Made in Richmond

After handing JR over to my mom (and after quite of few tears on JR’s part and some on mine) Ross and I celebrated our three nights/two days of freedom by eating at Lee’s Famous Recipe Chicken and going to see Eclipse. Because we know how to party.

On Friday we slept until the luxuuuuuuuurious hour of 8:30am and then headed up to DC, stopping only to get gas and for me to get a fountain soda. Regular Coke (see my previous mention about knowing how to party). We hit no traffic at all and only kinda almost died once upon getting into DC because I become an idiot the minute I leave Richmond’s city limits. The above picture is of our room at Helix Hotel. There was a bed curtain.

After lunch (which involved delicious pizza that I contemplated leaving Ross for), we took the Metro like grownups and found our way to the Newseum. I highly recommend this place, even if you do happen to run into individuals like those pictured here who thought it appropriate to “flash the 303 gang sign” in front of the Berlin Wall. But, I guess that’s what America is about, guys.

(But seriously, the Newseum is awesome, particularly the exhibit on Pulitzer Prize winning photos. I cried multiple times and felt lots of emotions. But don’t worry, Ross’s robot heart didn’t short circuit or anything.)

Saturday included a trip to the Natural History and American History Museums, but the World War II Memorial was the highlight of the day for me. Again, with the emotions.

More on this shot here. And go here or here to see a few more pictures from our weekend.

Thanks for a good time, D.C. You also know how to party.

Happy anniversary, babe. I love you.

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

I’ve been trying to make this place a bigger priority. Seriously! I had ideas! Things to share! Stuff to talk about!

And then this weekend happened.

See, Ross and I had been battling (and losing said battle) a cold for about a week. Luckily, as of press time, JR has yet to suffer from the same cold (although I’m SURE he brought it home from the germfest that is day care) but man, it sure was wreaking havoc with us.

And we were holding it together, trying to blame it on allergies, and generally being very positive.

Until Saturday. When I woke up mute. As in no voice. Nothing. Not a whisper.

You know what is hard to do when you can’t speak? Parent.

Parenting is made even harder when your parenting partner is down for the count.

And we did what any respectable adults would do in this situation. We called my mother.

Luckily, my mother is addicted to JR, so she zoomed over, scooped him up, and kept him overnight so we could recuperate properly.

Despite our unexpected child-free situation, we spent Saturday (the most beautiful day Richmond has had in, oh, EVER) cooped up inside, drowning in our own snot, trying to sleep, ordering pizza (you KNOW Ross was sick if he allowed such things), and watching such stunning cinematic contributions as Confessions of a Shopaholic. And I specifically spent the day not speaking. At all. Do you know how hard it is to boss your husband and dogs around without being able to talk?

We’re doing ok at this point. I still sound like I smoke 4 packs a day, and we both are still spending lots of time with the Neti pot. But, I’d say we’re on the up-and-up.

And I’d say that if JR actually does end up getting this, I will punch day care in the face.

I cried a lot this morning.

And, no, I’m not pregnant (SHANNON) and I wasn’t watching Parenthood (the show, not the movie, although the movie also makes me weep… openly).

I slept for about 2 hours last night. The night before that? Preeeeetty much the same. Same thing for the night before that and the night before that.

So that’s been awesome.

Although I said things are better with the whole day care/me working out of the home more situation, my feelings this week are not so much in line with that statement.

Work is stressful right now - you know, like sick to your stomach, please just leave me alone stressful. When it gets to be like that, my first response is “I just want to quit and stay home and be with my kid. It’s not worth it.”

But let’s be honest, in that situation, I’m using the stay-at-home option as a way to potentially escape the stress of work*. I’m not ready to give up working. While I love (love, love, love, LOOOOOOOVE) being home with JR, I also love work. However, I don’t so much love my approach to work.

I work constantly, making myself available to other people pretty much nonstop from the moment I wake up until the moment I got to sleep.

That needs to stop. And quick.

I have other (more important) things to think about, to invest my time in. Like my child, my marriage, and, oh yeah, MY SANITY.

So, it’s rule time.

As of today, Fridays (which are supposed to be my day off) are actually going to be my day off. An Out of office message will be set up and I will only use the Internet to read blogs and celebrity news, just as nature intended.

Also (and this is huge/terrifying for me), I will not be checking email after 9:30pm. This might sound not at all nuts for some people, but trust me, it’s kind of giving me chest pains. One of my jobs requires a lot of communication with freelancers who, incidentally, often do their work at night. But I’ll make it work. It needs to work.

Regardless of the potential wrenches these rules might throw into things, they have to happen. For my kid, my husband, and for me.

(Hold me, I’m scared.)

*I don’t want to imply that people who choose to stay home are doing so to escape the stresses of work. Being a stay-at-home parent comes with its own set of very real and very hard challenges. I just mean that for me, when/if I come to the decision to stay home, I want it to come from a positive place, not from one of stress and frustration with my current situation.

Stage 1: Breeziness

Hmm, he feels a little warm. You know, he was a little sniffly and crabby today. Let’s just give him some Motrin and put him down early. He’ll be fine tomorrow. My, didn’t we handle that well?

Stage 2: Panic

Is he wheezing? I think he’s wheezing. Did you take his temperature? 103? What do we do? Can you call your mother? Please call your mother. I’m going to keep redialing the doctor’s office until they open so we can schedule an appointment. Is he wheezing?

Stage 3: Mutual hatred

You think you’re tired? *I’M* tired. How many times have you sucked the snot out of his head today? Oh yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re stressed out. We’re all going through this so SHUT UP. That’s it, no more babies.

Stage 4: Solidarity

Babe, I’m so glad you’re here. I would never be able to do this without you. I feel like we have the same bond that P.O.W.’s do, ya know? We can get through this. We will get through this and be so much stronger for it. Babe, babe, I love you. I just…I just love you (please don’t leave me alone with the shrieking child oh God).

Stage 5: Euphoria

He’s laughing! He’s eating! He’s smiling! Remember how awful that was? Oh, he’s so perfect. And you’re wonderful. No *you’re* wonderful. No, no *you’re* wonderful.

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.

I’ve been referring to this past Wednesday as “The Day Of Much Woe.” Work was frustrating on many different levels, JR was determined to do anything but nap, the house was (and still is) a disaster, and, ugh, just a million other things that I just can’t muster up the energy to talk about.

More than anything, I felt like a totally shitty parent that day. During the rare moments that I wasn’t completely occupied with something else, in those precious, fleeting pockets of time where I could have been playing with JR on the floor or reading to him… I just couldn’t do it.

And then I felt horrible. Because that’s what I do.

And then I felt guilty. Because I do that, too.

With the guilt came thoughts of, “I don’t play with him enough. I don’t talk to him enough. He’s going to be behind developmentally because I’m such an effing introvert that it doesn’t even occur to me to talk sometimes. Sure he does wave “bye-bye” but not all the time. And he’ll point to Ross when you say ‘Where’s Dada?’ about 60% of the time. But he rarely points to me when someone asks, ‘Where’s Mama?’ He has no clue who we are. Oh God, Oh God.”

Later that evening, I expressed all of this to Ross through some hiccuping and ugly tears.

Ross sighed, went over to JR, picked him up, walked back over to me, and said, “Where’s Mama?”

Without missing a beat, that baby of mine smiled, turned to me, and shoved one gloriously chubby finger right in my face.

And then I thanked God for that baby and his sweet father. Because I don’t do that enough.

Ross took this on his iPhone when we were at the park this weekend. It makes me happy for two reasons:

1. It’s obvious where JR inherited his tendency to furrow.

2. Why do I look so confused by a playground toy?