my cheerleader, my sister, my cousin, my aunt, my husband, my friend. my war is my own and i have no one else to share it with. my pain is so specialized that it's become hard to find a kindred spirit. my mom friends actually get the part where we want to die at night when the baby's unconsolable because of the ear infection, but that's about it. i'm not putting down their support by any means, but as my family disentangles from me as quickly as my creditors i feel that i'm nothing but alone. and for the first time in a while, or ever LONELY.
i've managed to pick up the pieces that were available and made my nest, a new place to start fresh. a roof for my children, a schoolbus. but i have no one to share it with. even with all this i'm always filled with doubt. have i done the right thing? is all this shit i've orchestrated leading me to the path of greatness? i've given up on that path, but am helping pave it for my kids at the moment. seems to be the only option, but what, what is that feeling of desperation that is still lit within that says "dont forget gaby"? what is it? and more important, why wont it stop?
Monday, October 26, 2009
empire state of mind
back in ny. thinking mode. not mommy mode. missing children terribly. deep in thought about friends, those close to me and how i love them dearly. not family for a change. i love my losers, independent thinkers if you will. i don't think they are but others would disagree. if you are real you are a looser, you managed to miss the boat of cool, you know the one that's chugging along the mainstream. and got left behind to do your own thing. and i love you for it. marching to your own tune, monetarily successful or not, chances are you can measure your accomplishments by those who love you. and i love you. so there you go.
Friday, October 9, 2009
10-9-09
today is a day of firsts. first swim lesson for the baby, first dance for the 10 year old. sigh
Monday, September 28, 2009
invincible
invincible; yeah, that's what i am. i believe i have become invincible. overwhelmed and still sad-ish and depressed-esque, i'm still here. i live! i'm still alive! months ago i thought straight up thought i was not going to survive living on my own for the first time in my life, especially with the children as the cake-topping cherry. But, much like cher after a nuclear holocaust, i'm still here. tired and ten years older, i've emerged invincible, self aware, and i'm ready to pat myself on the back, shake the chip of the ole' shoulder.
not so fast. i'm not ready to leave the house, get them cocktails and rejoin society just yet. this hard livin' takes a toll. my nails shredded, my hair greasy, i pay the price. it's ok. i'm aware. self-aware.
as soon as i stopped trying to regain the life of yore, i released myself of that pressure. the pressure of the imposible. i'm never gonna be who i was 10 months and 4 weeks ago. ne-ver. nunca. jamais. and it's not due to an epiphany or my "intelligence" that i've been lucky enough to come to this realization, but due to lack of energy. i just didn't have it in me to continue on failing.
as soon as i saw clearly that i'm no longer gaby v., nuclear family of three, i was able to move on.
i then put on my size 14's and looked honestly in the mirror. "i have to start from scratch. rewrite the book on myself." i thought. this should be fun.
not so fast. i'm not ready to leave the house, get them cocktails and rejoin society just yet. this hard livin' takes a toll. my nails shredded, my hair greasy, i pay the price. it's ok. i'm aware. self-aware.
as soon as i stopped trying to regain the life of yore, i released myself of that pressure. the pressure of the imposible. i'm never gonna be who i was 10 months and 4 weeks ago. ne-ver. nunca. jamais. and it's not due to an epiphany or my "intelligence" that i've been lucky enough to come to this realization, but due to lack of energy. i just didn't have it in me to continue on failing.
as soon as i saw clearly that i'm no longer gaby v., nuclear family of three, i was able to move on.
i then put on my size 14's and looked honestly in the mirror. "i have to start from scratch. rewrite the book on myself." i thought. this should be fun.
Monday, September 21, 2009
sep 21 09 helping hand is not the same as back handed
two people so far, moms of course, grandmas even, have come out and commented (cough cough attacked cough cough) my looks in the last two weeks. one even pleaded "take time for yourself!" full of concern and worry they both inquired about the lack of attention to my hair, makeup, clothes, weight. both of these ladies have many things in common. They are both plastic surgery fanatics, both obssesed with youtfulness, and they are very present in the childrens and grandkids' lives. both of them have have also facilitated their daughters' return to "normalcy" after babies.
i have no husband, no mother, no father and no inlaws in sight. i soldier on alone, yet i'm still held up to ridiculous standards. i'm angry, and angrier as i type.. why do mothers think we should all be the same? that we should all prescribe to the same type of bullshit, and that cookie cutter is the only way to go for a woman? why can i pick a diffrent path? look like dogshit?
i dont know about the rest of you, but i'm not the mom i was a year ago; i'm not the mom i was 3 weeks ago! without fail, just as i get used to my duties and schedules (and the driving, my god the fucking driving) poof! it all begins again. a new tooth, a new friend, a new lesson. six weeks is the max until another big change happens and then i adjust.
from the infant years to the highschool years, the only thing about motherhood that is constant is change itself. i'm embarrassed to even be writing about it, but it seems that it's not clicheed enough to be left alone, as proven by these well meaning, in the box thinking grannies.
can i compete with a mom that always looks hot, has time to go to the gym, fuck her husband and go to mommy and me? in the words of the immortal whitney houston, hell to the no! and i dont want to, because i cant. i made my decision a few weeks into single working motherhood. i made a list of what was going to be prioritized in my new life. kids first. and since april, i pretty much haven't had a breath to think about the rest of the list.
people have personal issues, and make personal choices. some of those people even happen to be mothers! lets just leave them alone, shall we? and if we really are so concerned about how they look or what they wear or how they parent then give them a helping hand, because a back handed comment is all that it takes to send someone into the deep end. (not me though)
i have no husband, no mother, no father and no inlaws in sight. i soldier on alone, yet i'm still held up to ridiculous standards. i'm angry, and angrier as i type.. why do mothers think we should all be the same? that we should all prescribe to the same type of bullshit, and that cookie cutter is the only way to go for a woman? why can i pick a diffrent path? look like dogshit?
i dont know about the rest of you, but i'm not the mom i was a year ago; i'm not the mom i was 3 weeks ago! without fail, just as i get used to my duties and schedules (and the driving, my god the fucking driving) poof! it all begins again. a new tooth, a new friend, a new lesson. six weeks is the max until another big change happens and then i adjust.
from the infant years to the highschool years, the only thing about motherhood that is constant is change itself. i'm embarrassed to even be writing about it, but it seems that it's not clicheed enough to be left alone, as proven by these well meaning, in the box thinking grannies.
can i compete with a mom that always looks hot, has time to go to the gym, fuck her husband and go to mommy and me? in the words of the immortal whitney houston, hell to the no! and i dont want to, because i cant. i made my decision a few weeks into single working motherhood. i made a list of what was going to be prioritized in my new life. kids first. and since april, i pretty much haven't had a breath to think about the rest of the list.
people have personal issues, and make personal choices. some of those people even happen to be mothers! lets just leave them alone, shall we? and if we really are so concerned about how they look or what they wear or how they parent then give them a helping hand, because a back handed comment is all that it takes to send someone into the deep end. (not me though)
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
sep 15
i had a bunch of drafts, but i supposed if i dont log in daily its hard to keep up with this motherhood/literatti/takeover lifestyle.
as singel motherhood continues to take up every inch of my life, (well the children do, not the motherhood) i continue to graduate from human to just full on mom. it has overtaken me and i really am not putting up i fight. i could with the one, but the addition has just brought me to my knees. i'm happy, so for t he time being, i dont really care. do i miss my friends? sure. do i wanna dress up and to stay up past 9 to see them? no. do i i have extra money to spend on pricey dinners or parties? not in the slightest. its a win win.
these days, or shall i say day, my hapiness is measured in bizzare ways.
you see, i'm on a day to day basis with my relationship with myself, the cosmos and those around. i have so many schedules to conform to (baby, boy, school, work, nanny, far off husband, organic buying club, target)) that come 4pm i want no obligations. no gym. no nada. i'm getting the hang of it. just get all my shit done, run the kids around a bit, you know exhaust them and then pass out. all this running tolls on my energy. to them its just business as usual.
so what if i'm boring, introspective, ordinary? thats ok, i'm gearing up to take over the world later, once i'm able to stay up past ten.
as singel motherhood continues to take up every inch of my life, (well the children do, not the motherhood) i continue to graduate from human to just full on mom. it has overtaken me and i really am not putting up i fight. i could with the one, but the addition has just brought me to my knees. i'm happy, so for t he time being, i dont really care. do i miss my friends? sure. do i wanna dress up and to stay up past 9 to see them? no. do i i have extra money to spend on pricey dinners or parties? not in the slightest. its a win win.
these days, or shall i say day, my hapiness is measured in bizzare ways.
you see, i'm on a day to day basis with my relationship with myself, the cosmos and those around. i have so many schedules to conform to (baby, boy, school, work, nanny, far off husband, organic buying club, target)) that come 4pm i want no obligations. no gym. no nada. i'm getting the hang of it. just get all my shit done, run the kids around a bit, you know exhaust them and then pass out. all this running tolls on my energy. to them its just business as usual.
so what if i'm boring, introspective, ordinary? thats ok, i'm gearing up to take over the world later, once i'm able to stay up past ten.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
the begining of the tales 4th grade nothing
i made it. it took a few days, i chewed off every nail, but i made it through the first day of school. never mind the children, it's the moms who have to run that marathon. i still haven't purchased the supplies, and i had to stop at publix pre-drop-off for juice boxes, but even with those snafus i made to the "parent loop" 15 min early, managed to take a decent picture and get to work on time. phew
this is great considering that a week ago i was still waiting for my private catholic school to call me about this wait list thing. you see i had filled out all the paperwork, but in the midst of the new baby, my mother in law living in my house for months to care for said baby, my unemployed husband moving to new york to work, and a pending foreclosure, i forgot to send in the paperwork.
on the last day of school the teacher surprised me by saying "too bad you won't be back next year." my reaction was a very spears-like "huh?" followed by a sprint to the principal's office and getting on a wait list.
i worried over it all summer. my kid needed stability, and i was a horrible mother. how could i have forgotten? the only thing that was the same as last year was school, and i had to do everything in my power to make it happen.
all summer, i called the school weekly to check on the list. nada. two days before school, i just gave up or should i say in, and went to the principal to "beg" yes beg. my son had instructed me to "literally beg mom, ok?" so i did. and i also cried. i let it out. i had a complete meltdown on the principal, and she was very kind to allow it. it had been building up.
i knew then it wasn't so much about the school as much as my insecurity. i cried because my son was being punished because i had been careless. i cried because i knew that was the last time i was going to see the walls of that school, and i cried because i always do when something ends, or in my mind "dies."
the catholic schoolboy days are over for nik. he's no longer going to be babied, protected by the holy trinity from the evils of the world. his old fashioned education had given me, whether real or not, peace of mind. at 9 years old he has outgrown it, and as is usual i'm the last one to notice. i'm also the parent who takes the death of something through the entire stages of grief. he's a big brother now and can take a faster paced and more diverse education. he's ready, and i have to be confident that i've done a great job.
if everything else in our lives has changed, why not the school then? i fought it, and i fought it hard. i feel satisfied to loose; i'm a sweaty boxer who didn't get knocked out. the blows to the head brought me clarity, and with new perspective i'm ready to take my family to the next level.
this is great considering that a week ago i was still waiting for my private catholic school to call me about this wait list thing. you see i had filled out all the paperwork, but in the midst of the new baby, my mother in law living in my house for months to care for said baby, my unemployed husband moving to new york to work, and a pending foreclosure, i forgot to send in the paperwork.
on the last day of school the teacher surprised me by saying "too bad you won't be back next year." my reaction was a very spears-like "huh?" followed by a sprint to the principal's office and getting on a wait list.
i worried over it all summer. my kid needed stability, and i was a horrible mother. how could i have forgotten? the only thing that was the same as last year was school, and i had to do everything in my power to make it happen.
all summer, i called the school weekly to check on the list. nada. two days before school, i just gave up or should i say in, and went to the principal to "beg" yes beg. my son had instructed me to "literally beg mom, ok?" so i did. and i also cried. i let it out. i had a complete meltdown on the principal, and she was very kind to allow it. it had been building up.
i knew then it wasn't so much about the school as much as my insecurity. i cried because my son was being punished because i had been careless. i cried because i knew that was the last time i was going to see the walls of that school, and i cried because i always do when something ends, or in my mind "dies."
the catholic schoolboy days are over for nik. he's no longer going to be babied, protected by the holy trinity from the evils of the world. his old fashioned education had given me, whether real or not, peace of mind. at 9 years old he has outgrown it, and as is usual i'm the last one to notice. i'm also the parent who takes the death of something through the entire stages of grief. he's a big brother now and can take a faster paced and more diverse education. he's ready, and i have to be confident that i've done a great job.
if everything else in our lives has changed, why not the school then? i fought it, and i fought it hard. i feel satisfied to loose; i'm a sweaty boxer who didn't get knocked out. the blows to the head brought me clarity, and with new perspective i'm ready to take my family to the next level.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
fiesta si, siesta no
i put baby to bed and am too tired to shower. self doubt kicks in and i wonder what is the right way to put a crying, tired child to bed without a tantrum. i do the routine, i read the story, mood music in the background, eyelids droop and then bam! fake tears wholehearted screeching and wailing. the works. welcome back migraine.
i leave him in the crib and go up to my room. he quiets down. i know he's listening, hunting for signs that mom is around. a misstep, he heard me
stumble on a stair. screeching begins again. waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! louder than before, piercing.
my instinct says get him, but i don't. he has to go to bed. he has to be alone. who says? i do. i know it all right? this second child has humbled me. i don't have all the answers and whatever worked for my fist kid, doesn't necessarily work for the new baby.
for years i was lucky, numero uno was easy. eat sleep, poop. low maintenance for years. he was portable and adaptable, hardly ever noticeable. god knew i couldn't handle anything else. this one is hungry all the time, for company, for food, for fiesta.
the change of pace has been harder on me than i care to admit. just because i'm humbled and humiliated doesn't mean i'm ready to change. it's always been hard for me to accept certain things are different and move on. even harder when its me being wrong. my brain knows it, but my soul just wont give up. i'm just like the crying baby downstairs. when will we learn. now we're both crying ourselves to seep. at least he's clean.
i leave him in the crib and go up to my room. he quiets down. i know he's listening, hunting for signs that mom is around. a misstep, he heard me
stumble on a stair. screeching begins again. waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! louder than before, piercing.my instinct says get him, but i don't. he has to go to bed. he has to be alone. who says? i do. i know it all right? this second child has humbled me. i don't have all the answers and whatever worked for my fist kid, doesn't necessarily work for the new baby.
for years i was lucky, numero uno was easy. eat sleep, poop. low maintenance for years. he was portable and adaptable, hardly ever noticeable. god knew i couldn't handle anything else. this one is hungry all the time, for company, for food, for fiesta.
the change of pace has been harder on me than i care to admit. just because i'm humbled and humiliated doesn't mean i'm ready to change. it's always been hard for me to accept certain things are different and move on. even harder when its me being wrong. my brain knows it, but my soul just wont give up. i'm just like the crying baby downstairs. when will we learn. now we're both crying ourselves to seep. at least he's clean.
holiday
i’ve been and continue to be in recovery. from what? my vacation of course! as i’ve recounted my recent trip, i continue to relive the instances, that in order to survive, i had blacked out. i have selective memory, and getting stuck in the subway revolving door with the stroller, while my sister was stuck on the other one, baby in arms, is just the beginning.
the first couple of days, hung out with my eldest. i had the tenacious undertaking of helping him navigate the new york subway system and taking him to camp. i had reserved a hotel which turned out to be a 217$ a night roach motel. we left after one day, but not without having to ride around the city, and into new jersey in a bus and three subway trains, alone. have i mentioned the million degree weather, humidity and rain? walking into my brother in law and his new wife whilst sexing?
yeah, it sucked, but back to my escapades…the last 4 days, my wonderful sister (let’s hear it for the mommy support team….woot) and the baby joined me. after a lot of grief, I had sorted out the hotel mess, so i waited patiently with my eldest to see them reunite after 4 weeks apart.
few things make me happier than having my whole family together, and to be in nyc with them was supposed to be marvelous. speaking as a self proclaimed car hater, i did miss my vehicle. yeah, i said it now wipe off that victorious smile. never having thought that it could be warmer and wetter than florida, i didn’t preface the trip with any special plans, and was left to my own limited devices, like a survivor contestant who swapped the amazon for an urban jungle.
at times i had no water or shade, making hauling my laptop and purse really difficult. i never thought to bring an umbrella and once there didn’t feel like toting more junk. not to mention the extra weight i’m carrying in scorching (literally) jeans. shorts and skirts would lead to chafing which would've been an unwelcome addition to my list of toils. i’m also on a budget which made taxis, decent food, and bottled water not viable at all times. at one point I bartered my last dollars for a hotdog and water at grays papaya under the guise that I was “eating for two.” i know, cheap shot.
adding baby to the mix only exacerbated my inadequacies. i’ve already cited getting stuck in the subway, but the worse was getting around in a decidedly not urban stroller. those sidewalks are dangerous, and the puddles! oh the puddles! feet wet, i kept thinking of my rain boots in their box at home, happy, dry. having to be on time for various forms of transportation, given the obstacle course nature of the city, drove me and my control freak ways mad. babies and nyc are like oil and water, they don’t mix well, especially if you’re a novice.
it wasn’t all bad, the time we finally spent together was great. attending my son’s first movie premiere was awesome and hanging out with ecuadorian immigrants in queens was an eye-opener. a true learning experience, this nyc “family vacation” was full of surprises; and in the end, i made it. does this mean now i can make it anywhere? well, at least for 10 days i can.
the first couple of days, hung out with my eldest. i had the tenacious undertaking of helping him navigate the new york subway system and taking him to camp. i had reserved a hotel which turned out to be a 217$ a night roach motel. we left after one day, but not without having to ride around the city, and into new jersey in a bus and three subway trains, alone. have i mentioned the million degree weather, humidity and rain? walking into my brother in law and his new wife whilst sexing?
yeah, it sucked, but back to my escapades…the last 4 days, my wonderful sister (let’s hear it for the mommy support team….woot) and the baby joined me. after a lot of grief, I had sorted out the hotel mess, so i waited patiently with my eldest to see them reunite after 4 weeks apart.
few things make me happier than having my whole family together, and to be in nyc with them was supposed to be marvelous. speaking as a self proclaimed car hater, i did miss my vehicle. yeah, i said it now wipe off that victorious smile. never having thought that it could be warmer and wetter than florida, i didn’t preface the trip with any special plans, and was left to my own limited devices, like a survivor contestant who swapped the amazon for an urban jungle.
at times i had no water or shade, making hauling my laptop and purse really difficult. i never thought to bring an umbrella and once there didn’t feel like toting more junk. not to mention the extra weight i’m carrying in scorching (literally) jeans. shorts and skirts would lead to chafing which would've been an unwelcome addition to my list of toils. i’m also on a budget which made taxis, decent food, and bottled water not viable at all times. at one point I bartered my last dollars for a hotdog and water at grays papaya under the guise that I was “eating for two.” i know, cheap shot.
adding baby to the mix only exacerbated my inadequacies. i’ve already cited getting stuck in the subway, but the worse was getting around in a decidedly not urban stroller. those sidewalks are dangerous, and the puddles! oh the puddles! feet wet, i kept thinking of my rain boots in their box at home, happy, dry. having to be on time for various forms of transportation, given the obstacle course nature of the city, drove me and my control freak ways mad. babies and nyc are like oil and water, they don’t mix well, especially if you’re a novice.
it wasn’t all bad, the time we finally spent together was great. attending my son’s first movie premiere was awesome and hanging out with ecuadorian immigrants in queens was an eye-opener. a true learning experience, this nyc “family vacation” was full of surprises; and in the end, i made it. does this mean now i can make it anywhere? well, at least for 10 days i can.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
