Harrisenism...

With school having crunched into my hang-around-the-house time in the mornings, many times over the past two months, I have been on the road to class before Harrisen climbed out of bed. I've shouldered my fair share of mommy-guilt over my absence, but it's all worked out pretty well. Daddy rocks the breakfast. He uses a lot more syrup than I do.

This morning, Harrisen rolls out of bed (our bed. At some point each night, he ends up between us. Co-sleeping really stuck with that kid.) He, with his mess of tousled curls and flushed sheet-lined cheeks, bee-lines to me standing in the kitchen and gleefully says:

H: "Mommy! I am so happy you are here this morning!"
M: "I'm so happy you are here this morning, Harrisen!"
H: "Are you kidding me? I'm always here when I wake up."

Life as I know it.

I was talking to a new friend tonight about life, and most particularly, family life...about the absolute power of the love of a child, and how it transforms your whole existance, and how there really aren't words to describe the love you feel when you create a human being of your own (with a little help from God, of course.) It's all consuming.

I have loved the newness of mommyhood so very much. I have dedicated my life to being a mother, from the moment we threw the birth control pills away, almost seven years ago. It seemed like such a small, natural step. One that millions of people take every year, when they hitch up their big girl panties and decide to take the plunge into parenthood. I couldn't know. How could I have known? That that small act of faith would turn into a more than two year odyssey through infertility, surgery, needles, tests, and the rollercoaster of hope and tragedy, far to close on each other's heels.

Sitting amist the chaos of family life, with scattered toys and piled laundry, with my one high- tech baby and my wonderfully "free" baby (neither more a miracle than the other), sleeping blissfully in their beds, that rollercoaster seems to belong to someone else's life. It seem so very far away, and doesn't even seem to make much sense when one sees the fecundity of our present. But just touching on the story with someone who doesn't know reminds me of the unseen part. Nothing is as it appears. If you get to know someone well enough, you will see that very little is how it seems.

Just as I hesitated before jumping into parenting (almost 7 months...past when my dear husband was ready-to-go....so arbitrary, looking back...) I hesitate to let it the intensity of baby-parenting go. I realize that my children are separating from me. Their independence grows each day, and I am reminded of Scot's mantra: "Our only job is to make them independent." Now, there are tons of cliches, (some even written on t-shirts) that deal with parents letting go. I'm sure they all have merit. But when you are loosening your grip on what has defined you for almost a decade, cliches ring a bit hollow. I wouldn't have made it through infertility if it hadn't been for my tenacity. Now, I battle that same tenacity as I try to pry the "me" out of mommy.

I want to find out who I am again, outside of being defined by my role as a parent. Just lately, I am remembering that I am a performer. A singer. An actress, and some might even say, a bit of a diva. That feels good. Familiar. Comfortable. Like putting on an old coat and finding that it still fits. I'm also a student. And, as in the past, still a darned good one.

As I grow along with my children, I marvel at my ability to wear different hats, and how liberating that feels. To stay up late rehearsing a show, but come home just a little too fast down the interstate, hoping to make it in time for tucking in. Is this what is meant by balance? I always scoffed at the idea. I guess I wasn't ready. I wanted and needed to do nothing but mommy my children after fighting so hard for them. But, as they grow and life adapts, I embrace balance. It's ok. It's healthy. Keep reminding me of that, ok?

Big girl.

I gotta come to grips with it. Evangeline is growing up. Last weekend, mostly out of sheer laziness, I refused to go to the drawer in the kitchen to get her a fresh binky for bedtime. I told her, "Sorry, honey, you are a big girl, and we need to say bye-bye to the binky." Rip off the band-aid, ya know? She whined a little...and fussed a little...and I had to pat her to sleep, and we darned near wore out 4 expensive D cells in the birdie projector, but she slept almost through the night. Amazement reigned.

She hasn't mentioned the binky again. I have mentioned it from time to time, while bragging to other people that she gave it up, which seems to remind her, but she's ok. She's basically sleeping through the night, which she was not doing before. I'm getting rest. It's bliss.

All of the sudden, she's into the pink potty, too. I think she's in the spirit, what with her successful run being binky-free and all. She wants to sit on it all. the. time. The other night I heard Harrisen in there cheering for her, which I almost ignored except for the fact that it sounded so very sincere. Sure enough, tee tee in the pink potty! I think I scared her a little with my "potty dance". Harrisen used to dig it, but I think Evangeline expected me to be a little more lady-like for her celebration. She basically looked at me like I was a freak. If she had the verbage, I'm sure she would have said, "ummmmkay. That was nice mom. Let's stop the embarrassment for both of us and get to the chocolate." She certainly did appreciate wholeheartedly the candy she received as a reward. She has a wicked sweet tooth.

I'm not as sad as I though I would be with these milestones flashing by like highway signs at 80mph. You would think I would be rather melancholy for what is likely my last child ever, moving past the baby stage I so adore, and would do over and over again if I could. Maybe it's because I've seen what's round the bend, and it's an awful lot of fun. T-ball. Real conversations. Help with the laundry and letting the dog out.

Wonder what Evangeline's "isms" will end up as on this blog? Time will tell. As for now, I'm really proud of our big girl.

Harrisenism...

After Mass today, I went to the church nursery to pick up the children.   They were finishing up M&M cookies.  At 12 noon.  I can't STAND when they feed my kids chocolate, in the church clothes, right at lunch time. But that's a whole 'nother post.

As I was brushing away the offending crumbs, I noticed Harrisen had crumbs on his eyes, in his eyebrows, and all the way up on his forehead.

K: "Harrisen, how on earth did you get cookie crumbs on your eyes?"

H: "I was eating a cookie."

K:  "With your eyes?"

H: *pause* "Well, maybe the crumbs came to life and walked up my face."

Guess I deserved it, what with my smartass comment and all. 

Harrisenism...

Harrisen and his Daddy are snuggling on the couch...

H: "Daddy, if I didn't have you, I'd have a butler...but I prefer you."

Run, Mama, Run.

About 13 years ago, I was an avid runner. I ran 3 miles every morning and three miles every evening.  I was in the best cardiovascular shape of my life.  Emotional and mental shape was pretty iffy, but I had a buff bod.

Fast forward a decade. I had two babies in the span of less than two years...that's two pregnancies, two deliveries, and two babies nursing for going on 4 years now, nonstop....well, my body is now torturing me back.  I feel heavy, lumpy and definitely too mommy-ish for my brain, which is still stuck somewhere back 10 years ago when I was a hot babe. Let me tell ya, it sucks to be a hot babe in your head and a soccer mom below the neck.

Thanks to the motivation of an upcoming 5K for an excellent cause, and the support of my goody goody gumdrop friends, I am pounding the pavement again, and loving it.  I'm up to running about 20 minutes at a stretch now, in just 3 and a half weeks.  I think my body remembered. My mind sure does. I am loving the feeling of peace you get when your mind just blanks out and you are thinking of nothing but the rhythm of your feet and your breathing. It's pretty zen. 

The first week, I felt really HEAVY.  Like someone was holding onto my heiney while I ran. I didn't have to turn around and look to figure out that the only thing clinging to my ass was my ass itself. *sigh* Baby steps, right?  

So, hopefully by the time I fly to Buffalo to race in September, I will be closer to physically embracing my inner babe.  But more than just getting my body back, I feel like I am reclaiming a part of me that has been shelved for a few years. The selfish part of me.  The part that says, "It's ok to take an hour for yourself to workout and eat some of the expensive strawberries."  

It's easy to be selfless when you are a mom. It doesn't even seem like a sacrifice to sacrifice. But it sure does feel nice to take yourself off of the back burner for just a little while each day. I'm a better mom for it, I think.

Time Flies...

I could make up a bunch of excuses as to why I haven't blogged in months, but I'll save myself the embarrassment. I just got busy. Anyway, time sure flies, doesn't it?

Just the other day I was listening to Evangeline's sweet little lisping voice, thinking...I need to record that. I'll miss that some day, because before long, she won't sound like that, and I don't ever want to forget the way she says "Yesssss."

Harrisen always said, "Yeah." or "Yep". Like a little grown man in a baby boy's body. Evangeline, since the beginning of her verbal stage, has answered in the affirmative with a polite, proper and succinct, "Yesssss." She often punctuates her one word affirmation with a curt little nod, and big wide eyes, to prove she is sincere. It's so stinkin' adorable I can hardly stand it. I didn't even insist of "yesssssss....ma'am" because it was so HER.

Soooo....as fleeting time would have it, the very DAY after I made a mental note of the probability of the transitive nature of her signature phrase, she answers me with an almost teen-sounding, "Yeah." Dull. Flat. Almost petulant. Boo Hiss. I tried to correct her.

"Evangeline, it's Yessssss".
"No, Mommy."
"Can you say, Yessssss?"
"No, Mommy."
"Fine. Then you have to say, 'Yes, Ma'am' ".

So there. Like I really won that one, huh? *sigh*

There are other things she does when she speaks that are memorable to me, and very much "signature" phrases. For example, she punctuates her conversations by tacking your name on the end of each sentence. "
"No, no milk, Daddy."
"Watch Street, Mommy."
"Sit down, Hessin."

I really like her compliant side. She can be very penitant if you are lecturing her...and make you believe it. She does it with a simple, "Ok".

"Evangeline, you cannot bite your brother. It's not nice. Teeth are for chewing food."
*ducks head and musters up tears in her eyes...*
"Ok, mommy..." except it sounds like "eehhhkaaay, mawmeee.." and man, do I feel like the big bad wolf. But I can't seem to shake the feeling that she just might be manipulating me with those long lashes and big eyes.

She is also a big fan of "Hee go."

Find trash on the floor? "Hee-go, Mommy".
Sharing with brother? "Hee-go, Hessin".
Wanting wait-service for her half-finished dinner plate? She just lifts it up and says "Hee-go!" to anyone nearby. It's so dismissive. Kinda like, "Well, I'm all done with this...someone please take it away. Be gone." What a diva. Wonder where she gets that?

She really is poised on the edge of a language explosion. I'm not ready for it. I'm not ready for my baby to grow up. I'm not ready to know everything going on in her head...spilled out like closed captioning, underscoring our lives. I like her mystery. I like trying to figure her out. I'm trying to savor every last minute of it, because I know that before long, the day will come when I beg her to stop talking....BEG her for a moment of peace from the constant questions and running narrative that are so familiar to me, being the mom of an almost-four-year-old.

"You're gonna miss this...."