Rankish Teapants

There have been many mornings, and afternoons, evenings and nights for that matter, when I didn’t think that we’d reach the half year mark. Actually, I knew you’d make it, but I thought that I’d probably be spending it in a nice, tight white coat with lots of big buckles babbling to myself about needing to watch Hollyoaks or Judge Judy. But, we’ve made it!! You in one piece and me still hanging on to my last threads of sanity!

Month 6 was a mammoth month for you. Our journey into the World of Solids has continued and you have been a SUPERSTAR. Such a superstar that when I took you for your 6 month weigh-in, I nearly fell over when the lady wrote down 23lbs 6oz. You are 2lbs lighter than your nearly 2.5 year old cousin Luke!!

By the time of your Half Birthday Party, you were ready for your first Roast Chicken Dinner* (*adapted for the palate of a little dude) and a taste of Jell-O Pudding. You only got a little of that because I have become a bit neurotic over you having things with lots of sugar. I even threw out your Reduced Sugar Rusks because I thought they were too sweet. Yet, I let your Daddy give you Rum and Raisin gelato. One day you’ll realise that sense and I … we don’t often get along. But my not-so-normalness is also what makes me a fun Mommy!

This month I had to put Fun Mommy aside and tackle your sleeping issues. That was not fun. You’d developed this intense hatred for all things sleep related …at least when you knew it wasn’t a nap. You’d scream and go rigid or wave your fists about like a raving lunatic, but lots of patience … on the parts of family members and friends… got us through and now you’re a master sleeper. In fact, you became SO good at going to sleep, that our adventures in London with Kadie, Zed and Adam went a lot better than I’d anticipated! We were all so proud of you, as were the fellow diners at such places as Pizza Express and Boxwood…

On top of mastering eating and sleeping, you also appear to have discovered a belief that you are funny. You are, of course …being my child, right. However you often, of course …being my child, think you are a lot funnier than you are which makes it all the funnier. You won’t blow raspberries and rarely stick out your tongue, but always choose the best places for The Tongue to come out .. like the showers at the pool or Costco.

When you do things that you find funny, there is always this grin on your face like you are emoting “hey guys, isn’t this/aren’t I the funniest thing you’ve ever seen?”. Luckily, because I am finally starting to get into this motherhood thing, I agree that you are and encourage The Sillies. I do realise that I am only going to pay later and will undoubtedly start looking for the hospital with the nicest padding on the walls shortly.

That has actually been the best part of this month. I’ve started to really enjoy this journey. Not enough to make me think a brother or sister would be a good idea right now or later, but I am liking watching the world through your eyes and getting to know you now that I am not so scared of you. And you seem not to be too scared of me either which really helps. There are some days when you raise those perfectly shaped brows of yours and look at me with an expression that can only mean “YOU’re not seriously in charge of ME are you?”, but that look is quickly followed by a sigh of relief when you realise that YES! I am the one in charge of you! Hooray!

I think my not-by-the-book approach has helped out a lot this month as we hit the road …or the train tracks for the bright lights of London. Hotel Life is my dream and you quickly adapted. So long as there was food on hand when you were hungry and a blanket nearby when you were sleepy. You became a people watching expert and for those five days I swear you thought you were 5 years old. And at times, I think we all thought you were too.

But there were also moments when I realised that you are still just a tiny little dude who is only 6 months old. You’ve done so much in the past 6 months that sometimes we lose sight of this fact. Sometimes we start to expect more of you because you seem bigger and stronger and older. I swore I would never put expectations on you, but you’ve already been through so much more than I’d thought, that we just tend to think that you’re at least 1. I’m so grateful for the days where you just want cuddles, because those are the days that remind me. Those are the days that I know I am going to wish I took more advantage of when you’re 12 and think I’m an embarrassment. And when I look back and watch the tiny baby screaming as Kadie is prepping him for his first video’d bath, I break down and cry and hate all of the memories I didn’t get to make because my brain wouldn’t let me. But now it will, so watch out, NoHa, the cuddles are coming!!

So Happy Half Year to you, Noah Alexander James! As hard as the past 6 months have been, you have been so worth every grey hair, laugh, nervous breakdown, smile, stomachache, headache, tear and tiny smack in the face that you give when you roll over and try and grab my pillow. I am looking so forward to the next six… and all of the half and full birthdays to follow (yours and mine)!!

Happy Six Months, Grumpy Pumps.
Mommy Loves You!

When I got back from London I searched and searched through my suitcase and Noah’s for the only item I’d packed that was almost as important as packing my firstborn (and only) son: my tweezers.

They are not just any tweezers. These tweezers have been with me for 10 years. They have moved from apartment to apartment to apartment to condo to England and have travelled with me all over the world. Every time I go somewhere I make sure they are there upon arrival and that they are there when I return.

These tweezers even came to the hospital with me when I gave birth because there was no way I was going to leave them at home and risk Lee misplacing them and causing my world to spin off course (more than it was about to anyway).

So, back to where I started this post ….

When we returned from London I went to find my beloved tweezers. I looked EVERYWHERE. In my suitcase, in Noah’s suitcase, in the diaper bag (not sure why they’d be there, but this is me and I’ve been known to do things that are not quite normal). They were nowhere to be found. My heart dropped into my stomach, my eyes filled with tears. I’d remembered them sitting on the glass countertop in the bathroom at the hotel. I started to come up with plausible situations for their disappearance: Did housekeeping realise the find that sat there before them!? Did I knock them down the sink when I had removed the plug to get rid of the mountain of dish soap bubbles I’d created when cleaning Noah’s bottles?!

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. They were gone. I was going to have to find a replacement. But how do you replace THE perfect pair of tweezers?! I’d bought a similar kit at The Body Shop (where my beloved pair came from) before in hopes of having TWO pairs. I should have known that you can only have one amazing pair per person. Per household even. I didn’t know what to do. I was lost. I felt like the shell of a person. The shell of a person whose eyebrows were taking on a life all their own. That was it. Poor Noah was going to have a circus freak show entry for a mother. The Lady Whose Eyebrows Ate Her Face. At least we’d be able to make a few dollars (or pounds) to keep our Stay At Home Mom thing going.

An entire week has passed since the day my universe what thrown off balance (mostly due to the uneven growth) and as I went to look in my “bling” bag for a pair of earrings before Noah and I headed off on our errands, I was poked by something. I took a closer look inside to see my beloved tweezers all wrapped up in a necklace.

We are back together again. This time, for good.

I’m back at home after 5 days in London with my Mom, Randy, my 8 year old cousin Noah and for some of the days, Lee. In those 5 days we packed in sightseeing, eating, walking, failed attempts at going on the London Eye, serious arcade game playing, shopping and loving the life that comes with going out of the door with your bed unmade and coming home to it being all neat and tidy.

During those five days, I also celebrated the anniversary of my Mom’s life and the anniversary of my Daddy’s death. It doesn’t matter where in the world I would have spent those days because the roller coaster of emotion wouldn’t have changed.

Two years on and the pain still hurts like it was only two hours ago. I am still completely heartbroken, although Noah has worked hard at fixing it. We were in the Maple Leaf pub in Covent Garden watching the Olympic 100m final when I broke into tears. Everyone was having a good time and witnessing Usain Bolt smash the record, but the person who would have loved it most didn’t get to see it. So I cried.

I looked around and saw how much Noah was loving the interaction and attention from my Mom and Randy and it made me so happy to see how much he is loved, but at the same time it made me so sad to know that my Daddy will never get to hold him, to squeeze his fat …not chubby, fat… thighs, see the look of wonder or awe or excitement (all which can occur within 3 seconds of each other) on his face. They would have loved each other. There is no doubt in my mind.

It was a hard day, the anniversary, because of the state of my heart, and the healing still left to do, but it was a lot easier than last year, if only because I had no choice but to be completely occupied by a near 6 month old, his Kadie and Zed and his cousin Adam.

Though it was still a sad day, because aside from one text I received, no one mentioned him; no one asked if I was okay, I had no way of talking to my brothers to see if they were okay. And then it dawned on me that everyone else may have moved on, and I can’t.

Right now I am watching Noah roll all over my bed, playing some sort of game of tag with a blanket and I am so thrilled that he is as happy as he is, but I still believe that he would be even happier if he could have only had one day with my Daddy.

I know that I should be grateful that he still has his Nan and Granddad, and his Kadie and Zed who all love him so much, and I am. I know what a lucky little boy he is to be loved as much as he is by everyone in his family, but that doesn’t make it easier.

So, I did have a great time seeing everyone and loved that I got to celebrate my Momma’s birthday with her for the 4th year in a row (this time on the actual day and in England!), it is just a shame that a day of great celebration is so closely followed by the day I dread most.

At least she had a memorable day. Not many birthdays are spent riding an open top bus tour whilst feeding your grandson a map, watching a drunken fight in the middle of the street, seeing a drunken man in a child’s floatie try and break into a taxi, getting denied a ride on the London Eye and then watching your 8 year old nephew be terrorized by a “stinkin’ mime”. It may not have been the party for 90 of your friends in a nightclub that Madonna had on the same day, but at least she knows that everyone she spent her birthday with loves her and wasn’t there for the free booze.