I SWEAR I will get back to my long winded tale of the three years DB was a part of The Gremlin's life...at some point. Right now though I'm going to jump ahead because it's my blog and I can do that. Also I'm having a rough time trying to figure out my place and what my role is else where and I need to vent it out. Hardcore. Before steam starts shooting out of my ears (no more ear problems!).
In removing DB from our lives I made the decision to allow his mother and his younger sister (and father and twin brother) to still see The Gremlin. They did nothing wrong, they saw him on a consistent basis, and it was clear that they really loved him. Now at the time DB's sister was pregnant but had not had her daughter yet. Yes, there was a nagging fear in the back of my mind that things would irreparably change once she was born and that Gremlin and I would be "old hat". But I wasn't about to voice those fears to them. I mean really, discuss this with one very pregnant chick and Gremlin's nana?! Wasn't possible at the time. Besides they were family to me and Gremlin and I was convinced then that everything would be ok.
Fast forward now to today and boy, I was wrong. I was beyond wrong. We're talking an epic amount of wrong. First of all we've been meeting at a mall. Because they are afraid of their son coming to their house. So we sit at a table, them on one side, us on the other. Similar to a prison visit without the glass partition and the phone. For anywhere from an hour to three hours. Once a week. That is no way for a child to visit with "family". I say "family" because we don't really hear from them until I text them the day of our visit and ask if we're still meeting. Third, it hasn't been all too consistent. It all started last year, the day after Gremlin's birthday. We met them for our "usual" meeting and I could already tell something was wrong. They brought along Gremlin's Uncle. He never sees his uncle. And everyone just had that look on their face like they were dreading what was about to happen. I was on edge the whole time. Then they made the mistake of bringing out this huge gift bag and telling me it was from DB and do I want the Gremlin to have it. Are you serious? You're going to SHOW him this huge gift bag and then ask me if I want him to have it so I can look like the a**hole when I say no? They gave David the gift and me the card. The card was written out and signed by DB's girlfriend in his name. I ripped it in half and threw it away. Petty, maybe, but damn it sure felt good. I remember I had to walk away for a moment so my best friend sat with Gremlin and the "family" while I took a moment to myself. I came back and DB's sister's boyfriend (that's not confusing or anything) took Gremlin down to the little play place and as I watched them walk away I knew whatever it was that they had been dreading was finally here. The night before, on Gremlin's actual birthday, DB came to their home with his girlfriend...and an ultrasound picture. To me that says "I am officially replacing my son with a new child, be excited for me.". I melted down. I walked outside, got in my car, and bawled my eyes out. Not because I thought there was a chance for me and DB, but I cried my heart out for my son. My son who did NOT deserve a single second of the bullsh*t DB put us through. My son who did NOT deserve to grow up without his father. My son who did NOT deserve to be treated like a play toy that's easy to replace. I gathered myself enough to walk back inside straight by the table where everyone still sat, down to the play place. The Aunt's Boyfriend knew and just handed Gremlin to me and I turned around and walked right back out of the mall to my car. Thankfully my best friend was with me to grab everything I had left behind and meet me outside. And we drove away. They didn't come to Gremlin's party that year. I didn't extend an invitation. I was broken in so many ways and I didn't even really have it in me to have a party. There was fighting amongst my family and then this with their family. But I did it for Gremlin and the day of his party I got worlds of nasty text messages from his Aunt. Attacking me for me as a person, attacking my "relationship" with Gremlin's father, attacking me for having a party for my son. I was done. I was beyond done. And we did not speak for probably a good two months. The dust settled and I wrote them a very long letter explaining my side of the story. They contacted me and thanked me for being the one to reach out and try to fix things. I made a surprise visit with The Gremlin to their house on Halloween. Things seemed right for awhile. We aren't invited to holidays anymore, DB is there. We aren't invited to birthday parties, DB is there. We are not invited to anything they go to or do, DB is there. We get cancelled on because DB demands their attention for something or other. We get cancelled on even though they pick the day and time we were suppose to meet.
I love them, I considered them family, they were my safe haven when my family didn't agree with the decision I had made. But my situation in this crazy mess is a tough one. I always feel like the outsider. Like I don't really belong there and I'm just being tolerated. I feel like I've been replaced and my son has been replaced. I feel like I'm holding on to something that I don't really have the right to. I feel like I'm holding onto something that's long gone. Something where only the very tips of my fingers are touching. It's hard to trust them. It's hard to listen to what they have to say. They tell me they don't like DB's girlfriend, but facebook (stupid stupid facebook) says the complete opposite. I feel like I'm being lied to. So how do I cut myself off from them? How do I make that decision to walk away from the only members of that family that the Gremlin has left? How does this always end up being my decision to make? How do I explain to Gremlin that there's nothing wrong with him, that it was them, it was the situation? How do I keep his little heart from breaking when he's a little bit older and has questions? How do I get through this?
I know I can do it. I know I'm strong enough. But my heart just recovered from DB walking away and replacing us or what felt like replacing us. And to be honest, I was a lot closer to his mom and sister. I never wanted to have to explain to Gremlin something like this. I never want him to ever feel like he wasn't good enough. Because it's not his fault in any way shape or form. It was a bad situation. It was a "parent" who wasn't ready to be one, who wasn't mature enough to be one, who couldn't be responsible enough. And it was a series of events stemming from his inability to step up and be a father that caused everything else to fall apart.
And how do you not get angry over it? How do you accept the fact that an entire family can do this to a child? Any child, not just because he's mine. I'll never understand it. Any thoughts? Ideas? Anything? How? How? How?!
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
The Gremlin Turns 4!
I will eventually get back to the story of this crazy ride called life, but today is a day of celebration. The Gremlin turns 4 today. At 4:22 p.m. to be exact. Four! Where does the time go??? The time has gone, but it has been absolutely amazing. It's been a learning experience. It's been happy, sad, maddening, and just about every emotion in between. It's been life at it's finest.
Raising The Gremlin has been an absolute pleasure. Yes, there have been more than enough times where I wanted to pull my hair out and lock myself in the bathroom. But all in all it's been wonderful. Watching him learn and grow, seeing him test out walking, and speaking those first words. Getting to experience all his first and the moments he tried something new. Hearing the great things he has had to say. It's been nothing short of wonderful.
He's growing into such a smart and funny boy. He has this one of a kind sassy attitude. He's so incredibly loving and giving. He's everything I could have ever have hoped for and so much more. He is going to be a great individual and I am so proud to call him my son.
Happy fourth birthday, Gremlin! May your upcoming year bring you as much happiness and laughter as you bring me. I love you. <3
Raising The Gremlin has been an absolute pleasure. Yes, there have been more than enough times where I wanted to pull my hair out and lock myself in the bathroom. But all in all it's been wonderful. Watching him learn and grow, seeing him test out walking, and speaking those first words. Getting to experience all his first and the moments he tried something new. Hearing the great things he has had to say. It's been nothing short of wonderful.
He's growing into such a smart and funny boy. He has this one of a kind sassy attitude. He's so incredibly loving and giving. He's everything I could have ever have hoped for and so much more. He is going to be a great individual and I am so proud to call him my son.
Happy fourth birthday, Gremlin! May your upcoming year bring you as much happiness and laughter as you bring me. I love you. <3
Sunday, August 14, 2011
And the Skeletons Keep On Dancin'!
I guess I should finish up the blog I started about my adventure with my son. And I also guess that this is the part where I need to be serious. I don't like being serious, not unless I need to be. I love the humor, the sarcasm, the smiles, and the laughter of life. I love expressing it in as many ways as I can. However, unfortunately, this part of the tale is more serious than I would have liked it to be. Having a child, bringing a life into this world, is supposed to be joyous and an amazing time in your life. Entering parenthood. Sure there's the rough nights and the fears of whether you are adequate enough to be the parent you need, want to be. But being a parent isn't supposed to be a mess. It's not supposed to be hurt and anger. It's not supposed to be resentment. Supposed to be or not, a large portion of my time was. And this is that half of the blog....
My son's father, whom we shall call the DB (feel free to guess what that stands for), had a child before The Gremlin. A daughter who was I believe around the age of three maybe four when I had my son. He and I had a tumultuous relationship from day one and I will always believe I was more invested in it than he was. But one of the things that drew me to him was that he did have a heart of gold and the love I thought he had for his daughter, whom he did not see by choice of her mother, blew me away. Of course, I understand there are always two sides to every story and boy do I get that now. But anyway, we had a rocky relationship and were on and off for over a year. At the time that I had The Gremlin we were off again.
I clearly did not know I was having my son so after the dust had settled and me and The Gremlin were back at home, I had a lot to think about. And think I did. 24/7. Every moment of every day. It didn't help that when I got out of the hospital and turned my cell phone on I had one voicemail, from DB. What was I going to do? How would I even tell anyone? Who would believe this? Was I going to tell him? What would he think? What would his family think? I spent many late nights up watching The Gremlin sleep thinking what the hell am I going to do? I did this for two weeks.
And twice during those two weeks DB called me. Tried to convince me to go out for drinks with him. Talked about how depressed he was with his life, how he had this job where he was on the road all the time. I listened. I declined going out for drinks, I told him my responsibilities had changed. I listened some more. How was I suppose to tell him that we had an amazing, beautiful, miracle little boy when all he could talk about was how depressed and unhappy he was? I couldn't. But at the same time it was killing me to keep it in, to talk to him while looking at our son asleep making those cute sleeping baby noises.
Then finally it got to be too much. I knew I needed to tell him because I felt it was right in my heart to let him know. And at this point my doctors had convinced me I would never have another child, so what if this wonderful son I had grew up and resented me because I never told his father? I couldn't stand the thought of that. So the next time he called, I told him. I mentioned how I told him two weeks ago that I hadn't answered his phone call because I was in the hospital...how I literally meant that I had been in the hospital. And the rest of the story just kind of spilled out. I held my breath waiting for him to respond, not knowing which way it was going to go. Then he asked if I was ok, if the baby was ok. I told him it was a boy that he was fine and gorgeous. He cried. I cried. He wanted to see us as soon as possible.
I explained to him my thoughts on the situation. That I did not want money, from day one I always said I do NOT want any money. I understood that by no means did this mean we were going to be a family. It did not mean we were going to magically become some fairy tale story. I explained to DB that there was ONE thing I wanted from him- to see The Gremlin on a consistent basis. No in and out of his life. He was either in or out. That was the one thing I required if he was going to become involved with The Gremlin. And at the time he agreed to that. We talked for a while. At one point he hung up to compose himself and I called my best friend. He called back. We talked some more. When we hung up I felt like a HUGE weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was out there, I had told him, I no longer had to fight with myself over it. I picked up The Gremlin and cuddled him for a while.
The next day or maybe the day after that DB called and asked if we could meet somewhere. I agreed knowing sooner or later it would happen. I called my best friend and chewed her ear off worrying about meeting with him and his mother. What if they didn't believe me? What if they didn't think Gremlin looked like him? What if they ganged up on me? My best friend asked if I wanted to reschedule, if I wanted her to go with me. I thought about it, but declined. It would have been nice to have someone on my side, but I knew I had to be a "big girl" and do this on my own. So I packed up The Gremlin and took one of our first trips out just the two of us to go meet DB and his Nana for the first time.
We met at a local 99 restaurant, one that I can no longer set foot in or drive past without getting flashbacks. I can literally feel the butterflies in my stomach just like I did that night. I parked in the back of the building. Got out and sat in the backseat next to The Gremlin. I just stared at him for awhile soaking in the last few moments of alone time. Then I saw DB approach. I opened the back door. I couldn't even look at him. I just looked at Gremlin while he looked at Gremlin. At some point I got out of the car and carried him inside. We sat down at a table. I took Gremlin out of his carseat and cuddled him. I remember being able to look at DB's mother but I had the hardest time looking at him. I'm sure I recounted the entire story to them. Everyone stared at Gremlin. At some point DB worked up the courage to hold him. I won't lie, my heart was overcome at that moment. I can't remember the whole night. I don't remember if DB's mother and I hugged or not. I remember that I got back in the car with The Gremlin and DB got in with us. We drove around talking. I don't remember what was said. I don't even know if I had looked him in the eye yet. At some point I think I dropped him back off with his mother and I went home. The Gremlin and I went home.
Wow, this is a lengthy story. Longer than two blogs I think. I have definitely exhausted myself for one evening. But there's the second installment. I worried over it, finally told DB, and even met up with him...and his mother. It was a relief in a lot of ways, but in some ways not so much. My mother had been quite clear with me, she would not support my decision if I told DB and his family. But it was my decision and my decision only. I had to do what was right for my son and what was right in my heart. And I did. The stress of not telling my family what I had decided was enough to keep me up nights, but it was done. I couldn't take it back. I could only wait and see where it went from there. I had hope. Man, I had hope. I think it was that hope and my love for my son that would get me through the next three years....
My son's father, whom we shall call the DB (feel free to guess what that stands for), had a child before The Gremlin. A daughter who was I believe around the age of three maybe four when I had my son. He and I had a tumultuous relationship from day one and I will always believe I was more invested in it than he was. But one of the things that drew me to him was that he did have a heart of gold and the love I thought he had for his daughter, whom he did not see by choice of her mother, blew me away. Of course, I understand there are always two sides to every story and boy do I get that now. But anyway, we had a rocky relationship and were on and off for over a year. At the time that I had The Gremlin we were off again.
I clearly did not know I was having my son so after the dust had settled and me and The Gremlin were back at home, I had a lot to think about. And think I did. 24/7. Every moment of every day. It didn't help that when I got out of the hospital and turned my cell phone on I had one voicemail, from DB. What was I going to do? How would I even tell anyone? Who would believe this? Was I going to tell him? What would he think? What would his family think? I spent many late nights up watching The Gremlin sleep thinking what the hell am I going to do? I did this for two weeks.
And twice during those two weeks DB called me. Tried to convince me to go out for drinks with him. Talked about how depressed he was with his life, how he had this job where he was on the road all the time. I listened. I declined going out for drinks, I told him my responsibilities had changed. I listened some more. How was I suppose to tell him that we had an amazing, beautiful, miracle little boy when all he could talk about was how depressed and unhappy he was? I couldn't. But at the same time it was killing me to keep it in, to talk to him while looking at our son asleep making those cute sleeping baby noises.
Then finally it got to be too much. I knew I needed to tell him because I felt it was right in my heart to let him know. And at this point my doctors had convinced me I would never have another child, so what if this wonderful son I had grew up and resented me because I never told his father? I couldn't stand the thought of that. So the next time he called, I told him. I mentioned how I told him two weeks ago that I hadn't answered his phone call because I was in the hospital...how I literally meant that I had been in the hospital. And the rest of the story just kind of spilled out. I held my breath waiting for him to respond, not knowing which way it was going to go. Then he asked if I was ok, if the baby was ok. I told him it was a boy that he was fine and gorgeous. He cried. I cried. He wanted to see us as soon as possible.
I explained to him my thoughts on the situation. That I did not want money, from day one I always said I do NOT want any money. I understood that by no means did this mean we were going to be a family. It did not mean we were going to magically become some fairy tale story. I explained to DB that there was ONE thing I wanted from him- to see The Gremlin on a consistent basis. No in and out of his life. He was either in or out. That was the one thing I required if he was going to become involved with The Gremlin. And at the time he agreed to that. We talked for a while. At one point he hung up to compose himself and I called my best friend. He called back. We talked some more. When we hung up I felt like a HUGE weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was out there, I had told him, I no longer had to fight with myself over it. I picked up The Gremlin and cuddled him for a while.
The next day or maybe the day after that DB called and asked if we could meet somewhere. I agreed knowing sooner or later it would happen. I called my best friend and chewed her ear off worrying about meeting with him and his mother. What if they didn't believe me? What if they didn't think Gremlin looked like him? What if they ganged up on me? My best friend asked if I wanted to reschedule, if I wanted her to go with me. I thought about it, but declined. It would have been nice to have someone on my side, but I knew I had to be a "big girl" and do this on my own. So I packed up The Gremlin and took one of our first trips out just the two of us to go meet DB and his Nana for the first time.
We met at a local 99 restaurant, one that I can no longer set foot in or drive past without getting flashbacks. I can literally feel the butterflies in my stomach just like I did that night. I parked in the back of the building. Got out and sat in the backseat next to The Gremlin. I just stared at him for awhile soaking in the last few moments of alone time. Then I saw DB approach. I opened the back door. I couldn't even look at him. I just looked at Gremlin while he looked at Gremlin. At some point I got out of the car and carried him inside. We sat down at a table. I took Gremlin out of his carseat and cuddled him. I remember being able to look at DB's mother but I had the hardest time looking at him. I'm sure I recounted the entire story to them. Everyone stared at Gremlin. At some point DB worked up the courage to hold him. I won't lie, my heart was overcome at that moment. I can't remember the whole night. I don't remember if DB's mother and I hugged or not. I remember that I got back in the car with The Gremlin and DB got in with us. We drove around talking. I don't remember what was said. I don't even know if I had looked him in the eye yet. At some point I think I dropped him back off with his mother and I went home. The Gremlin and I went home.
Wow, this is a lengthy story. Longer than two blogs I think. I have definitely exhausted myself for one evening. But there's the second installment. I worried over it, finally told DB, and even met up with him...and his mother. It was a relief in a lot of ways, but in some ways not so much. My mother had been quite clear with me, she would not support my decision if I told DB and his family. But it was my decision and my decision only. I had to do what was right for my son and what was right in my heart. And I did. The stress of not telling my family what I had decided was enough to keep me up nights, but it was done. I couldn't take it back. I could only wait and see where it went from there. I had hope. Man, I had hope. I think it was that hope and my love for my son that would get me through the next three years....
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Skeletons Are Dancing in the Closet Tonight
I'm feeling discontent and nostalgic tonight. The Gremlin turns four two weeks from today and for whatever reason "the big 4" is giving me angina. Or it's my heart breaking a little. Either way it hurts and I don't like it. So I figured what better way to deal with it than to publicly discuss the last four years of my life on my blog? I think in theory that I just like the idea of getting it out there to an audience (as non-existant as it is) that doesn't know me, doesn't know the situation, can't prejudge it. Because it was quite the situation. So pop some popcorn, crack open a beer, put on your fluffy slippers, and let the skeletons do their thing....
On August 23rd, 2007 I had an appointment with a neupherologist. I don't know if I spelled that right. An ologist of the kind that deals with kidneys. I had some symptoms for the past three weeks that apparently meant I had kidney failure. Or liver cancer. Either way the options were pretty grim, I had just turned 21, didn't drink barely at all (no really), and was scared. Absolutely scared. So with my little brother in tow (he was freshly 18 at the time and I was suppose to take him driving after my appointment) I went to have an ultrasound done of my kidneys. Joy.
I was laying on the table, in the dimly lit room, cold jelly goo on my tummy, the ultrasound tech's hand with the thingy over my stomach trying to mind my own business when she said the one question I was definitely not prepared to hear: "How far along are you?"....Hi, what? In my kidney failure? Or my liver cancer? I'm not sure which you are referring to. I hyperventilated, I cried, I made that ultrasound tech very uncomfortable. She left the room I'm assuming to consult somebody on what to do with the basket case in her exam room. The verdict was to wipe away the goo and send me to my doctor's office down the street. So I walked out of the room, still crying, with my brother tailing about fifteen feet behind me, lest to be seen with the hysterical girl. We went to my doctor's office. I left him in the car. They ushered me right in. My doctor told me they weren't sure how "far along" I was. Oh and it was a baby, not a kidney failure or a liver cancer. Who knew? Not them apparently. I made her tell my mom. I couldn't form the words. Couldn't tell her. Everything was so up in the air. Holy sh*t, I'm 21. Holy sh*t, I'm going to have a baby. And it needs to be asap because I have HELLP syndrome and everything is off the charts and I need to get back to the hospital...And what the hell did my mother just say? She's excited? Oh yeah, I guess a baby is better than cancer. I got back in my car and said to my brother "Well, I guess I should tell you, you're going to be an uncle." Boy was he confused. Drove back to the hospital. My mother met me there. Asked if I knew who the father was. I know somewhere in the back of my mind I was insulted. But this was not the time to address that. We went in and they admitted me. We talked and somehow laughed about what I would name the baby. My sister showed up at some point. They put a monitor on my stomach. We heard the heartbeat. I really wish now that I had remembered to ask them for ultrasound pictures. For whatever reason it just slipped my mind...can't imagine why (total sarcasm). My dad showed up. Asked how long we had known about this. Four hours and counting, pops.
Around 3 a.m. I was taken by ambulance to a different hospital. One with a NICU that was prepared to deal with my "situation". The not knowing how far along the baby was, not knowing enough about HELLP syndrome, a lack of confidence in their "team". My apologies to my former doctor. I wasn't very amiable. But you see, I had been poked like a pin cushion, blood drawn, an attempted IV three times before they got it right, and oh yeah the fact that you missed something HUGE and had me convinced for three weeks that I was dying. Little bit of a lack of trust in you. At the big hospital I was asked a bunch of questions that I don't remember now. They put me on a med to prevent seizures that made me feel like I had the flu and was swimming in jello. Started pitocin at some point. Wooooo, that stuff kicks in quick! Contractions started. Got an epidural. The funny thing is, out this whole "adventure" that's what I remember the most. The freaking epidural. I mean they scare the pants off of you (tough task, you're wearing a johnnie) by telling you can't move to avoid being paralyzed. Then it felt like someone was hardcore jabbing me in the liver?kidney?spleen? with a red hot poker. That couldn't be right. But I survived the epidural. Sure, it only worked on one half of my body, but hell whose nitpicking? At least it worked a little, and a little is definitely better than nothing.
So there I am. In my room. With my sad excuse of an epidural. Squeezing a little stuffed brown bear with a pink hoodie that my mom got out of a happy meal (oh sure, have a happy meal, who me? No, I'm fine with my ice chips. Mmmmm ice chips.) against the railing of my bed with each contraction. And who the hell dares to whisper in my room?!?!?!?! Are you freaking kidding????!!!! STOP WHISPERING. Let me tell you, I was a very VERY polite patient. I did NOT want to be that hellain all the nurses talk about when they leave the room. The one always calling them, never happy. I was polite as I could be. But my god! The whispering!!! That just are away at me. My moms (I have two, they are married, that's another story entirely) and my sister swore they were discussing my baby shower. In reality they were watching my blood pressure rise higher and higher and higher. I mean it got up there. That's part of the whole HELLP syndrome thing. Blood pressure shoots through the roof, they start throwing around the phrase "stroking out", they put you on the loopy meds to prevent seizure, your blood count gets all wacky. That's when they told me a c-section was NOT, let's repeat, NOT an option. The nurse came in something about my water breaking soon. Turned to walk out of the room. Oh nurse? You mean like that? Oh no, your water couldn't possibly have broken....oh my yes like that. Annnnnnnnnnd the ball is really rolling now. Told you so, Nurse.
At about 4:05 p.m. on August 24th, 2007 IT WAS TIME. I knew it, I felt it, this kid was coming and there was no stopping him. If only someone could have convinced the nurse of this. Because she was on the phone all cutesy "Hey we're having a birthday party in room (whatever the hell my room number was at this point) want to join?" to what seemed like everyone and their mother. And I was like "Listen lady, that's adorable and all but this kid is coming now so if it's cool with you, let's get a move on!!!!!". I think my mom could tell by the look on my face that I was not playing around. And apparently from the look on my mother's face and the look on mine, the nurse finally got the memo. Just in time to put down that fun blue mat with the pocket. Similar to a newborn slip and slide. Maybe seven minutes of pushing later....Welcome to the world little man! That's right, it is a boy. And lucky enough for me I had a boy's name picked out already. I had picked it out a good year or more earlier. My father's best friend, had been his best friend for well over twenty some odd years, had named one of his son's after my father. My father wanted to do the same, but somehow my brother ended up with a name nowhere near resembling his friend's. Sadly, my father's friend passed away suddenly after returning home from visiting his oldest son. He'd had a tough year. Flipped the concrete truck he drove to avoid hitting a young driver head on. He ended up in a pond, couldn't get out of the truck, was pulled free by a passerby. Fell at work. Then this. My father was heartbroken in his sullen "I'm fine" kind of way. So my son was proudly named after his grandfather's best friend. And his middle name? After my brother. A fact which to this day makes his face turn all kinds of red. My last name, of course.
He was adorable. He was a fighter. He was kicking and flailing like it was going out of style. I would have too if I had been living all squished up with no amniotic fluid to float around in! (Hence my puffiness and maladies that resembled liver cancer or kidney failure.) He was 5 lbs. 10 oz. probably about eight months all ten fingers, all ten toes. A little yellow around the edges, but a little time chilling under the lights and he was good to go. I loved him. I loved him like he was going out of style. And so did everyone else. My mom was off to shop to her little heart's content. My father was buzzing him around in his little baby basket ("Dad....Dad what are you doing?" My dad was buzzing him around all over the place, waving his hand over the top of the basinet like there were some infrared laser I wasn't seeing. "There's a draft. I'm trying to find a place without a draft". Cutest damn thing EVER.).
So there I was. Two months (all right, almost three) past my twenty first birthday. I had just had my first child. With twenty four hours notice. I had HELLP syndrome. Couldn't get out of bed. I had brought a life into this world. A beautiful, sweet, miracle of a little boy and I loved him, I loved him more fiercely than I had anything in my entire life. And I was scared, so incredibly scared. This wonderful little guy was my responsibility. Every move I made would have an effect on his life. Every decision. Here I was dealing with all these conflicting emotions surrounded by happy couples. Couples starting out their families, others adding to their already established families....Holy hell, I had a kid and no one, not a single person, knew or believed I had been pregnant! Yes, it was just like that stupid tv show.....
(I ran out of steam so I'll continue airing out my skeletons on another night. I'll let you digest that first part. If anyone reads this. And if not, well, it was good for me to get it out there anyway. Gremlin Gem of the day: Little man crammed his legs into a pillowcase which I happened to notice when I looked up to check on him at a particularly eery quiet moment. He was half asleep but he picked his legs up and said "Look, mumma, it's like a mermaid." I smiled and said "You're so silly." To which he replied, "No, mumma, I said MER-MAID." Like I clearly just hadn't heard him right. Silly me.)
On August 23rd, 2007 I had an appointment with a neupherologist. I don't know if I spelled that right. An ologist of the kind that deals with kidneys. I had some symptoms for the past three weeks that apparently meant I had kidney failure. Or liver cancer. Either way the options were pretty grim, I had just turned 21, didn't drink barely at all (no really), and was scared. Absolutely scared. So with my little brother in tow (he was freshly 18 at the time and I was suppose to take him driving after my appointment) I went to have an ultrasound done of my kidneys. Joy.
I was laying on the table, in the dimly lit room, cold jelly goo on my tummy, the ultrasound tech's hand with the thingy over my stomach trying to mind my own business when she said the one question I was definitely not prepared to hear: "How far along are you?"....Hi, what? In my kidney failure? Or my liver cancer? I'm not sure which you are referring to. I hyperventilated, I cried, I made that ultrasound tech very uncomfortable. She left the room I'm assuming to consult somebody on what to do with the basket case in her exam room. The verdict was to wipe away the goo and send me to my doctor's office down the street. So I walked out of the room, still crying, with my brother tailing about fifteen feet behind me, lest to be seen with the hysterical girl. We went to my doctor's office. I left him in the car. They ushered me right in. My doctor told me they weren't sure how "far along" I was. Oh and it was a baby, not a kidney failure or a liver cancer. Who knew? Not them apparently. I made her tell my mom. I couldn't form the words. Couldn't tell her. Everything was so up in the air. Holy sh*t, I'm 21. Holy sh*t, I'm going to have a baby. And it needs to be asap because I have HELLP syndrome and everything is off the charts and I need to get back to the hospital...And what the hell did my mother just say? She's excited? Oh yeah, I guess a baby is better than cancer. I got back in my car and said to my brother "Well, I guess I should tell you, you're going to be an uncle." Boy was he confused. Drove back to the hospital. My mother met me there. Asked if I knew who the father was. I know somewhere in the back of my mind I was insulted. But this was not the time to address that. We went in and they admitted me. We talked and somehow laughed about what I would name the baby. My sister showed up at some point. They put a monitor on my stomach. We heard the heartbeat. I really wish now that I had remembered to ask them for ultrasound pictures. For whatever reason it just slipped my mind...can't imagine why (total sarcasm). My dad showed up. Asked how long we had known about this. Four hours and counting, pops.
Around 3 a.m. I was taken by ambulance to a different hospital. One with a NICU that was prepared to deal with my "situation". The not knowing how far along the baby was, not knowing enough about HELLP syndrome, a lack of confidence in their "team". My apologies to my former doctor. I wasn't very amiable. But you see, I had been poked like a pin cushion, blood drawn, an attempted IV three times before they got it right, and oh yeah the fact that you missed something HUGE and had me convinced for three weeks that I was dying. Little bit of a lack of trust in you. At the big hospital I was asked a bunch of questions that I don't remember now. They put me on a med to prevent seizures that made me feel like I had the flu and was swimming in jello. Started pitocin at some point. Wooooo, that stuff kicks in quick! Contractions started. Got an epidural. The funny thing is, out this whole "adventure" that's what I remember the most. The freaking epidural. I mean they scare the pants off of you (tough task, you're wearing a johnnie) by telling you can't move to avoid being paralyzed. Then it felt like someone was hardcore jabbing me in the liver?kidney?spleen? with a red hot poker. That couldn't be right. But I survived the epidural. Sure, it only worked on one half of my body, but hell whose nitpicking? At least it worked a little, and a little is definitely better than nothing.
So there I am. In my room. With my sad excuse of an epidural. Squeezing a little stuffed brown bear with a pink hoodie that my mom got out of a happy meal (oh sure, have a happy meal, who me? No, I'm fine with my ice chips. Mmmmm ice chips.) against the railing of my bed with each contraction. And who the hell dares to whisper in my room?!?!?!?! Are you freaking kidding????!!!! STOP WHISPERING. Let me tell you, I was a very VERY polite patient. I did NOT want to be that hellain all the nurses talk about when they leave the room. The one always calling them, never happy. I was polite as I could be. But my god! The whispering!!! That just are away at me. My moms (I have two, they are married, that's another story entirely) and my sister swore they were discussing my baby shower. In reality they were watching my blood pressure rise higher and higher and higher. I mean it got up there. That's part of the whole HELLP syndrome thing. Blood pressure shoots through the roof, they start throwing around the phrase "stroking out", they put you on the loopy meds to prevent seizure, your blood count gets all wacky. That's when they told me a c-section was NOT, let's repeat, NOT an option. The nurse came in something about my water breaking soon. Turned to walk out of the room. Oh nurse? You mean like that? Oh no, your water couldn't possibly have broken....oh my yes like that. Annnnnnnnnnd the ball is really rolling now. Told you so, Nurse.
At about 4:05 p.m. on August 24th, 2007 IT WAS TIME. I knew it, I felt it, this kid was coming and there was no stopping him. If only someone could have convinced the nurse of this. Because she was on the phone all cutesy "Hey we're having a birthday party in room (whatever the hell my room number was at this point) want to join?" to what seemed like everyone and their mother. And I was like "Listen lady, that's adorable and all but this kid is coming now so if it's cool with you, let's get a move on!!!!!". I think my mom could tell by the look on my face that I was not playing around. And apparently from the look on my mother's face and the look on mine, the nurse finally got the memo. Just in time to put down that fun blue mat with the pocket. Similar to a newborn slip and slide. Maybe seven minutes of pushing later....Welcome to the world little man! That's right, it is a boy. And lucky enough for me I had a boy's name picked out already. I had picked it out a good year or more earlier. My father's best friend, had been his best friend for well over twenty some odd years, had named one of his son's after my father. My father wanted to do the same, but somehow my brother ended up with a name nowhere near resembling his friend's. Sadly, my father's friend passed away suddenly after returning home from visiting his oldest son. He'd had a tough year. Flipped the concrete truck he drove to avoid hitting a young driver head on. He ended up in a pond, couldn't get out of the truck, was pulled free by a passerby. Fell at work. Then this. My father was heartbroken in his sullen "I'm fine" kind of way. So my son was proudly named after his grandfather's best friend. And his middle name? After my brother. A fact which to this day makes his face turn all kinds of red. My last name, of course.
He was adorable. He was a fighter. He was kicking and flailing like it was going out of style. I would have too if I had been living all squished up with no amniotic fluid to float around in! (Hence my puffiness and maladies that resembled liver cancer or kidney failure.) He was 5 lbs. 10 oz. probably about eight months all ten fingers, all ten toes. A little yellow around the edges, but a little time chilling under the lights and he was good to go. I loved him. I loved him like he was going out of style. And so did everyone else. My mom was off to shop to her little heart's content. My father was buzzing him around in his little baby basket ("Dad....Dad what are you doing?" My dad was buzzing him around all over the place, waving his hand over the top of the basinet like there were some infrared laser I wasn't seeing. "There's a draft. I'm trying to find a place without a draft". Cutest damn thing EVER.).
So there I was. Two months (all right, almost three) past my twenty first birthday. I had just had my first child. With twenty four hours notice. I had HELLP syndrome. Couldn't get out of bed. I had brought a life into this world. A beautiful, sweet, miracle of a little boy and I loved him, I loved him more fiercely than I had anything in my entire life. And I was scared, so incredibly scared. This wonderful little guy was my responsibility. Every move I made would have an effect on his life. Every decision. Here I was dealing with all these conflicting emotions surrounded by happy couples. Couples starting out their families, others adding to their already established families....Holy hell, I had a kid and no one, not a single person, knew or believed I had been pregnant! Yes, it was just like that stupid tv show.....
(I ran out of steam so I'll continue airing out my skeletons on another night. I'll let you digest that first part. If anyone reads this. And if not, well, it was good for me to get it out there anyway. Gremlin Gem of the day: Little man crammed his legs into a pillowcase which I happened to notice when I looked up to check on him at a particularly eery quiet moment. He was half asleep but he picked his legs up and said "Look, mumma, it's like a mermaid." I smiled and said "You're so silly." To which he replied, "No, mumma, I said MER-MAID." Like I clearly just hadn't heard him right. Silly me.)
Saturday, August 6, 2011
When it rains....it freaking pours!!!
I intended to make this blogging thing an everyday, or as close to an everyday event as possible. Then I remembered who I am. The Queen of Fail. No really, I had a friend in college who said that if I was a Care Bear I would be "Bad Luck Bear". I think that means my tummy charm light thing would be a person being struck by three different lightning bolts at one time. It's cool, Grumpy Bear was always my favorite (besides Braveheart Lion of course!). So what major catastrophe occurred this time? Let me tell you...
I think it was in my last post that I ranted about my swimmers ear/ear infection. Well, on Tuesday of this week I woke up feeling god awful. Like I had the flu without the actual yakking. But I sucked it up like the trooper I am (that and because although my job is awesome experience the pay is next to nothing and there are no benefits like oh say sick days or personal days. Total crap, I know, but have you tried finding a job out there these days? No? That's because you can't!) I shipped myself off to work. Needless to say I made it half way through the day before I threw in the towel and dragged my sorry butt back home and immediately crashed in my bed for two blissful coma like hours until The Gremlin returned home. Woke up Wednesday not feeling too too bad, pretty fatigued, and with a ping pong ball sized lump behind my right ear. What the hell? Really? And that was my good ear too! Dragged myself back to work, called the doctor's for a third time in two weeks, and managed to get an appointment. Well, by the time my appointment rolled around I had a matching set of ping pong balls and couldn't turn my head in either direction. And god damn it, was it a million degrees in there or what?!?! Went to the doctor's was told it was my lymph nodes, I probably had a type of flu and my body was reacting to that, had a slight fever, take Tylenol every four hours, call if something changes blah blah blah. Oh and by the way, do you have a rash? Um, no, but thanks for asking...I think. Stopped and got Tylenol, went back to work. Finished out the day. Got home and at this point it dawned on we that I hadn't eaten anything. All day. And had no desire to eat anything. Tried to, got a third of the way through something, and yeah no wasn't going to happen. Went to bed. Wake up Thursday. STILL feeling crappy. My mother practically begged me to stay home. I compromised telling her I would leave at one when my coworker showed up or come right back if my other coworker was in. Was at work for one hour and I notice spots on my hands. Then I realize my chest, back, and neck are itchy. Not only itchy, but feeling like a sunburn too. I scuttled to the bathroom and low and behold....a rash! Awesome, man, awesome. Wait it out until one and then leave for home where all I can think about is putting on a sweatshirt and some socks because god damn it I am FREEZING! So that's exactly what I did. Plus a fleece blanket. I immediately crashed on the couch. I vaguely recall my dad stopping by, asking what was wrong with me, talking to me about The Gremlin's party, then leaving. Next to drop in were my mother and The Gremlin. I got the words "Do I have a..." out of my mouth before my mother took one look at me and said "Let's go, we're going to the emergency room". Uh oh, I must have looked bad. Get to the emergency room, explain myself to check in, wait a few, go into the triage room answer some more questions, take my temp, my blood pressure (100/70, very nice) and blah blah blah. Get my bracelet, so attractive. Give out my insurance information....then sit in the waiting room for forever playing "Guess what's wrong with that person game". Always a fun time. From a general glance over the crowd seemed like one broken foot, a sprained ankle, a broken hand, and someone needed stitches...not too bad. EMTs came in at one point with a man on a stretcher. They swapped him into a wheelchair and then left him....in the middle of the room...and he didn't speak English. He promptly fell asleep. And snored. FELL ASLEEP AND SNORED. How much pain can you possibly be in that you fall asleep and snore??????? Just wondering.
Anyway, they finally call me in and at this point my mother has been watching me turn redder and redder and redder. And I'm getting itchier and itchier and itchier. Apparently even the whites of my eyes turned red. Cool. So it's safe to say I was more than happy to hear my name be called. But what terrible fate should await behind those double locked doors? A two and a half hour wait in the little room. Because there were a whopping four people in front of me. Oi. My mother paced, I laid on the bed staring at the ceiling, complaining that they could have at least left out some coloring books and crayons or something. My mother paced some more, commented on how much redder I was getting, I considered blowing up every single pair of blue latex free gloves, tried not to scratch. My mom complains. She thought they were just starting to sew up Stitches Girl, but really they had just finished and she missed it. I wondered out loud if anyone had every tried to hold onto the little metal curlicue arms for IV bags suspended from the ceiling like a zip line. My lips got itchy. Then my throat. I tried not to panic.
Finally, the guy who I can only assume was the ER doctor came in. I say assume because he came swooshing in and didn't even introduce himself. Just came right out with "Why are you here today?". Oh ok, no silly formalities, it's ok I don't want to know the name of the doctor I am speaking with. Pffft, who does that anyway? Introduces themselves. Way old school, man. I explain to him the rash, tell him about the lymph node thing, explain to him at least three times that I haven't taken anything for the rash, then try to explain to him about the ear infection. Because as I found out the day before this was no ordinary ear infection, it was a MRSA infection. He didn't believe me. Oh, you caught me, I just go around telling people that for sh*ts and giggles. My freaking doctor did a culture! That's how I know it was a MRSA infection. Cripes. So then he takes the ear scope thing and jams it in my ear asking if that hurt. Dude, I'm fairly certain you just poked me in the brain, YES THAT HURT. Then this guy takes it and immediately jams it in my other ear....without cleaning it off first. Really? REALLY? Was that ok for you to do? Because that other ear was my GOOD ear. Dr. RandomGuy decides it's an allergic reaction to "sulfa" which means it was the bactrim I had been taking. For almost a week. Awesome.
So that was my week. I'm alive. Maybe not healthy but alive. I'm covered in a rash from head to toe. But I'm alive. I have rash on the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet. But I'm alive. I'm on three different meds and I'm woozy. But I'm alive. I look....awful and patchy. BUT I'M ALIVE. When it rains, it pours. And when I get sick, I don't do this sh*t half assed, I commit.
I'll leave you with another Gremlin Gem (ooh, I like that!):
He was sitting on his little night time potty (our bathroom is downstairs and I'd rather he not attempt going down there in the middle of the night half asleep) looking at a pumpkin carving book (he's so my kid) and proclaimed, "Mumma.....that's crazy...mumma, why is there sandwiches with the pumpkins? They have sandwiches with the pumpkins! That's so crazy." Ha ha, this kid, he makes everything so much better.
I think it was in my last post that I ranted about my swimmers ear/ear infection. Well, on Tuesday of this week I woke up feeling god awful. Like I had the flu without the actual yakking. But I sucked it up like the trooper I am (that and because although my job is awesome experience the pay is next to nothing and there are no benefits like oh say sick days or personal days. Total crap, I know, but have you tried finding a job out there these days? No? That's because you can't!) I shipped myself off to work. Needless to say I made it half way through the day before I threw in the towel and dragged my sorry butt back home and immediately crashed in my bed for two blissful coma like hours until The Gremlin returned home. Woke up Wednesday not feeling too too bad, pretty fatigued, and with a ping pong ball sized lump behind my right ear. What the hell? Really? And that was my good ear too! Dragged myself back to work, called the doctor's for a third time in two weeks, and managed to get an appointment. Well, by the time my appointment rolled around I had a matching set of ping pong balls and couldn't turn my head in either direction. And god damn it, was it a million degrees in there or what?!?! Went to the doctor's was told it was my lymph nodes, I probably had a type of flu and my body was reacting to that, had a slight fever, take Tylenol every four hours, call if something changes blah blah blah. Oh and by the way, do you have a rash? Um, no, but thanks for asking...I think. Stopped and got Tylenol, went back to work. Finished out the day. Got home and at this point it dawned on we that I hadn't eaten anything. All day. And had no desire to eat anything. Tried to, got a third of the way through something, and yeah no wasn't going to happen. Went to bed. Wake up Thursday. STILL feeling crappy. My mother practically begged me to stay home. I compromised telling her I would leave at one when my coworker showed up or come right back if my other coworker was in. Was at work for one hour and I notice spots on my hands. Then I realize my chest, back, and neck are itchy. Not only itchy, but feeling like a sunburn too. I scuttled to the bathroom and low and behold....a rash! Awesome, man, awesome. Wait it out until one and then leave for home where all I can think about is putting on a sweatshirt and some socks because god damn it I am FREEZING! So that's exactly what I did. Plus a fleece blanket. I immediately crashed on the couch. I vaguely recall my dad stopping by, asking what was wrong with me, talking to me about The Gremlin's party, then leaving. Next to drop in were my mother and The Gremlin. I got the words "Do I have a..." out of my mouth before my mother took one look at me and said "Let's go, we're going to the emergency room". Uh oh, I must have looked bad. Get to the emergency room, explain myself to check in, wait a few, go into the triage room answer some more questions, take my temp, my blood pressure (100/70, very nice) and blah blah blah. Get my bracelet, so attractive. Give out my insurance information....then sit in the waiting room for forever playing "Guess what's wrong with that person game". Always a fun time. From a general glance over the crowd seemed like one broken foot, a sprained ankle, a broken hand, and someone needed stitches...not too bad. EMTs came in at one point with a man on a stretcher. They swapped him into a wheelchair and then left him....in the middle of the room...and he didn't speak English. He promptly fell asleep. And snored. FELL ASLEEP AND SNORED. How much pain can you possibly be in that you fall asleep and snore??????? Just wondering.
Anyway, they finally call me in and at this point my mother has been watching me turn redder and redder and redder. And I'm getting itchier and itchier and itchier. Apparently even the whites of my eyes turned red. Cool. So it's safe to say I was more than happy to hear my name be called. But what terrible fate should await behind those double locked doors? A two and a half hour wait in the little room. Because there were a whopping four people in front of me. Oi. My mother paced, I laid on the bed staring at the ceiling, complaining that they could have at least left out some coloring books and crayons or something. My mother paced some more, commented on how much redder I was getting, I considered blowing up every single pair of blue latex free gloves, tried not to scratch. My mom complains. She thought they were just starting to sew up Stitches Girl, but really they had just finished and she missed it. I wondered out loud if anyone had every tried to hold onto the little metal curlicue arms for IV bags suspended from the ceiling like a zip line. My lips got itchy. Then my throat. I tried not to panic.
Finally, the guy who I can only assume was the ER doctor came in. I say assume because he came swooshing in and didn't even introduce himself. Just came right out with "Why are you here today?". Oh ok, no silly formalities, it's ok I don't want to know the name of the doctor I am speaking with. Pffft, who does that anyway? Introduces themselves. Way old school, man. I explain to him the rash, tell him about the lymph node thing, explain to him at least three times that I haven't taken anything for the rash, then try to explain to him about the ear infection. Because as I found out the day before this was no ordinary ear infection, it was a MRSA infection. He didn't believe me. Oh, you caught me, I just go around telling people that for sh*ts and giggles. My freaking doctor did a culture! That's how I know it was a MRSA infection. Cripes. So then he takes the ear scope thing and jams it in my ear asking if that hurt. Dude, I'm fairly certain you just poked me in the brain, YES THAT HURT. Then this guy takes it and immediately jams it in my other ear....without cleaning it off first. Really? REALLY? Was that ok for you to do? Because that other ear was my GOOD ear. Dr. RandomGuy decides it's an allergic reaction to "sulfa" which means it was the bactrim I had been taking. For almost a week. Awesome.
So that was my week. I'm alive. Maybe not healthy but alive. I'm covered in a rash from head to toe. But I'm alive. I have rash on the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet. But I'm alive. I'm on three different meds and I'm woozy. But I'm alive. I look....awful and patchy. BUT I'M ALIVE. When it rains, it pours. And when I get sick, I don't do this sh*t half assed, I commit.
I'll leave you with another Gremlin Gem (ooh, I like that!):
He was sitting on his little night time potty (our bathroom is downstairs and I'd rather he not attempt going down there in the middle of the night half asleep) looking at a pumpkin carving book (he's so my kid) and proclaimed, "Mumma.....that's crazy...mumma, why is there sandwiches with the pumpkins? They have sandwiches with the pumpkins! That's so crazy." Ha ha, this kid, he makes everything so much better.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Diamonds in the Rough
Here are a couple of real gems The Gremlin has thrown out there in the last few months. It's pretty hysterical hearing what goes through his little mind these days, even if some of it makes me go "What the h*ll....". Commence laughing-
The Gremlin's adopted aunt/daddy recently bribed him into good behavior with his first pair of over the sneakers roller skates. Super cool ones too, they look like Hot Wheels cars! Came with knee pads and elbow pads and upon donning them inside the house The Gremlin took off like he created the damn roller derby himself! He was in the living to the kitchen and back with no problems. The kid threw balls backwards for the first two and a half years of his life but he can roller skate like nobody's business! In the house that is. Once his little wheeled feet hit the outdoors his legs could no longer coordinate themselves like they did inside the house. He was all over the place. The last time he fell he gave up. He sat for thirty seconds before flopping backwards, sticking his roller skate covered feet in the air, and proclaiming "Tripping and failing are not for me. Take them off!".
The Gremlin's actual blood related Aunt, my sister, whom he fondly refers to as "Rah-rah" (real name is Sarah) has Wednesdays off and in times of need she will take The Gremlin for the day. On one such occasion, Rah-rah picked him up at my work leaving her black car with black interior parked outside with all the windows up. While Rah-rah was getting situated to leave, The Gremlin piped up from the backseat with "Rah-rah, it's so FLICKERING hot in here!".
Another occasion, Rah-rah and Uncle An-ton-ee (her husband, Anthony, whose name The Gremlin pronounces differently almost every time) were watching The Gremlin while I was out and he proclaimed "I want to be a lifeguard when I grow up." Rah-rah knowing The Gremlin's deep despise of water (hence The Gremlin) explained that lifeguards have to swim. The Gremlin quickly changed his mind, but of course acted as if Rah-rah misheard him by saying "I don't want to be a lifeguard, I want to be a soldier!". Silly Rah-rah, maybe you should look into a hearing aid. She said a good hour later, out of nowhere, The Gremlin stated "I am just a soldier looking for my birthday".
The Gremlin has a love for castles, dragons, knights, and catapults. At one of the local public libraries there is a GIANT stuffed bunny basically the size of The Gremlin that he felt the need to drag across the library and sit in a small chair at a table. Once situated (and both his floppy bunny ears were out of the bunny's face which took a lot of standing on tippy toes to accomplish) The Gremlin proceeded to read the bunny a story. About a knight. In charming armor. Regularly you can hear The Gremlin referring to himself as a Knight in Charming Armor or a Knight in Sharming Armor. So stinking cute!
The Gremlin and I recently went to visit my cousin and her flipping adorable month old son. She also has two yorkies who have an over abundance of toys. The Gremlin decided it would be a FANTASTIC idea to take each and every one out of the basket and line them up on the floor. Each time he pulled out a new toy he would look at my cousin and say "What's this?" to which she would reply "A dog toy"...this happened at least ten times. He pulled yet another squeaky object out of the basket, asked the same question, got the same answer, but then replied with "Doesn't surprise me." This was followed up by "That was so unnecessary" when something not to his liking happened.
My sister lives in a condominium community (I don't even know if that's what I'm suppose to call it....but village sounds so damn snooty!) where they have an inground pool. While his aunt and I were swimming, The Gremlin was crawling back and forth across the first step into the pool...his version of "swimming". My sister swam up and bumped into him to which he replied, "Why hello, lady boat!".
While on this same pool exscursion, The Gremlin was throwing his water wings into the pool calling them boats. My sister snagged one in an attempt to bribe him into actually setting foot in the pool with us as opposed to wallowing on the first step. After much distressed flapping of his little arms, my sister told The Gremlin he had to ask nicely to get his "boat" back. He exclaimed "Please! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! That's all the words I have!", as if his saying please too many times would mean he could never say it again. Gotta watch your please quota for the day, wouldn't want to run out....wait, can I use this theory at work?!....Please?
While at Wendy's one afternoon, The Gremlin was thoroughly enjoying his cheeseburger and apple slices, I was trying to maintain faith that the grilled chicken thing I had ordered would be so much better than the delicious looking cheeseburger on the menu when he suddenly said "MOMMA. It is so freezy in here *this is where he wrapped his little arms around himself and shook almost falling off his chair to emphasize the cold factor", I should have gotten a warm winter jacket. Yup, I'll have to get one." and then happily went back to trying to suck an apple slice up through his straw. Sometimes he's like a 70 yr old man trapped in an almost 4 yr old's body. P.s. Gremlin, it's 90 degrees with a humidity so high it's like walking into a brick wall when you go outside. Don't talk about winter coats, I could pass out from the thought of it.
Just the other morning while I was attempting to do...something I can't remember now, it occurred to me that David was trying to tell me something. "Momma, momma, look someone ripped this map!" (it was in fact the little booklet thing from inside a dvd), "Oh yeah? Would this someone's name be The Gremlin?". He had this look like "oh, crap, I forgot I did it" and came back with "Maybe it was those kids...who rip things! Yeah!". That's it mister, no more hooligan imaginary friends for you!
And last, even though this was from a year ago, this clearly shows how much this kid is truly loved. We go to a Fourth of July parade every year. We sit in the same place every year. We have been doing this since...well, for as long as I can remember. Last year, we were sitting in our designated spot, my dad, my younger brother, myself, The Gremlin, and Rah-rah. It's one of those parades where some unfortunate people volunteer to drag the shopping carts full of useless crap up and down the parade route. A guy with a cooler walked past us with a sign that read "Sno-Cones" and how ever much they were. The Gremlin has NO idea what a sno-cone is at the time, but once he heard the words he was so excited he could barely contain himself. By the time my sister and I had finished debating whether or not it was a good idea to purchase a drink/food item from a guy with a cooler, he had long walked passed us. Poor Little Gremlin slumped back into his Spongebob folding chair, looked at Rah-rah with the saddest puppy dog eyes he could give, and quietly said "Now I will never get to have a sno-cone." This was simply too much for Rah-rah who practically leapt from her chair exclaiming "Not on my watch!" and took off after sketchy man selling sketchy sno-cones. The Gremlin got his sno-cone and complained for the rest of the day how much it made his head and teeth freezy.
This kiddo never stops making me laugh, and he has been doing since the day he was born. Although, I must say, the ultimate thing he said (which was actually him repeating something his other aunt told him to say) was when he was around two and he needed his grandfather to move off the couch so his diaper could be changed. He marched his little two year old self right in there and said "Move, trash bag!". Not funny, but damn funny all at once.
The Gremlin's adopted aunt/daddy recently bribed him into good behavior with his first pair of over the sneakers roller skates. Super cool ones too, they look like Hot Wheels cars! Came with knee pads and elbow pads and upon donning them inside the house The Gremlin took off like he created the damn roller derby himself! He was in the living to the kitchen and back with no problems. The kid threw balls backwards for the first two and a half years of his life but he can roller skate like nobody's business! In the house that is. Once his little wheeled feet hit the outdoors his legs could no longer coordinate themselves like they did inside the house. He was all over the place. The last time he fell he gave up. He sat for thirty seconds before flopping backwards, sticking his roller skate covered feet in the air, and proclaiming "Tripping and failing are not for me. Take them off!".
The Gremlin's actual blood related Aunt, my sister, whom he fondly refers to as "Rah-rah" (real name is Sarah) has Wednesdays off and in times of need she will take The Gremlin for the day. On one such occasion, Rah-rah picked him up at my work leaving her black car with black interior parked outside with all the windows up. While Rah-rah was getting situated to leave, The Gremlin piped up from the backseat with "Rah-rah, it's so FLICKERING hot in here!".
Another occasion, Rah-rah and Uncle An-ton-ee (her husband, Anthony, whose name The Gremlin pronounces differently almost every time) were watching The Gremlin while I was out and he proclaimed "I want to be a lifeguard when I grow up." Rah-rah knowing The Gremlin's deep despise of water (hence The Gremlin) explained that lifeguards have to swim. The Gremlin quickly changed his mind, but of course acted as if Rah-rah misheard him by saying "I don't want to be a lifeguard, I want to be a soldier!". Silly Rah-rah, maybe you should look into a hearing aid. She said a good hour later, out of nowhere, The Gremlin stated "I am just a soldier looking for my birthday".
The Gremlin has a love for castles, dragons, knights, and catapults. At one of the local public libraries there is a GIANT stuffed bunny basically the size of The Gremlin that he felt the need to drag across the library and sit in a small chair at a table. Once situated (and both his floppy bunny ears were out of the bunny's face which took a lot of standing on tippy toes to accomplish) The Gremlin proceeded to read the bunny a story. About a knight. In charming armor. Regularly you can hear The Gremlin referring to himself as a Knight in Charming Armor or a Knight in Sharming Armor. So stinking cute!
The Gremlin and I recently went to visit my cousin and her flipping adorable month old son. She also has two yorkies who have an over abundance of toys. The Gremlin decided it would be a FANTASTIC idea to take each and every one out of the basket and line them up on the floor. Each time he pulled out a new toy he would look at my cousin and say "What's this?" to which she would reply "A dog toy"...this happened at least ten times. He pulled yet another squeaky object out of the basket, asked the same question, got the same answer, but then replied with "Doesn't surprise me." This was followed up by "That was so unnecessary" when something not to his liking happened.
My sister lives in a condominium community (I don't even know if that's what I'm suppose to call it....but village sounds so damn snooty!) where they have an inground pool. While his aunt and I were swimming, The Gremlin was crawling back and forth across the first step into the pool...his version of "swimming". My sister swam up and bumped into him to which he replied, "Why hello, lady boat!".
While on this same pool exscursion, The Gremlin was throwing his water wings into the pool calling them boats. My sister snagged one in an attempt to bribe him into actually setting foot in the pool with us as opposed to wallowing on the first step. After much distressed flapping of his little arms, my sister told The Gremlin he had to ask nicely to get his "boat" back. He exclaimed "Please! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! That's all the words I have!", as if his saying please too many times would mean he could never say it again. Gotta watch your please quota for the day, wouldn't want to run out....wait, can I use this theory at work?!....Please?
While at Wendy's one afternoon, The Gremlin was thoroughly enjoying his cheeseburger and apple slices, I was trying to maintain faith that the grilled chicken thing I had ordered would be so much better than the delicious looking cheeseburger on the menu when he suddenly said "MOMMA. It is so freezy in here *this is where he wrapped his little arms around himself and shook almost falling off his chair to emphasize the cold factor", I should have gotten a warm winter jacket. Yup, I'll have to get one." and then happily went back to trying to suck an apple slice up through his straw. Sometimes he's like a 70 yr old man trapped in an almost 4 yr old's body. P.s. Gremlin, it's 90 degrees with a humidity so high it's like walking into a brick wall when you go outside. Don't talk about winter coats, I could pass out from the thought of it.
Just the other morning while I was attempting to do...something I can't remember now, it occurred to me that David was trying to tell me something. "Momma, momma, look someone ripped this map!" (it was in fact the little booklet thing from inside a dvd), "Oh yeah? Would this someone's name be The Gremlin?". He had this look like "oh, crap, I forgot I did it" and came back with "Maybe it was those kids...who rip things! Yeah!". That's it mister, no more hooligan imaginary friends for you!
And last, even though this was from a year ago, this clearly shows how much this kid is truly loved. We go to a Fourth of July parade every year. We sit in the same place every year. We have been doing this since...well, for as long as I can remember. Last year, we were sitting in our designated spot, my dad, my younger brother, myself, The Gremlin, and Rah-rah. It's one of those parades where some unfortunate people volunteer to drag the shopping carts full of useless crap up and down the parade route. A guy with a cooler walked past us with a sign that read "Sno-Cones" and how ever much they were. The Gremlin has NO idea what a sno-cone is at the time, but once he heard the words he was so excited he could barely contain himself. By the time my sister and I had finished debating whether or not it was a good idea to purchase a drink/food item from a guy with a cooler, he had long walked passed us. Poor Little Gremlin slumped back into his Spongebob folding chair, looked at Rah-rah with the saddest puppy dog eyes he could give, and quietly said "Now I will never get to have a sno-cone." This was simply too much for Rah-rah who practically leapt from her chair exclaiming "Not on my watch!" and took off after sketchy man selling sketchy sno-cones. The Gremlin got his sno-cone and complained for the rest of the day how much it made his head and teeth freezy.
This kiddo never stops making me laugh, and he has been doing since the day he was born. Although, I must say, the ultimate thing he said (which was actually him repeating something his other aunt told him to say) was when he was around two and he needed his grandfather to move off the couch so his diaper could be changed. He marched his little two year old self right in there and said "Move, trash bag!". Not funny, but damn funny all at once.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)