Total Pageviews

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

It was only stuff, but...

It was only stuff, but,

* It was the small gold ring with a tiny sapphire that my dad brought back from his trip to California when I was around 8 or 9. I loved that ring and wore it everywhere. I felt so grown up wearing it and telling everyone that "it was a REAL sapphire." I lost that ring once, playing in the field across my house. It was getting dark and I was throwing a ball with a neighbor friend when the ring flew off my finger. We ran to my house and asked for a flashlight, telling my mom that we were playing flashlight tag. When I couldn't find it, I had to confess to my mistake. My mom went out the next morning in a drizzling rain and lo and behold found it. 

*It was the costume pearl necklace I found in my Grandma Ballengee's jewelry box after she died. I wore it to her funeral and afterwards restrung the pearls and placed a new clasp on the ends. I bought a few other pearl necklaces here and there, but the color and shape of those pearls remained my favorite to this day. 

* It was the ring I contemplated for weeks, with the date 2003 on the side of the peridot stone. I knew I was supposed to pick my birth stone, but I just loved the light green of peridot. I don't even remember what I had placed on the ring, but I was so excited to wear something signifying the end of my high school career. 

* It was the pearls that my Uncle Bob had shucked out of oysters on MY first trip to California. We came home and turned those two pearls into earrings with pretty sapphire "jackets" on the back. I wore those earrings until the studs fell off of them, only to keep the pearls in the jewelry box. 

* It was the gold chain my Grandpa Estep entrusted me to. The one that was my Grandma's. The one that I put in that jewelry box for safe keeping. 

* It was the ring that Dillon gave me one cold night in December at a stop sign in between our houses, telling me that it wasn't an engagement ring just yet... a promise if you will, that one day we would be married. The ring, that a few years later, he would steal back from me to have a special name engraved inside because we were too poor to buy a new ring. The one he carried in his pocket to the park, and got down on one knee and presented to me with the question "Will you marry me?" The ring, that my finger outgrew as my belly expanded and never quite fit the same. The reason why it was in that jewelry box. 

It was all just "stuff" in that jewelry box that was stolen today when someone picked our back door lock, came in and felt free to take what they wanted. The electronics & camera, they can all be replaced, but the jewelry is gone with the person who encroached our home and our safety and all that's left are the memories that were attached.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

11 Months!

My little baby isn't so little anymore. On Tuesday, he turned 11 months old which means in less than a month he'll be a year old celebrating with a birthday party and everything. He's into EVERYTHING, and I do mean everything. If you want to let this little Tasmanian devil down off your lap, you had better put anything breakable or electric out of reach. It will immediately wiped to the ground. His fingers will automatically go to the electric plugs or his little legs will try to climb up stairs. He's on the brink of walking. Pulling himself up on the coffee table and walking around it endlessly only to "jump" to the couch and walk along that some more. This week his first tooth FINALLY came through, along with the bulging gums on the top threatening two more teeth here shortly. Luke has been in misery (but we'll get to that shortly...) His favorite thing to do is pull tissues out of the box and rip them into small shreds. He's such a little boy now and so mischievous. He'll crawl to a place where he knows he shouldn't be and then turn around and grin at me like "mama, I know you don't want me over here, but how far will you let me go??? " A woman today at Target had a baby that had to be no more than a month old in her baby carrier. It was all I could do to not go sniff that new baby smell from the top of her head and I kept thinking about how Luke was that small around a year ago. 

We haven't had the easiest week. Last Sunday, I was feeding Luke breakfast and when I turned my head back around, oatmeal just seemed to stream from his mouth. A LOT of oatmeal. I guess I'm not a great mom yet, because vomit still skeeves me out. I don't know if I'll ever get used to it, but I cleaned it up and prayed I had just overfed him. I hadn't. He proceeded to barf one more time that day and then another time that night in his crib. I've washed more laundry this week than I have in my entire life. He can't go to daycare within 24 hours of vomiting so I worked from home and planned on getting back to normal the next day. Except he started running a 102 degree fever. Just a bug, the doctor said. He should be back to normal soon. And then my tummy started doing the funny dance, and I thought "This isn't good." And it wasn't. It was terrible. Luke's fever kept on until Thursday and I finally started regaining some of my strength. Except, Luke's getting teeth. So even after the fever was gone, he was screaming, like up at 3:30 AM screaming and no consoling. We took many trips this week around Asheville in the middle of the night because that was the only way to rock him to sleep. That and a lot of Motrin. Today was no end of the teething miserableness although it was a little better. There were at least some smiles (especially since my mom and dad came down and played with Luke all day). 

As I type, Luke's already fallen asleep. He fell asleep before 7:00 tonight so I know that he is unwell and doesn't feel up to par. We did see today, though, the the first tooth has broken through on the bottom so I'm hoping that the pain associated with this will diminish soon. Poor little fella. It's hard being a baby.   











Monday, March 17, 2014

Trials & Tribulations of a Working Mom

Let me start off by saying that this post is in no way meant to argue that working moms have it harder than stay-at-home moms. Honestly, there is no argument. Both jobs are equally hard and there are some days I feel like I'm practically skipping out of daycare to get to work for a few hours of focusing on budgets and adult conversations. I know that stay at home moms don't have that luxury and their job lasts 24 hours a day, but for some reason I go through stages where I crave staying at home with Luke.

In November 2012, I was around 4 months pregnant. I know I felt like I was HUGE already, but now I'm not so sure everyone was aware that I was pregnant. I really can't remember, but anyways, it was just sinking in that we were having a baby, an actual little human being! We hadn't gotten too far into how we were going to handle me going back to work after he came, but I had crunched some numbers and at the job I had at the time, it really wasn't cost efficient for me to go back. Somewhere, deep in my heart, I was dancing around thinking "I'll get to stay home with my baby!!" 

And then one of the physicians I work with approached me about a position they were re-hiring for, one that I had wanted for a long time. She felt I should apply and I immediately rushed to my desk to fill out the appropriate paperwork to hit the ground running, temporarily forgetting the fact that I was pregnant. Jump ahead a little while and I got the job. There was a pay increase, just enough to cover the cost of daycare, plus a little extra. I took the job and was able to get settled in right before Luke was born. I took off the entire amount of maternity leave I was allowed and then started the baby in daycare and went back into the workforce.

It was hard to figure out a routine. Where we once had time to fix dinner and relax after work on the back porch, we were now washing bottles, bathing babies and crashing into bed around 9:00 because that was about as far as our energy would get us. I was running to and from daycare and work and the entire Western NC region. Dillon was up at 4:30 to work until 7:00 in the evenings and we were (and are some days still) stretched thin.  Many days I feel like I'm unable to give 100% to work or my family and feel like I'm doing poorly at each job. 

In October, when I had my wrist surgery, I almost convinced myself not to go back to work. Actually, I had convinced myself, it was the fact I hadn't convinced everyone around me. I cried even harder going back to work at that point than I had in July. 

And now, I don't know really why I'm having those feelings now. Maybe it's because Saturday, Dillon had to work and I had to care for Luke on my own. The evening before he had been super fussy so I wasn't too excited about caring for a fussy baby all on my own. But Saturday came, and he was happy. And we went shopping and had fun and I was able to clean my house while the baby napped (in his crib, for 2 hours! that NEVER happens!) and I thought about all the things that I could take care of home that never get done while I'm at work. Laundry would be done, floors cleaned, dinners made. Then today came, and Luke was sick (oh, the vomit. blech). And I worked from home and realized how difficult it is to juggle all of this. Trying to keep up with emails and feeding the baby, and then explaining the person calling that the reason there's a crying baby in the background. I thought just how easy it would be, if my complete focus could be on Luke. 

BUT. (Trust me, I'm not quitting my job. I love my job. I really do!) there are aspects of working that are fulfilling. I like focusing on projects that don't involve Elmo and the cast of Sesame Street. Plus, Luke loves his daycare. He loves his teacher, he loves his friends. I take him there every day and he wriggles up and down until we go inside and then he practically jumps into Mrs. Susan's arms. Without my job, there would be no vacations, no trips to the ball parks, no big birthday parties, no extra toys for Christmas. There would be no growing on our parts to begin letting Luke have some independence. There would be little adult conversation for me, we'd have to look for all the free activities our town has to offer because we wouldn't be able to afford to do much else. Dillon's job allows us to survive, but my extra income allows us to have fun. For now, I'll practice my juggling act and be thankful that I have a great husband who's a pretty good juggler too. 
Luke and I on Saturday... he's getting ready to walk. Whoa, boy. 

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Lola & Emma

A week before my 21st birthday, I "adopted" a little mutt terrier I named Lola. The previous year, my two family dogs had died within a day of each other which left a gaping hole in my heart. I know it sounds silly, but those dogs were my siblings, Buddy roamed the neighborhood with me and I took naps in the floor with Tinker. They were family and I was devastated. I had told Dillon that I really wanted to adopt a little dog to keep with me. He had said to wait until I moved to Asheville after graduation. Then I could look through the shelters and find my next dog. 
My roommate came into our apartment one evening and said that one of the models in the art department had found a small Yorkie terrier on the side of the road and was trying to find a home for it. We raced up the hill into the art studio and instead of the cute, perfectly manicured little pooch was Lola. A ragamuffin, malnourished dog whose upper coat of fur had fallen out because of not having enough to eat. I sat down next to her and she jumped on my lap and my heart was gone. I had to have her. The woman who found her would pay for Lola to be spayed and have her shots if I promised to give her a good home. I wouldn't set her free during the summer (something Radford students were known to do. Get a dog and then when the semester was over just let them go because they couldn't take them home with them). I promised to keep her forever and that's how Lola came to be mine. 
My mom was furious, Dillon wasn't too happy either. It was a big responsibility to take on in the last year of college. Mom thought that Lola would end up being at her house, but I wasn't about to give her up. Lola turned from a sad little dog into a feisty pup who didn't realize she weighs only 8 pounds. 
She claimed a place curled up next to me at night and moved with me to Asheville and even attended our wedding. She got away from us chasing squirrels, road on our lap with her head hanging out the window, has hid pancakes under our pillows and ate the cheese off the top of a pizza while we weren't looking. 
The spring after Dillon and I got married, we thought it might be good to get Lola a playmate. It was sad she was at home alone all day and another dog might make her a little friendlier (ahem.) That's how Emma came to be. I worked with a gentleman at Grove Park whose dog had a litter of puppies. We wanted a boy dog so there wouldn't be dominate issues and there was one boy dog left. We traveled out to his farm and the pups were a little bigger than what we wanted. Except the runt. She was a little girl who tried to keep up with the other dogs. Her name was "Magic" which we would change to Emma and her ears flopped over. Her black and brown coloring were too cute. Dillon was drawn to her and even though it's not what we expected, I carried her to our truck and she road in my lap on the way home. That first night away from her mama, she cried and cried. I slept on the couch with her sleeping on my chest. I felt so sorry for her. 
But she adjusted quickly. And ate my shoes. Not just chewed them up, literally ate them. She pooped in the house. Her ears became pointy and she would jump five feet in the air when we came home. This dog is spunky. 
These dogs were our "children." They would travel with us everywhere, they would go on hikes with us, we would buy them all kinds of toys (and yes, I've been known to buy clothes for them). And then came the baby. I found out I was pregnant and immediately worried how it would affect them. They had run of the house, Lola sleeps on our bed, would they hate the baby? We took the baby classes where we learned how to handle dogs and babies. Basically you never leave them alone together (duh.) 
And then Luke came along. Our dogs didn't quite know how to handle this screaming ball of flesh. They were ignored. No longer were they "top dog" of the house and I feel so very sad for them. 
It's been a hard adjustment, one that they're still not quite sure of. Luke chases them and laughs and they run with their tail in between their legs. We try to teach gentle touches to him and not to pull on their tails. Our hikes on trails have changed from leashes and water bottles for the pups to bottles and baby carriers. We refrain from taking them because it's just too difficult. 
Poor Lola has few years left. She's around 11 years old, and I think that maybe I need to focus on her a little bit more. Maybe a few more treats, a few more walks down the street. She's my doggie soulmate. I don't think that any other pup will hold the special spot in my heart that she does. 
Our dogs have taken it in the best stride they could, Emma even licks Luke's hands now and loves when he's in his highchair and feeds Emma puffs. Hopefully, as he grows our dogs will adjust even better and he'll have a best friend in his dogs the way I did in mine. 
Lola when I first got her. I had her groomed because she was so mangy looking. This was her first haircut.

Emma as a puppy...

Lola sniffing Luke. She still wasn't sure what to make of him.


Pre-baby. Sunday mornings were cuddle and play time for our doggies.

Lols coming in on the picture. There are no pictures of Luke & Emma. She's still wary of him.


Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Table Food Eater

In about a month, Luke will be given the free and clear to stop drinking formula and move forward with "real people" food and start taking whole milk. I've started trying to transition him to eating table food to make taking his "ba ba" a little easier. I'm not sure how this will all pan out because he LOVES his bottles. I can start making one and he kicks his little legs up and down and practically screams until you stick the bottle in his mouth. 

I've tried giving sippy cups, which he's ok with, but I think he just likes chewing the plastic on his sore gums. Nothing compares with that bottle. 

Anyways, he's eating a lot of stuff like a champ. He still has to eat soft foods as he doesn't have ANY teeth. None, nada, zip. Still gumming away on everything. Luke does like eating oatmeal for breakfast and we try and let him eat some of what we eat for dinner. Tonight he had some avocado and rinsed off chili (I was afraid it would be too spicy with all the sauce). He LOVES potato soup and chicken and dumplings, but let's be honest, who in their right mind doesn't like those things? It's getting easier because when we go out, we just order him a little side dish and he'll eat most of it. I don't know what I'll do when the bottles are stopped and we're not buying formula! 

This weekend we started getting stuff together for Luke's birthday party which is a little over a month from now. I've got some little party favors and decorations and a fun ball pit for the kids who get to come. To make it a little more fun for the adults, we'll have corn hole to play! Dillon will be working this Sunday afternoon on making our own corn hole boards. I can't believe this year has gone by so quickly. What a crazy, awesome ride. 

We're starting to get nice warm weather some days. Saturday we ate at White Duck Taco and enjoyed eating outside!

At the party supply store. Luke tried on different hats!

This one was my favorite!

We also found some super cute green Converse sneakers!

Luke's standing up on his own now and is almost walking. He doesn't sit still for anything so Sunday morning he was already peaking over the bed looking out the window.

See.. into everything

Tonight he showed off his "Ace Ventura" hairstyle. Lookin' good, kid.

Helping me clean the tub before bath time!