Kindergarden

Anyone else remember this taunt?
Kindergarden baby,
Stick your head in gravy,
Wrap it up in bubblegum and send it to the Navy.

My thoughts and feelings have been consumed by all things Kindergarden for the past few days.  Alexis started today.  Rode the bus to school like a big girl and everything.  Not one single tear.

She was just so goddamned BRAVE.  Charles wrote out for her on a piece of paper last night, "Mommy, Daddy, Elizabeth, and Charlie LOVE you!!!" for her to take with her.  I did a version of the kissing hand where I kissed her hand lots and lots so she could have them for when she felt scared.  And despite her begging me yesterday to allow her to take Beary to school, she did not even ask for him as we were walking out the door.

I barely held it together for her.

As I am wont to do, I was able to distract myself with seemingly unimportant details.  I could not find my camera, so all I have for pictures of this morning are on my phone.  That was enough to get me through.  Where the fucking camera is is still driving me nuts.  I used it yesterday to take a picture of Elizabeth (much to her irritation...see post on my compulsive picture-taking...)  A part of me wonders if she hid it from me today...

I cannot believe that she is this big.  I cannot believe that she did so well.  Not that I wanted her to cry...I am not THAT kind of parent.  She just continually amazes me with her ability to overcome her fears.  I truly admire her for that.  She is going to be a force to be reckoned with some day...

No one will be able to taunt her.  That was my fear.  And it is unfounded.

Romance

I recently read about a study that states that most married couples kiss less than once a week and that this kiss lasts less than 5 seconds.  To me, that is crazy.
Now my husband and I are not the most romantic people by any stretch of the imagination.  Our first anniversary was spent buying a new stove or dryer (can't remember which one, that is how memorable it was...) because we had just moved into our house.  We tend to be practical in the extreme.  We generally don't spend money on gifts for Valentine's Day or Sweetest's Day (an American Greetings Holiday here in Ohio, designed to pick up lagging card sales in October for those who aren't familiar with it...) because I generally refuse to participate in a holiday that exploits the very relationships that are supposed to be most important to people all to perpetuate a materialistic ideology that is so pervasive throughout our society today.  (Read:  We're too cheap.)  Hell, on our honeymoon our truck broke down and we ended up having to spend money from the wedding cards to have it towed and repaired.  That was an interesting start to married life...but I digress.

I am disclosing the above to illustrate the fact that while we are very much NOT traditionally romantic people, I simply could not fathom NOT kissing my husband every day.  We kiss at least twice a day.  He kisses me ever morning before he leaves for work (and I debated whether to include this kiss because technically I am not fully functioning and sometimes not even aware of it...though I will say that he does have my full consent to do this).  We also kiss every night before we go to sleep.  That is our minimum for a day, and usually only if we don't see each other all day.  We kiss every time one of us leaves the house.  We will kiss when we pass each other in the living room or kitchen.

Same thing goes for telling each other "I love you".  Every phone call ends this way.  Every morning my husband tells me this (again, debatable if it counts because of my non-conscious state...).  Every night before we fall asleep this is the last thing I hear from him.  And countless times in between.

Some will say that by kissing so often and by saying those three words so often, we are rendering them meaningless.  I would disagree.  Physical affection is important to a marriage.  If I am going to have to have sex with the same person for the rest of my life (though there are those who say you don't have to do this, I am not going there...), you better believe that I am going to have lots of it as well as lots of physical touching.  If I am going to have to be with a man that I will see at both his very best and his very worst, I am damned sure going to affirm every single fucking day that I love him.  It is a reminder for me and for him as much as it is meaningful.

So do we do roses and candlelight and satin sheets?  Nope.  Do we kiss and fuck and laugh and encourage each other a lot more than most people I know?  Yep.  You better believe that I am going to brag about this.  After all that we have gone through together in our short 7 years of being married...from the truck on the honeymoon, to my dad dying, to our son, to me going through school....we survived it.  And if we did this by not being traditionally romantic...I will take it.

Guilt

School is starting soon.

Alexis will be in Kindergarden this year.  She will likely be the youngest in her class.

I want to say that making the decision to send her was hard, but it was not.  It was a combination of finances (won't have to pay daycare and preschool for her anymore...), her academic progress (which has been GREAT over the past year.  She would be bored in a third year of preschool.), and the advice of her teachers (who I most definitely leave the educating to.  I make a lousy teacher...I subbed for a year and that is a year of my life I will never get back.)

Despite the fact that I am solid on this being the right decision, I feel guilty.  As though I am taking my very very anxious child and throwing her to the wolves (appropriate for a blog called "Sheep Among the Wolves, I guess).  I feel as though I am forcing her to grow up faster than for which she is ready.  I feel as though by sentencing her to be the youngest in her class, I am sentencing her to a life of always playing catch-up.  That she will somehow be even more disadvantaged in life.

I have been feeling this more and more lately.  I even mentioned to some friends how I sometimes feel guilty because we can't afford all kinds of private lessons and whatnot for our kids.  Hell, at this point we can barely afford our bills because my hours have drastically reduced at work.  I always, constantly feel as though I am somehow shortchanging my kids.

It appears to me, though, that a lot of mothers feel this way.  It is damned if you do, damned if you don't.  Put your kids in activities?  You are overscheduling.  Don't put them in?  You are going to turn them into obese couch potatoes who just sit and vegetate in front of video games all day.  Start your child in kindergarden?  You are damning them  to a life of constant catch-up.  Hold them back?  You are giving them an unfair advantage and making them be bored for the next year.

When will it ever be good enough?  When will we ever be able to accept that parents do the best job they can?

Retarded

I was reading back through some of my old posts the other day, chuckling at the antics of my children and imagining them in therapy griping about how their mother posted ALL of their humiliating moments on TEH INTERNETS, when I was startled to find that in not one, but two posts I had used the word retarded.

Some people would say that that is not a big deal. Some people would say that is just a word.

But...words hurt.

I have been, at various points in my life and by various people that I love and that I thought loved me, been called all of the following:  Stupid, worthless, a slut, a bitch, a whore, a fucking bitch (distinct from just a bitch, mind you), cold hearted, evil, soulless, selfish, lazy, unmotivated, white trash, fat, and dumb.  And those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head. Harmful words, sometimes spoken with the intent to hurt; sometimes just carelessly tossed around.

Words hurt.  I should know.

That is why I am ashamed that I used that word, to imply something that is less than.  Something stupid, not worth my time, not normal.  I should know better.

I want really badly to go back and erase the evidence that I did that.  I have chosen, however, to leave it as is.  To remind myself of my growth as a human being; to show myself that yes, I have made progress.  I can always be more compassionate.  My awareness can always go up.

I like to call myself a feminist.  Feminist issues ARE everyone's issues.  The mistreatment of a person with limited capabilities is no less discriminatory than the mistreatment of a woman.  Words hurt and matter just as much in either situation.  It is not being hysterical or overly sensitive or not being able to take a joke.  It is being aware that we are not isolated islands.  As hokey as it sounds, we are all interconnected.

Everyone has the right to dignity and equality.  Words do matter, and I need to start being more careful with mine.

Big

It happened overnight, I swear it.

Alexis is a big kid.  She has magically started to have the characteristics and mannerisms of a school kid and not a preschooler.  It was really the little things that I noticed....things like her asking me, "Mommy, do you realize that I have TWO glasses of milk in the fridge?"  (Do I realize...WTF?  Who taught her to talk like that?); things like her earnestly explaning to her father what was going on during Spongebob so he would be up to speed; things like her not needing her potty seat to poop anymore and wanting to wash her own body in the bathtub.

She still drives me nuts.  Out of my three girls, she is very definitely the most challenging.  She tests me at every turn; she does not perform up to what I think she should sometimes; she constantly turns over on their head all of my expectations and dreams that I have for her.  Yet, I also have had the easiest time in other matters with her.   She will avoid new experiences like Michelle Bachmann avoids acknowledging that conversion therapy is crap, yet she was so easy to potty train.  She has constant, sometimes debilitating anxiety about social situations and change, yet I never really had to baby proof the house because she never got into things she was not supposed to.  She constantly challenges my rules and the lines I try to draw for her (when I tell her we are going to clean the toys up then go outside, she ALWAYS says, "How about we go outside first and then clean?"  Always...) yet she desperately wants to please me and her father.  She is a bundle of contradictions and always will be...but before she did it in a way that was so young.

Now she possesses a maturity that sometimes astounds me.  She tries so hard to overcome her fears.  She tries so hard to be a helper and loves her baby sister with a ferocity that astounds me.  The things  that come out of her mouth...I had someone recently tell me that they love my Facebook updates because of the shit I put on there that she says.  Everyone who meets her adores her and says she is so cute and funny.  And all of this happened overnight.

I swear.

Document

I have in my possession a piece of paper that no parent should ever possess.

A death certificate for my son.

I looked at it tonight. It is so stark, to see it all written out there in black and white. Name: Gabriel Leslie Wheeler. Cause of death: Extreme prematurity. (Yet later on down, it states that he died before labor even started. When I first noticed this, I was a bit concerned that it might cause me problems. About what, IDK...I even asked my doctor about it. Then I realized that no one would really care.)

I have the card that I need should my husband and I ever decide to bury his ashes, or for the day when one of us dies and we bury him with whoever goes first then. Right now his ashes are sitting on a shelf in my living room. Most, if not all, who walk into our house do not notice them unless they know to look. The urn is not like they show on TV, easily opened and breakable. It is a very small, plain wooden box that is sealed quite securely.

This is the stuff that I now know about. I know what it takes to get a doctor to sign a death certificate for a dead child. Usually, it takes a lot. Dr. Gingo, the man to whom I will be eternally grateful for doing this, did not dick around with it and signed the death certificate that day. This meant we could have the funeral home pick him up and had his ashes home with us in days....no small feat considering it was over a holiday weekend. I know that the use of "passed away" is frowned upon by newspapers due to the stupid Norwalk Reflector changing the wording of my son's obituary without our permission. I know that the funeral director will help you write that obituary. I know that that room in the hospital, the one they told us was for mothers who's babies had to stay during the tour I took while pregnant with Alexis? Yeah, it is for women who have to deliver a dead child because it is far away from all the other rooms. Unfortunately it is still within earshot of all the living babies crying; you also have to pass by the viewing window of the nursery to leave.

I know what it is like to have to tell your daughter that her brother is dead. I know what it is like to have to plan a memorial service for a child I never even heard cry or felt move in the womb.

All of this I could have gone my whole life without knowing.

Hips

So, for a variety of reasons, I decided to go on the Dukan diet. This was after a lot of careful thought and research and whatnot, so it was not something that I did on a whim. I needed to lose some weight, and this diet appealed to me. So far, it is working too, which is a bonus.

My husband was talking to me about my weight loss. He commented on where it is most noticeable, specifically around my stomach area. I noted that while that was in fact where I had lost most of my weight, my hips remained stubbornly wide. No diet in the world is gonna fix this. I for sure have child-bearing hips, which is a cruel joke considering the hell I have to go through to get my children as well as the horror that tends to be my labors and deliveries. Even when I was at my skinniest, I had definite hips.

My husband's response was very simple, yet had such a huge impact. "I like your hips."

This (shocking, I know) got me thinking. That statement meant more to me than he will probably ever know. It is not a traditional compliment, sure. But the fact that my husband continually and unconditionally accepts me and loves me exactly how I am right this very second means the world to me. He loves me now, not how I was 9 years ago when we met, not how I was when we first got married. Now. Present tense. As is. No warranty, either implied or otherwise.

I am a very lucky woman.

Daddies

Happy Father's Day to all the daddies out there, both here on earth and in heaven.

Toothbrush

There is an empty spot in our toothbrush holder. Again.

Elizabeth has left to go visit her father out of state for the summer, as she has for every summer since 2006. It never gets easier, to put her on that plane all by herself, to be gone from her for that long. A big hole gets ripped in my heart for 6-8 weeks every year.

It is only because I firmly believe in the fundamental right of every child to know their parents that this happens. I believed this even before I began studying and working as a family therapist and saw the damage that happened when a child had a parent bad mouth their other parent. I have never ever said anything to Elizabeth about her father that could be construed as negative. There is a lot about our relationship that I have not and will not tell her. He is half of her, like it or not.

Not to say that there has not been conflicts...God knows, there has been. I have said some things to him that I now regret, and I like to think he feels the same way. We get along a lot better now that we don't live in the same state. I have come to accept him for what he does do for Elizabeth, not try to make him to live up to what I think should be done for her. It has at least made my life a lot easier.

But, every night, when I see that empty spot, I think about what could have been. The past will never be changed...but I do think about how very different my life would have been had I made some very different choices. Do I regret Elizabeth? Absolutely 100% beyond a shadow of a doubt not. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She came at a time when I desperately needed her, though I did not know it at the time. She was what drove me to be who and what I am today. I stopped trying to get approval from where it was not ever going to come from and started to live for what was best for her...and by doing that, I learned how to take care of me.

So when I look at that empty spot, I think of two things: First of all, pretty soon we will need a bigger holder for when Charlie gets teeth (bad mommy does not brush her gums, as supposedly you are supposed to...). Second of all, tough as it is to let her go, to see that hole in that holder, she needs this time with that part of her family. Sometimes letting go is the only way you can show someone how much you love them.

Anniversary

Seven years ago today, at about this time, I was driving to the hairdressers to get my hair done for my wedding. Elizabeth and I stopped at McDonald's before getting there. We walked into the hair salon to be greeted by entire wedding parties getting ready. It was just the two of us, though, in our last few moments together as just Mommy and Elizabeth. Soon it would be Mommy and Elizabeth and Charles.

She went off with her hair stylist and the woman doing my hair got to work. We chatted about how my hair was shorter...thanks to my mother-in-law who gave me a "trim" that took off over an inch of hair. (Needless to say, that was the last time she cut my hair. I started paying for my haircuts after that.) We discussed her mother-in-law, and how to put my veil in, and her adopted son. Elizabeth came out with a huge grin on her face, her hair all ready. The curls in it would end up falling out by the time we got to my aunt's house to get ready.

I arrived at my Aunt JoAnne's. I had spent a couple of nights over there as a child, and I adored her deceased husband, my Uncle Fred. She had this whole spread for us, bless her heart...appetizers and a champagne punch. It would be that punch that would help me to walk down that aisle. As the day went on, I became increasingly convinced that I was not doing the right thing...that Charles deserved someone better; someone easier to deal with; someone without a child. I ended up drinking most of the punch myself, and obviously did walk down the aisle. I never regretted the decision, even when we were at our low spots.

You see, I never really wanted to get married or have children. I never thought that I would find someone to make me want to forsake all others and whatnot. Back then, I did not know about domestic partnerships or open relationships and things like that. Would that have changed things now if I did? I don't know. I did know, though, that trying to imagine a life without Charles in it was worse than having to get married. So I gradually became acquainted with the idea that yes, I could make a marriage work. I did try to convince him to just let us live together for the rest of our lives, but that was a no go. And while I still think that the whole concept of marriage is totally unfair (especially to women, who are expected to take on a new name, and to gays and transgendered folks, who aren't even ALLOWED to get married in most places), I must admit that it has its benefits.

My husband has made me grow in a hundred different ways that I don't even know if he is aware of. With him by my side, I have more confidence. Not because I feel that I am less than without him or "he completes me", but because I KNOW I will have support. Even when I am wrong, he is on my side. I can truly say that unlike most partnerships I know of, we are equals. We both have our strong suits that we bring into this marriage and we make it work. Is it perfect? Hell no. Is it ours? Absolutely. And I can say honestly that I would not change a minute of it. Even all the heartache we have gone through (and we have had more than our fair share, that's fo shure...), even after all my doubts....

Happy Anniversary, Baby. I love you more than I ever thought possible.

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