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Wow. A lot has changed with social media in the year and a half since I last wrote. Seems personal blogs have gone out of style unless you’re self-promoting the mess out of it for professional reasons. Course, a lot has changed for me as well.
Thinking I might start writing again. Probably a bit more of a broad focus though..we’ll see what shakes out. Thanks for following the path this long…
A bit more than eight years ago, CareerMom and I bought this crib. We went to Toys-R-Us, Babies-R-Us and every other R-Us derivative you can imagine. I think we ended up about 15 miles north of our house in some suburb of the suburbs, in a no-name strip mall containing a high-end baby store.
And thus the Bonavita “Carla” crib came into our home.
Two weeks ago, I dismantled it. Eight years and three kids later it’s finally done. And other than some dried, crusty milk between the vertical slats, it’s in pristine condition. None of my kids “teethed” on the rails. It’s bittersweet letting it go, but it was time Baby-Girl got her own big-girl bed.
Government safety laws prohibit the donation of cribs manufactured prior to 2010 due to some issue with drop-sides on pre-2010 cribs and even though ours doesn’t have a drop-side, we still can’t donate it. Which is a shame. You spend $1200 on a crib, you want to see it not end up in a dumpster somewhere. But I think we have a taker for it (for free). Hope it goes to another good home.
It started out as this noise back in the back of his throat–not unlike the sound made by the “Predator” (just like this guy does it). He would do it usually while concentrating on something else, so I’m not even sure he realized he was doing it. Background noise tends to really get on my nerves, so after a while, I’d start saying, “Aiden, please stop making that throat noise.” Career-Mom who is normally quite stoic around such things, even succumbed after a while.
It has progressed.
Today, it’s not uncommon to hear any number of things coming from him, pretty much anytime he’s awake:
- The Predator sound
- Throat clearing
- A combination of humming and gargling
This happens even when he’s eating. Imagine, if you will, a child with cereal in his mouth and humming at the same time.
Yesterday, I think I said, “Aiden, mouth noises!” at least 15 times and that was after ignoring it as long as I possibly could. I’m told that several of CareerMom’s nieces and nephews do the humming while eating thing, so I blame her naturally.
And at any rate, I only had facial ticks when I was a kid (like licking your lips so much that it created a half moon raw spot above and/or below your lips) rather than audible ticks.
Whatever the cause, clearly my fussing at him isn’t working. Here’s to hoping he outgrows it.
It seems that every generation gets a label these days. Kids in the early 20s now are called “Gen Y’ers” and they are the social media age. Apparently, they don’t have the same sense of entitlement that we Gen X’ers supposedly have, though I’m really not sure where that “entitlement” label came from. Gen Y’ers are also supposed to be more driven, crave positive feedback and generally don’t feel the need to slave 50 hours a week at a meaningless job (bully for them!). Interestingly, they also seem less familial-inclined, which is a stark departure from my generation.
But even though my world revolves around my family, I struggle with the line between parent and play-buddy. On the one hand, I look back on my own childhood–one where I was generally an only child and if there was playing to be done, it was usually done alone. My parents just weren’t involved. On the other hand, I don’t want the same for my own children, so I DO try to do things with them frequently and when you add in Career-Mom’s near-constant need to get out of the house and do something, it seems like we’re always on the go.
I struggle with this balance. For example today…we played outside with the kids for about an hour, then we took them down to the science museum. When we got home, they wanted me to ride bikes with them. Really? After everything we JUST did…?
So back to my quandry…I want to be with my kids and I don’t want them to look back on THEIR childhood–like I do mine–and feel like all their dad ever did was work around the house, but at the same time, I HAD my childhood already. Can I just enjoy my adulthood a bit? And can’t that mean that I don’t have to play with my kids and when I don’t, can I do it without guilt?
I’ll let you know how that works out. So far, I’m riddled with guilt.
There is a part of me that is both horrified, and gratified, by the knowledge that television is a big part of my kids’ lives. I honestly don’t know what my kids would do at the end of a long day without it…or what I would do without it.
There are days, that one or more of my children will come home from school or daycare, and pretty much watch TV from the moment we come in, through dinner, and until we put them to bed. Now granted, often that’s really only like, two hours, but still…right?
And as much as it makes me want to gag admitting this, there are many a day when I’m more than happy to relegate my parental obligations to our 46” family friend. He’s a good friend.
But I don’t know…Lord, I watched a lot of TV when I was a kid and I’m pretty OK. I get as much exercise as my schedule will allow. I don’t eschew my job, family or other responsibilities in favor of watching “my show.” So I don’t know…I guess as long as your kids aren’t lard-arses and when you do pull them away from the tube to interact with other people, they aren’t complete Asbergers, then it’s OK?
I Facebooked about a mid-life epiphany I had on the way to work this morning. I’m sitting there in my truck in bumper to bumper traffic less than a mile from my house. The sun is coming in my front window at an annoying angle so blindingly that it’s exacerbating an already ruthless rush hour. And as I’m sitting there, the thought runs through my head, “This is it? This is fricking it?”
I’ve had thoughts like this before, so this isn’t new, but they’re happening more frequently. And as these thoughts go through my head (today’s helped along by listening to Bryan Adams’ “Summer of 69” on the radio and pondering all the things that song COULD mean), I think back and realize that my whole life has been pretty blah.
Oh sure, I had flashes of brilliance—some really great girlfriends, the promise of adventure and travel in the military, some really great jobs that I blew off for one (perfectly valid) reason or the other. But in the end, instead of being “there,” I am here.
I accept partial blame. I’m NOT a risk-taker. I’m not a money spender. I’m comfortable being comfortable and that’s a dangerous thing to look back on when you’re in your late thirties and you see how rote your days have become. I’m SO looking forward to Christmas this year largely because it’s something to get excited about. Certainly dragging ass into the office isn’t doing it for me. My marriage is fine, if unexciting. My kids are full of excitement, but I just can’t keep up with them and everything else my boring life, house, job, marriage requires.
But, giving myself credit here, I have no hankering for a flashy red sports car, and while a mistress might spice things up for a while, I’m too averse to the risk that comes with that kind of dalliance.
As I write this, the responses to my Facebook post roll in and they run the gamut of, “Only you can change it,” to “unless you move to a farm and become self-sufficient…suck it up!”
Ah, the wisdom of the masses…