My cousin/goddaughter graduated from college this past weekend, so a lot of my dad's side of the family came in for the occasion. It was great to see everyone, even if only for a whirlwind 24 hours. I'm spoiled in that I see these family members for a huge concentrated chunk of time every summer, but I rarely see them otherwise over the course of the year, so it was a bonus. It's especially great that HR gets to have lots of interaction with his extended family. It makes me so happy that he knows them and has real time with them.
When I graduated from college a lot of year ago, this was my cheering section.
That's everyone. My parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, my (then future) in-laws, a friend and my mother's best friend. What's most impressive is that exactly three people in the picture--Mike, me and our roommate/friend--lived in the Boston area at the time. And for my cousin last weekend, it was no different. Everyone makes the time and effort to be there when it counts. Maybe you miss an occasion here or there, it's inevitable, but to an overwhelming degree, once these kids come into the world they are priority #1 for the whole herd. Every little thing they do is a big deal. And every thing that's good about me as a person is because of this.
Major congratulations to my cousin, who I can't help but think of as a kid but who has grown into a smart, kind and beautiful young woman who is now following her heart across the country.
And congratulations to the rest of us for getting to be part of this crew. We lucked into it, plain and simple, but we know what we have, and it's up to us to keep it going. This many generations in, I think we're on a roll.
Mondays and me writing in my blog: we're just not that into one other.
I will say that this past weekend was terrific. I'm exhausted from fun and family love and being out too late and potty training. About that last bit, I actually don't mind the process, especially since I think we're rounding the corner on success, but it's so much more work than changing diapers at this point. It requires vigilance, son. And vigilance is the enemy of relaxation. But for better or worse, everything is temporary. It's all good. That's enough platitude rehash for one paragraph.
Expect a mushy, detailed recap tomorrow. Or, if you don't like mushy and detailed recaps, smell you later because that's pretty much my one note. Oh wait, I do have one other note and that is maniacal write-ups about So You Think You Can Dance. If you come around for those, you too will be in luck sometime in the next few weeks once I catch up with my DVR.
I took an unexpected blog break this week, just because I'm feeling pretty content, and content's boring. I mean, this will be boring too because I'm in the same headspace, but I do want to say that we're in the throes of both potty training and operation big boy bed, and we're failing in new and different ways every day, but it's OK. We're making progress in some ways too, and I've just gotten super zen about it. Of course I want what's best for HR, but part of that depends on me maintaining a level of calm while we work on things. Being pressured doesn't work for me in most things. Does it work for anyone? So gentle and steady is the way we've decided to go with this latest round of changes, and that goes for us too. It doesn't make sense for the parents to be secretly stressed out. We always get there, even if it's behind (an imaginary, arbirtrary) schedule. And all in all we're happy and healthy and having a ton of fun with our three-year-old piece of work. So our washing machine is seeing an uptick in loads of tiny underpants. So I froze to death lying on the floor to coax HR back to sleep in his own bed
at midnight last night. So I caved in and brought him into our warm comfy bed when he re-awoke at three a.m. That was one night. Tonight could be different. Or it might not. The thing is, it's just life, and it would be a shame if I missed out on being in the sweet spot by letting the little irks steal the spotlight.
Let's have a little Rick Springfield up in this piece!
Today's a pretty great day. Mike and HR came over to this side of the river for a change of scenery, and we got to have lunch together. Now they're taking the train back home and my workday is more than half over. Score! There's already a smack of celebration in the air as we slide into the weekend, because my younger coworker is getting married on Saturday, and we're all gearing up for the party. I mean, it's not the same as if it were my close friend or family member getting hitched, but it should be a lovely time.
I joke that this coworker is my protegee because our life paths our so weirdly similiar: we both ended up at our current place of work out of college after volunteering here, and were both drawn to the job because our middle sisters had brain tumors and our families stayed here during their treatments. We attended the same small women's college, and we both went to Paris second semester junior year. There are some other things, but really, I think that effectively demonstrates the eerieness. I've been along for the wedding planning ride, and I'm looking forward to being there for the actual happy event.
It's weird, though, going to a coworker's wedding. I've been at this job for nearly 16 years, and I've had the same long-married coworkers until this recent bride was hired, so this is the first work-related wedding I've ever gone to (not counting my own). Considering I see my coworkers more than most people in my life, it shouldn't feel like a strange thing. But as close as we are in some ways, I think we all like to keep a barrier between home and work life. There's an unspoken agreement that we don't friend each other on social media. We care about each other, and are interested in each other's lives, but it's just... different. I know it will be fun, but in a more subdued way than most weddings I've attended. And that's totally cool. In any case, I get to have a night out with Mike, and if I can make it through the whole evening without killing myself in the awesome but scary high heels I got to go with my goin' to weddin' dress, all the better.
Hey, the lilacs are out for a blip. These are smashing times.
HR had an interesting well child check up, in that he figured out that he may not be afraid of the doctor anymore (it took the first half the appointment and lots of hysterics before realized that) oh, and we were notified we had a borderline chub on our hands. I really like our pediatrician, and he's always very level-headed and laid back. His MO has been to more or less congratulate us on keeping our child alive as well as showing the bare minimum of interest in his development. He's been at his job for a long time, has seen a lot of parenting styles, and focuses on the bottom line. Which is great, of course. But I was surprised when, as we were going over his growth rate in the past year, he pointed out that while HR stayed on the same trajectory for height (the short-ass percentile), his weight went from being consistent with last year's percentile to several weight classes higher. In typical Dr. O fashion, after asking whether HR is a big eater (he's not), he reasonably suggested switching from 1% milk to skim, and moved on. I don't think he's particularly concerned as he may just be between growth spurts, but the jump up in percentiles was enough to catch his attention, and he wouldn't be much of a physician if he didn't share it with us.
HR's a solid dude with a bit of a belly, but it never once
crossed my mind that he could have a weight problem. We haven't forbid sugar or occasional treats in general, but in our everyday life he eats nutritious, whole foods (which we purposely feed him so he will thrive, not be thin), and doesn't consume all that much, either. Of course he'd eat all the world's cookies if we let him (we don't), and he's not much on veggies these days, but we sneak them in when we can and he loves fruit and things like black beans. I'm not sure how the numbers on the scale crept up for him, I'm inclined to believe it'll all even out on its own, but it was still a bit of a jolt that this was the takeaway from the appointment. Our instinct is to keep encouraging him with the healthful foods, and physical activity, and not worry until we have something to worry about.
Look, this is pretty much my philosophy:
(I would never actually wear this shirt, and I would add some things to the list and rearrange the hierarchy), but they are what they are, indulgences. I want to embody equilibrium for my kid. I don't want him to grow up with body image issues, and how Mike and I live and even subconsciously conduct ourselves will make the biggest impact. I would never fully give up anything I enjoy unless there was a medical reason to do so. Because why? Ice cream is good. I could be skinnier if I didn't eat it or lots of other things, but what's the point? I think it's up to me to lead by example in regard to treats and moderation as opposed to restricting and overdoing it in retaliation. Besides, being thin isn't actually the end game. I know that goes against some ways I've behaved, i.e., the great bikini experiment of 2012, but I never did anything drastic in that quest, and in the end I decided to be happy with my imperfections.
I am not scared of having an OMG Fat Kid. I mean, for one, I would think HR was the most beautiful child on earth no matter what because I am his mother and that's part of the job. But I also believe that physical appearance isn't an indicator of a person's value, and I don't want HR to internalize the message that small is good and big is bad. I want him to be healthy, to live a long happy life and be able to do whatever he wants to, meaning, not be limited because of health restrictions that could have been avoided. But I don't want any of us to be stressed out with any one aspect. Balance, always balance. I think that's the path we we've been on, but it never hurts to check yourself along the way. And Mike and I will continue to check ourselves as his primary influences (lest we wreck ourselves). Mike, that includes you worrying aloud over whether things make you look fattoush.
There's a whole world of bullets we've dodged by having a boy child and not a girl in this respect. But being born one sex doesn't render him exempt from societal pressures or make issues, be they mental or physical, inapplicable. We want the best for our kid, and it's our job to do what it takes to achieve whatever we think that is. Including navigating some complicated waters before you even realize they're open for swimming.
One of Mike's dad's cousins, an artist and now-retired art professor, had a showing of his work at his college's gallery in New York, so this past weekend that side of the family seized the opportunity to get together en masse. It was a very cool experience for us, because we got the chance to see people for more than 10 minute chunks at the Bar Mitzvah table, and get a different glimpse into their lives. There were even family members in attendance we'd not yet met. It was especially gratifying to get HR into the mix, because he sees my family all the time, and his immediate family on Mike's side as well, but this leg of extended family was all new to him. He latched on to Mike's cousin's two kids immediately, it was pretty sweet, and that alone made the long day of driving worth it. They are both a bit older than him, but were very good sports regarding his adoration. Days later, he wants me to tell him about his new friend/cousins as he drifts off to sleep.
I have to say I was dreading the trip, not because of the event itself, but because of HR's track record of misery on car trips. But he was a champ through both three-hour journeys, talking and singing and playing with toys and sleeping a bit. There was a dramamine failure on the way down resulting in my kid rocking the last hour of the drive in just a diaper, but we've ridden this rodeo enough times to remember to pack lots of extra clothes, baby wipes and plastic grocery bags. I'm so happy we didn't miss out. Family has always been top priority in my life, but having a child has compounded the importance to me.
Today my beloved grandfather would have been 89. I'm notoriously bad with birthdays, but I always remember Pup's. I guess if I get to be 89 and have my wits about me, I'll be celebrating it even then.
This weekend was a whirlwind of travel and family and art and check-ups, and I'm still tired from it all, read: not in the mood to give it a proper synthesis. It was good stuff, give or take one carsick bout. Good. Stuff. I'll catch you up tomorrow on the details.
Meanwhile, what is an Alabama Chicken*? I may never know, but I do love this song.
*In the style of HR's most amusing, yet tough-to-answer questions: "What's a meerkat?" "What's brunch?" I find there's usually a "Simpsons" reference that suffices, when I don't know how to explain.
