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Raising Maryland by Maryland Mom

I am a Mommy. That fact has absorbed me for the past two years, since the birth of my son, Dominici (Dom). Reaching this point has hounded my thoughts for more than a decade. My husband and I battled infertility for eight years before we were blessed with our first miracle, Rivelino (Rivi). Unfortunately, he was born too early to live, and now he watches over us from Heaven. His little brother fills our lives with joy (and our heads with gray hair). This blog is the story of my Mommyhood.

January 2009 - Posts

  • I try, I try!

    It seems to be taking longer and longer to go anywhere or get anything done these days.  This isn’t because I have become more disorganized (perish the thought!).  Rather, it is all Dom’s fault.  He is become more independent by the day, and he insists on helping with each task. 

    “I try!” is his mantra, and it is one I can’t say no to.  I mean, if I tell him that he can’t brush his hair…even though I know he will end up with a giant, messy Mohawk…he will spend his life unkempt.  If I tell him that he can’t spray the counters with cleaning spray…even though I know that he will also spray the cabinets, the floor, and the curtains…he will be a slob forever.

    So I have to let him try.  Everything.  For himself.

    And usually, it isn’t that big a deal.  So what if he takes 20 minutes to sweep a 2” section of the kitchen floor?  He is learning to contribute.  When we are ten minutes late leaving for a doctor’s appointment and he insists on putting on his own shoes, my patience dims. 

    Even then, though, I can take a deep breath and remind myself that, one day, I’ll long for the days he still needed my help.  And on that day, I will regret my impatience.

  • No Snowsuit is a good Deal

    Normal 0 <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> In my hall closet (which is now beautifully organized, thanks to my slight OCD tendencies), there is one part of the clothes rod that is virtually unreachable.  I usually hang things at that end of the closet that get little or no use.  Things like my dance shawls, Russell’s trenchcoat, and Dom’s snowsuit.

    While I was doing the gorgeous renovation yesterday, I removed all of the clothing so that I could weed through it for additions to my donation box.  I held onto one item much longer than the others.  That item was Dom’s snowsuit.  

    It is a red and navy blue snowsuit, and although it seems as sturdy and warm as it is beautiful, it has never been worn.  My Mom got Dom this snowsuit when he was still an infant.  She saw it in a store and couldn’t resist because it was such a good deal.  Or, rather, it seemed like such a good deal.

    Let’s be honest.  There is not much need in Washington, D.C. for snowsuits.  20 miles north of us and 20 miles west of us, blizzards pile snow shoulder-high.  But here, we only get an occasional dusting that melts by afternoon.  In actuality, no snowsuit is a good deal.  

    As I looked at the size label, my heart sank.  The snowsuit is a size 2T, and Dom now wears 4T in most things.  Odds are that he has already outgrown it.  However, the newscasters tonight called for snow.   

    So I am currently looking out the window, waiting for the white stuff to start falling.  On the chair next to me is the too-small snowsuit, which I plan to cram Dom into the second the snow begins to coat the ground.  Leaning against the wall is the sled that has lived under our bed for two winters, patiently awaiting its first use.  

    Come on, snowflakes!

     

  • Skating Fun!

    Our family has a new favorite winter destination.  Nestled in the middle of Rockville, with a Starbucks just down the block, is the Rockville Town Square Skating Rink.  I have written about the Rockville Town Square before in my "Swarm of Bees" entry.  During the winter, the movie screen is removed, and a skating rink takes its place. 

    We have made this skating rink a regular stop on our winter outings.  Because we usually go during the day, we find street parking near the rink.  Then we walk down to Starbucks, where I get a sugar-free, decaf, skim vanilla latte (yeah, suck all of the fun out of it, and that is my drink) and Dom gets a hot cocoa.  Then we head to the skating rink, window shopping along the way.  We sit at an outdoor table and watch the people skate by. 

    I have a bad ankle, and Dom isn't yet old enough to try to skate on his own, so this year, we are just watching.  Next year, perhaps I will be watching my own boy glide by.  If you are planning on heading out for some skating fun, keep in mind that the rink is occasionally closed while the ice is smoothed.  So you may want to call 301-545-1999 and ask if the rink is currently open.  But even if you forget to call and the rink is closed, there are tons of shops and restaurants in which you can pass the time until the rink is open again.  Or you can always wander into the gorgeous library to warm up.

    Rockville Town Square is located just off of 355, at E. Middle Lane and Maryland Avenue (the new Rockville library forms one side of the Square).  Parking is available in the large parking structure that adjoins 355, and parking is free after 7 p.m. and on weekends.  The skating rink is open Monday - Friday from 12-9 p.m., Saturday from 10 a.m. - 10 p.m., and Sunday from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m.  Cost is $8 for adults, $6 for children and seniors.  Skate rental is an additional $2.

  • I am a very happy Mommy tonight...

    So, we have a new President.  A lot remains to be seen - whether he will be able to turn our country around, whether he will be able to keep all of his campaign promises, whether his daughters will get even cuter as we watch them grow up...

    One thing, I am very certain of, though.  Today, as I watched the swearing-in ceremony with my son on my lap, I cried.  Not because I think Obama is a great guy (I mean, he might be, but I don't know him, so I am reserving judgment).  Not because George W. is now out of office (I actually LIKE the guy, silly me).  No, I teared up because I became suddenly aware of one enormous fact:

    My son will never know an America where people like him, people of mixed race or minority ancestry, have not achieved the greatest promise in America.  He will never know a time when someone like him was not able to be President.  He will never be able to hold up the color of his skin as an excuse for not attaining greatness. 

    It is as if an entirely new world has opened up.  Because these kids today?  To them, the swearing-in of a biracial President will be no big deal.  It will just be another swearing-in ceremony.  And that...that is exactly what so many have lost their lives to ensure.  Thanks to the sacrifices of those who fought for Civil Rights and those who fight for America herself, we have all achieved something greater - Dr. King's dream.

    For this reason, I am a very happy Mommy tonight.

  • Chocolatey Goodness

    Just before bedtime tonight, I changed Dom’s diaper.  Just as I usually do.  And just as I usually do, I took off the legs of his sleeper to pull them out of the way.  That is when something very unusual happened.

    As I pulled the legs of the sleeper skyward, a veritable cascade of objects poured out of them.  Raisins, organic candy-covered chocolates and Matchbox cars rained down on Dom where he laid waiting for a diaper change.  I waited a moment, trying to think of a way to phrase the question in my mind.  Basically, Why?  I mean, I know that Dom can take his clothes off.  I know that he can undo and redo zippers easily.  But why in the world would he stuff the legs of his clothes full of goodies?  One would think that it would be pretty uncomfortable – smooshy from the chocolate candy and painful from the pointy cars.

    Dom’s reaction was one of pure glee.  “Ooh – cars!  Chocolate!”  He popped a half-melted candy into his mouth while driving a car over his navel.  “In belly!  In belly!”

    I ran a bath to remove the chocolatey goodness and raisiny stickiness.  While Dom splashed in the bubbles, craning upside down to see his bellybutton, I finally asked him.  I simply asked, “Why did you put everything into your pants?”

    He gave me a simple answer.  “No pockets, Mommy.”  Ah…okay, then.

  • "Big boy"

    My baby is growing up.  It is completely, utterly unfair, but over the past few weeks, we have had three “I’m a big boy now” moments.  It may take me the rest of my life to recover from this heartbreak.

    Dom finally ditched Binky!  I was gradually cutting it shorter and shorter, and he finally got tired of holding it to his mouth with his hand and tossed it behind his bed.  We had two semi-bad days when he cried for Binky, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared it would be.  Last week, Dom searched through his memory box and found his first newborn Binky.  I went into his room to find him sound asleep in bed with the tiny plug in his mouth.  When he woke up, he gave it to me and said, “Big boy.  No Binky.”  Talk about bittersweet!

     

    And, yes, you read the above passage correctly.  I said I found him in bed…that means that he is no longer sleeping in a crib.  We converted his crib to a toddler bed nearly three weeks ago, and he did wonderfully.  For the first week or so, he didn’t quite know what to do with the freedom, so naptime simply didn’t happen.  I considered it a good day if he stayed in his room playing quietly for an hour.  Over the past few days, though, he has willingly climbed into his bed for a nap, so my fingers are crossed that we will soon have our routine back.

     

    Dom is also now the proud owner of his first electric toothbrush.  I finally got tired of fighting him and barely getting the job done, so he now has a Spongebob Spinbrush that gets the job done quickly.  Now if only I could teach him to brush his own teeth, instead of simply sucking on the toothbrush, we would be off and running.

     

    Next week, we are on to potty training.  I plan to lock myself into the apartment with a naked boy for several days.  By the end of the week, one of two things will have happened – he will be potty trained or I will be insane.  Either way, my worries will be over.

    But that is another blog.

  • Boys vs. Girls

    I have always said that I want all boys.  Deep down, I am convinced that, should I have a girl, she would be a girly girl.  I am as far from a girly girl as a woman can get.  As a kid, I played with the boys - I climbed trees and played in the muddy creek.  I would not know what to do with a girly girl...let's face it...tea parties are pretty boring.  And I don't own a single pair of heels in which she could play dress-up!

    So I had boys.  Dom loves sports and trains, trucks and balls.  Unfortunately, he has a wide streak of prissiness, too.  He can't stand to get wet.  Even in the bathtub, he freaks out if water splashes into his face.  Walks in the rain?  Puddlejumping?  Those can't happen here.  He takes one look outside, says, "Too wet!" and runs back into the house.

    Because he is a preschooler (it still feels weird to say that instead of baby), he loves to squish his hands into messes.  He loves Moonsand and Playdough.  He likes to help me shape cookies.  But the moment fun time is over, he immediately starts to whine while holding his hands out to me.  "Messy!  Mommy!  Messy!  Wash hands!"

    If Dom gets food or paint or marker on his clothes, he freaks out.  Lollipops, ice cream and chocolate must all be eaten with a wipe in hand, because he must have each sticky spot wiped away as it appears.  God forbid he be expected to lick the offending sweetness from his hand.  When I suggest it, he says, "Ewww, Mommy!  Yucky!"

    It seems that, no matter what sort of child a Mommy wants (a rough and tumble, messy boy in my case), she will get something completely different (like a boy who despises messiness).  And, since my boy is healthy and happy, I will stock up on Handiwipes and stain removal pens.  And patience. 

  • All Together Mommies

    One of these days, I will magically morph into one of those Mommies who have it all together.  You know the ones - they balance soccer, ballet and grocery shopping and schedule each dentist appointment exactly six months after the last.  They whip out their Blackberries in the carpool line and cross items from their to-do lists while they sing along with Baby Einstein CDs.

    None of that is me.  Well, I do have lists...a lot of them.  I just can never find them when I need them.  And by the time I do find a missing list, it is so outdated that I guiltily bury it in the trashcan while promising to do better next time.  But I never do.  I just don't have time to stay organized.  I know that makes absolutely no sense, but it is the truth.

    A few days ago, we were stranded with no diapers.  I had somehow used both of the diapers from my purse, and the spare diaper we keep in the car was missing...I vaguely remember something about a playground on a hot July day with Dom yelling that the seat was burning his butt as he was changed.  I guess I never replaced the emergency diaper.

    And that is the story of my life.  I am the Mommy who shows up at the playground without a snack and digs in her purse for gum while the other Mommies dole out animal crackers and juice.  I cruise into McD's for nuggets when lunchtime rolls around on busy days because I forgot the sandwiches on the kitchen counter.  I dig under carseats for toll money and am thrilled when my kid finds old raisins in the backseat because it means one less stop to get him a snack.

    So, in short, I will never be one of those all-together Mommies.  If I got a Blackberry, I would lose it within a week.  It would fare no better than my paper lists.  I do want to get more organized, though.  I am obsessively DVRing and watching every episode of Jon & Kate Plus 8 that I can...if they can juggle eight kids, surely I can handle one.  Right?  Right.

  • Talking to Fruit

    Dom loves to join me on my grocery store trips.  Secretly, I love to have him along, although I do grumble about it to get extra help from Russell (But, honey – you have to do the dishes, scrub the toilet and wipe down the baseboards…I am going to have Dom all day!). 

    Dom loves to people watch.  He also loves food, so an outing to the supermarket is Heaven to him.  We have a few obvious kid-friendly favorites.  Harris Teeter and Trader Joe’s both give out balloons to kids.  Harris Teeter even throws in a cookie, but Dom seems to prefer the Trader Joe’s stickers. 

    At Trader Joe’s, Dom is able to push a kiddie cart around the store.  There is, of course, a giant pole attached to it so a parent can prevent any disasters due to runaway carts.  Because Dom is allowed to move around, pushing the cart…and he is allowed to get the stuff from the shelves and put it into the cart…Trader Joe’s is his favorite store.

    Today, we played the yellow game.  Basically, I told Dom to tell me whenever he saw something yellow.  All went great through the first half of the store.  “Mommy – yellow cereal!  Butter!”  As we got to the produce department, though, something strange happened. 

    Suddenly, we were no longer playing the yellow game.  Instead, it warped into a talk-to-the-fruit game.  “Hello, Nanas!” Dom screamed at the bananas.  “Ooh…hi, apples.”  As people around us watched, smiling (or wondering whether the boy was perhaps slightly off), Dom greeted the pineapples, oranges, and kiwis.

    Interestingly enough, not a single vegetable grabbed his attention.  Not that that is surprising.  This agricultural communication apparently worked two ways.  As we stood in line at the register, Dom told me that the blueberries wanted to go home with us. 

    Who am I to dismiss the weird talent of the fruit whisperer?  The blueberries came home with us.

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