Last night when I got home from work, Dick and Tater ushered me upstairs to see the picture Tater had drawn for me on his easel.
Tater then proceeded to point out each one of the people and tell me who they were. He even included Lady this time (bottom left with the circle around it)! For a moment, I thought the little blue person was his future little brother or sister but Tater quickly corrected me stating, “NO! That’s Aidan-Daidan-Puddin-Pie!”
After more than two months of near-total confinement, Lady Loo is FINALLY off restriction! We celebrated her beautiful recovery from the heartworm treatments by taking her for a walk last night after dinner. At first she was a little reluctant to leave the yard because we’ve never let her do that before. But after a few blocks she got the hang of this whole on a walk thing and began PRANCING right along. Of course all the prancing did get in the way of all the sniffing of the totally new and totally must-be-sniffed for thirty minutes each smells so the Beagle in her took over and she stopped every two feet to make sure there were no squirrels hiding in a burrow somewhere. Apparently, going on a walk also made her think she was a boy dog because she stopped to pee every three feet.
Tater had just as much fun as Lady, gathering pine cones and rocks and flowers and weeds. But he was a little concerned at why Lady stopped every so often and put her nose to the ground. I explained as best as I could with a well, that’s how she figures out what things are. Instead of touching everything she sees (dog poop included for Tater!), she smells it.
I kept right on walking after this explanation but turned around when I heard Dick start belly laughing. I was met with the sight of my four-year-old on his hands and knees SNIFFING THE GROUND. He rose from that position to proclaim, “Mmmm…smells like grass.” Excellent deduction, Watson.
We’ve officially outgrown our current living arrangements. Actually, it was official months ago but it just became clear to me today. We went to Target in search of a makeshift pantry in which to store our microwave, cookbooks and dishes that won’t fit anywhere else. We found a pretty nice one with five shelves and doors for only $40. Dick and I assembled it WITHOUT FIGHTING which is truly an event in our household. Although it took considerably more time than the “assembled in minutes!” claim emblazoned on the box.
I started cleaning out the currently overloaded microwave stand (with the intent of giving it to my mother-in-law) and pulling things off the shelves and out of the cabinets, sure that this pantry was going to solve all our space needs. It didn’t. After much organizing and reorganizing, I decided I had to keep both the new pantry AND the old microwave stand. Now one side of our kitchen table is completely inaccessible but hey, at least my dutch oven, colander and griddle are no longer on the floor.
I think it’s safe to say that we need a new, bigger place to live. We have nearly 1,000 square feet of living space in this duplex but about 800 of that is taken up by Dick’s Seahawk’s hats. I also think it’s time we considered getting rid of all the baby stuff we have stored. Even though we will most likely have another one someday - we know that it won’t be for quite some time and keeping the strollers, car seats, bathtubs, high chairs, etc. just seems like an incredible waste of space. Luckily I have a niece coming any day now.
The best part about the new furniture was that Dick was able to take the surround sound system out of our bedroom (where it never gets used) and put it on the top of the pantry so that we can rock out while cooking. Music in the kitchen is where it’s at folks, just ask Tater.
[Oh, eff. YouTube went and switched things up and now I can't figure out how to imbed my videos. Now you'll have to work for it.]
The other night when Tater refused to eat spaghetti I started thinking back to the days when it was his favorite food in the whole wide world. He would eat spaghetti and chili with reckless abandon, consistently licking the bowls to make sure he got every last drop of it in his tummy. I don’t know why or when or how but he has quite suddenly deemed spaghetti the worst meal in the universe. You would have thought I was offering him liver and onions the way he turned his nose up at it.
I also started to think about the fact that other than a few adorable photos of him covered head to toe in tomato sauce, I don’t really have any record of him loving spaghetti so much. His baby book was just an effort in futility and has long been abandoned for more important things like life. I always thought this blog would be a good way to reflect and remember his quirks and funny (and sad) stories but I started to wonder if I’m even doing a good enough job of that. Sure, I talk about Tater a lot but it’s mostly about the things he is doing that drive me to drink so I’m resolving here and now, with the internet as my witness, to try and capture more of the stories that Tater will enjoy reading about himself when he’s older.
I mean, my God, what if the kid grows up thinking he’s NEVER, EVER liked spaghetti? And by then I’ll probably have like 18 boys (you know, because I’ll be trying so hard to have a girl) and I won’t be able to remember the time he laughed so hard while gorging himself on spaghetti that a noodle came out of his nose and he promptly PICKED IT UP AND ATE IT. That is one I need to remember for a time like my speech at his wedding - or just a vodka-induced walk down memory lane when he’s got about 18 friends sleeping over.
So here it is, a list of Tater’s 5 favorite and 5 most-hated foods, at age 4 (junk food not included or we could be here all day).
LIKES
HATES
Now that I’ve had some time to decompress, I figured all my three loyal readers are clamoring for an in-depth review of our trip. It started a little rocky with some difficulties at the “new and improved” Alaska Airlines sector of the SeaTac Airport. Maybe new but not so much with the improved. Nothing a short stint in the customer service line couldn’t fix. I was extremely nervous about traveling with Tater by myself because I’ve never done it before and he can be a bit, uh, rambunctious. However he behaved very well at the airport and on the airplane even if he did use me as his personal camel and insist that I tote all of his stuff along with mine. At one point he even wanted me to carry him and I promptly informed him that he had a better chance piloting the plane himself.
We arrived to a week of rain, rain, rain but as has been pointed out to me - I don’t go there for the weather. I thoroughly enjoyed my position of Interim Nanny for Aidan and the boys had a great time together. Amazingly enough, I actually got both of them down for a nap three out of the four days I was nannying. Go me.
Auntie Renfro neglected to mention to me that BEARS frequent their backyard so on Tuesday when their puppers started acting weird, I mentioned that there might be a bear nearby. Sure enough, that evening a bear drug both of their trashcans about 5 feet UP a rock wall and proceeded to litter the backyard with trash and droppings. And no, cleaning up bear poop was NOT in my job description. I was hoping for a daylight sighting so that I could tease Dick with the pictures but alas, the most excitement I got was getting this photo of what Tater deems the “red light room” - which is just a bathroom with a red light bulb that was there when the Gould’s moved in and they have not replaced.
The evenings we spent at Nonnie and Papa Don’s just hanging out. Tater proved to me that he will eat things that he refuses to eat at home - namely Chinese food and mashed potatoes. The kid even dipped his apple slices in BBQ sauce! We had a few visitors at Nonnie’s but of course Henry was Tater’s favorite and he couldn’t get enough of him.
Aidan’s birthday party was definitely one of the highlights of our trip. Jennifer is so very Martha Stewart and the Rocket Cake kicked ass! All of the two million kids that came had a blast but hands down the best part of the whole party was our attempts to get a “group photo.”
It was amazing to me how sweet and gentle Tater was with my mom. Anytime he wanted to talk to her, he approached her softly and quietly nearly whispering, “Um, Nonnie?” It was so distinct in fact that my mom “gently” suggested that I try speaking to him as softly as possible to see if it changes his demeanor when he’s wild and out. As much as I hate to admit it when my mother is right, she might be on to something here.
We had a few days where there were no commitments and Tater and I spent some quality time taking pictures and shopping and just generally enjoying Sitka in a way that I don’t usually get to. The day before we left, we spent a great afternoon at the docks looking at the boats and the water, skipping rocks, and playing on the Harbor Park playground. As we walked back to the car passing the boats, I took a few moments to breathe in as much as I could. I love the smell of the ocean and since I didn’t live by it until I was 12, it’s amazing to me how much of my “childhood” it brings back to me. I feel like a little girl again, seeing the world through a little girl’s eyes and wondering why I ever left such a beautiful and unimaginably peaceful place. Whoever said you can’t go home again was a blithering idiot.
The day before we left for Sitka we attended a BBQ at Tater’s daycare. Jessica and Jonas rarely make friends with their daycare clients but we wormed our way in and finagled an invitation to Jonas’ birthday BBQ. By the way, Jonas makes the BEST Bahama Mama’s on earth! The only other daycare parents who attended were Alana’s parents. Alana and Tater are something of an item at daycare - they’ve been best buddies since they met and Jessica has even dubbed them Thing 1 and Thing 2. They’re inseparable. Until now.
Yesterday they were all in the daycare van together and of course Tater and Alana were sitting by each other. I don’t know all the details because Jessica was obviously (and thankfully!) facing forward but it goes something like this. Tater wanted a kiss from Alana, Alana didn’t want a kiss from Tater … so Tater proceeded to grab a handful of Alana’s BEAUTIFUL long, brown hair and pull her toward him. Only it didn’t work and a chunk of her hair came out in his hand. A huge chunk. So much hair that it prompted Jessica to scour Alana’s head for bald spots (there weren’t any!).
I was MORTIFIED when Dick told me this yesterday. Mor.ti.fied. We had just met Alana’s parents at the BBQ and we actually really liked them. Tater and Dick and I had several “talks” yesterday about what had happened and Tater had to spend all afternoon until dinnertime in his room. He also had his TV taken away. I think he felt the depths of what he had done because he spent most of the evening apologizing over and over again - which I told him he should be apologizing to Alana, not me.
This morning Jessica told me that Alana’s parents handled the news very well and were not even upset. Phew! I don’t know if I could have been so gracious had the tables been turned. I know that Tater did not intentionally hurt her but it still gives me the shivers to think about him inflicting pain on another child. But I believe he’s learned his lesson so I suppose we’ll chalk this one up to the fact that Alana must be one hell of a kisser for Tater to be so hard up for a smooch.
I should have known that assuming leaving Sitka would be easier because of how much I missed Dick was a complete and total jinx. It was not easier. In fact, I think this was the hardest time I’ve had yet. I was looking forward to coming home until I had to say goodbye to my mom. And she started to cry. Cry like I have never seen her cry before. At first I thought she was just really sad to see us go or she felt like she didn’t get to spend enough time with us. But as I looked at her, I saw the real reason in her eyes - and it was fear.
Fear that this might be our last goodbye. Our last everything.
I know she didn’t want to say it out loud and I didn’t either. Morbid as it may sound, I have pictured our last goodbye many times in my head. Each time I pictured myself comforting her and telling her that I would be okay, that we all would be okay, and that we were better for having her in our lives, that I understood if it was time and that I hoped it would finally bring her some peace from the unimaginable suffering she’s endured for the last 10 years. I pictured a calmness and understanding and acceptance. But standing there with her I couldn’t say any of those things and I hated myself for not being able to say it. I spent most of yesterday cursing myself for being a coward.
Before I fell asleep last night though I realized that not being able to say those things wasn’t because I was a coward. I didn’t say them because I’m not a liar. As hard as I try to portray an “acceptance” of what is happening to her, I don’t accept it. I can’t accept it. I’ve tried so, so hard to be strong about it partly because I don’t enjoy pity but mostly because I didn’t want to add to the fear I know she feels inside. She’s afraid to leave me, knowing that I will go through what she went through when she lost her mother at my age. I don’t want to perpetuate that fear by letting her know that no matter how or when or why it happens - losing her will devastate me. But I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t look her in the eye and pretend that it was okay. Because it’s not okay. Nothing about this situation is okay.
I know that she is suffering, I know that the word miserable doesn’t do justice to how she feels about her health. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for her because I know how difficult it is for me just watching it from the outside. I know this stuff in my head and most days it’s easy to rationalize it that way. Yesterday, however, all I could hear was my heart. Screaming for one more day, one more week, one more year.
I also realized last night that as scared as I am, I can’t let it control me. I can’t be consumed by the fear of “when”. I can’t let it taint my every thought. My mother would bitchslap me if she knew I was spending one second worrying about something I can’t change - something that hasn’t even happened yet. So you know what? Fuck acceptance. I’m holding on to hope. And I don’t care if that makes it harder to deal with in the long run, I’m not going to let go.
Yep I’m officially slacking my ass off. And it feels pretty darn good. I haven’t been updating because Tater and I are fully enjoying our vacation and spending as much time as we can soaking up the loved ones we don’t get to see nearly as much as we’d like to.
The nannying is complete and I was so happy to have that time with Lil’ Aidan Daidan Puddin’ Pie (officially replacing “Baby Aidan” as his nickname). Since he was born, I’ve had very little quality time with him where I was able to really get to know him. Now I know that he must be the sweetest little boy on the face of the earth (mine included). He’s so gentle and loving and when he put his head on my shoulder (many times!) I thought I would die from the softness of his cheek and the smell of his hair. He delighted me and Tater with his chatter and his occasional out-of-nowhere excitement about life. Pictures will most definitely be coming soon.
We only have two more days here and leaving always sucks so bad. This time though I think it will be a little easier because I miss Dick so much it’s like a punch in the gut. Really. I didn’t think it would be this hard to be away from him but it has been very difficult. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him at home without me and Tater. Lady’s good company but not quite the same, I’m sure.
Now you can rest assured, internet, that I am still alive (phew!) but I can almost guarantee that I won’t update again until I get home. I’ll be too busy soaking up as much family as I can. It’s gotta last you know.
Now it’s your turn.
Last night amongst all his studying of nuclear fission, Tater suddenly announced, “I’m gonna take a fun break!” and immediately began attacking me on the floor of the living room. Seems his idea of fun is playing leap frog over my knees. It took me about 5 minutes to recover from laughing at his announcement and then I asked him where he learned about “fun breaks” and he said that one of the little girls at his daycare takes them all the time.
I likened this to a job I used to have where we were allowed to “call in well” on occasion. As long as no one abused the privilege, we could use the excuse to have a mental health day. I always thought this was ingenius and wished that every employer on earth was required to grant it. Can you hear me now, Obama?
I always knew that it would be my responsibility to impart my wisdom upon Tater and teach him as many of life’s lessons as I could. What I didn’t really count on was how much he would end up teaching me. I mean, think about it . . . Life would be a lot, well, funner if we could all take a few more fun breaks.
