Brain atrophy

Do you ever feel like your brain is slowly wasting away?  As it if had atrophy?  Sometimes I truly believe this is happening to me.  Really!  I can recall times when I felt genuinely smarter than I do right now.  My vocabulary was greater, I remembered how to spell words, and did not second guess myself on diction and sentence structure.  There are people in this world (Warren) who remember most of what they learn and there are people who lose skills from not using them (me).  I can be quite studious when taking classes and score rather well, but I will not remember anything that I've learned unless I use those learned skills.  My sister barely pays attention in any class and still remembers everything.  I'm not sure exactly how that makes any sense.  Sometimes I think the theory of osmosis really works in her case because she falls asleep reading all the time.

And on to reading!  I used to read all the time.  Really.  I know it's strange sounding now.  I read the same books over and over in high school and still enjoyed them.  I read the books that I was supposed to read in college and enjoyed them, too.  No idea where that part of me went, but I rarely read anything for pleasure anymore.  I can't even remember the last book that I read purely for pleasure.  We had a game at church the other day and my question was "What is your favorite book", and the only books that popped into my head were books on autism or child-rearing for special needs children.  Seriously, in what world would those be considered a favorite book?  Those are mainly educational.  Now I could have said the Bible, but honestly, that kind of answer seems trite in church and not really realistic.  I would categorize that as more educational as well.  So much of me seems absorbed by gaining information that I seem to be losing information.  Does that make any sense at all?  It sometimes feels like my brain just can not hold any more information, so it decides to "brain dump" bits and pieces of knowledge along the way in order to make room for more.  If I could just learn to purge my brain of all useless knowledge... that would be fantastic. :)

New preschool

So six months ago I was scared to take Benjamin to preschool and here I've come full circle excited about taking him to a new one! We've decided to move him in attempts to avoid the transition drama this summer. This one will be closer to the house, but will obviously cost money since it is a private preschool. My time is definitely worth the money spent though, I must say. My time will especially be worth it this summer when our littlest lamb arrives. The whole evolution takes about two hours. Seriously, preschool is only three hours long. Oooh, and the best part- Benjamin finally gets to go to school in the morning and will have the ability to take an afternoon nap if needed/wanted. My goodness, we will be like normal preschoolers. What are we going to do with ourselves? I think that I might miss my Friday afternoon Mexican lunches, but I suppose I could keep him in extended care for an hour or so.... haha.

This preschool is completely mainstream, so wish us luck on that part. I think he'll do just fine.

baby bell pepper

Babycenter is such a wonderful invention to mothers who already have at least one child.  Before Benjamin was born, I used to paw over baby books and knew everything that was happening every week/month.  It was all so interesting!  It is still interesting, but I just don't have the time/energy to devote to reading about babies.  Babycenter will gladly send you an email (or ten) a day if you sign up, and some of them are very informational.  For instance, today I read that my baby is about the size of a bell pepper all tucked up.  Isn't that adorable?  Baby Bell.  We haven't come up with names yet, but I think that Bella is a cute name.  Too bad it's already the name of a pet in our family.  I doubt that Warren would go for that sort of thing anyway for a little boy since he is determined that is what we're having.  Not knowing is sort of fun, really.  

Snapshot of our day

I would love to own one of those toddler leashes cleverly disguised as a backpack. (Or rather NOT cleverly disguised.) I'm only half kidding. Do they come in a husky size?

Benjamin genuinely needs a nap most days of the week, but alas, afternoon preschool inhibits such nap. There are days when he passes out in the car on the way home and can then be transferred to bed if I'm lucky. So needless to say, when three o'clock rolls around and I'm there to pick him up at school, he is a *nightmare*. He falls apart the minute he sees me and turns into this terror toddler that I thought I'd never have. He runs through the hallways and refuses to hold my hand in the parking lot, which is extremely busy. I basically have to inflict pain on him because I'm holding his hand/arm so tight. He screams "NO, MY HAND" all the way to the car and makes me look like some sort of child abuser. I usually just laugh because the mere thought of people thinking that I abuse my child makes me hysterical. We are the ones who get the darted glances at a special preschool. The thought of that also makes me laugh. People with disabled children are looking at us, judging us, and are secretly grateful that they aren't in my shoes. The irony of that is just off the charts to me. (Although by definition Benjamin is disabled, we have never thought of him in that sense.)

It takes about five minutes from the time that I pick him up from his class to the time that he is safely belted in to get him back to his normal self. He's half asleep by the time I leave the street the school is on. Either that or he's so wired that he shrieks and laughs at the billboards all the way home. So this five minutes of hell getting to the car is a snapshot of our day that people see and probably expect to be my normal routine with him all day. It lead me to think about the snapshots that I witness as well throughout the day with strangers and even friends. I think we all judge snapshots a little too hastily, especially with our friends. We have even higher standards for our friends and their parenting skills than we do for strangers and we judge them way too often. It really is a constant battle for most people and if they tell you otherwise they probably aren't being honest with themselves. I think this judgment of our friends comes from disappointment in their parenting skills, but really, who are we to judge?

So, my snapshot at 3:00 has been the ultimate lesson learned that things aren't always what they seem.

My soapbox

This was posted last year. I still feel the same way as I did then. Sometimes it's nice to recycle.


Okay, brace yourselves for this one...I'll just admit it to all of you now, I love my kid. I enjoy being a parent. No, this is not some sort of weird mantra.

How about using that as a conversation starter as opposed to the usual phrases... and we all know what those phrases are so I won't be posting them here. Really think about what you say about your children. They are not miniature adults and should not be spoken about as such. Most people say nicer things about their pets than their children when asked.

If you think your children have bad attitudes, take a good long look at their surroundings. What do they see? What do they hear? If I've learned anything from Benjamin it's that his bad days are my bad days.

I've never said my days were easy with Benjamin... and I have done my share of complaining about his behaviors... but never once have I resented him and the time it takes to care for him. Being a stay at home parent is challenging for anyone from time to time. Learn to embrace those challenges instead of simply complaining about them.

So I just might be on top of my soapbox, but that's what a blog is for, right? It's your choice to read it. :)

It just isn't the same

I find myself checking my email 8,000 times a day.  8 something or other is usually my big number.  You know, the number that you say when you're stressing a point about how big something is, or how much something costs.  "If that house didn't cost 8 million dollars, I'd buy it."  That of course is just an example because I wouldn't even be allowed in a neighborhood that had houses of that caliber in it.  Not in Virginia anyway.  8 million dollars in California gets you a very nice condo, however.  They might let me at least look at the pictures of it.  Anyway, so email is a nice alternative to actually speaking, but it just isn't the same.


So Benjamin and I were very spoiled in 2009 for a Navy family.  Warren was home nearly every single night- actually, he was home every single night except for the month of January and even then he was only gone for four days.  I wouldn't say that year was an easy year for him work-wise, but he was home at night.  Maybe not home to eat dinner at a reasonable hour every night, but he was home.  I find myself wanting to tell him things all day long lately.  Texting is the joy of modern day technology.  Got something you want to say, but doesn't warrant a telephone call?  Text it!  That should be my new motto in life, I think.  Warren's phone will not receive texts in Haiti.  Oh yeah, he's in Haiti in case you didn't already know.  I find myself picking up my phone wanting to text him when I'm out taking Benjamin to school or running errands and something funny has happened.  Texting is another great alternative to speaking when you have the option, but it just isn't the same. 

So we sit and wait and try not to get sad because there are literally thousands of people in worse situations than what we currently have.  I mean really.  We have a house, we have two cars (paid for, woot woot!), and we have so much food it's probably sinful at times.  It's hard not to get sad though when Benjamin looks at a picture of Warren and says, "Daddy work.".  Benjamin never said that before Warren left because he just expected his Daddy to come home every night. 

It just isn't the same around here.

Honey, we lost the toys!

Wouldn't it be nice to lose some of the toys your children accumulate? I find myself picking up toys all day long in almost every room of the house. We bought Benjamin blocks because that is just what parents are supposed to do, right? We're supposed to encourage their block stacking skills. Something inside us makes us drive to the store and buy these awful, multiplying-on-their-own-at-night toys. We squeal with delight when our children learn to stack them! We certainly squeal later on as well when we're stepping all over them and almost break our necks falling down.

Oh, but to see the joy in your child's eye when he sees a number he recognizes on the block and brings it over to show you and shouts, "FOUR!" is ever so worth nearly breaking your neck.