Its Not Fair

For almost a year I have basically been an only parent. I have coped with my son's tantrums, soothed his nightmares, borne his crankiness, wiped his tears, read him books until hoarse, slaved in the kitchen to make healthy and delicious food only to have him throw it on the floor or smear it all over his face or both, I have changed hundreds of diapers, planned activities to the pool or park or a playground, let him play in mud, cleaned up his messes, and nursed him when sick with very little complaint. But I do have one major complaint that I must, well, complain about. I have yet to hear the most cherished word that I long to hear from my son's lips: Mommy.

IT IS NOT FAIR.

He says daddy. In fact, daddy is his favorite word. Several times a day James participates in what I call the daddy parade: he walks around the house pointing at all the pictures of Brigham saying "daddy" (this is said in a high voice with his voice rising an octave on "dy"). Don't get me wrong, I love the daddy parade. I especially love that the best way to interrupt a tantrum or stop him crying is to show James a picture of Brigham and ask him "Who's this?" He always brightens and says daddy. Then he wants to hold the picture and he looks at it so lovingly. This always gives me a bittersweet kind of relief, relief that it stops his crying, happiness that James knows his daddy and loves him but sadness that James misses him. I am not sad that James misses his daddy but sad that he has to miss him. When Brigham calls he says over and over "Daddy, daddy" while he talks to him.

(James is talking to his daddy)

But it is not this that I find unfair. No, what I find unfair is that on my birthday instead of hearing that cherished word "Mommy" James said "grandpa!" and then today, once again instead of "mommy" I heard "Grandma" and something that sounded like "Baba" which was directed at my sister Bobbi. That I find unfair. After only a few days in their company and he is saying their names while I, who has been with him nearly 24/7, remains unnamed by him. But I will try not to be bitter. However, if James has not said Mommy by the time Brigham comes home I will be absolutely devastated and will only be consoled by someone else doing the dishes for the next six months at the very least.

Deck the Halls

To say my mother loves to decorate for Christmas is an understatement. All of her decorations would completely fill my one of the bedrooms my house but only if all the furniture was moved out first! She has a big ‘Noel’ sign in the front yard in addition to a big lighted train on the other end of the yard, snowflakes hang down from trellis, Christmas bears adorn the bookcases, Christmas dolls sit a in their own sleigh near the front door which is adorn with wreath, several nativity sets are found throughout the house, the coffee table has four of the Hallmark singing snowman, Christmas throw blankets and pillows are on the couches, and Christmas nightlights light up the hall. It is amazing to see the house decorated in all its Christmas splendor. And she does not have all of her decoration out because of the James (a human wreaking ball waiting to happen).

(Christmas Nightlight)

Somehow, I did not receive the excess holiday decorating gene that mother passed on to my sister Liz. I love decorations when they are up but I it is too much effort on my part to put them up myself. But I wonder if that is more because I have always come to parents or Brigham's for Christmas instead of staying at my own house and the fact that I do not have anyplace to store decorations after Christmas. Not to mention having the aforementioned human wrecking ball. But yesterday, for the first time since I left for college, I arrived at my parent's house in time to decorate the Christmas tree. As I pulled the ornaments out of their boxes I took a trip through memory lane. There were the ornaments I remember my mother painting when I was 4 or 5, the homemade ornaments made by my grandfather’s cousin (she lived with my grandparents until she passed away so she is part of all my childhood memories), there were the ornaments made by me and my siblings in grade school, and then there are the vacation ornaments.

The vacation ornaments are a family tradition that originated with my family’s grand tour of United States (a five week trip in a minivan around the country) when I was twelve years old when my mother started collecting ornaments from the places we visited. As I uncovered these ornaments from their boxes I remembered that trip around the nation to the Tetons, Yellowstone, Mount Rushmore, Nauvoo, Niagara Falls, Washington DC, Walt Disney World, and the Alamo. Since that vacation my siblings and I have kept up the tradition, we all purchase ornaments to send to our parents when we travel someplace new. So I also unwrapped the Lladro dove representing a family vacation to Spain, a Boston Tea Party ornament from a trip my mom, sister and I took to Boston a few years before I moved there, a blown glass ornament from a trip my parents and I took to Venice, the Eskimo ornament I brought back from my trip Alaska to visit a friend, a kilted Santa my parents bought in Scotland, one from Puerto Rico my parents purchased while there for my brother’s wedding reception, and there was even an ornament from Charleston, SC where my husband and I spent our honeymoon. As I decorated the tree and remembered ornaments from my childhood and vacations we had taken, I realized that I wanted my children to have the same types of memories decorating for Christmas. So I will need to find a place to store Christmas decorations and find creative ways to make my own decorations with my children's help. Of course actually staying at my own home to celebrate Christmas for once might help motivate me to decorate.

Tonight I took James and Anna to visit Santa at a Santa’s village put on by a man who takes Christmas even more seriously than my mother. I have known this man and his wife since high school; I remember staying at his house for Youth conference one year. He and his wife piled the kitchen island with every kind of junk food and basically gave 15 young women the run of the house while he and his wife stayed in the guest house. Every year for the last 15 years he has turned his house into Santa’s Village complete with Santa and Mrs. Claus and invites anyone to come visit. People come from all over San Diego. Not only can kids sit on Santa’s lap, but every child can chose a toy from his bag. James was fascinated by the huge Merry Christmas clock and did not want to sit on Santa's lap. Anna had no such reservations. I was just happy that it was warm out (although all the people who actually live in San Diego thought it was cold).

3 Months already

I cannot believe that Anna is three months old today. It seems like she just joined my little family while at the same time I cannot imagine how I ever lived without her. She is so sweet and mellow. I thought James was an easy baby but she puts him to shame. I love her smiles, gurgles, and little laugh.

James and Jesus

James has a limited but growing vocabulary. For several weeks now he has been saying "Jesus" everytime he sees a depiction of the Savior. A few days ago he started saying his own name. The problem is that both James and Jesus start with a "J" and end with a "S" so that at times it is very difficult to figure out which name he is saying.

Christmas Lights

Tonight James, Anna and I along with Brigham's two sisters went to see the lights on Temple Square. James loved the lights and was quiet pleased to have both Aunt Amanda and Aunt Rachel showering him with attention, chasing him around, and swinging him between them as they walked. I am extermely grateful they were there to chase him around otherwise I am sure I would have lost him or had a very grumpy boy stuck inside a stroller. Brigham will be happy to finally see pictures of me with James and Anna.

Alone

Being alone has never really bothered me, I actually like it, especially when my children are asleep. And I can handle loneliness, or so I thought. But there is nothing more lonely then packing a box to mail with a Christmas present to mail to my husband because he will not be with me on Christmas, or my birthday four days before Christmas or our anniversary three days after Christmas. At least when my daughter was born he was on the phone with me. But to think of spending those three days without him... Oh, we will talk on the phone but it is not the same. And I know that it will be worse for him. I at least have the children to hug and play with while he has an M-16 in a country far far away and then I think of everything that he has missed: our sons first steps, his first birthday, watching him grow and learn everyday, physically being there for the birth of our daughter, not holding her until she was three weeks old and not being able to hold her again until she will be six months old. I could go on but it makes me cry.

The Joys of Dirt

Since having a child, I have noted a sad lack of parks in the area we live. And the ones that are nearby (closest is a 1/2 mile walk across two busy streets) are, quite frankly, pathetic. Over the past two months I have also noticed that not one park in a 15 mile radius have a sandbox. What is a childhood without sandboxes? And what is a mother with a son devoted to sand and dirt to do? Answer: improvise. In our backyard there are three garden boxes. We have planted in two of them and left the third empty due to the poor yield of that box last year. Today I cleaned up that bed, turned over the dirt, sprinkled so water on it and placed my son inside. He was overjoyed to have his very own dirt/mud box and he had so much fun (and did not try to pull up my cabbages) that I did not mind the mud cover toddler that resulted.

Domestication

In the two years that I have been married, I have found myself becoming more and more domestic (having children increases it more). During my single years I was perfectly content to eat a quick meal, sometimes just toast and a can of green beans and pick up whatever looked good at the grocery store or just grab something to go. But that would not satisfy my husband. So now I plan weekly menus, make shopping lists, cook full dinners, clean the house almost every day, and make jam. Yes, I make my own jam. It started about a year ago when the apricot tree in our backyard exploded with fruit. My husband picked them and taught me how to make jam (he comes from a large family where making jam and canning food from the garden was an annual event). A few months later the plum tree came into production and my husband's aunt gave us three bushels of apples from her tree. With his help, we make plum jam, apple sauce, apple butter, and plum apple butter. Then yesterday I, on my own, made strawberry jam and I am contemplating make raspberry as well. I really don't like jam all that much. I rarely put it on toast or make PBJ sandwiches. But my husband can go through a jar of jam a week. It make economic sense to make my own. I just never thought that I would. But I have to admit that homemade jam tastes a whole lot better than store bought.

Importance of housework

I am usually very good about keeping my house clean, a task made much easier with my husband deployed. For some reason my housework doubles when he is home but I have to say I perfer more housework to him being gone. Now I do most of the housework after my son goes to bed. It usually takes less then an hour and I am very diligent, the toys are put away, the floor vacuum, dishes washed and put away, bathroom cleaned, clothes folded and put away, and the furniture dusted. I don't all those things every day except the dishes and the toys but rotate them through the week so that everything is done at least once a week. Everything but mopping the kitchen floor. I hate to mop. It does not take long but it is the thought of having to move everything off the floor, mop, let it dry, then return everything to the kitchen. If I am being good it gets mopped once a month. But then my son let me know the floor needs to be mopped once if not twice a week: he wants to eat off it.

Into the toy chest

My son has been driving me nuts this morning. He has been whinny and clingy. I know he has a cold but I have been morning sick for the last 3 weeks and each day the nausea increases. Carrying around a heavy 10 month old (as cute as he is) has not made it any better. But then he does something incrediable cute like climb into his toy chest and play with the stuffed animals and other toys that surround him and start laughing.