Resilient

Yesterday, while eating dinner on my patio for the first time in so long, I was thinking about the past year and all that has changed. I wasn't thinking about how it has changed for me or for my husband. I was looking at my beautiful little boy, and thinking about how life has changed for him. Ben and I are both happy. But is Isaac?

Isaac was pushing 2 and 1/2 this time last year, when I pack up our lives and uprooted him to Ohio. I took him away from his daycare and his friends. I took him from his Aunties. I took him from his familiar surroundings, the only home he had ever known, even if it was such a short time. I put him in a car and drove away from our lives in California, where we had been happy.

When we got to Ohio, we were in a new house, that was unfamiliar. His crib was the only thing to break in the cross-country move. The $30 Walmart bookcase made it, but the $400 crib didn't. He was put into an unfamiliar bed in a new room. He started a new daycare with new people. He got a new puppy.

His surroundings were not the only thing to change. His daily routine was severely impacted. He went from having mommy time from the moment I picked him up after work, to having playtime by himself. My life was so different in terms of work and schedule, and he took the brunt of it. I thrive on being busy and pressure, but Isaac thrived on me. Isaac saw a new persona in me. Additionally, he had daddy around more. In California, it was me and Isaac. Ben worked so much, that Isaac believed his daddy lived in the computer for 5 days since he only saw him on Skype. He was suddenly surrounded by people he had only seen a few times before in his life.

Then we started potty trained. He lost the comfort of diapers. His friends started moving up to the next daycare class and he would tell me that he missed them. For the first time, I took him somewhere with me where he wasn't with me, but watched by someone else. And then we moved again, to a new house. At the end of this month, he will move in preschool, where his daily routine will be changed again, and he will have new expectations.

Life has changed so radically in the past year for him. Good changes, in my opinion. But he is so young, and I have to wonder how it has impacted him and what he thinks of it. Are any of these changes responsible for the way he acts? You always hear that children and resilient and that they bounce back quickly from things. But how resilient is he? Is there a tipping point? I also hear that children need stability and routine. They need consistency. Has he had enough of that?

We made these changes to give Isaac a better life in the long run. Our lives individually are so much better, that it makes us a happier family. I just wonder if Isaac is happy. Is his life better than what it was in California? Did we move him too soon? Too late? Change too much, too fast? How is he coping? Does he know what has changed? Does he expect more change? Does he even remember what his life was like?

I love my little boy more than anything else in this world. I would give up everything and anything to ensure his happiness and stability. I want his life to be wonderful and full. I don't want him to feel insecure or unstable. For the past year, I have fought with emotions that make me want to change his life back to a time when I knew he was happy. I am not saying I don't know if he's happy. He is happy.

We moved because we knew we would be happier. Ben and I are. But is Isaac happier?

Home Is Where the Heart Is...As Long As There Is Carpet There, Too

This time last year, I was surrounded by boxes, trash bags, and laundry baskets piled high with crap as we moved from California to Ohio. And here I sit again, amid piles of stuff, wondering why the hell we  moved AGAIN even it it was just 4 blocks from where we landed last year.

Then I look at the back yard that has Luna and Isaac running around and splashing through his pool.

We finally moved HOME. It feels like we are home.

I really liked the house we moved into last year. It was adorable. But we rented it unseen, and it just wasn't home.

It got me thinking about all the different places we have lived in the past 10ish years. Only one other place really felt like home. Funnily enough, Ben and I were talking about this the other night, and we both felt the same. The only other place that felt like home was our apartment in Sonoma.

I don't know what it is about this house and that apartment that made them have a different feeling. Isaac was never in Sonoma with us, and the house we all lived in together in California was lovely (kind of Dr Seuss-y, but still lovely). The only thing these two place really have in common is carpet. They were both fully carpeted. Well, and they had laundry rooms in the actual living space so I didn't have to  venture outside or down into a creepy basement to have clean clothes.

What is it about the carpet that makes us feel home? Neither of us grew up in carpeted homes. I can't tell you why this house gives me this feeling, but it does. WE ARE HOME. And we couldn't be happier.

Heart and Soul

It’s been almost a year since Ben, Isaac and I packed up our lives in California and headed back to Ohio. As I have said time and time again, we didn’t choose to leave because we were unhappy with our life, our house, our jobs. We chose to make this move because we knew that there was a life waiting that would make us happier. And after almost 12 months, it rings true that this was ultimately the best decision, because we truly are happier.

Earlier this month, I went back to California to watch one of my best friends, G, get married. The weeks leading up to the trip were so busy as I was prepping for the first part of my dissertation research, and searching for a new rental house for us. I barely had time to try on my bridesmaid dress before I was in the DTW terminal boarding my it’s- too- early -and -the -sun -isn’t -even -up -how -can -the -pilot -see -to -fly -the -plane flight. After plowing through the first book of the Fifty Shades series, I lifted my eyes to see my beautiful City by the Bay rapidly approaching as the plane got ready to land. My heart jumped in a million directions.

I was nervous. I was scared, not of being back in California, but of leaving this place, this time in my life, yet again. Everything was the same as I had left it, but everything was different. The lives of all the beloved people I had left behind had continued and moved past the 8 years that I spent in them. My friends were still my friends, but I hadn’t seen them in almost a year. It broke my heart at the thought of leaving them again, not knowing when I would be back to see them or at what stage of our lives we would be in. The bottom line was and always would be that I wouldn’t ever know anything except that everything would have changed without me. Every time I left, I would come back to something different in the same place. This was the same as it was when we would visit Ohio during our California chapter: HEARTBREAKING.

The wedding was beautiful. The time I spent celebrating this amazing time in G’s life was more than I ever could have asked to be blessed with. Tuesday morning came too fast, and before the trip had even seemed to begin, it was over. I didn’t get to see everyone I wanted to see, do everything I wanted to do, eat everywhere I wanted to eat. There just wasn’t enough time. It reminded me, again, of all the Ohio trips, when we thought about “missing” our plane back.

I love my life in Ohio. I love my family. I love being close to them. I love my friends, old and new, that live so close to me. I love my program, and being in science again, the science that I thrive on. I love what my husband and I have become living here. My heart lives in Ohio. I know that deep down, as much as I loved California, that it is no longer my home and only a place that I will visit. But it’s where my soul lives. There are days that I can’t believe that I can’t be at the ocean, standing on the beach with little Boo running through waves.

My heart and soul live in different places. And they have for 9 years.  

Book Club

Throughout my life and travels, I have been extremely fortunate in making friends. I tend to be outgoing and talkative, so I have never had a problem meeting people. No matter where I have lived, I made amazing friends who have changed and impacted my life in so many ways. When I left California, I left wonderful friends and it broke my heart. The 8 years that I was living there allowed me to establish bonds with a handful of people that are forever in my heart. I miss them every single day, and the good times we spent together. My friends were also a huge part of Isaac's life and it broke my heart to take him away from them as well.

Since I grew up in Ohio, I have close friends that have remained in the area. I knew I had friends, but I was a little worried about starting grad school again, being older and "non-traidtional" and all. I was afraid I would be worlds apart from everyone else and not be able to relate to anyone. I was only slightly less than terrified to be back in BG period. I was scared to face what I ran away from. And I was afraid I would be doing alone.

I was so wrong.

S and J have been the best friends I could have hoped to make in BG. They love my little Boo Bear and he loves them. They have kept me sane and made the transition into this new life so much smoother. One of the biggest parts of this has been our Tuesday nights. It's book club night. Except with wine. And without books.

Almost every Tuesday night we have managed to get together, whether it be for grading papers, people watching, studying for ambiguous quizzes, or just to hang out and enjoy wine and Jeni's ice cream. Recently it has been dancing games. Regardless of what we do, its a few hours each week that I have looked forward to and gotten me out of my life of being a mother and wife, and just being a grad student hanging out with her friends. My husband respects this. And so does my grandma. She got me this for my birthday:

She told me that it was for book club. And that it was plastic so I wouldn't break it when I read too much. Yep.

It makes my heart smile. And so do my gals. :)

And So It Begins...

I'm talking about the fundraising era.

When I picked Boo up from daycare on Friday, there was a big white envelope in his cubby. This white envelope contained none other than a Otis Spunkmeyer cookie pamphlet and an order sheet for the $16 cookie dough tubs. Also included was a letter about prizes and such

Sigh.

My competitive nature says GAME FACE ON. And I'm totally for the fundraising thing. In fact, I'm quite good at it.

Here's the thing.

Is this technically my fundraiser? Or Isaac's? Because let's face it, he's three and unable to ask people to buy the overpriced cookie dough (sorry Spunkmeyer, but you know it's true). It's basically me asking people to buy them. Which, meh. I'm just not seeing the point.

I pay his tuition. I provide food for parties. I buy school pictures. Why do we need a fundraiser for daycare, anyway?

15 more years of this...that's alot of cookie dough and wrapping paper.

Committment

I try really hard to leave school at school so that when I am at home, I can be AT HOME. It doesn't work. Somehow, I end up bringing something home. Especially now, this close to the end of the semester. I understand it, and so does Ben. The person that doesn't is Isaac Boo.

About this time last semester, Isaac wanted to watch Cars. I put in on for him, and then he told me that he wanted to watch  "Mater and the Ghostlight" which is a 7 minute Pixar short that is included on the disc. I was tired and had a bunch of work to do. I told him no because I didn't want to have to wait for it to finish so I could start the actual movie. He cried and asked again. I told him no again.

And then Ben came in and asked what the problem was. I told him and he said he would lay with him while he watched it and start the movie after. I went downstairs to start the dishes.

And to start crying.

I had just flipped out and told my son that I didn't have time to watch a 7 minute movie with him. 7 minutes. What kind of mother doesn't have 7 minutes for her son?

When we lived in California, it was Isaac and me a lot of the time. I took him to the park to feed the ducks all the time. I took him to swing. I took him to see the big trucks. We played ball-in-tree. I miss those times. We got used to it, both of us.

We made big sacrifices moving back here, that we were fully aware of. We knew what we would be giving up and what we stood to gain. The person that was not aware of those sacrifices was Isaac Boo. We were prepared but he wasn't.

There comes a time that enough becomes enough, that sacrifices become to great. What was more important to me, a clean sink or 7 minutes with my son? A letter grade or a walk to the park? I had to start drawing lines and rebalancing. Something wasn't working.

This degree, my studies, my research are all so very very important to me. But not more so than my beautiful baby boo.

I decided that no matter what my schedule, no matter was due, no matter what the day or how late we got home, Isaac was going to get one hour of solid, undistracted, mommy time.

It works for both of us.

We do puzzles. We read books. We color. We take Luna to the park. We make blanket forts and watch Bambi.

It's perfect. And although I might have to give up some sleep or some cleanliness. I don't care if my house is clean. I don't care if I have dark circles under my eyes. I don't care if I get a B instead of an A (ok, I kinda do because I am total type A, but I can deal, or at least I am learning to). My baby is only my baby once. He's only 3 once. And while I won't remember what I got on the GIS test in a decade or so, I will however, remember this time with Isaac when he sings the Bumblebee song to me.

This commitment to him is the easiest one I have ever had to make. It's a commitment that is hard to keep sometimes, but is the easiest to try for.

A Three Year-Old Is the Best Birth Control EVER

At least mine is.

Before I say anything else, I LOVE MY SON MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD AND I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM.

However, he's driving me insane. His second year, the "terrible two's" were relatively uneventful. We skated through that year. There were occasional fits and tantrums. And then he turned three. Still not a big fuss.

Last month someone flipped a switch and replaced my little boy with a POSSESSED CHILD.

It's hard. And trying. There's alot of crying by him and me.. He's pushing buttons and limits. He's throwing fits. It's like walking on eggshells. Sometimes when I do give him exactly what he wants, I don't give it to him HOW he wants it. Like milk with one ice cube in the orange cup with no lid. God help me if I don't get a portion of the request correct. Sometimes it's just easier to give him what he wants. Others I fight him on. I mean, that what parenting is, right? Making your kids hate you and feeling guilty about it?

The other night I asked Isaac what he wanted for dinner. He said he wanted a hot dog. "Two ones" to be exact. I said that he could eat one and then have another if he finished it all. He came back a few seconds later to ask for the second one. I asked where the hot dog went. "I gave it to Luna." Sigh.

This proceeded to happen with the subsequent grilled cheese. And green beans.

Finally, he seemed really excited to eat taquitos. I let him put them on the tray and put them in the oven. He watched them heat up through the oven door.

And then he bit into one, decided it was too hot, inedible and gave it to Luna. (Note: at this point Luna has had a lovely dinner of hot dogs, grilled cheese, green beans, and a taquito. Isaac has eaten NOTHING.) I told him if he didn't eat the taquitos he would get a time out. He fed Luna another one. To the time out chair we went. He started crying. And saying he wanted his taquitos. So I brought him one, which he proceeded to throw at me. Score another one for Luna. I knelt down to give him a stern lecture, and HE KICKED ME IN THE FACE. He got spanked. Put in the bathtub, into pjs, and sent to bed with no dinner.

By the time he got sent to bed, he was no longer upset. He called out to me about 20 minutes after I had tucked him in. "Mama! I'm hungry!"

This is where my heart started to break. I was torn between my motherly instinct to feed my hungry, crying baby and sticking to my guns to prove a point. A point that I wasn't even sure he was old enough to understand. He came downstairs, crying and I held strong. He went back up to his room and I could hear him crying and saying he was hungry. By the time Ben got home, he was quiet and I was the one crying.

What was I supposed to do? Ben talked to him. Told him what he did was bad and he couldn't behave that way. We eventually caved and gave him goldfish pretzels and cheese.

This scenario, along with others and the overall attitude of my child these days, has made me understand why people either space their children out by more than 3 years or have more before the first hits 3. It's mentally, emotionally, and physically EXHAUSTING. I am so drained, I have absolutely no desire to even think about having another child until Isaac is well past this age.