.::still blinking::.

As I write this, the boy sits across the table eating the last bits of popcorn from a bowl and sucking the life from unsuspecting oranges, and I cannot have any. I already asked.

He is so fun lately and says funny things all the time. We will not let him have bandaids, or as he calls them bangers, unless he is bleeding. The other day we were in the car and I guess he had bonked his head somehow and was begging for a banger. I told him that he was not bleeding and so he did not need one. After about a minute he informed me, “Mom, my head bleeding really bad! I NEED a banger.”

He is now drowning tortilla chips in his glass of water and then slurping up the remains. And yes, I just sit and watch. I don’t really care how he eats as long has he is eating.

The weird thing about him eating is that he is so picky, but he loves steak. Half cooked bloody steak, he will have the blood dripping down his chin like Eric the Red and I don’t say a word; I am far to chicken to draw his attention to the fact that was he is eating. Something we usually have to bribe him to do unless this eating activity involves chocolate. I am so amazed that he would even let steak sit on his plate. Usually if he does not like the food he will throw it on the floor or at me because I am the offending party, obviously. I am amazed at his ingesting half cooked steak when he acts like noodles are going to cause his death and I must be the devil for trying to get him to eat such toxic worms.

The little boy is sick again. He woke up crying last night at about 2am, he had thrown up in his bed. Since then I have really not slept. It has been a pretty constant string of throw up events, and it makes me sad. Not the lack of sleep, but the way I have to hold his little body and hold a bowl under his mouth as his entire body wretches and tries to get rid of the sickness that is in him.

I moved the mattress from the daybed that is in the office into his room and slept on his floor. He rotated from his bed to mine depending, I guess, on how he felt. There were several times that he requested to be put in his bed. But when I started staying in his room, the mess of throw up became far less. I was able to catch the throw up before it got on any clothing, bedding or hair. Which is nice since we went through about five pairs of pajamas and three sets of bedding, and that can get kind of tiring in the middle of night.

I did sleep a little bit. I probably got about two one hour stints. But my mommie ears were on high alert, every squeak or sneeze woke me and made me nervous. I had a hard time sleeping because I was worried about him because I don’t want to have to take him to the hospital again.

I am trying really hard to keep him hydrated this time. He has a sippy cup of Gatorade with him at all times and he just had a lovely fruit popsicle. The kind that is fruit puree and that I covet. They are so good.

I think that he is going to be fine. He is watching Buzz Lightyear, drinking a cocktail of sprite and gatorade, and carrying around a small bowl of fishies and teddy grahams (thanks Kateka and Grandma).

The guys that I work with at tradeshows for Control4 know that I get post-partum depression. They know that I love my little boy, but when they ask if I miss him and I say things like, “No.” They say things back like I guess that the post-partum never really left your system.

The thing is, Gentry is not supposed to be at tradeshows with me. If he were I would probably miss him. However, if I were home alone for seven days, I am sure that I would go crazy with worry and not know what to do with myself. I also know that he is being taken care of. I know that jj’s parents love him and I do not worry about him while he is with them. I worry more about leaving him with a 15-year old who may not follow the directions and put him in bed at 10 rather then 8, which is bedtime. Then the next day I will have to deal with Prince Angry Pants, and he will let me know he is the king and I am the lowly stable maid.

And then there is this from Finslippy. It is amazing how you can love a little person so much, but it is like you are tied together and wish for a few moments for yourself. I need the moments to myself to reflect and think about my parenting. While in the thick of being beaten in the thigh with a thick wooden spoon, it is hard to be a smart, clear thinking adult. I need the moments away from him to breath. To remember I do not love Buzz Lightyear and that Pepperidge Farm Fish are not my favorite food. I need the moments away to remind me that there is a me.

The other day after dinner I was holding Gentry. I was wearing a shirt that had a semi-plunging neckline. As we were both standing there talking to jj, he dove his hand down between my bosoms. I stood there for a second recalling a time as a child I had done the same to my Grandma Katherine, and she had kind of freaked out and I still remember the shame that I had felt. I was small enough at the time to still be held, so I was pretty young, not a pre-teen pervert. I decided not to react that way.

Instead I said, “Whatcha looking for?”

He fiddled around for a second longer and then said, “Mangoes.”

Interesting, I thought, fat chance of finding anything down there.

I realized this morning that I am in an abusive relationship…

with my toddler. Or as we have been calling him lately “The Gestapo”.

I don’t know which one of you taught him to smile like this, but when I find out, you are going to pay. I loved the candid photos I used to take and now every time I pull out the camera he pulls this goofy grin out of his pocket and applies it to his face.

Anyway, he does not like me to talk to anyone. He does not like that I talk to other gentlemen, in particular the one that I am married to. He HAS to know who I was just on the phone with. He tells me if he likes them or not. He likes baby josh, but I don’t talk to him a whole lot. He also likes Ross who throws dogs (stuffed ones) into the air and catches them.

He needs to know what I am doing at all times. “Mom, what doing?” Um, showering, like I said 30 seconds ago. “Mom, what doing?” Driving. “Mom, I drive.” No, not for another 14 years son. “Mom, what doing?” Making dinner. “I do it.” Ok, here is some flour and oatmeal in a bowl, go to town Emeril.

He hits me when I don’t do things the way he likes them. Like when I am taking him to his bed for a nap, I usually get a smack, for obvious reasons. What kind of heathen mother would put her angry son down for his afternoon nap? Probably the one that needs a break from the constant head butting in her pelvis. For I while I would give him a time out, but I figured he was hitting me to get more time out of bed. So now he just goes straight to bed.

He throws his food and drinks on the floor if it is not what he wants. I mean, how awful of me to feed him chips and salsa and chocolate milk for lunch, these are usually his favorite foods. What was I thinking? Obviously I wasn’t, and now I must pay, and go get him some Care Bear fruit snacks out of the pantry or he will hit me with the spoon he is planning to make dinner with.

As you can see I have a mini-Gestapo calling the shots around here. He says “Jump!” I say, “Master, would you like fries with that?”

There is a small, squishy boy that lives at my house. He is always yelling for “chocolate nilk,” not a miss spelling, that is how he says it. And I give it to him maybe twice a day. It is a cocktail though. All this kid usually eats is chips and salsa, fruit, and oatmeal. So the only way I can figure to get him to eat any protein is soy milk. I mix half a bottle of soy milk and half a bottle of regular milk. He loves it and thinks that I am the queen.

His favorite movie lately is “Nacho Libre.” jj’s friend Richie came over the other day and asked him what his name was, he had just been upstair watching the movie and said, “I nacho.” Of course he is, the only thing missing is stretchy pants. He has the gut and crazy hair, I guess he also needs a side kick unless you count me. His chocolate milk wielding mama.

He loves to watch you draw and he has requests. I have learned to draw elephants, monkeys, mice, turkeys, pretty much everything from every angle imagineable. If I was a dj, I would be taking tips. Of course being the mama, I get kisses and occasionaly some cuddle time. He is so not the cuddle boy, if ever he gets in the mood, I am scared to move in case I remind him that moving, running and jumping are his favorite activities.

The other day as we were running laps around the coffee table, I hoped this will never end. I hope that for the rest of his days he thinks that I am fun to play with. I know it will last for a while still, but I will miss his unconditional, all in awe love for me when it is gone. Because it won’t change from this end. I will always be amazed at this little boy that is two parts jj and one part me.

So the thing is that the blog turned one yesterday and I don’t really have anything to say about it. In fact, I am having a hard time rubbing word together to form sentences.

Today in church a couple of old people sat behind us. It was the primary program and so everyone invited every living relative, and perhaps some dead, that they could think of. I don’t know who these people that were sitting behind us are, but I could hear everything that they said. I don’t know why this bothered me, I don’t think that they said anything terribly mean or anything. It must have been that everytime they said something I wanted to turn around and explain things to them. This is OUR ward, this is how WE work, STOP with the live commentary.

The program was really cute though. I must admit that I don’t love going to Sunday School. I usually have to go to the library before it starts and then once I get in I start counting down minutes and letting jj know how many more there are. 27 more minutes. I mean now 27 more minutes. 23 more minutes. You get the idea. So lately I have been going to primary because I like to hear them sing. There are some songs that they sing that they get so excited about. They practically scream the entire chorus and I love it. It is like a chorus of mickey mouse impersonators screaming at full blast. I don’t know and don’t care if it is blasphomous. I love that they love to sing so loudly. During the program they kept is pretty toned down.

During young womens we talked about not letting other people bring us down and understanding our own worth. If there was one thing that I could teach these girls to understand is that they really are daughters of God and that means they are part god and have the potential to become gods themselves. And to go along with that, if people are treating them as less than that, they don’t need those people in their lives. I think understanding what and who you are can give us the strength to reach the divine potential you have. I wish that we all knew that. It makes me sad to see people not reaching and striving for it. I don’t even really know what we as people are capable of, but to see people completely settle for mediocure or even less than that, it is sad. I wish that people, in a non-stuck up, help everyone up, kind of way, could reach their amazing potential. I want you to do it and I want me to do it also.

I have also known for quite a while that I get shy around groups of people and will have thoughts like, “I should do this,” or “I should do that.” But I am often so scared to embarrass myself that I won’t do things. This is part of my anxiety. I am going to stop doing it. It is going to be so completely uncomfortable and unnerving, I hope I can keep the shaking to a minimum. But I am going to start talking to people I don’t know. I am going to try to be friendly to everyone. I really hope that I can do this.

I have never known what to do about stockings. I know, a real world problem. But seriously ever since I got married I did not know what to do. I did not want to buy two of the exact same when jj and I got married because I knew that eventually our family would grow and I would never find one to match our stockings again. I also did not want to do the same old with red stockings and white furry trim, because I don’t know why, I just didn’t. I didn’t want to buy 12 of the same either because I knew that I would not like them by the time that there were 12 members of our family. Like that will ever happen, but you know what I mean. Today I finally figured it out and here is the solution.

I bought three that are different and when/if we add more people to our family we can buy another odd stocking that while fit right in with us. Brilliant, I know. No need to tell me.

Also it was Gentry’s birthday the other day. He is now 2 and showing all signs of heading straight for the terrible kind. He does not listen, as soon as I get him out of the car he is off and running through parking lots, he is throwing things. I think that things are going to get worse before they get better. But that is life. He is still so dang cute that I sometimes have a hard time scolding him. He had a compact of makeup with him in the back seat of the car today and it was closed. He threw it at me and yelled, “OPEN THE DOOR!” I had to be stern and I said that I don’t do things for little boys who are being naughty, but I had to turn the rear view mirror off my face because I was laughing as I said it.

Anyway, because of his birthday we have had a major influx of new toys. His Aunt Jaime gave him a weed whacker (fake of course) and a pair of goggles to protect his eyes from all things flying. He has been insisting on wearing them or having one of us wear them pretty constantly. Cute.

If there is one website that I wished posted more it would be this one. I love the clean design.

And check out this one and also this one.

I hate the guy on the airplane who has to talk really loud all the way to wherever you are going. This particular specimen talked about smoking for a really long time. Who knew it was so terribly interesting. I also hate paying $3.50 for an apple at the airport. But we only had an hour of sleep last night so I did not take snacks for the trip into consideration.

We had no time for sleep. We took Gentry dressed as a chicken to jj’s work party. I must say that I think his costume and his little self were so cute. We then drove him up to Logan and there was traffic, the trip that usually is two hours was three. We only stayed for about an hour and then drove home. But we had not packed and had to get it all done before we had to leave for the airport at 4 (FOUR?!? Who planned that?) in the morning.

fortunately we missed Halloween. Making cute costumes, very fun. Giving candy to beggars, kind of fun. Begging for candy, not my bag baby.

As we took off from California we saw several large ships at sea and at harbor. They were enormous. Like floating cities. We saw the Bay Bridge and the Golden Gate Bridge.

We have been flying over the ocean for 4 hours. The vast expanse of this world amazes me. I want to see so much and do so much. I have experienced so little. I am excited.

The most exciting thing of late is that jj has gotten his thumb posted in someone else’s blog. He is so proud of his Wii scouting abilities, he is sure he is getting one of these when they are released. We will see.

As for me, I am feeling incredibly boring or bored rather. I have tons or projects that I am working on and need to finish, but I have no will power to work to speak of. I don’t know what my problem is. I wish that I could sleep all day, but I do not have time for such obvious waste of time. However, watching Martha Stewart, that would not count as a waste of time, right?

I am so tired of playing with blocks and coloring. But that is pretty much what Gentry wants to do all the time and eat m&m’s. But who can blame him for that, it could be rated up there with one of my top things to do. I am just bored. I need to get out more or something. I need to find my purpose. Sorry if this is a downer for those of you that are thinking about becoming full time mothers. It really starts to wear on you.

I have been wondering lately, how many women could have changed the world if they would have or could have pursued something other than motherhood. And besides that what about all the people in 3rd world countries that are stuck in their situation. They could be geniuses and could have changed the world if they would have been born to someone else, or gotten their hands on some money or been born in a different country.

What is this oppression? What am I supposed to be doing that I am not. What is my big idea that could change not only my life, but those around me. I want to be more than I am.