Putting Yourself Out There

When I was in kindergarten I regularly wrote letters to my best friend. They all said the same thing:

Dear Camille,
I love you.
Love,
Jennifer

The message was clear, concise, to the point. Plus I was in kindergarten so the words that I knew how to write were limited. I don't recall if she ever wrote anything back to me, but that wasn't what was important to me. What mattered to me was getting my feelings out, on paper, and making sure that she knew we were BFFs.

I shared this story of my love for my bestie with Alana, my always friendly kindergartener. This inspired her to write a letter of her own, which I'm kicking myself for not taking a picture of before she gave it away this morning.

Her letter said:

Kenna,
I love you.
From Alana.
From Ava.

She had no hesitation to write this letter. She even added a heart made of glitter glue in the corner. Glitter really solidifies the message she's trying to convey.

When she took her letter to school this morning I was kind of nervous for her. Although I know the recipient is a nice little girl who isn't about to crumple up the token of Alana's affection and throw it on the ground, I still feared her reaction. I was afraid of rejection for her, and its not even me putting my feelings out on the line. From a distance it appeared as if she really liked her letter, glitter heart and all. She carried it around the playground and didn't throw it down or anything.

Alana is never afraid to be anyone's friend. She isn't scared of rejection, or of them not liking her back. She just wants to play and laugh maniacally and run around till her face is red. She greets all of her classmates with the same enthusiasm everyday, hugs her teacher, high fives random aides at the playground.That's a good quality to have. Especially in kindergarten. But as her mom I'm scared for her. There will at some point be a mean little kid who doesn't want to be her friend. Who doesn't want to hear about how she went and saw ParaNorman. How she brought Spaghettios in her Tinkerbell thermos for lunch today. Then eventually there will be boys. Boys who don't like her back. Boys who are mean. Boys who break her heart. And I can't do anything to stop it. I don't want those people to change her and make her afraid of being someone's friend. I don't want fear to stop her from telling people how she feels.

Kindergarten me may have been unafraid to tell Camille "I love her" in a letter. But every other version of me wouldn't have been so open about my feelings. I was always afraid of rejection. Afraid of mean kids. Outgoing kids who didn't seem to care what others thought of them. Afraid of not being liked back. I never "made the first move" in friendship or with boys. If they weren't nice first, if they didn't show interest first, I didn't even talk to them. I never invited myself anywhere, because I didn't want to be unwanted. I waited till the other person said something first, to insure they were really my friend. With every high school boyfriend I ever had I was constantly wondering if he still liked me, if he was going to break up with me, if he thought I was annoying, if he liked somebody else better.

I wanted to be liked, but I wasn't about to talk to anyone so that they could get to know me. I didn't outgrow that till at least 18. I was so afraid of being that one person there that no one liked. No one wants to be the smelly kid, the weird kid, the ugly kid, the one who stands out because they just can't help it. I lacked the courage to stand out, but I wanted to be noticed. That's a weird combination. And a difficult one, because I wanted to be noticed for the right reasons, not because there was a "Kick me" sign on my back.

Alana is always loving, always open about how much she likes people, always ready to party. Everyone is her friend, even if she's only known them for 10 minutes. She's brave enough to let everyone know how much she likes them and lucky enough that so far everyone likes her back.

Life on the Hamster Wheel

I feel like I'm busy. At 7:40 I take Alana to school. Then I come home. Then I do various domestic & parenting tasks. Then David comes home for lunch. Then I drive him back to work. Then more domestic & parenting & homework tasks. Then pick up Alana from school. Then homework & parenting & domestic tasks. Then pick up David from work. Then dinner & bathtime & parenting tasks. Then sleep. Briefly. Then midnight parenting tasks. Then brief periods of sleep & TV that I don't remember. Then start again the next morning, earlier than I'd prefer.

Everyday is basically the same tasks, the same order. There's naps & eating & feeding Witten & putting Ava's pants & shoes back on 6.4 times a day & driving back & forth. My days pass quicker than they ever have & somewhere in there I have to remember to stop & look around. Ava is playing by herself & Witten is sleeping & I'm just trying to wash dishes & do my homework in the breaks.

All I really want to do is sit with this dude and stare at his handsome face.

But then he eventually goes to sleep. And I can't hold him for his entire nap, cause of various reasons like its not practical, I have to pee & eat, Ava needs me to get her stuff, and I don't want him to need to be held when he's asleep.

As much as I'd like to hold him forever, at some point there is a nagging voice in my head telling me to put him down. Reminding me of all of the stuff I should probably be doing. Nag, nag, nag. Shut up voice, I'll do my homework the day its due, I'm phoning it in this semester. The dishes don't need done right this second. The world will not end if I don't fold the laundry immediately after I take it out of the dryer.

Throughout the business and going going going of my day I have to make time to spend with my baby. Nursing helps with that, its something that only I can do for him. But the constant getting in the car means he takes a lot of naps in his carseat. I have to remind myself that with the constant going and picking up and dishwashing and repetitiveness of everyday he is growing up.

That's why on weekends I attempt to do nothing but hold him and lay around. Put a stop to the constant going of the weekdays, where I'm always doing something, treading water, never really accomplishing anything significant. I have to stop and smell the roses, despite what the voices in my head tell me about accomplishing things. And I've never really liked the smell of roses.

Milestones: 2 Months Old

This dude. THIS DUDE. This dude. He is already 2 months old. He is about 11 1/2 pounds and has the cutest chubby lips. He can hold his head up with only a little bit of wobbliness (that's a word now) and uses his giant man feet to push off of stuff when he's laying on my lap or other such places.

He gets up 2 times a night on average, although I don't remember a whole lot of what happens in the middle of the night. He is a champion eater and loves to take long naps which I love also. He wakes up from every nap totally refreshed and ready to smile at me and give me lots of hugs.

I was completely unaware how much I'd be in love with this little guy. He took me by surprise. The entire thought of having a boy was kind of foreign and scary at first, but I've eventually come to embrace the blue/monkey/baseball clothes and adopt the easiness that is dressing a boy.

I will be writing a 3 month post tomorrow, so I have to get this one out of the way today. Stupid time, going too fast. Now look at pictures of my baby. Go ahead, that's why you're here.

This picture is because of David's insistence. And to compare how big he is in comparison to Romo.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Saturday we went to a minor league baseball game with my family. The girls were mostly just excited to play with their cousins, Witten couldn't of cared less, David actually watched the game, and I just wanted to go so someone else cooked dinner for me. Seriously, the only actual play of the game that I saw was when one guy threw the ball from centerfield to home plate which was kind of amazing. I vaguely acknowledged a couple of home runs, but mostly I didn't really pay attention. I did take some pictures though.

Alana's mugshot

Behold, Alana's kindergarten school picture. For some reason I find it mildly amusing.

Chick Magnet

Women want him. Men want to be him. And he can't help it if he's so popular. There's just something about him that makes the babes love him. Especially kindergarten girls. They can't keep their hands off of him. And who can blame them.

For Homeless Birds

This house is part of the Alana Lily Shelter for Less Fortunate Birds project. For all of the birds who have been displaced, whether the cause was a pesky cat interfering with their nest, a strong gust of wind, or general lack of twigs/sticks/grass/general nest building supplies. She's housing birds one tiny colorful birdhouse at a time.

If I Knew More Newborns

My newborn isn't so new anymore. Or little. He's 8 weeks old. He's 11 lbs. And he smiles. And he's so squishy and soft. But he's not really new. See:

See? He's a growing boy. He works out and stuff. You know, for the ladies.

Lucky for me and my manly man he has a new cousin who was born just 2 weeks ago. And she enjoys being photographed. Cause you know, she's cute. And its her duty to society to let people see how cute she is. For the greater good.

She is still so little. Witten looks like a linebacker in comparison. And she was nice enough to let me take her picture. And sleep through it. She even smiled a couple of newborn smiles. To give the people what they want. If I knew more babies like her and Witten I'd probably take more newborn pictures of them. Cause they are just so cute and tiny and sleepy when they're that new.

So here's my new tiny niece Zoey:

It's a Good Thing I Talk Loud

Saturday was Ava's birthday party. And party we did. At Peter Piper Pizza, cause it's the pizza people pick. Allegedly. At aforementioned pizza destination you can have birthday parties. Where someone (not me) cooks and cleans up. These are things I want in a party.

You are supposed to reserve a table for all of your party planning needs. But that costs $. Too much $. I'm not cheap, but $7 a person is kind of pricey. And you only get 1 pizza per 4 people. That's crazy expensive. So we didn't reserve a table. We decided to just get there when they opened and snag one. Good idea right? NO. Cause when we walked in every. single. table. was reserved. So change of plans. We put our stuff in several booths along one wall since that really seemed like the only viable option.

When people arrived I informed them of the situation. As in since I didn't want to pay lots of $ to save a spot we were screwed. I happened to inform everyone of the fact that we had to sit in booths cause every table in a restaurant with like 50 huge tables was taken. And I said these things in my loud voice at the front of the store. I happened to be within earshot of the general manager. Who did what any manager who want to keep customers happy would do. Made sure we got a table. For free. Thank goodness for my loud voice. They "reserve" the tables first thing in the morning, even though some of the parties aren't until the afternoon. So then people who didn't want to pay so much $, like us, have to sit somewhere else. Even with our $ saving we still spent over $100 there on just food, so its not like keeping us happy wasn't in the restaurants best interest.

So then we carried on with our partying and cake eating and video game playing and present opening. Ava got lots of fun presents, which Alana opened for her. I guess that's what big sisters are for. We got to visit with family and most of the kids spent pretty much the whole time in the video game area, so it was nice and quiet.

Overall the party was a success. Next time I'll reserve a table. Lesson learned.

Third times a charm

This is the 3rd onesie I've put on him today. Curse you leaky diapers and kind of large amounts of poop. Combined they equal lots of laundry.

Partied Out

Today was Ava's party. I thought by having it at a pizza place I'd be less tired afterwards. That is not the case. All I can manage to document about it right now is one picture. Where 3 out of 5 of us are looking and Witten is crying. But everyone is in the picture and I look okay, so that's all I really care about.