High Tech, Low Tech, No tech.

These days, it's hard to find someone that isn't plugged in and online. We have computers, cell phones, digital cameras, PDA's, and more to keep us wired to each other and to everyone. There's Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, YouTube, Blogs, you name it... it's there. Being a mom in this day of high tech-ness means somethings are a lot easier - such as sharing photos with friends and family, taking videos, communicating with family and friends in distant places. But what's the cost of all of this technology? How many "friends" do you have on any of the social networking sites that you haven't seen or spoken to "live" in years? Does it matter? Are we becoming a nation of wired individuals that it's taking a toll on our personal relationships? What will this mean for our kids?

Don't get me wrong, there are definitely a lot of benefits to being wired. How nice it must be to not have to wonder where your kids are at, you just call them. If they are going to be home late, they just call you. Your grandma can't make it to your wedding, that's ok, just stream it live! Gavin gets to Skype with his grandparents when they are in another state. You can't remember if your friends birthday is the 5th or 6th, just look it up on Facebook. You want to go out to dinner, but want to see if you'll like the menu before you go... great - look it up! (When was the last time anyone opened a phone book??). Imagine all the great information you could have at your finger tips for those book reports in high school!

But I do think there are some challenges to be so connected. One... if you don't respond to a voicemail within a "reasonable" (different definition for different people, mind you) amount of time, you are considered possibly dead and thus subjected to even more emails, voicemails, etc. that you don't want to or don't have time to answer. It's difficult to have a conversation with someone who is always checking their blackberry, or their phone, or their computer... you wonder if they are ever really present in the conversation. People rely so much on technology, they forget there is a wonderful world out there of people that actually want to talk to you, see you, and spend time with you. And not spend time with you while you are looking at your phone. It makes me sad every time I experience it, and every time I see it. I am not one to answer my phone just because it rings - I would rather be present in whatever I am doing at that time. My biggest pet peeve is people that talk on their phones for extended periods of time (I totally understand the answer and say "let me call you back" in case it is an emergency...) right in front of your face. Or the ones that would rather surf through the internet then have a conversation with you.

Is technology making us better parents? Or is it creating a barrier that doesn't need to exist? How do we manage it and provide a good example for what our kids should be doing - focusing on personal relationships or virtual ones? My personal opinion... put down the phone, close the laptop, and focus on the people right in front of you. And if there aren't any right in front of you... go find them.

Growing up

Sometimes it's hard to think that my tiny little baby is growing up. He's becoming a little boy. Mind you, he's still two, but every day he gets smarter, wiser, and more independent. I still want to think of him as my baby, and I think he will be until perhaps there's another baby in the house. This weekend we saw a friends' brand new baby (Molly - so cute), and she was SO tiny, it put it in perspective just how big our little boy is now. I barely remember him being so small he couldn't really move. I can't imagine his mouth anymore not full of teeth. And considering the chatterbox that he is, it's hard to believe there was ever a time when he wasn't talking. It seems like every new stage, I say... this is my favorite. It appears that every stage IS my favorite, and my favorite just happens to be this little boy who's grown up from a helpless human being, to one that looks at me when I put lotion on and says "that's nice, Mommy". My favorite is looking into those big green eyes, and seeing the independent little man that still does need his mommy. And I think about how much I still need mine, and it gives me a sense of calm and relief to know it won't end. No matter how grown up he gets.

It's Daddy's Turn

Pretty much since Gavin was born, he's been in "mommy mode". And since he could start talking, it's become even more obvious. My favorite (though probably my hubby's least favorite), was one night when Gavin wasn't feeling well, and wasn't sleeping. Him and I were up for about 2 hours (of course started with the "mommy! mommy! mommy!" from his crib). I was exhausted, and there was no end in sight for him to fall asleep. I finally had to tap out and get daddy in there to try to calm him down. Here's an excerpt of what I heard on the baby monitor as I'm trying to go to sleep:

- "Buddy, Daddy's here"
- "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"
- "It's ok pal, daddy's here. Let's rock in the rocking chair"
- "I want Mommy! I want Mommy! MOMMYYYYYY!" (more screaming, escalating louder)
- "But daddy's here, mommy's sleeping"
- "MOMMY!" ... (pause)... "Bye Bye Daddy... mommy!".

He actually stopped to look and wave at Brian when he said "Bye Bye Daddy". I had to laugh, and sigh, and get up and go see him. Of course as soon as I walked in there, the crying stopped, and he was fine. We rocked again until he fell asleep, and though I felt loved, a part of me cringed at what I'm sure my husband was feeling. Most times when G gets hurt, or needs something, he wants his mommy. "Mommy carry you" is one of his favorite phrases. I've always known that it wouldn't be forever, so I've tried to relish being wanted and needed. But now... the time has come.

It's "Daddy Time". Now he wants to show everything he does to daddy. He wants to sit in daddy's lap, and the other night for the first time he cried for about 5 minutes (with real tears) cause daddy wasn't home to tuck him in to bed. All he could say between sobs was "daddy!". I'm like "but mommy's here... ", in a vain effort to comfort him, eeking some of those feelings in that I'm sure my hubby has felt for the last 5 years. Last night was another shift... Usually Gavin only wants me to feed him his dinner, but not now. Now it's Daddy's Turn. He wouldn't take a bite, until daddy gave it to him. Though I do admit a tiny piece of me is a little sad, I am so happy to see Brian's face light up when Gavin "needs" him. It'll probably take a little getting used to, and I'm sure will even out at some point, but until then - I'll relish in the happiness I see on BOTH my hubby's and my little boy's face when I hear "Daddy Carry You.".

Just makes you laugh...

At G's two year appointment, the doctor was asking all the regular questions about development and such, and I was answering like the proud, prepared parent. G and his daddy were reading a book to distract him through the mundane part of the appt, when the doctor stumbled on his words to listen to G counting to 10. He just smiled and said, "wow, well, I guess his verbal skills are on track. does he have about 100 words?". Uh... not quite. He had about 100 words 6 months ago. A 2 year old with a vocabulary that includes words like "Barcelona", "Bonjourno", and "Arrividerci", and can count to 20, has a few more than 100 words in his repertoire. Just yesterday, he went to take a bite of yogurt, looked at it, and said "that's enormous mommy". And it was. And all I could do was laugh.

Some of my favorite things he's said are so off the cuff, and of course we never get them on camera. He'll throw out an "oh my gosh" or "that's cool", here and there, but it's the fact that he's actually having full thought out comments that astound me. "I'm not going to go upstairs and take a bath, because... I'm going to stay down here and play outside". Or when we say our "God Blesses" before bed, and we get to Grandma Pearl - he looks at me and says "she's sick mommy". (which sadly, she is very sick). His compassion and understanding blow me away. Daily.

We're trying to replace "right now" with "please" - as in "I want some candy right now" to "I want some candy please". It's usually becomes "I want some candy right now please", which I think I can live with. But for now, I think we have a 2 year old that's going on 6. And I love every minute.

The words you don't want to hear

There's a few things in life that are painful to hear. Most of them fall in the category of TMI (the too thin walls at the hotel, the detailed description of your latest food poisoning, the specifics about your latest cervical fluid), but the one phrase that is guaranteed to make people uncomfortable is when you hear "we're trying". Typically, the first thing that comes to people's minds is not the beautiful baby they are trying to conceive, but rather the act of concieving that no one really wants to think about of their friends, family, or other partaking in. But there is something worse than having to hear someone say "we're trying". Having to say "we're trying".

Maybe it's ultimately because you know that the first image that comes to peoples minds is something you don't really want anyone that isn't directly involved knowing about (well, at least I don't). But I think it's more than that. Because to many a woman, it is an admission of a challenge, or to some, a failure. It's admitting that things aren't happening the way you wanted or hoped they would. It's a way to fight back the tears when people ask you when you're going to have a baby (or another baby), and the truth is you have no idea. It announces that it's not as easy as we all think, and that it might not be in the cards for you. It can also be a way to stop the questions, and avoid the comments. Sometimes I try to avoid using those words and substitute with some of my other favorites - "that's not up to me", or "whenever we are blessed with another". I always try to keep a positive attitude, but as many women know who have had a challenge with getting pregnant, it's not always easy. The truth really IS that it's not 100% up to me, and that if we are blessed with another little being in our lives we will be truly grateful. But until then, I try to keep my responses easy going, and not to offer TMI. Just keep in mind next time, as uncomfortable as you may feel when someone says to you "we're trying", it might be 1000% more uncomfortable for them to admit it.


But whether you admit it or not, or whether you have pulled the goalie or have upped the defense... it'll be a much happier world if we all "Keep Trying"!

The only one

Why does it sometimes (ok, often times) feel like I'm the only one that can do certain things in the house. I'm the only one that can throw away trash off the counter. I'm the only one that can throw away things in the fridge that are past their date. I'm the only one that can put out a new box of kleenex... change the toilet paper roll.... water the plants.... unload the dishwasher....refill anything that has been depleted.... you get the picture. I sometimes try to have an internal challenge, to see how long an empty box can sit in the foyer until someone else throws it out. But inevitably, it ends up driving me nuts, and I just throw it out anyway. Often times this drives me crazy, often times it drives me to tears... but I try to remember how lucky I am to have everything that I do, and to not bitch about the little things.

It used to drive me nuts when my hubby would fail to put his dirty clothes in the hamper. He'd sometimes put them ON the hamper, but not in it. Often times, they'd be on the floor. One day I asked him about it - really, it doesn't take that much more time to put it actually IN the hamper. He said it was that he couldn't commit to it being dirty. It was too dirty to hang back up in the closet, but not dirty enough that it couldn't be worn again. I was impressed (and surprised) that there was some actual thought to it, so now I get it. (I may not do the same thing, but at least it's explained).

I just don't know what the value is to leave a moldy tub of leftovers in the fridge. Are we going to try to make our own penicillin?

Every time I get frustrated that I'm the only one that can recycle the junk ads we get in the mail, I try to remember that I am also the only one that can give "magic kisses" to make it feel better, the only one that gets to snuggle in the rocking chair before bed, the only one that gets kisses from the handsome guy I call my husband, and the only one lucky enough to have the family that I do. It's not easy, but I'm the only one.

It happens.

As I looked back at some of these blog posts, I realized it's been quite a while. Blogging takes a lot of time management, even to get a few minutes to post what's happened in your day. Add to it a full time job (that is increasingly stressful), a small child, and wanting to keep some semblance of a marriage - I don't know how people do it! But I'm dedicating myself to even just 2 minutes a day - maybe a coffee break - to post something fun, funny, sincere, or just thought provoking. Now that I've explained my absence, I'll start off with something fun:

Yesterday the family all met up at Farrel McWhirter park for dinner to celebrate my brothers birthday. G of course loved being able to play with his cousins (6 & 3 y/o). They run around all happy and crazy whenever they are together. Last night they decided to go on a walk through the woods (with B as chaperone). Of course the kids are running around discovering everything - though G wanted to touch every single fern along the way once he learned what they were so it was a little slow going. Until... it happened. G discovered something new sitting just off the pathway. And like any little one, he wanted to touch it to see what it was. Now... we don't have a dog, so I guess it's understandable that this would be something new for him at the tender age of 2. He hasn't seen many steaming piles of brown except for the one time he took advantage of a "no diaper" moment with our family room carpet. So he bent down, stuck his fingers right in it and says "what's this called daddy?". It's hard not to laugh, even though your stomach is turning, and luckily they were in the woods with a nearby stream. When B said "NO NO... we don't touch poop!", poor G had the saddest look on his face. Not wanting him to think he'd done anything wrong, B tried to laugh it off and explain, then they went to wash his hand in the stream. That was probably the most fun, because it was cold, and he could touch rocks.

Lesson learned.... S**t happens. And you can always wash it off.