Sometimes You Just Need a Day

To take a random Wednesday off, despite certain urgencies at work. To hit the road with your baby in the back seat and a couple of towels in a bag. One day to leave the laptop at home. To use the phone to take pictures only.


To splash in the waves.


To dig in the sand.

To run.

To fall.

To laugh.

To make memories.

Today I went to the water with my boy. He is such a beach baby, lucky for me. It was just me and him and that gorgeous ocean air. I wish days like this could happen more often. But then maybe they wouldn't feel so special.

Change

In light of all the change that is going to be happening in the next few weeks, I figured the mop on my head needed a transformation as well:

Before:


After:


This is going to be infinitely easier to maintain, especially in this ridiculous heat. And the blond is like coming home. I missed it.

More news on some big changes on the job front this week. Decisions need to be made, but at least I know I have options. Still figuring this all out.

Sorry for the vagueness. You understand.

Road Block?

So things are... hmm. Going.


At least this guy is keeping me going.

Just to put it all out there, I'm facing some tough times at work. I know, I hate talking about work here. Isn't that Blogging 101? Don't cross the streams? Total protonic reversal, and all that. I won't go into details. But the gist is, I may or may not have a job in a few weeks. And it's stressing me out. Big time. Like, if I run my hand through my hair I'll pull out a clump, kinda stress. Also I may have lost 40-50% of my eyelashes. Needs me some falsies STAT.

Everyone's all, 'Whatever happens happens,' 'It's out of your hands,' 'Don't get stressed about things you can't control.' And I'm all puking in the corner thinking about mortgage payments and college funds and career paths and commutes from hell. They mean well. And I'm not scoffing at those words of wisdom like "You don't know my LYFE!" They're totally right. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel like I'm spiraling down a hole, grasping at the sides with my fingernails.

This could be a totally awesome turn of events. I just have no idea. And I HATE not knowing what's going to happen next. Don't ever try to throw me a surprise party or I'll claw your eyes out. If not right at that moment, then in your nightmares. It's a promise. So basically yeah, surprises aint my thing.

With this potential road block/opportunity/who-the-hell-knows, I have hit a blogging wall. I'm having trouble digesting food, never mind thoughts and ideas into words that make sense to the web.

Every once in a while I'll get a blog entry ex machina (not even the right way to use that phrase, but I love it so suck it), like finding the ring. But mostly I've been opening a new entry to stare at a blank screen for a while. Then I go to People.com and Perez Hilton. And Pinterest to get lost for a few hours looking at pretty things. Did you know that the internet is full of distractions?!

As my thoughts are consumed with work worries, anything that requires an ounce of thought or creativity is eclipsed. I'm just going through the motions. Watching a million hours of Harry Potter. Doing laundry, dishes, anything to keep my hands occupied and my mind hushed.

It's like my falling hair is clogging the sink drain of inspiration. Deep, dude. That's so something I would have written on my notebook in high school.

The good news is that Des is on a major Mama kick. Just when I need it most. Despite the aforementioned anxieties, we ARE enjoying this beautiful summer.





He makes me laugh so much. And smile like it's plastered on my face.


Ridiculous joy. Worries magically gone.

I'll try to keep you posted, as much as I can. But don't blame me for being sparse. Blame The Man, man.

What Goes Around

Tony lost his wedding ring in February 2008. He noticed it was not on his finger as he was letting Barkley out one day, and by that time he had already been to the store and shoveled the driveway. He retraced his steps, went back to the supermarket and searched the freezers (ice cream, of course). He tore his car apart. He borrowed a metal detector and searched the yard. Nothing. To say he was upset would be an understatement.

It was insured, luckily. The appraisal amount was based on the original cost. If he wanted to get the same ring, it would have been TWICE as much due to the increased cost of gold. So he just never got around to submitting the claim and getting a 'real' ring. Instead he got a $20 replacement band at a mall kiosk. Sleeping, showering, playing sports, etc... He never takes that thing off. It looks like any old ring. A plain silver band. But if you hold it in your hand there is very little weight, as if hollow.

It's just a ring, both the original and the replacement. In the big picture it's no big deal. But our bands are special. The ones we picked out together in the grown-up jewelry store, and put on each others' fingers the day we were married... those were our rings.

Every once in a while I'd ask Tony if he wanted to go pick out another one, and he always declined. I don't know if he was holding out hope that one day he'd find the original, or if it just bummed him out too much to really replace it.

This weekend we were both doing yard work. It wasn't on my To Do list, but it was beautiful out. Des went down for a nap and I wanted to be out in the air picking weeds. I started out at one end of the house and worked my way down.

This was a particularly long nap for Des. Again, I didn't have a plan for how much I wanted to get done so I just kept on going, filling 2 garbage cans along the way. When I got to the grass down by the end of the driveway, I noticed something metallic looking among the weeds and rocks.



A quarter maybe? It was dirty, faded silver.



I leaned in further... It was a ring.



Just sitting there on top of the soil. I picked it up thinking maybe Tony dropped his knock-off cheapo as he was down there earlier. No, this was much heavier. Solid and strong.

I RAN to the backyard where Tony was dumping one of my garbage cans. I threw my arms around him and said, "Give me your hand."

"I don't want to," he replied.

I was covered in filth and sweat and hugging him unexpectedly. I don't blame him for that reaction.

"Yes, you do." I put the ring in his hand.

"What is this?"
"It's YOUR RING."
"No it's not... no it's not."

He could not believe it. It took him a few minutes to be convinced. We hugged for a long time and cried. It wasn't just the rings. It's the way it happened.



3+ years of New England weather. Snow, rain, a near tornado just a few weeks earlier... Cars, lawn mowers, snow blowers. It shows on the ring. A few little dings and a tarnished finish. He doesn't think he'll get it polished. Those marks are like badges of honor.


Fake on top, real on the bottom.

He regularly wears both now. I joke that people are going to think he has sister wives. But I really think it's cute. He just loves his one wife supah extra!

Welcome back, old friend.

Too Old for This?

A few weeks ago it was all about celebrating the pre-teen/tween days with our boys from Boston, NKOTB. Lastnight I went back to the era of my late-teens/early 20's to see the Bouncing Souls, a punk rock band from Jersey. Many many memories have been made listening to those guys and going to their shows back in the day. It was time to make some more memories... as old people.

Tony and I and our buddies Nick and Paul headed into town to grab a bite and catch the show for some nostalgic punk rock action. It was a weeknight, so we were livin' it up like the young people do!

When we got to the door of the Middle East and noticed what time the Souls were going on, we shuddered in our cardigans. 10:50? PM?? Oh dear god. That's, like, 3 whole hours after I usually change into my old lady nightgown. Breathe. Everything will be fine. I survived months of newborn wakings, I can get through one early morning after a late night.

We planned to grab a slice and a cheap beer at the Hi-Fi, a hole in the wall pizza place across the street. But as we walked in we were hit with the memory that the Hi-Fi is really only good for apres-show slices. Sober, you kinda have to choke it down. Blech. So we ventured down to the Asgard irish pub for good beer and decent sandwiches. Much better choice, senior citizens.

When we finally headed into the show we found the ultimate Souls fan, Dink.



Can't see the Souls without Dink. We chatted for a while, drinking our tallboy PBRs, and she made the time fly by. Before I knew it, the band was going on. I made it! I can't believe it! And I only yawned a half a dozen times or so!

The Souls were... amazing. I was jumping up and down like a lunatic. They're just fun and chill and not so serious.

Whooa-oh-oh! Great show. Great times.

It was worth it, but I'm feeling it today. It'll be a while before I go out on a weeknight again. Kids don't care if you're out late. I swear, they'll wake you up at 5am just to spite that crap.

For good measure, here's Des 'helping' with the laundry:

He keeps me young.

The Perfect Day

At least it was perfect in my mind. And it was Father's Day. So I hope Tony enjoyed it too.

I let Tony sleep in yesterday, which means he woke up a little past 8am. I was.. ahem... not feeling well, due to a little too much fun at our friend's wedding the night before (Congrats Sarah and Adam! Such a blast). So I threw on Buzz and Woody and let the kid veg in front of the tube as I rested my eyes on the couch. Why yes, I am a fabulous mom, thank you.

It was a beautiful lazy family morning. We spent a few hours recovering, munching on breakfast, and getting ready for the day.

We had lunch at our favorite Mexican place. Des was a funny little angel, a bit of a change from recent antics in restaurants. Mad props to my boy for that.



And I enjoyed a little hair of the dog. It did the trick.



That afternoon we went for a long walk, as the weather was amazing, and we stopped for ice cream. Des enjoyed his first bites of a chocolate cone and kept coming back for more. So okay everybody, he is officially Tony's son now. I know you were all worried.



Later we filled up the kiddie pool and laughed as Des climbed in and out and splashed all around, giddy with excitement. I'd post pics but they're mostly nudes. And that would be creepy. What, the kid enjoys the fresh air on his nethers. Again.. his father's son.

Later after Des went to bed Tony took a bike ride down to the baseball field and caught up with old friends. I enjoyed some alone time with laundry and the Real Housewives.

We both fell asleep early with the windows open and a kitty purring at our feet.

We haven't had a day like that in a while. It was much needed.

Happy Father's Day, my love. You are the most incredible father I could have ever hoped our son would have.

Check out my Father's Day piece on the Patch. It was a fun one to write.

Fingernails

Desmond does not have a lovie. Or a blankie or a binkie or whatever you call it. He has his thumb and... us. He's a snuggler in a major way. Every morning he'll cuddle in our bed with us for a half hour or an hour, as we're all still groggy and hesitant to wake up. During the day he'll often climb up on our laps for a snuggle break. And at night before bed it's snuggle-palooza.

It's not overly frequent or clingy, although he has his days. It's mostly just every once in a while. And when he's done, he's on his way getting into everything and tearing the house apart.

Instead of a blanket or teddy bear, as he snuggles he'll rub our fingernails. His left thumb in his mouth and his right hand stroking the nail bed of one of our fingers. He shares this habit with others, grandparents, aunts, uncles, his day care provider. He's an equal opportunity fingernail-rubber. It sounds weird, I know.

But no. Here's what's weird...

One of my most vivid memories of Desmond's birth was when they put him on my chest right after he came out. (Of course that would be vivid, right?) I looked him all over, beside myself with joy, completely fascinated that I grew this perfect person inside of me and now he was on the outside. But mostly I stared at his fingernails. For some reason I was fixated on them, like tunnel vision amidst all the chaos and excitement. At that moment, his fingernails were the most flawless, sublime thing about him. They meant he was okay, healthy, HERE in the flesh. And I rubbed them. Gently between my thumb and index finger, I squeezed each tiny pink nail one at a time. Unbelievably small, but so so strong.

Every time he climbs up on my lap, every time, I think about those moments right after he was born. Even as he continues to grow at such a feverish pace I feel like I can't keep up, every day he brings me back to that time when he was so tiny I could hold all of him in my arms.



He'll have his thumb in his mouth and if sometimes I'm not fast enough to provide a hand, he'll whine, reaching for it. And when he finally finds my hand, my finger, my nail, he rubs softly. As if reminding me that he's still my baby boy.


Always.