A, B and Me...

Sunday, March 13, 2005:

At this very moment, 5 years ago, I was looking my first born in the eyes for the very first time. I had awakened early that morning, feeling crampy and weird. I was staying at my mom's house, since Brian worked nights. I called Brian home from work and we went to the birthing center, excited and terrified. After an hour or so, the doctor on duty sent us home, but promised me he would see me again before his shift was over. I was crushed, and felt foolish. I was in labor, but it was still early.

Brian went back to my mom's house to sleep and my mom and I went out for breakfast. We sat in a diner, and I thoroughly enjoyed a big plate of french toast. Contractions came and went. We decided to go walk with the hopes that we could move things along.

We walked around the mall, ate lunch, and then bored with that scenery, headed to another shopping center. My mom wanted to buy baby stuff. By late afternoon, we were standing in the middle of Baby gap, as my mom held up tiny onesies and socks and pants, asking me which I liked. I rested against the wall as my contractions got stronger. An employee wandered by and cheerfully asked, "When are you due!?" I looked her dead in the eye and said "NOW." She stammered for a minute, and I told her I was in labor. She looked around, panicked, and I assured her I wouldn't actually have my baby in her store. She hurried off, scared.

My mom made her purchases, and I told her I thought we were getting closer. I wanted to go back to her house, to get Brian, and to get back to the birthing center. She was afraid I wasn't there yet, and didn't want me to face disappointment twice, so when we got home, she cooked dinner for the rest of the family and herself. I rolled up in a ball on her couch, clutching my abdomen. I hollered into the kitchen, "Can we leave now?!" She wanted to curl her hair. She was stalling for time, hoping that every minute she waited would put me that much closer to the end. Finally, everyone got the stuff together and we headed back to the birth center.

When we got there, I was in active labor. I rested in the whirlpool, I rocked on a ball. I had the most amazing L&D nurse ever, who stood by me and my choices, never letting me down, only encouraging me to move forward. I pushed Brayden out in 5 pushes and I still remember the sensation of him slipping out of me. It was a sacred moment, and I knew in that second that it was the first of many moves away from me he'd make in his life. I reached for my boy and as I pulled him to my body I was simply overwhelmed. Nothing could have prepared me for that moment, for finally meeting the person you love most in the world.

His blue eyes were bright and clear, and he studied me as I studied him. He wasn't blotchy or red and his head was covered with thick black hair. He was perfect...and he still is.

Now, he's 5 and his eyes are as blue as they ever were. His hair has lightened to brown, and the tiny hands that used to grasp my breasts as if they were they only things that mattered in the world now hold beetles and action figures. He is no longer tiny and helpless. he is lanky and busy and he questions everything, especially me. He is quick bursts and deep concentration. Emotional in the extreme at times, I love the way he feels everything and isn't ashamed to admit it. He still loves to rest his head on my chest, just to hear my heartbeat. He is my boy. He is 5 years old and he is my world. Happy birthday, Brayden.
Lisa // 11:51 PM

______________________

Thursday, January 27, 2005:

We are out of the woods. My dad is no longer in critical condition, and he was moved out of intensive care into a regular room today. He's off all the drips and machines, save for periodic blood pressure testing and a heart monitor. He's ben weaned off the IV meds and is taking oral meds now. He should be able to go home in a few more days.

I am glad we didn't lose him, and I hope he choses to make the necessary changes in his life so he can hang around for a while longer. Thanks for your good thoughts.
Lisa // 9:04 PM

______________________

Tuesday, January 18, 2005:

enough already
I'm an emotional basket case tonight. I spent the afternoon and evening with my daddy in the emergency room and then in the cardiac intensive care unit. He suffered an aortic discetion today, (basically, his aorta split away from his heart, causing a myriad of problems, including internal bleeding) and it's really not good. The surgeon chose not to do surgery, since I guess it's very risky with the same odds of him dying as if they don't do it. We don't really know what's going to happen. For now, he's somewhat stabalized, but honestly, he is not going to make the life changes they say he must, so really, well...I don't know.

Anyway, if you could keep my family in your thoughts, that'd be good.

I've had enough of all this shit, and even though we have a very rocky history, he's still my daddy, and I'm not ready for him to go just yet.
Lisa // 11:50 PM

______________________

Saturday, January 15, 2005:

Thanks for asking.

I am fine, really I am, although the last couple of weeks have been particularly dicey. Things are better now.

First off, I started working. Just part time, and it's good. Then we had the typical holidays, a big cozy ball of happy memory making and angst. We spent a good deal of time having fun with the kids, and of course, the forced family "fun" with my more extended family members, you know, the ones I'd rather not see...um...ever. So there was that. Immediately after Christmas, we stayed at my in-laws house for a week, while they traveled, and then I got the flu, as did the rest of my family. In the end it was fine, but by the time they got back, I was very ready to get back to my own house. Living out of a laundry basket starts to wear on a girl after a while.

We came home on the 2nd, and started to settle back in. As I woke up on the morning of the 4th, however, things were not looking good. A nasty winter storm was beginning to roll in, and I felt nervous, afraid of what Mother Nature had in store for us. As the ice coated everything in a glassy encasement, I started to feel claustrophobic and worried. I comforted myself with the fact that I had spent all afternoon the day before stocking up on groceries.

By noon, branches were snapping, crashing into the roof and windows as they fell to the ground. The constant crashing kept me on edge, and I found myself pacing the house while the kids watched DVD's, oblivious to the storm outside. When the 100 year old tree that stand next to our house split into fourths and came down with such a resounding thud that it shook the house, everyone started crying, myself included.

We had electricity until 9pm that night, when the entire town lost power and that was that. We spent a very cold night in our house, and the loaded up the laundry baskets and headed back to my in-laws for shelter. The storm was the worst we've had in several decades, and a huge portion of our state was out of power. Nobody could say when it would be back on, because the weather would not let up.

We ended up staying there for a week. My in-laws are wonderful and kind, but even when you love someone, there are limits. I reached my limit by last Tuesday, and we headed home, sure that our town had been restored. When we got home, we discovered that while everyone else in our town had power, we still did not.

We made a quick call and were assured that in 2 to 4 hours, we'd be electrified again. We were cold, but hopeful, and anyway, it was too late by then to pack the children up again and drive the hour back to the in-laws house. At 7am the next morning, we still had no power.

Suffice it to say, it's good to know people with connections. Someone we love very much made some phone calls and got the power back on by 2pm.

We are home. There is still a lot of work to be done, calls to the insurance adjustor, and all the work it'll take to clean up the extensive damage to our trees. The loss of my trees...now that's the most heartbreaking part of the whole story. Without those trees, this doesn't even look like home to me. I remember the first time we came out to this big old house, and I saw the big one, the 100 year old tree casting shade over much of the yard. I envisioned children I didn't have yet playing beneath the branches, swinging and climbing and loving that tree. That's what happened too. We have all loved it, and now it's gone.

But I am fine and I am here, with electricity and my children and food. And that, my friends, is very, very good.




Lisa // 4:18 PM

______________________

Wednesday, November 24, 2004:

Thankful for:

The two children who teach me more every day.

The feeling of my husband's heartbeat against my ear when I rest my head on his chest.

The friends who have seen it all, and still call me their friend.

The challenges of every day that force me to grow, even when I don't want to.


Lisa // 10:59 PM

______________________

Friday, November 12, 2004:

I find this soothing...especially in those moments when I think back on my teenage years, and my grandiose fantasies of moving to NYC to write and live in a loft in "The Village." In times like those, when I am jolted back to reality by the peanut butter all over my jeans, and the toddler is yanking at my shirt, desperate for another round at the milk bar, and the 4 year old tears through the room with a plastic sword, wearing an old pair of maternity underwear like a toga...it's comforting to make fun of the privileged...it really, really is.
Lisa // 11:51 PM

______________________

Sunday, November 07, 2004:

Sometimes, when I'm overwhelmed with frustration over the huge injustices in the world, life with my kids reminds me that the little injustices are just as important, and I'm forced to put on my super bad ass mama costume, and fly onto the scene.

I'll preface the story with this: The women who teach B's preschool class are highly qualified, well educated, good teachers. Brayden is endlessly happy about being in that class and is learning a lot and having fun too. I personally have an issue with the entitlement at the school, with the elitism and the snobbery, but that's my issue, not his. He doesn't even see it.

So, with that said, I was so very angry when I picked up my son from school the other day.

Apparently, one of his teachers had told the children a story of how there had been a squirrel in her attic and she had to call someone to come catch the squirrel and take it away. Brayden is endlessly amused by stories like this, and he excitedly told her the story of how we had a squirrel get into our house, chew through all of our computer cords, and then of how he chased it with a kids sized butterfly net, caught it in the net, and let it go outside, with the help of his papa. His teacher dismissed him and said, "That's an imaginary story" despite his protests that it was, indeed true.

When I picked him up from school, he was glum. We talked about it and he was insistent that I speak with the teacher to back up his story, which I totally agreed to do. So Friday, when I dropped him off, I pulled the teacher aside to speak with her. I was very nice about it all, and started out by saying something about how she had told the class her story, and then brayden had told a story of his own, when she interrupted me, retold me what he said (with the only difference being that she though he said "bat" rather than "net" which is most likely a listening issue on her behalf) in an incredulous manner, and then waited for me to be shocked at my terrible liar of a son. I told her that it had been a net, not a bat, and that it was a completely true story. She just stared at me for a minute, and then said, "Well, I stand corrected."

Damn straight you do. Don't ever assume my son is lying. In the 4 years he's been on this earth, he's probably had more adventures than a lot of people.


Lisa // 8:48 AM

______________________