Breathe

I really get this song; love it, every time I hear it, parts and bits of it ring so true with me, and I guess, with lots of folks. Here it is...

2 Am and she calls me cause I'm still awake
Can you help me unravel my latest mistakeI don't love him, winter just wasn't my season.
Yea we walk through the doors so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize
Hypocrites you're all here for the very same reason.
Cause you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable and life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button girl
So cradle your head in your hands.
And breathe, just breathe, whoa breathe just breathe

May he turned 21 on the base of Fort Bliss
Just today he sat down to the flask in his fist
Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year
Here in town you can tell he's been down for while
But my God it's so beautiful when the boy smiles
Wanna hold him but maybe I'll just sing about it
Cause you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button boys so cradle your head in your hands
And breathe, just breathe, whoa breath just breathe
There's a light at each end of this tunnel you shout cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made
You'll just make them again if you'll only try turnin' around
2Am and I'm still awake writing this songIf i get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me threaten' the life it belongs to.

And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary screamin' out aloud
And I know that you'll use them however you want to.
But you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cableAnd life's like an hourglass glued to the table,No one can find the rewind button nowSing it if you understand...
and breath
Just breathe, ohho breathe,
Just breathe......

______________________________________________

this and that bits and chunks are so real for me...

She gets me..

Do you know what it's like to go through life thinking, feeling, knowing, that not a lot of people GET you? Not saying that in a negative way; really. It's no one's fault. I think many people try to get me but either have given up or just accept me without knowing how to get me, get what has happened to change me. GET that even though I have a new baby boy and the oldest is the absolute light of my life in every way (and how he can drive me nutty everyone knows), I still very much grieve for my son, Lucas. How can you be both? Sad, wistful, anxious, yet happy with the wonderful life you have? You know what? I don't know. I don't know how you can, how I can, but it is. I am. I can't explain it.

For all the love I have in my heart, every ounce of it is matched with a dropling of wanting the past back, wishing I could change it, angry I can't and sad he really left us. Sad he really died.

She gets me.

Thank you Tammy. Thank you with everything I am and have. I know there are others who get it, who try to get it and I'm not saying you rock over them, you just express it so well, just when I need it. Maybe that is what friends are for. And for that, I owe you a lot. Friends don't ask much do they?

Go here.

http://www.jardna.blogspot.com

I sobbed through the last half. I'm glad I was alone. Others might have thought me insane. Thanks to all of you who reach out, its nice to know we are not alone, I dont' think we are, but it's a nice affirmation that we are not.

Love to you.
Jenn

Lucas

Too much too soon. He was ready for this life but this life was not ready for him.

His life was given to him and then snatched away too quickly.

Unfair we got to know him, love him, play with him, rock him to sleep, watch him learn so many things..but very fair in the same breath.

He has been on my mind so much these past few days. Vivid memories that come rushing from nowhere...everywhere.

I think he's here, here with us now, more intensely now for some reason. I can't figure it out.

I think I subconciously know why. You will think it strange, twisted, convoluted, non sensical. It's a mile marker I have been very aware of....
in one week, the littlest will be ten months. One week after that, he'll be ten months and one week old. This is exactly to the day how old Lucas was when he died.

It must be that.

--J

Happiness

I was just putting him down for his nap and kind of let my emotions overcome me. I wonder so many things, so much. Look how happy he is. I wonder if ANY of him is a shred of his brother, Lucas. Would God have let some of Lucas be kind of born again in him? That is such a big, huge question.

Yesterday, we were letting the littlest walk back and forth between us and he was so happy, squealing and squawking, I just started to cry. This is how twisted I have become. I'm happy and I cry, because I'm thinking of Lucas and that he isn't here. I stopped, I mean, I let it out, then I made myself stop. Be done with it.

Regardless, look at that happy boy. I mean, who couldn't be happy looking at that face? His first time in the pool today ever. He loved it. Kicked his feet like a pro, made himself go in circles just by kicking his feet. The camera was in my hand in seconds. Like a magnet. Had to capture it on film (so to speak).

No fear. Hasn't learned it from me yet I guess. I'll try not to teach it.

Love and Passion

Love is friendship on fire. Passion is love on fire. If you have it, you're lucky.

I'm lucky.

Passion can go two ways; good and bad. Around here, mostly it's good. Even when it's bad and we're fervently arguing our both 100% right points, it's still good and it usually passes in moments.

I'm lucky. Maybe it's more than that. Maybe it's worth working for. Worth working on. Even when the anger flares; even when I am seeing red; that's passion.

J

Mad

BTW if you're mad at me, why don't you just go ahead and say it? Get it over with? Get it out and move on.

--waiting


Jenn

Remember the Days..

I had a revelation tonight. Age. It's something isn't it? My honey told me "you're one of those people who gets stuck on age and the numbers". I'm not really. The years can go by, and they do, and we can't stop them. They come and they go. Christmas comes faster every year and summer whizzes by. What can you do? Cherish it I tell you. I think I used to have my head buried in the sand a lot. Before Lucas. Now, I'm probably meaner, wiser, more outspoken, more loving, and probably more of a cynic. More negative characteristics you'll notice but if you can, you'll have to forgive me, there was a moment in my life that was so jarring, so altering, it can never be undone. My faith in God will be the only thing to get me through. And I do pray a lot. Promise you that. I pray for patience, less anger, more love in my heart, peace towards people and compassion because it's hard for me to find it sometimes. I know I'm a good person because it's how I was raised. To care, to take initative, to do a good job, to want better and work for it. No other way. You have to work for things you want and that isn't always a matieralistic outcome or end to a means. It can be love. It can be happiness in the face of a child...it doesn't have to be a new this or that.

These are some things that I can think back and remember and probably cherish the most--

• playing tennis in high school and one semester of college; it was a sport I chose and had to fight for. My parents (sorry mom :)) didn't want me to play it when I started in tenth grade. I think it was a life defining moment. It was the first time I really had to stand up for myself and in the end, I won. I'm glad I did. I enjoyed tennis so much and I think it was something I independently owned. My sister followed in my footsteps and I'm sure at the time, it got on my nerves because this was MINE (back then, probably a selfish teenagers point of view) but looking at it from this perspective so many years later, how great you know? She wanted to do what I did. How cool is that? Regardless, it was something I was naturally good at. Loved it. I remember having so much fun playing tennis. In my senior year, I was really good. Not perfect, not the best, but having worked hard to get where I was, I was pretty good and I was proud I acheived it. It was something I had to fight for. My parents wanted me to play softball for the school. I didn't want to. I had visions of getting my head busted in half from the fast pitched ball. Sure my sister and I played slow pitch softball every single summer and I loved that great. Had a blast. But that's MUCH different from fast pitch and I just wasn't into it. I was petrified and much to my Dad's chagrine, I wanted to play tennis. Well, I did it. I owned it and I'm glad.
• Our first date (he took me to a movie that you would have had to DRAG me to kicking and screaming but I happily went with him and then after we went for a late dinner at which we argued about the important things in life; what we wanted to do with our futures and what were good occupations to get into. I absolutely loved and it made a huge impact on me that first date, we talked about such big things with such passion and we were on both sides of the spectrum at times that it was really a sign of things to come. What did we know? Heck, we were just on our first date.....honestly, he was getting on my nerves with his banter. Oh my. What little I knew then...)
• I remember vividly the births of all three of my sons. Like crystal clear water, I can see each day perfectly. I can hear the ting of a shiny new needle hitting the floor, I know all the details exactly. Each of these days for incredibly different reasons, were life markers for me. My husband played a huge huge role in each of these days. He was exactly how much support I needed. He knew, I don't know how, but he knew innately how much I needed him and never stepped over the line and never under supported either. Except the time he kept touching my legs (to massage them I think) when they were numb. It made them feel like they were floating above me and it was ticking me off! I kept telling him to stop touching my legs and he apparantly couldn't help himself (I mean who couldn't help themselves I was only a 700 pound cow who was about to go into God knows what kind of laber, I'm sure I looked all kind of beautiful).....other than that time...he was a perfect (sorry to say go ahead and gag now) support system. He was gentle and loving and there. He was there. He never left. Not for a thing. I don't know, maybe for an errand, a thing or two, with my blessing, but he was there. You know? When my boys were introduced into this world, it was the most binding moment in our lives. His eyes, I just looked into his eyes. My whole world was there. The three of us, each time, and no one else mattered at those moments. Life changing. Life markers. Kind of like melted steel binding you that much stronger..
• Lucas's death. Big. So big. Taller than the Empire State Building. Bigger than the clouds. Big. The kind of big that I wanted to end it all, and leave with him. And anyone who knows how much I love my oldest son and husband, knows that is saying a lot. I wanted nothing more, and I mean nothing more than to go with him all the way to Heaven. How could I leave him? He leave me? Excuse me? God was going to take care of him? Really? I don't think so. It wasn't good enough. None of it. Only I was good enough for him. Only I could take care of him the right way. The window in that hospital room was so big, like a huge wall spanning picture window. We were up on the --I don't now---fourth floor or something? I wanted to jump through the glass. I think at the moment I saw no more breaths coming from his little body, after four months of pure torture and watching all this transpire, I wanted to jump and soar with him. I wanted to go. It was a feeling I never thought I would have; wanting to leave this world so badly, not thinking I deserved to stay one moment longer....thinking his death was all my fault. I remember that day...I remember the days....the following days....yes lets talk about life markers....that was one of them. Changed me forever. I have now made peace with God I think. I flare up every now and then. Sure I do. I think it's natural. Time has helped sooth my anger. I don't think it's gone. Just by the tears that are falling down my face right now, I know it's all still there, just less intense. One day, it will all make sense. Somehow it will. I trust that it all will just fall into place. Even if it's God Himself that is telling me how the puzzle fit together, someday I will know.

Oh there are more. Little moments here and there....but those are big ones. Ones that have made me who I am today. Crazy, intense, go getter, sane and insane me. Everyone knows that time marches by. Everyone knows that you need to take the bull by the horns and do what you can here and now. Like walking in a relay for life march? Why do it? Why bother? Because. It matters. Or providing dinners to the local Ronald McDonald House? Why do it? Why bother? Because. It matters. Holding the door for an elderly person? Helping them into the store? Why? Because. It matters.

Maybe if we try to live our lives right, in the end it WILL matter. We only have this one time; right? Ya think one of the lightening strikes hit me in my sleep and that's why I have gotten up at this horrible hour with all of this on my mind? I bet that's what happened. Oh boy.

Big, small, happy, sad. It's life. Sorry my posts have been so, well, you know, strange. It's what runs through my mind people. Love me or not.

A Mom, A Wife, and a Writer. That is me.

Perfect End to an Insane Day

*****Note this is from yesterday and I just finished composing it this afternoon. Imagine this to be yesterday.******

I'm changing the baby. I hear the oldest yelling frantically for me and I know that my husband is in the front yard watering the grass. I panic and pick up the baby who has NO diaper on. What are the chances (right....) ? I go find out what the oldest is yelling about and realize that the baby just pee'd all over everything; me, his cushion on the diaper changing table, himself, everywhere, and not just a little (of course not). SOOOO I hear my husband say never mind, it's not important, and I quickly go back to the matter at hand (now knowing the child downstairs isn't like bleeding to death or something)--cleaning up. Think quick, think quick...he's already cranky, it's bedtime, he wants his bottle, he's whining, doesn't feel good (still sick) so I'm all in Super Mario mode, racing all about. I put him in his crib, standing up, butt naked, no clothes on, thinking, what are the chances (right...)? I turn my back to do the clean up on the diaper changing station and hear the grunts. I swing around on my heels saying, "NOOOO!" and sure enough, poop everywhere. And because he's sick, it's not just a turd of poop. Nope. Uh uh. It's like water. Like thinned out mud. Everywhere. I start to laugh. I think, this is insane. I immediately pick him up holding him as far away from me as humanely possible and put him where? Back on the diaper changing station. Why? What in the heck was I thinking? More poop. Everywhere..

I start yelling for help. At the top of my lungs. No help comes. I am alone. I have to solve the problem on my own (oh the horror!). I take him to the ceramic tub (vs the vinyl less slippery tub) and again, what was I thinking? He slips and slides all over the place as he poops more. Mind you, this was not normal poops. This was sick baby poops. He was yelling, unhappy, and slipping all over the place. I was yelling, unhappy and my back was killing me. Finally the oldest comes running "mom what is it?" he sees the trail of poop and sees my face and goes to get his daddy (smart boy!).

My husband comes up and says, "What are you DOING? What's going on?" He takes a sweep of the immediate area, goes to check out the baby's room and he's not happy. What was I thinking?

It was like a hilarious, sad, sick, horror show. This is what I want to know. Why do these things happen to me? In talking with my mom, she pointed out that one bad thing turns into another because you're still dwelling on the last bad thing therefore not thinking clearly and next thing you know you have a string of bad things.

My day prior to that was just as bad. I won't even bore you with the details but it had to do with a shooting death, a seat belt getting stuck in a motorized door and having to spend the next 2.5 hours in the car dealership getting it fixed, and several other things at work, including worrying about my sick little boy. This is my life. I should just accept it ---- no?

Jenn

Sick Baby

The baby is sick. Fever. Runny nose (but that has been ongoing; from a cold at the beginning of the month) and just crying crying crying.

We are off to the Pediatrician today later. I hate seeing him this way. Miserable and it really shines through when he's sick that he's such a mamma's boy. SUCH. I wouldn't be anywhere else. Not even Hawaii.

Jenn

When the Moment Comes, the Moment Comes..

This I know. This I have just learned today. You cannot be fully prepared for the moment. You think you are. You think you have it all under control. HA! Think again my fine feathered friends...

I got a peek into my oldest son's world today. It unraveled me all the way to the loosest strings. I will rattle off the entire conversation. T0 set it up, he was playing with two little girls in the cul-de-sac all morning long while we held a yard sale. They played and ran and jumped on the tramploline; they were having tons of fun in the sun. It was lunchtime.

Little girl: comes up to the oldest, who was eating his lunch in the garage, and sassily says "uh huh" (out of the blue clearly continuing a conversation they were previously having not in my presence)
oldest: Are you serious?
Her: mmmhuh yep
oldest: Are you sure?
Her: I'm sure
She runs off. He stays to eat.
Me, very highly intrigued: Oldest, what are you two talking about??
oldest: That's our business.
Me, loud gasp heard round the world and all: Uh, I don't think so, there's nothing in this house that's JUST YOUR BUSINESS, everything is all of our business, now spit it out.
oldest: It will hurt your ears.
Me: Try me.
oldest: Huge sigh. Long silence. You won't know anything about it.
Me: Oldest, if you do not tell me right this minute what you two were just talking about you are not going back over there to play now are we clear? What were you talking about?
oldest: Quickly understanding I was not letting go of this.. She said a boy at school was going to do this with her (imagine his two arms bumping each other in the air as he held them in front of his face but his arms were like waving or belly dancing as they bumped each other).. You know, he said he was going to have sex with her.
Me: World spinning, louder gasp, wildly looking around for my husband who was innanely talking to another neighbor out for a Sunday stroll of all days TODAY AT THIS MINUTE when in God's name I needed him right by me right then at that second. Damn! SEX??? So realizing I was all alone in this moment and the burden rested heavily on my shoulders and that I was not prepared for this even a little bit, took the bait and here is what I said.."What is sex? Do you know what sex is?" fervently hoping his answer would be innocent and benign
oldest: I have no idea
me: Still world spinning (what do I say to this first grader OMG OMG OMG) Well let me tell you what sex is (big fat gulp again looking for my dear husband and realizing he was STILL TALKING TO THE LITTLE OLD LADY FROM NEXT DOOR). It is something that adults do. I mean, it is something Mommies and Daddies do. What I mean is, it is something you do with someone you love and it's not until you are really a lot older that you even have to worry about it do you hear me??
oldest: Looking around, not particularly at me, "ok" but smiling kind of.
me: Oldest let me ask you this, do you want to get up in the middle of the night and change a baby's diaper, be responsible for it, feed it, take care of it all night and all day? Do you?
oldest: No! Clearly I had his attention now. I needed to get his attention because I think he wasn't taking me seriously.
me: Well when you have sex, you can make a baby. And you are way too young to be worried about it or thinking about it or knowing about it. So don't go talking about it to her or anyone else and if your friends bring it up, and you have questions, you come and ask mom and dad and don't be shy, don't be embarrassed.
oldest: Ok, mom. Can I go play?
Me: Please. Go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
First grade. Sex. Kids. Are you KIDDING me? I have no idea. I either scared the s### out of him or just fueled his fire. Later, when all was calm and the yard sale was over, I asked him to clarify for me again, "did YOU say the word sex or did she?" I needed to know this because prior to today, he's never ever ever said that word or alluded to anything about sex. ANYTHING. So, I'm just sayin, where did this come from? Besides left field that is... he said again, the little boy said it to her, and she said it to him, that he was going to have sex with her. So I ask him, have you ever heard that word before today? He said he'd heard it on TV. I asked him if he knew what it was. He said again, "I have no idea". Here's the thing, he knew I would be freaked out about it. He knew enough about it or the idea of it that I would react the way I did. Hence the "It'll hurt your ears" remark.

I will come back to him later, when all is calm and re discuss with my honey there. I won't go flying off the handle. I just want him to know, don't go down this path, I don't even want him to know about this stuff yet. I guess it's too late. The world, the way we all are, it's already done. I can't undo knowledge. Now it's in his little brain. All I can do now is try to manage how he processes it. I know I was freaking out today. I knew I was. What to do? How to say it?

This is why I say to you, if you have little ones, be prepared. It will come up. You won't want it to. Know in advance what you will say. Learn from me. I'm a walking wreck I think sometimes. If anything, learn from me. I thought we'd never cross this bridge for a while. Don't be as nieve as me. In this fast paced world, our little ones are open to so much more so much sooner. I don't want him to think it's bad. No. Not that. But also, it's completely up to us how they handle all of this big knowledge. And love, feelings, emotions, it's all part of sex. How I/we handle it now will totally affect the later days. This I do know. So I will go back with him and try to fix, smooth over, and make better what I might have screwed up today. I am still in a sort of shock.

It was funny but kind of, it wasn't. It was scary funny. Can something be that? Lord help me. That's all I have to say.

--Jenn

yes or no finished or not....

A while back I wrote a book. A childrens book. I have it. I have done nothing with it. Why?

What am I afraid of?

I stopped writing Lucas' book some time ago. I cannot bring myself to finish it. Even the thought of actually sitting down to finish it gets me all worked up. Too much. Way too big.

Why not get off my butt and get it all done?

It's called finishing what you start. I can write, I love to write. Why not do something with it? Do something about it?

What in the heck am I afraid of? Failure? Success?

I don't know. One day....

--J

Immigrants

Is now addressing the nation about illegal immigrants. I like what he is saying so far. The temporary worker program seems unrealistic but maybe there is no perfect answer. Once they are 'allowed' to come and work for a 'temporary' period of time, and as he says, "it will give them an opportunity to make a better way for their family" why would they want to then go back home? They won't. They will simply gain "lawful" entrance into our country and then disappear when it's time for them to go home. Don't tell me they won't. Currently, as it stands now, they will allow themselves to be smuggled by human smugglers, walk for miles and miles and miles in almost unbearable heat to get to our country. They will do whatever they have to to get here, don't tell me they will just simply turn themselves in after their "temporary" stay is over....

We'll see what the aftermath brings after this address. It's a firestorm of a hot button issue. Our country is a wonderful blend of many kinds of people. As it should be. But it should be a lawful blend of people. That is what I believe. We should not simply allow whoever to enter and/or stay. I suppose to some extent it cannot be helped, they are here, already part of our economy, our lives but to the extent they are discovered in whatever fashion or form, they should not be allowed to stay. It will be sending the wrong message; one that says it's easy to gain entrance into this country and even easier to be allowed to stay.

We'll see what happens now. Very interesting indeed.

Jenn

ME

I AM: a complex person
I WANT: to raise really good kids who will make a difference in this big world
I WISH: Lucas never died
I HATE: my procrastination
I MISS: my old self; she died with my son
I FEAR: flying bugs and speaking in public
I HEAR: John Stossel on The View and the hum of the ceiling fans
I WONDER: too many things, makes my head all jumbled up
I REGRET: not too many things, even considering all the really sad things that have happened, it's hard to regret it. It is what it is.
I AM NOT: as happy as I think I can be. I have to work on that.
I DANCE: when I'm doing the dishes, with my boys, it's very freeing.
I SING: alot, outloud, badly, but I sing!
I CRY: too much. Way too much.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: logical.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: many things, cards, cornices for windows, bottles, and countless other things...
I CONFUSE: lots of things, a lot, including number stuff. I really have to focus.
I NEED: to be more concious of the food that goes in my mouth. It's too much autopilot.
I SHOULD: spend less money. I think it's a control thing. I try. I am better but I should spend less money. I do try.
I START: MANY things I do not finish.
I FINISH: all of it, just in a jumbled order. It always gets done. ;<)
I TAG… you. Lets see what you have to say about it all......

Very Funny Six Minutes

Check this out.

Very funny. This guy is probably EXHAUSTED. And it's a great stroll down memory lane too...


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMH0bHeiRNg

Enjoy.

Jenn

Hicaburp

Another one of those funny family words; hicaburp. The oldest made it up after the littlest got the hiccups and was burping at the same time. HICAburp.

--Funny.

Not much more to say on that.

If you've been reading here for a while, you'll know we have these sucker frogs in our back yard. They sound like puppies constantly yelping and crying. They are back. I guess they are the markers of summer. The geese with their new babies are back in full force too. The bunny rabbits (or runny babbits) are hopping all around. It's like a veritable freakin farmland around here all over again. The geese will be the death of me yet though. They are quite beautiful. How can something so beautiful be so very obnoxious? This I want to know....

Hicaburp.

Jenn

Mucinex

You know the little green blob in the commercial for the mucus who wants to live in your chest? I think that little guy is living in me. No joke. What gives? Is summer not coming? What's up with all these colds? There are three other people at work who have colds too. And the littlest, he gave me the cold but where did he get it? And the others?

OK OK he probably got it from the thousands of things he puts in his mouth cause it feels good on his gums but OMG I'm dying here. Not really but you know....

Buh bye Mucinex guy. Go away! Stinky Stinkerson, go away. Come back another day.

--signing off and here's to hoping tomorrow brings less coughing and raging headaches....ya think?

The National Anthem

I do believe I feel pretty strongly about this. This song should only be sung in English. Period. I'm not at all saying that immigrants or people from other countries cannot come here and be welcomed and make their lives here. Not saying that at all. The two are completely separate topics to me.

It is the official song of the United States of America. It can be sung by anyone but it should be sung in English. If they are coming to our country to live here, they should learn to sing our National Anthem in our language. Yes it's a country of many people and many ethnicities, a melding pot. It's true and that makes this country great. I don't think that should mean that suddenly we should make it official that our National Anthem be sung in a different language other than our own. It's our country. Lets keep it that way.

This is not meant to sound crass but this is a pretty simple topic. To me anyway. I'm very glad most of our politicans agree.

Privacy PUH LEEZE

So the oldest has been saying he wants his privacy a lot more lately. OMG. He was talking to his little buddy on the phone yesterday and cutely said to me (me who was totally and completely eavesdropping on his every single word), "Mom, I need some privacy. Can you leave the room?" HUH? Uh no. Don't think so. You're only six I'm thinking. So he looks at me, rolls his eyes and walks into the dining room. I quietly walk over there to the doorway and so he can't see me, but I can hear him, I stand stock still, listening to what he's saying. All they were talking about was reading and which chapter books each had read etc etc nothing about girls. I was thinking, he was going to talk about any cute girls at school or something. Phew. They talked about soccer and tennis and baseball and the next time they were going to get together to play. But why did he need 'privacy' for this? Oh my.

Or he'll say, "Mom, can you just turn your back for awhile?" and I'm supposed to just DO that? Uh no. Or like when he's going to the bathroom (and believe me, the little heathen can really stink it up for such a young lad so I have NO desire to like hang out in there....am on my way out if I have to go in for something) and he'll say "MOM get OUT I need my privacy and can you lock it?" Uh no. I can't lock it. But I'm gladly on my way out. And when I GET out, I say loud and clear, just like Jim Carrey in that Pet movie, "Do NOT go in there!" But I'm all mystified at the sudden need for 'privacy'. Of course, I will give him privacy but it'll only be a fraction of what privacy really is and in his world, that'll be all the privacy he's gonna get (and he'll think I'm giving him full privacy, I'm good at workin it know what I'm sayin?)

Ok, ok, ok, I get it. He's 'getting' that he's a boy and he's got a part that is all his and he's gotta figure it all out. OR he's got secrets he's gotta keep and things he's gotta talk about that mom's wouldn't understand. Yeah yeah yeah. But hear me loud and clear, there IS no privacy in this house, I WILL know all and uh no, ya can't have 'privacy'. I am mamma lion, hear me roar.

Meow.

Dear Lord help me as we barely begin to enter the troublesome times of young boyhood. I can see, there's gonna be a whole lotta shakin goin on.......

Jenn

Lost and Found

We found an old bottle of Lucas'. It still had something in it. Don't be grossed out, it wasn't milk. It was pedialyte from the night before his surgery. I remember putting it in the small fridge after he drank from it around midnight that night. And as you know, after the surgery, life was never the same again and I never went back to that bottle till four months after that night, after he passed away. The day we got home from Philadelphia, the oldest was with our parents on purpose so we could go home and do what we needed to do yelling, screaming, crying wise. One of the things I found was this bottle up in the little fridge. I never, could never, toss it. I couldn't even bring myself to pour out the contents. Neither could my husband obviously.

When we moved to this house, we had to do something with it, put it somewhere, toss it, pour the stuff out, do something...... I couldn't and remember thinking, I'll come back to it later, too much was going on for me to just take the bull by the horns and toss it. Apparantly, my husband took the bottle, contents and all, 1.5 years of just the same stuff in that same bottle and put it in a shoebox. He found it a few days ago. He brought the shoebox in the house with two other boxes. He left it in the dining room of all places. I couldn't stand to see these boxes so I began to go through them this morning. Lo and behold, in the first box was this lost bottle of sacred pedialyte. You would be surprised (and probably alarmed) at how well this stuff keeps. It was not rotten, not in the least. It did not smell, not at all. It was like I just poured it last night. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.

I know it would have been ridiculous to keep it any longer. For what? He is gone. It's probably teeming with who knows what even though by all appearances visually seems fine. I slowly walked to the sink and even more slowly poured it out. I have sterilized the bottle and the nipple and the rest of it. It's now being used by the littlest. How's that for getting over a hurdle? It has taken quite some time for that little endeavor to take place.

I hope and I pray that one day things will feel easier for me. For all of us. Those around me even more than ever have moved on. I feel their frustration not to forget the littlest and wallow in the anger of my past. Please know I am not. Would not. EVER ever forget to be happy with the littlest. He is our now. Our present and our future, along with his oldest brother. I so totally get that. You have to know, I'm just a mom who has watched her middle child die in front of her, slowly, painfully at times, but it was the saddest most heart wrenching thing we could ever have gone through. I am happy now but there are still times, moments, days, when it's still very real. This bottle thing, well, it was a big deal for me to pour that out. May sound strange to you, but trust me, it was hard.

The bottle was lost and then became found. He isn't lost but in the real sense, the physical sense, he is lost to us. The thing is, he will be found again. In Heaven. IN THAT I TRUST.

---J

The Littlest

He is growing so fast. Faster than ever and you can't blink or look away because things happen when you do that. Babies are so fascinating, constantly looking, learning, mimicking, smarter than we think. I have been wanting to share these for about three weeks but have just not gotten around to it.

He wants to walk and tour the whole downstairs by holding on to someone (anyone's) fingers. Our aching backs! He will be nine months in a matter of days and it's absolutely unbelievable to me he's been here for that long and that the one year birthday is looming closer than ever. Just wow.

I've got some funny stuff to post about the oldest but no time now. Will try later. Life is a bit crazy right now; doing too much (as usual). Plus the littlest is sick now. Some kind of cold or something. Hate that.

Just wanted to share some pictures. Not the most recent but still, cute.

Jenn

Broken Glass; OUCH

What does it all mean anyway? In the last four weeks, in this house, we have broken three picture frames, glass and all. Two of them happened one day apart from one another. The other one this morning. I broke two of them and the oldest just broke the third which was a picture of Lucas. I'm scared for what this all means. The first two pictures had a picture of family and the second was a picture of my husband and the oldest. I don't like this. Not at all.

What does it mean? That something bad will happen? Or that we're just all clumsy. When the second one broke, I felt this feeling of foreboding. Didn't like it. This morning when the third one broke, I got upset in my bathroom but didn't let them know. My husband was cleaning the mess of glass andI was upset in the bathroom.

Why is everything so full of drama? Why did the pictures break? What does it mean? Is there some hidden symbolism there?

UGH

10S anyone?

So the oldest has been taking tennis lessons. He loves it. I have to admit, I secretly love that he loves it. It was my sport in high school and one semester of college (I only made it through two semesters of college and the first in my mind was totally dedicated to tennis and being on the team there. I was sixth seed in singles and second seed in doubles. I enjoyed it so much, and was having such a good time traveling and playing with the team (small university, back then it was a college/same thing I guess) that I was not paying so much attention to my classes.

Tennis was the easy target, the obvious culprit of my demise at school. Probably the truth was, I wasn't focused on it anyway. I only went for one more semester and dropped out to learn in the game of life as they say. I think I did pretty well in the end. All this to say......to this day, I really truly still enjoy tennis. My husband played too. We both enjoy it together. We haven't played in a while but we say and we should get back on track with it; not only for the fun of it but it's awesome excirsise too.

There's the oldest, out on the court, hitting the balls, looking all happy, totally in a zone and actually paying attention to the instructor. When he was playing soccer OMG he was all looking at the clouds and running away from the pack (hello how in the WORLD will you ever GET the ball if you never go GET it? but to his credit, he did score and get in there, just not enough to show he really was totally enjoying the game) and saying his back hurt so he couldn't run (funny coming from a six year old!) blah blah blah. As I watch him learn this new sport, I see him focused and paying attention, and really getting it. Is it wrong of me to secretly love that he is having fun? I don't want to sway him but I know I probably will. I will TRY not to. Whatever he does has to be what he wants to do right? That is the politically correct thing to say and think and I don't want to be one of those parents who is obsessed and so vocal and just highly competitve and super driven FOR them.....what do they call those parents? Oh I don't want to be that. So if I don't want to be that, I won't be that, right? I've heard Oprah say several times, "when you know better, you do better" and so I'm hanging on to that.

I just sit quietly and watch him play and enjoy his learning. I'm not yelling at him or even saying a word. I just take it all in. Aren't kids just amazing?

Tonight when we went to the baptism class for the littlest who will soon be baptized, one of the things I realized in the discussion is just how precious our kids are. I think I have learned that long ago, about 3-4 years ago to be exact. But in the group discussion tonight, it became ever more clear to me. It's so true.

I know, blah blah blah, it's all I ever talk about. Kids. My kids. How much I love them, cherish them, would do anything for them....I guess I'm pretty boring. Probably very predictable. I guess it could be worse. Tennis anyone? Game, set, match!