Archive for May, 2011

06 May 2011


10 Comments Family, Personal Crap, Toddler

Tonight, we traced letters. I did the big ones, holding his finger in my hand and making silly sound effects.

Schoom! Scronk! Flink! That’s a K!
Zip! Meow! That’s a Q!

He did the lower-cases on his own, perfectly imitating the sound effects.

Watching one of his shows, he asked me what a megaphone is. I explained and showed him a picture.

Thanks for explaining that to me.
You’re so welcome, bud.

It was that kind of night.

I took out this part of the post because I feel like I’m getting thoughts & sympathy that belong to my friend’s family, not mine. It’s her experience, and one that I haven’t even been close to… They have been in my thoughts and prayers and they have kept me updated. I will ask her if she’d like to guest-post her experience at a later date.

04 May 2011


23 Comments Uncategorized

Don’t you ever just want to pack it all up and move to a cabin in the middle of Nowhere?

Open a coffee shop where regulars order “The Usual” and passers-through order the short stack.

Have your kid do his homework in the back room while eating his dinner: whatever the night’s special is… Probably meatloaf or lasagna.

Count the day’s take over a cup of coffee. Pack up some apple pie and head home…

To your cabin.

In the middle of Nowhere.

Don’t you ever just want to wake up and take a walk down a country road where there’s nothing to see but trees and birds and sunshine?

Pick up a stick and throw it as far as you can.

Do a puzzle on the kitchen table.

Watch your kid laugh so hard at something, neither of you can breathe.

Take some food to your friend and drink some lemonade.

Run circles with your kid until you both fall down.

Take a nap in a hammock and wake up, warm and groggy.

Don’t you sometimes just want to go to bed with the windows open?

In the middle of Nowhere.

With a breeze through the curtains, enough to make you use your blankets.

Holding hands with your partner.

Listening to the soft breath of your kid in the next room.

In the cabin in the middle of Nowhere.

Where we could live. If we were willing.

03 May 2011


14 Comments Personal Crap, Toddler

I spend a lot of time talking and writing about how joyous all of my moments are and how much I love, ABSOLUTELY LOVE, being a mommy.

It’s all true. Every word.

And so is this:

I’ve been back to work lately and I’m tired. I’m always tired but now I’m more tired than usual.

Garrett has been waking up at 6:00 again.

Waking up at 6:00 today sucked. It sucked really hard. I was exhausted and impatient and bitchy.

When G wanted me to change the color of his shorts on Wii Sports I told him I couldn’t do it. When he told me Daddy did it yesterday I told him he was mistaken. And I kind of shouted a little. When I finally listened and went to the menu and changed his color to red… I apologized for shouting. And he said, “That’s okay, Mommy!”

The rest of the morning went smoothly, but I was definitely shorter than usual with him, less patient, and less engaged. I hate those kinds of mornings. But they do remind me that I can’t be perfect. I’m human and he’s going to see that more and more as he grows up.

I will always do my best to be the best Mom I can be. But some mornings, that mom ain’t too great.

On the way to school we talked and laughed. When we got to class he asked how many errands I was doing today. I said four. He said, “How about three?” I told him I’d figure out which one I could cut out and that I’d see him after nap. The teachers, G and I shared a giggle. Then I went directly to Trader Joes and felt a bit accomplished.

When I pick him up in a few hours, I will take deep breaths. I will hug him and play and get him a snack. I will do my best. But every day can’t be as perfect as I want it to be. And I guess that’s a good thing, because it makes me appreciate all the perfect days even more.



On my way to my 3rd errand, after lunch with my brother, I turned the car around and came home. Had I continued on to Target, I would’ve brought home my groceries and been done putting them away just in time to pick G up from school… And I would’ve still been exhausted.

So, I came home and slept for an hour and a half instead.

When I picked G up, he ran to me and gave me a huge hug. And, because I was rested, I reciprocated by picking him up and hugging him hard. We hung out for ten minutes and then he came with me to Target. We had a blast. He helped me get the things we needed, and even reminded me where we parked.

The point is, I think we moms tend to try to do everything all the time. And that often results in us starting to do things poorly, or at least having way less fun doing them. But taking 90 minutes for myself today, instead of making sure I crammed everything in, made the rest of my day (and probably my family’s) much better.

Now, making dinner sounds a whole lot less daunting, too! Whether or not that’s good for my family is a whole other discussion. 😉

02 May 2011

WhY Chromosome? WhY not?

22 Comments Family, Newborn, Pregnancy

This is what I wrote for Listen To Your Mother. The show was yesterday and it was a blast.

When I found out I was pregnant, I prayed for a boy. “Please, God. Please let it be a boy. I don’t know what I’d do with a girl. I understand boys. Please, God.” Girls scare me. They always have. Where boys are filthy little balls of energy, girls are judgy, cliquey little bundles of emotion. And I’m pretty sure they hate my clothes.

For the 11 weeks before genetic testing was to take place… Yes I had genetic testing. I was 35. My eggs were 35. And I had to make sure the kid was my husband’s. So for the 11 weeks before the genetics test I danced back and forth between desperately wanting a boy and feeling guilty for not wanting a girl. But then telling the girl to stop being such a little princess and get over it. “Oh God, please make it a boy.”

When I finally went for the genetic test I realized I just wanted a healthy baby… boy. Shut up! I’m being honest. The test was horrible and terrifying and I held my breath for the next 48 hours, praying that nothing had gone wrong or hurt the beautiful boy who was growing inside me.

A week later, I got a call from my doctor. My heart raced as I pulled the car over to call back. This is it. This is it! “Lisa?”, he started out. “YES! I’m Lisa!” “First of all”, he said, “the baby seems very healthy. Everything looks good.” I started to cry. I had a healthy baby inside me. I hadn’t expected that to hit me so hard. A healthy baby. Oh my god. I was going to have a baby. Only two years previous I hadn’t wanted anything to do with it. I didn’t even really like kids or understand what to do with them. I didn’t get why parents thought their filthy little monkeys were so cute or interesting or anything but petrie dishes and snot monsters and little bags of flesh who ruined my restaurant experiences on no less than 13 occasions. And now, here I was, in my car in Toluca Lake right by the Trader Joes, on the phone with my doctor who just informed me that my pending snot monster was healthy. “Do you want to know the sex?”, He asked. “YES!! PLEASE!” “Well… It’s a boy.” OH  MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH I HAVE TO CALL MY HUSBAND!!!!! I screamed into the phone and hung up.

I immediately dialed my husband’s phone, knowing he was in a meeting but praying he would answer. “Hello?” he said. “RUSS?”, I said. “YES.”, he said. “IT’S A BOY!!!”

Now, at this point I was apparently hysterical and insane and so all he heard on his end was, “IT’S A MWAH!”

“WHAT??”, came the reply.

“IT’S A MWAH!”, I repeated, completely perplexed at his lack of understanding. Clearly the kid was already hurting our communication.


I took a deep breath. “It’s. A. Boy, honey. We’re having a little boy.”

His jubilation on the other end made up for the incredibly frustrating previous 10 seconds. We celebrated, he went back to his meeting…… And I called my doctor back. The receptionist answered and I asked to speak to my OB. “He’s with a patient.” “Can I just ask you a favor? He told me my baby is a boy, but now I’m afraid I heard him wrong. Could you just look at my file?” The 26 seconds that followed felt like at least 38 seconds. When she returned to the phone, she assured me there was a boy in my uterus. I thanked her and hung up so I could thank God for answering my selfish prayer. “God, thank you for my healthy baby. Thank you for my beautiful husband and this glorious day. And thank you for knowing that I’m ill equipped to deal with a little girl. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.  Oh, you know what I mean.”

On September 18, 2007, I had a perfect little boy. He has made me something I never knew I wanted to be: A Mom. And to be a mom is to be an emotional wreck, an anxiety-ridden freak, a goofball, a nurturer, a chef, a story reader, a story writer, a bather, a lecturer, a teacher, a friend. To be a mom is to step aside, to create confidence, to cheer from the sidelines, to pray harder than you ever have. To be a mom is to know such great happiness that it physically hurts sometimes, and to want more than you have ever wanted for someone other than yourself. I am more fully who I am now then I ever knew I could be. I am Garrett’s Mom. And I am blessed every day.

But God help the bitch he brings home. I do not deal well with girls.