Does this stuff only happen to me???

I left my house with ample time to pick up my neighbor's son from preschool. As I drove over, out of nowhere, I doubled over with sharp, stabbing stomach cramps. They were so bad I wasn't sure if I was going to make it to the school. However, I pulled into the parking lot eight minutes ahead of schedule.

Finn was asleep in the back. He hadn't napped all day, so he was out cold. I thought I could wait the cramps out in the comfort of my car, but as the sweat began to build up on my forehead and under my arms, it became alarming clear that waiting was not going to be an option. As a matter of fact, I was seriously regretting the two minutes I'd already spent in the parking lot. What to do...what to do???? I had no time to unfold the stroller, walk up to the building, ride the elevator to the nearest bathroom (and the only one I know how to find at the enormous facility). I just wasn't going to make it.

So, I did the only thing I could. I swiftly unbuckled Finn, cradled him as gently as possible over my shoulder, shoved my keys in my pocket, and tried not to run. Clenching my one free fist, begging the sweet powers that be to "please, PLEASE let me make it," I marched passed all the mommies and care givers.

Thankfully, the upstairs bathroom that I know about is mercifully not a commonly used one. And I am not going to paint the entire picture, because, it just wouldn't be lady like, but I will present you with this: there I was, in a public (but clean) stall, holding twenty pounds of nearly unconscious one-year-old, experiencing wave after wave of...well...unpleasantness...thinking, "boy, this sure would make a good blog post." I also thought, "I should have told someone at the front that I was at least here, in the building. " But mostly, I was thinking about how times like this were meant to be written down. Why? I am not sure. Anyway, I digress...

Luckily, the...unpleasantness only lasted a couple of minutes. However, when you are in that sort of moment, every second feels like an eternity. Flushing was awesome. That's a really special way to wake a sleeping baby. Poor little guy. I was able to wash my hands and pick up my neighbor's son right at pick up time. So, it all worked out. I am home now, the kids are playing and my cramps are...at bay for the moment.

So, seriously, please tell me I'm not the only mom who has been forced to hold their sleeping baby while the are stricken with "unpleasantness" in a public place!

Modeling

What kind of model are you? Do you model in a room in front of 20 or so children? Do you model behind a desk in a building full of books? Do you model in front of cameras in your underwear? I model. I have a full time career in modeling. I used to get paid for it, when it was in front of a classroom or in a library, but now I'm pro bono.

And let me tell you, it is exhausting. I feel like I am living under a microscope sometimes. At the park yesterday, when I told Liam it was time to go, he frowned and shouted, "Damn!" Now, he did not learn that one from me - that's his dad's modeling (and he was scolded appropriately). But, I see and hear ME coming out of that little boy all day long. From the anal way he lines up his Legos, the way he snaps at me when I ask him to hang up his bath towel, to the nearly ritualistic bedtime routine, that boy is my little parrot.

I am proud when I see the way he hugs his little brother...OR, even better, when, at that same park, Liam said, "HEY! That's my little brother, be nice!" to a boy who knocked Finn over by the swings. I am proud when he emerges from his room in the morning, fully dressed, teeth and hair brushed, ready to face whatever the day brings.

And I sink with shame when I hear him whine in the same way I tend to do or when he curtly responds to one of my friends for no good reason (in a way I respond to him when I am flustered, or in a rush, or just not in the mood).

I know we can't be perfect. That's ridiculous. And it is unnerving to think that our children are watching our every move, taking it all in, processing it. But the truth is, they are. It's exactly why most of have that "oh shit, did I just sound like my mother/father" moment. Inevitably, we inherit the traits and behaviors we were raised with and at some point, hopefully sooner than later, we can put it all into perspective and be the best combination of our parents and ourselves.

For instance, I sure am glad we ate dessert every night when I was a kid. Ha ha. As much as I love dessert, I really wish that hadn't been a part of my childhood. It is ingrained in me and I have ingrained it in my kids. But, I have added reading together every night and that makes me feel good. It's kind of a silly example, but you get the idea.

I needed to write this tonight. Sometimes I am painfully aware that I am my child's most important teacher...and sometimes I plain forget. I don't want to always be living in "modeling-mode", and writing this helps me to figure out a way to balance being the best role model to my boys, the best parent a human can be, and just being me. We are only human...and I'll let you know how it goes with the whole 'balancing' thing.

Worth watching...

Well, of course I think these videos are worth watching. The first one is only 14 seconds long. It's Finn anticipating his brother...oh, and getting really excited about a big ole school bus pulling up.

The second is a bit longer, but I highly recommend watching it till the end. It's just over a minute and it really gives you a peek into Finn's personality. Just so you know, I was cleaning in the kitchen and simply turned around to find him on this table. Subsequently, after the video was shot I removed the table from the kitchen...actually from the house. It's in the back yard, where I hope it can refrain from being the catalyst in any number of physical calamities my boys might attempt.

Two things to note before you watch the second video: First, check out Finn's leisure suit. It might be the cutest thing I have ever put on him. Second, there's a part where he is checking out the wall...and part of me wonders if he was trying to figure out a way to scale it. Only my boys....

Burrow

Many times today darling little Finn burrowed his sweet little head into my chest. At the grocery store, too close to lunch and nap time, he actually pulled my shirt down and shoved his face between Bertha and Betty (I don't usually refer to them by name...but anyway...). Insert a big sigh here. Sadly, that was not the first public "outing" Finn has performed. He seems to have forgotten that we don't do that whole nursing thing anymore.

A few months ago he seemed to be naturally weaning himself. I was a little sad, but also amazed at how good it felt...like our planets aligned, the time was right, and it was just going to work for both of us. And now...I am feeling things I'd rather not. Wistful, longing, bittersweet, pained.

When he cries and burrows his warm little head right there, so close to my heart, I naturally want to pull down my shirt and let him do what nature intended. But, alas, that part of our relationship is over. And it hurts to deny him something so primal. And it hurts to know Bertha and Betty are out of commission. No more work for them...in the milk department, anyhow.

Wistful. I think that's the best way to describe it. Sigh, sigh, sigh. Grateful to have been able to share/experience it and wistful now that its over.

A jerk

Here is why I am a jerk.

I was checking out at WalMart today. I had a ton of stuff because I recently cleaned out my fridge and did not want to put anything in there to ruin its glorious, clean glow. Apparently though, people in my house need to eat, so I was forced to do a major grocery run. Darling little Finn was waving and flirting with the check-out woman as I loaded up the conveyor belt. As I walked over to the card swiper, I noticed the check-out woman stopped to put on a pair of latex gloves. I wondered if she didn't like touching meat, but the meat was already bagged, then I saw the yogurt and butter and thought, "ooohhhh, she must have a dairy allergy." I paid for my loot and headed out to the car, smiling into the finally cool breeze and that's when it hit me.

While picking up a prescription (in the middle of the grocery shopping), I let Finn have a few items in the cart to keep him occupied. Walking out to my car I remembered that he gnawed on a bunch of those things (the bag of bouncy balls, frozen peas, and perhaps the package of sponges). OH. Um...perhaps she put on those latex gloves because a bunch of my items were all slimy and gross from the cute 13 month old in my cart. Oy. I am such a jerk.

Also, I'd like to take this moment to apologize to all my local peeps. I am aware that I say, "Crap, Finn is SO stinking cute" about a thousand times a DAY, especially when we are out and about at parks and such. I always think to myself AFTER I've let it slip out of my mouth that I need to stop saying it. But, man....that baby is just SO STINKING CUTE!!!! I can't stand it. And you'll just have to start canceling play dates or avoiding me if it's getting to be too much for you. Hence the apology. I do not plan on holding back my ridiculous infatuation with my baby boy. Your kids are still cute, too...I'm just having trouble noticing any of them...that Finn...little Finny Finn...aawww...I think I'm going to sneak in his room and take a peek at his sleeping little self...and then give big brother a kiss on the forehead for having once held the position of cutest baby in Britt's world. Night all!