Made in Richmond

My mom and step-dad (Stewart) are kind enough to invite JR over for sleepovers about once a month or so. These little breaks have been wonderful for Ross and I — and it gives one set of JR’s grandparents (of which he has three, lucky booger) to love on him extensively.

When JR is staying over with my mother, I usually call around 8 to see how bedtime went. Nine times out of 10, my mom says, “Well, he just didn’t want to go to bed. He wanted to stay up and watch the races with Stewart.”

Of course he did.

On his most recent visit (when we were away from him for three entire nights SOB) he was about done *not* being at his house and was legitimately having a hard time settling down for the night — he was over the pack’n'play, over the strange room, you know. So my step-dad suggested that JR sit with him and watch the race for a little bit. JR cuddled up with him and my mom left the room for a minute. She came back to find this:

Apparently they were both snoring, too.

Most Fridays, after JR and I have spent the day together and Ross has been working at the office, we meet up at Garnett’s, a local restaurant with amazing sandwiches and (what I’m told) is a good beer selection. Ross has a drink, I have a soda, and sometimes we get snacks. It’s a nice way to close out the week and sets a good tone for the weekend.

After hanging out for about an hour with each other and whoever else is there (and there are always people there and they are also delightful and fun), we walk back to the car so we can head home, feed JR dinner, and put him to bed.

That walk back is always nice. It’s one of the few times that JR reaches up to hold both of our hands. And for a few minutes, we’re not in a hurry, we’re just being together, just being us three.

(Thanks to Justin for sharing this photo with us.)

Today I’m especially thankful for these boys. One whose birth made me a Mama, and the other who I’m so pleased to have along for the ride.

As JR gets older, we’re starting to notice certain characteristics popping up that can easily be attributed to either Ross or myself. For example…

From him:
Blue, blue (oh, so blue) eyes
A very notable brow
Feet perfectly engineered for flip-flops (i.e. lots of space between the first and second toe)
Giant hands
Sleeping with the body positioned much like the number ‘4′
No volume control
Appreciation for bathroom humor

From me:
Fair skin
Long lashes
Chubby cheeks
Big, silly teeth
Hunger-induced rage
Trepidation around strangers
Tendency to produce drool puddles the size of one’s head

A healthy, happy, beautiful baby boy

My wonderful, handsome, and loving hubs

A job I love

An amazing church

Supportive friends (both in “real life” and via the Internets)

Selfless family

You, the ones who keep coming back and listening when I really don’t have much to say.

***

My cup runneth over, as they say. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

JR was born right before Thanksgiving, and he technically celebrated his first Christmas last year. But come on, he was basically a blob then, so other then a few festive pictures, we deemed the holiday season kind of a wash and moved on.

Now that he’s a smiling, babbling (LORD THE BABBLING IT DOES NOT STOP), almost walking little person, the time has come to celebrate holidays to the furthest extent.* First up: Halloween.

We opted for a store bought costume because 1) I am unable to sew, 2) I am too busy/lazy to track down bits and pieces of a costume. After a bit of hemming and hawing on my part, we settled on this:

(Go ahead and squee, it’s ok.) (Over him, not me.) (Please ignore the weeds growing out of the steps on my porch.)

The best way to describe JR during the whole Halloween process was “a good sport.” He tolerated me covering his nose with black eye shadow and tracing whiskers on his face with eyeliner. He dutifully said “RAHHH!” when asked what a lion says. And he refrained from losing his shit when taken out in 70 degree weather (WTF, October?) dressed in a costume designed for what one would anticipate fall weather to be like.

We headed out at around 6:00, just stopping by a couple houses (friends from church who are at least mildly invested in our child), before spending the rest of the evening strolling our neighborhood, trying not to get run over by the out-of-their-damn-minds-with-sugar children tearing up and down the sidewalk.

JR started to get fussy at around 8:00, so we took him out of the stroller and started the walk home. We wanted kept him up late to compensate for the time change that night (it actually worked… don’t kill me!), so he had his bottle while we watched Night of the Living Dead. Not exactly our finest parenting moment, but what are you gonna do?

Overall, the evening was a definite win. I mean, COME ON:

*That is, except for Santa. Ross is decidedly anti-Claus. I am unsure how I feel about this. Particularly because it is highly unlikely that he will be fielding calls from other parents when JR crushes their children’s dreams.

JR was baptized yesterday. We decided to make the most of the day and have a party to celebrate.

And have a party we did.

The church was pretty packed, as was our house later on that day. I spent the better part of Saturday freaking out over how everyone was going to fit and would people think it was weird to involve so many people. But I’m so glad we did.

While we were standing at the front of the church, our big beautiful boy happily cradled in the arms of our pastor (and friend), I got to take a minute to look out and really look at the people sitting out in front of me. A lot of them would have already been at the church service anyway, but quite a few had chosen to spend their day celebrating with us, to show how much love they have for us and JR.

I’m still kind of blown away by it.

It’s an amazing feeling when other people are invested in the well-being of your child. I mean, Ross and I *supposed* to love him; we’re his parents. But the people with us yesterday are *choosing* to be part of his life, to be friends to us as we raise JR and to encourage and love him as he gets older.

And, still, I have no words. Ok, well one…

Thanks.

A friend sent me her first “official” belly picture the other. My first reaction was “SQUEEEEEEEEEEEE HORAY YAY BABIES!” And I must admit, I had a slight longing for going through that again.

Slight. Very slight. So very slight. And then I got distracted by something else, and it was gone.

As JR is closer to one (OH MY LORD MY BAYBEE) than he is a newborn, we are starting to get the ocassional inquiry as to when we will be having a second kid.

And to those inquiries I say, “Ha. Ha ha. Hahahahahahahahaaaaa. Whoo.”

We are not ready to even to begin talking about thinking about the notion of bringing another kid into this mix. Not even close.

In fact, we’re not sure that we ever will.

Funnily, if you had asked me a year ago how many kids Ross and I were planning on having, I probably would have immediately said, “At least two. We want this one to have at least one sibling.” And I believe that a few minutes after JR was removed from my person, I said, “I would do this again in a second.” Hormones are funny things.

It’s not that we don’t love JR. We do. Every last nommable, chunky, squidgy bit of him. And to think that we’d be able to love someone else as much as we love him is pretty incredible and tempting.

But, I can honestly say right now, I would be fine stopping here. In my life, the only thing I knew for sure that I wanted was to be a mother (not the only thing, just the most certain thing). I’ve done that now. I’m doing it. And I don’t think I necessarily have to do it multiple times over to fulfill that.*

Plus, can you imagine how big the next one would be? Holy canoli!

*Please not that this is not 100% definite and no drastic steps have been taken. We have just mutually (and quite enthusiastically) agree to table the discussion for a couple years.

I’ve talked about how much I love Michael J. Fox before.

He was on Oprah yesterday, talking about his experiences as an individual with Parkinson’s disease. He was so candid and honest and positive, it brought me to tears several times. Not just because of his bravery, but more so because he was reminding me of someone.

My grandfather had Parkinson’s. He passed away when I was 12. I honestly don’t know if it was specifically the disease that took him, but I know it complicated things.

While watching Mr. Fox talk about what his days are like (needing a plan B, C, D, E, F and so on because you just don’t know what you’re going to get when you wake up; having to put on hard shoes right when he gets up to keep his feet from curling up inward; looking forward to brushing his teeth because it’s the one task where his shaking makes him more efficient), I finally got a glimpse of what Grandaddy must have gone through as he lived with this disease. And I was so proud. I don’t know when he was diagnosed  (I’m sure my dad or siblings could help me out with that), but never once do I recall him turning down the opportunity to play with us - and playing at his house always involved being outside, usually with a wiffle ball and a blue plastic bat.

Being so young during the time our lives intersected, I didn’t really connect the dots. I knew he had shaky hands and legs, but I didn’t know and didn’t particularly care why. I thought he was just wiggly or antsy. As a young kid, I could relate, I suppose. When his hands would shake, I would hold them to try and make them stop.

But it’s not the shaking that I remember. When I think about his hands, I see the freckles on them, just like the ones I have on mine and the ones that JR will most likely have on his, thanks to the red hair and fair skin he inherited from Grandaddy through me. I think about him making me wheat toast with butter in the toaster oven, an appliance that I found fascinating when I was little. I remember him teaching me how to use their black rotary phone in their kitchen, gently placing my fingers in the circles and showing me how to whip the dialer around.

Strong, steady, loving.

And definitely missed. So very missed.