TheMommyBlog

Saturday, September 20, 2003 Family

While I was gone, I called every day to talk to the kids. Despite their launching themselves at my ankles to keep me from leaving in the first place, they seemed to have lost all interest in further contact once I’d pulled away from the curb. Dylan and Daphne refused to come to the phone, and Logan, after several entreaties, held the phone in the vicinity of his face and said, “Mommy, I’m starting to forget about you.”

“Forget about me? Why?”

“I’m just doing too much stuff.”

Fortunately, that all changed when I walked in the door last night at 9 pm. They all came tumbling down the hall in various stages between jammies and nudity and tackled me in the foyer. Dylan patted my disheveled strands flopping more out than in my hairband and said, “Mommy, your hair looks good!” We hugged and kissed on the floor and then moved the party to the beds. Daphne was out like a light as soon as I lay down with her, and the boys insisted on coming to our bed, where they went slack-jawed and drooly about five minutes later. My heart was creaking, I was so happy.

I made a little mental collection of all the things they couldn’t wait to tell me once I was home:

“I missed you so much.”

“Your clothes look really nice.”

“Don’t forget to put on your jammies.”

“I love you because you’re home.”

“Mommy, will you read my book with me in my bed?”

“Mommy, will you read it again?”

“I love you because you’re happy.”

“Please don’t go away again.”

“I hope you don’t go away again and never come back.”

“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.” (It was Saturday anyway.)

“I want mama.”

“Mommy, do you have mama? And do I have owies?”

“Did you have a good time on the airplane?”

Me: “I’m so glad to be home, because home is great.” Dylan: ”Yeah.”

Monday, September 15, 2003 Travel

I’m heading to NY in the morning for a software conference. Yay! I get to sleep alone! And eat whatever I want! And not have to share! My good friend Bitty is coming too, to see the sights while I’m at the conference. (And sleep alone, and eat whatever she wants, and not share.)

This is the first time I’ve ever been away from Daphne, and months since I’ve been away from the boys. Logan is already rehearsing melodramatic goodbyes and telling me how much he’ll miss me, then covering me with prolonged hugs and many kisses, ending by turning away sadly, eyes on the ground: “I’ll miss you too, too much.”

Dylan just responds by saying, “Can you get on the plane now?”

“Not yet, hon. In three days.”

“Can you get on the plane now?”

“No. On Tuesday.”

“"NOW?"

“Let’s go play Leggos.”

“OK.”

Sunday, September 14, 2003 Family

This morning, we had our usual puppy-pile in bed when everyone woke up. Everyone was happily snuggled under the comforter, one child on either side of me and one on top. After a while Logan said, “Mommy, last night I got to sleep closer to Dylan.”

“Really? Did you sleep in the same bed?”

“No, but I had a part of him in my bed.”

Think about that. Do you really ever want to hear those words from one of your children? Can you help wondering with horror what you might see if you turn your head--that your youngest son’s ear was missing, or a finger, or bad enough in its own way, most of his hair?

“....[carefully]..What part was that?”

“His blood.”

That does it. I whipped off the covers and examined my 3 year old. Nothing. He looks fine. He looks happy, even. And calm.

“Where exactly did his blood come from, Sweetie?”

“Oh, just his boo boo. He got a cut on his foot and it was bleeding a little and got on my sheets, and Daddy said that it was part of him, so I got to sleep closer to him last night.”

Thursday, September 11, 2003 Weblogs

I Love Loobylu! I found her site through alex’s site, and have gone on from there to find lots of creative blogging and design ideas. It’s also where I first heard of TypePad, our new home.

Thursday, September 11, 2003 Family

Dylan hates going to preschool. Dreads it. Stays in bed, refusing to get up, and when finally carried into the kitchen for breakfast, embarks on a ferverent campaign to be allowed instead to watch a movie curled up in a blanket on the couch with goldfish and juice. After a while, it starts to sound good even to me, and I have to shake myself out of it and help him get dressed. The most heartbreaking thing is that at 3, he is able to describe things vividly.

“Mommy, I don’t want to go to school, because if I go to school, I will be sad. I want to stay here in Mommy and Daddy’s house, in Mommy and Daddy’s bed. I want to stay home, because home is very great.”

You try and take him to Preschool Hell after that.  He definitely will benefit in the long run, and needs the extra structure and stimulation. It’s too tempting to spend the day watching cartoons and begging for popsicles, at least when Daphne is napping and the park or pool is not an option, and we basically want him to play quietly. He doesn’t want to read for hours, or even pretend to be part of a dinosaur herd, like Logan did. He likes to draw and climb and paint, but if someone isn’t next to him every second, he starts either vegging in front of the VCR or embarking on some elaborate, destructive, or dangerous quest, like tearing Play Dough into miniscule particles and scattering them over the house, or climbing to the top of the highest shelf in the bookcase, or peeling all the crayons. Or trying to lie across Daphne in such a way that every inch of her is covered by him, giggling all the while at her protests.

How are we supposed to puzzle all of this out, and still make it to work by 9, and spend the day figuring out how to tell grantees that W’s sanctions are going to force us to freeze their grant funds until we get a license to do charitable work that’s been going on for years? They’ll have to close clinics, and thousands of women will have to go without family planning and support and care. How many will get sick, or have complications, or resort to illegal, unsafe options because W has tied our hands???