Z'Bout Time
I know I'm due for some kind of update around here. It'd be so much easier if I'd just jot down a note or two every day rather than let everything build up inside for a month. Sheesh.
Our daughter is out of rehab and back home now, adjusting to the "boring" life again. She says she really, really enjoyed the program and is glad she did it. She admits now to having reservations about it all the way up to the front door, and even for a couple days after that, but she met some good people and is better for the experience, I can tell. She even received the Award for Best Client (out of a group of about 25 people), and...here's the shocker...the award for the Cleanest Room!! This is HUGE! She's never made her bed, never picked the clothes up off her floor, never put trash in the trash can. My solution has always been to either a) close the door, or b) wait until she wanted something and use this as leverage...clean up your room, or else. I'm a bit of a neat freak so the fact that she got this distinguished award gave me goosebumps. :-)
She is still doing good (still happy with her decision to live a sober life, still focused on recovery, still interested in getting her old job back and starting school, more interested in actively parenting than she has ever been), but we've also had our moments of frustration adjusting to life together again.
We'll spend some time in family therapy sessions along the way so that we might hash
out the difficult issues in the company of professionals. From my perspective, the difficulty is we are either offending her by stepping in her way and not letting her "be the mom," or she loses her patience and gets frustrated because she doesn't want to parent and then we're not helping enough. She is very sensitive about the fact that she's not been here for so long and trying to preserve her role of
"mom." To avoid skirmishes, I've taken the position for now that I will let her do the caretaking unless she asks for help, and when she does, I am going to try and remain as neutral, loving, uncritical, and helpful as I can, trying to teach her what I have learned along the way without getting mad when she dismisses me (her favorite line is "don't be so paranoid"). We've agreed that I won't tell her how to parent if she won't tell me how to grandparent. I'm frequently told that I'm spoiling him...grandparents are allowed to "baby" their grandchildren when they fall and pick them up when they cry, right? Her counselor told us that we should just be prepared to parent while she is recovering because she can't do both simultaneously. Agreed! To this end we try to let her do as much as she's comfortable doing but without expectations. We try to step in when a diaper needs changing or when he wakes up in the night rather than calling on her (she never hears him cry at night anyway, and she's never seen him wake up in the morning ...which is a shame because seeing his happy little smile in the morning is the best part)! So you can see the dilemma. It's not easy. I should have studied psychology.
Julian, for his part, is doing great, glad to have Mommy home. He is
babbling, sometimes non-stop, and sometimes cussing us out in Baby,
like when we try to make him go to bed or take away the remote control. But he is still the most good natured little guy. He is practicing his walking with a push car and going faster every day.
We gave him a soft serve ice cream cone at McDonalds for the first time and he shoved it up Mommy's nose, then in his eye. He finished off with a heroic squeeze of the cone which, of course, resulted in much mess all over himself, but he was thrilled with the results, and quivered with delight. We captured lots of hilarious laughter on my cell phone. Wish I could upload the video.
We have been spending our weekends going to garage sales and thrift stores. Sparky now has more clothes than anyone else in the house and lots of toys. We've found a few deals for ourselves as well. I've vowed never to spend full price on clothes again (except for underwear and socks), not even at Wal-Mart.
And we are looking forward to our first airplane trip with Sparky in October (to Tacoma for a visit to our boat). I'm making long lists of all the necessities for traveling with baby. So much for traveling light! I'me resigned to having to check some bags this time.
Tha's about it for now. Until next month. Let Go, Let God.
Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family
Day 13
We just returned from visiting with our daughter, Julian’s mother, at her place of recovery, three hours away. She is on day 13 of a 30-day program, and she was given a pass to leave the facility with us for a few hours. It was a very rewarding visit. She is embracing the recovery process and enjoying the people and environment enough to stick with what must be a very difficult process. She recognizes and accepts now that 30 days is only the beginning, not the end-all cure. She shared with us several writings and “homework” assignments that she has been working on. I was amazed to see the words on the pages and I told her as much. They reflected a deeper thought process and a better understanding of what she is going through than I knew existed. Most astounding was the honesty! Addicts are among the greatest deceivers. Honesty has been sadly missing for a long time. The letters that touched me the most were those she wrote about “force,” about the ways in which she has forced her addiction into our lives and her son’s life. Up to now, she has persisted in the argument that we have taken her son from her and didn’t want her to be a mom. Addicts are adept at playing the victim. I suppose her belief was easier to live with than the truth, that she had abandoned her son in favor of drugs. Her view gave her freedom and permission to carry on with the “party.” The insights in her writings were a vast improvement over where we were a month ago! And the best part was seeing the joy that she is experiencing for the first time in a long while.
The core of the treatment is a 12-step program modeled after AA. As such, there were worksheets designed to facilitate dissection, introspection and ultimately understanding/belief in the 12 steps. She still has a ways to go, but there is progress. Reading a worksheet for Step 2 (which is something along the lines of “Come to believe that a Power greater than yourself can restore you to sanity”), she was asked to define such a “Power.” I think the purpose of this was really to allow people to define God on their own terms, but she wrote down “Julian” and “my parents” in her first draft of the worksheet. I laughed…poor Julian has the weight of the universe on his shoulders (actually, this isn’t funny when you think about the number of children of addicts who are forced to give up their childhood in order to “parent” their parents because they truly are more powerful than their parents…that makes me cry). Nevertheless, she managed to work her way through Step 2 and ultimately came to understand that the right answer was not Julian or her parents or even her boyfriend. When asked how or why they came to believe in a “higher Power,” she answered, “because God IS the higher Power.” Duh. ;-) So now, maybe Step 3 (“Make a decision to turn your will and your life over to that Power”), while clearly fundamental to everything else, will be easy.
We left encouraged. That is all we can ask for now.
Isn't she beautiful?
Happy times Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family and friends
V is for Victory
A big reason I began blogging was to spend a little time journaling. I've never been good at doing this, but thought it was important to do and thought by having a public face, I might be pressured to keep at it a bit more. That was a faulty assumption. I'm just not disciplined about it. Lately, there has been a lot of stressful stuff going on, much of which isn't very good blog fodder, but I'm going to ramble on for a minute in hopes that it might be therapeutic...this post is really about God giving us victory when and how we least expect it.
When I first began blogging, I never could have imagined that I would be where I am today, "retired" from public accounting and raising a grandson. Yes, I was planning to retire in a year or two (and had been wanting to leave for longer than that). The goal was to rid ourselves of worldly possessions, live on a boat, work odd jobs and SLOW DOWN to enjoy life! I kept praying for a sign that I was doing the right thing...a new job offer, a boat,
something, that would affirm my decision. One affirmation was finding the perfect boat, certainly, but I still had serious doubts about leaving a lucrative (by modest standards) and "prestigious" (whatever that means) profession with such a vague plan for the future. I'm a workaholic by nature, but even I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I knew that my excessive work hours had taken a toll on my relationships with family and others. The painful hours of tax season finally took their toll on me last year and ended with a
Big Bang! And then...
...along came Julian. God's timing being what it is, my semi-planned early "retirement" came just in time to help take care of this little guy. I never expected to love him as much as I did and I never expected his mother (my step-daughter) to be as unprepared to parent as she was. He was the sign I had been asking for, but if anyone had told me a year ago that this is where I would be, I would have run for the hills! I mean, it's been a stressful year, don't get me wrong! I wasn't planning to start all over again raising kids. It's hard work! I wasn't planning to deal with the extreme anger and frustration that we have felt for his mother. But the love and joy that Julian has brought to this family is indescribable. In hindsight, I wouldn't wish to be on any other path right now. He definitely affirmed my decision to leave the job that had consumed more than half my life. And I am blessed that God has entrusted me with him for as long as it takes his mother to get her feet under her. We continue to pray for her every day.
A most recent victory came when I received a call from my step-daughter asking me to give her and her boyfriend a ride to a friend's home closer to us so that she could see her son more frequently. She's been living on friends' couches ever since we evicted her. We have continued to hold the line on not allowing her to live with us until she committed to getting professional treatment for her addictions. She has opted not to do that for about 6 months now, although recently she has expressed an interest in doing so in order that she might parent her son. However, her intentions have been to get custody and live with her 18-year-old boyfriend (not the bio-father) who has outstanding warrants, no job and no high school diploma, while our intentions have been to help her get her feet under her first (i.e. recovery, college education, job), at our home with our support and lose the boyfriend. Without going into details that might make for a good television drama series, that phone call last Monday resulted in the boyfriend going to jail ("for a very long time" according to the detective we spoke to...he was on the Most Wanted" list in a town nearby and had warrants in several jurisdictions, including federal felony charges). While tears were shed, our daughter admitted that she was relieved to have him out of her life for now so that she could focus on the things she needs to do. Her attitude took a 180 degree turn for the better, she applied for and got her previous job back, and a week later (this past Tuesday), I drove her to a very nice treatment facility 3 hours away and she checked herself in. I have a good feeling about it this time. I know it's only the beginning and she has a lifetime of recovery ahead of her, but as they say, you can only do it one day at a time, and I am so thankful for this huge victory!
I am no longer burdened by anger. God is good.
Labels: An Accountant's Life, Baby Spartacus
Black Eyed Pea
Well, little Spartacus just sustained his first injury. We've added "Black Eyed Pea" to his list of monikers. And under my very close and watchful supervision, I might add. He's had his share of close calls...
1) rolling off the bed (thank goodness it was not far off the ground due to a previous incident wherein the entire bed caved in, and he appeared to have rolled sideways onto his back rather than falling head first),
2) being locked in the car (thank goodness it was only 65 degrees out, although the sunny conditions had me in full lock-down paranoia while waiting for AAA to show up with a Slim-Jim...which they then used to break the window...I could have broken my own window in half the time, but thank you AAA for covering the cost of repairs), and
3) thumping his head on the floor numerous times as he learned to sit up on his own.
But while talking to my brother-in-law and comparing notes on the challenges of parenting one child vs. more than one (specifically with regard to preventing injuries since his second child is a litle dare devil...they've been to the emergency room too many times to count and they're both medical professionals), I jinxed myself (and Sparky). I said something to the effect that I hadn't done much baby proofing around the house yet because I'm attached to Sparky 24-7; with just one baby in the house this is much easier to do and he's less likely to get hurt. He agreed, remembering the days before their second baby came along.
And then we came home and when it was time for a bath, I put Sparky into his little baby tub inside the big tub. He was messing around, trying to climb out of the little tub and reaching for the shampoo bottle, and I was trying to wrestle him back into the little tub, when his hand slipped and he cracked his eyebrow on the side of the tub and started howling. At first I thought it was his forehead or his nose, but when I turned him around (and my husband came running from the living room when he heard the crack), there was blood running down his eye. Once we dried it off, we got the bleeding stopped pretty quickly and put ice on it to keep the swelling down, so we didn't need to go to the hospital, but it was obvious that he was going to be sporting a shiner for a few days. Poor little guy!
I've always said that a parent's job is not so much to prevent injuries as to be there to pick them up when they fall. But I'd really like to think I could do a little better on the prevention side. Afterall, I am supposed to be his Guardian Angel. 8-}
Labels: Baby Spartacus
Another Birthday?
Today was a very nice day, most of which was spent celebrating Julian's birthday again. Our favorite babysitter wanted to throw him a party and invite several other children that she babysits. It was very sweet and for Julian, a rare encounter with his peers. He likes them. He adapted easily and welcomed the pushing, pulling, giving, grabbing and kissing that began the moment we walked in the door. I, on the other hand, discovered my inner germaphobe and quickly got out the baby wipes. But I particularly love this photo of the 4 of them on the couch together (where else but the Midwest do you get a John Deere tractor throw as the back drop
Which one is not like the other?
We also sat for his one-year portraits today, and I have to say that JC Penneys does a very nice job. I especially like that they allow you to download the (lower resolution) images to share online...we put together a couple of collages that I really like:
Bathing Beauty
Eyelashes
The most fun part was the sitting itself. Sparky is a natural poser. He was very patient throughout the whole thing (unlike the baby that followed him who had to leave early for all his crying) and smiled on cue in this shy little reserved grin:
Cruiser
But the best part of the day was spending it with his mother. She has taken a turn for the better and we are cautiously optimistic (we've been here before). She decided a few weeks ago to pursue in-patient treatment for her addiction. It's been several months now since we evicted her and told her that she was no longer welcome to live with us unless and until she checked into rehab and commited to a lifetime of recovery. Early on, there was no indication that she planned to do this and we were heartbroken that she rarely even called to check in on her son. She seemed to take the eviction as a release of her parenting responsibilities and the ticket to freedom that she wanted. We became his legal guardians with no contest (Guardian Angel 1 and Guardian Angel 2, we call ourselves, all humility aside :-).
Her entry date is July 19. We plan to drive her there ourselves so that she knows she has our love and support. While this is only the first step before she can safely parent her son again, it is the biggest one and she seems very happy for the first time in a long while. We are encouraged and glad that she has chosen this path and more importantly, that she WANTS to spend time with her son. We are prepared to continue parenting Sparky until he is 18 (and beyond) if that is what God wants us to do, but we also know that having his (clean and sober!) mother back is even better. We have no idea what the future holds, but we pray every day that she is released from this sin to live a healthy life with her son. I have absolutely no desire to put him in the middle of a custody battle like his mom went through, at this critical stage of life.
It's days like this that I realize how important it is to spend time with family and friends. God is good.
Labels: Baby Spartacus
And....We Have Crawling!
Let the record show...
At last, Little Spartacus is crawling! And pulling himself up! As of yesterday, I'd say, he is able to crawl across the room without pulling himself on his stomach commando style. Once he realized he could do this, there was no stopping him, kind of like a wind-up toy that's been wound very tightly and finally released. The same with the pulling up. He has his own little "gated community" that he plays in (checking his mail, tending his flower box and vegetable garden, and watching birds...a very cute Little Tykes garage sale find)...the walls are just the right height for holding himself up while kneeling or standing. He also got a new Teddy Bear for his birthday, named Velvet, that he loves very much. Julian would ask for Velvet to join him inside the compound (not with words but with animated commotion), but then he would push him out through the gate. After evicting Velvet, Julian would pull himself up and peer over the wall to see what happened to Velvet. It was very cute. And affirmation that he does in fact have a sense of "object permanence" (a portion of the developmental study he "failed" at the doctor's office because he was more interested in the coffee cup than the little red cube they hid under the cup).
Labels: Baby Spartacus
Happy Birthday, Julian!
From this...
To This...One Year Old!Dear Julian,
One year ago today, you surprised us all! You were 10 weeks early and we had no idea you were ready yet! Grandpa drove Mommy to the hospital in a big hurry and Grandma came as soon as she learned that you were really ready to come out. She thought Mommy just needed to get some rest, but the doctors kept Mommy in the hospital and put her on some medicine to try and slow down your arrival, to give your lungs more time to develop. We prayed and prayed, for you and Mama to be okay.
After a long and scary day in the hospital, with Mommy screaming bloody murder, the doctors finally decided that you were more stubborn than they were, and they took you out lickety split! We all thought you were going to be a girl, but you were A BOY!! We were very happy to hear that you were a boy, but we were even more happy to hear that you were HEALTHY! You were only on the ventilator for a few hours. Your lungs were already developed! You still had to stay in the hospital for 6 weeks, until you could eat by yourself and maintain your own body temperature. You learned these things quickly, and I don’t think you’ve missed a meal since you were born!
We didn’t like that you had to stay in the hospital, but we visited you every day and the nurses were real nice to you. They said that you were their favorite and they gave you lots of hugs and kisses. They told us how they could hear your burps from across the room. They also told us that you were “not a wimpy white boy” and that you were very strong. Grandpa nicknamed you Spartacus “because Spartacus always wins.” Grandpa knew that you would overcome every obstacle that came your way. And you did. Grandma called you Sparky and Sparkles, because she thought you were too cute to be called Spartacus. While you were there, many babies came and went. When it was time for you to leave the hospital, some of the nurses cried. We cried too because we knew you were like family to them. But we were happy to have you home!
In one year, you have gone from 3.5 pounds to over 25 pounds and from 16.5 inches to over 28 inches tall. Grandma and Grandpa said you were like a little perch when you were born. Now, you are like a beautiful salmon! Your head was the size of a peach and now it’s the size of a small honeydew! And you have 6 (SIX!) teeth. You bite (hard!) when we brush your teeth with our finger. You also pinch and spit on us, but we know it’s all in good fun. Really, we do.
Today, you can sit up by yourself, roll across the room, crawl commando style across the floor to get to your favorite toys, especially BEADS! You love your plush pony, your “jumping jack”, your Baby Einstein movies, your books, your play house and all your noisy toys. You babble constantly, saying things like mamamamamamama, dadadadadadada, and baybaybaybaybaybay. You like it when we pretend to know what you are saying, then you repeat yourself, with a smile.
You mimic us when we clap, and then you giggle. You are a very good natured, happy baby and we are so thankful for that! The thing that makes you giggle the most is Grandpa’s beard. That, and Grandpa singing. You pull on his beard, throw back your head and giggle big belly laughs. You eat all kinds of fruits and vegetables now, but you don’t like meat. We hope you’re not going to be a vegetarian! You still gag on solid food like pieces of banana. We’re sorry that you can’t enjoy a big piece of your first birthday cake!
You sleep on your stomach now, because you are such a pro at rolling over, even though the doctors say to sleep on your back. You sleep on your stomach, with your nose pushed in the corner of your crib and your butt up in the air. We’re not sure what’s up with that, but it makes you happy and you cry if we try to roll you to your back.
You love people and you make everybody smile. When you giggle, you light up the room. When we go shopping, all the ladies point and smile, and tell you how cute you are. Recently, you’ve started screaming. You scream for no reason at all, just to hear yourself scream. We think you are trying to sing like Grandpa. We hope that you stop screaming soon.
When you are sleeping peacefully, our hearts rest with you. You have grown so fast and you have touched our hearts in a big, BIG way. We have big dreams for you, like growing up to be a fireman who rescues people in danger, but you will have your own dreams. And we know God has a plan for you. May God continue to bless you in every way, just as He has blessed Grandma and Grandpa. Happy 1st Birthday, June Bug!! We love you so very much!
Love,
Grandma and Grandpa
Here's a few more pictures...look at how much you look like Mommy and Grandpa!
Mommy, when she was also one year old
Grandpa, when he was just a few years old
Mommy...
... and Julian!
Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family
Chorus: May Result in Injury or Death
It is amazing how frustratingly difficult the "simple" operation of installing a car seat (excuse me, "child restraint") has become. Last night, I spent the better part of 2 hours reading (yes, I did) the instructions (i.e. WARNINGS, WARNINGS, WARNINGS) and working on the actual installation. Trouble is, the actual
install instructions were surprisingly missing from the 39 pages of warnings that were repeated over and over throughout the booklet. The simplest of tasks, like "How to Adjust the Height of the Shoulder Straps" and "How to Attach the Headrest to the Carseat" were nowhere to be found. Like most things mechanical, I became frustrated to the point that I was ready to return the thing to Babies R Us and go
restraintless. But then, there's Julian's life at stake, and according to the "instruction" booklet, I could spend the rest of my life in jail if I did what my parents did and let him run free in the back seat. My brother and I used to play hide-and-seek in the back of the station wagon which was outfitted with lots of hiding places for the small and agile...every once in awhile, we had to "pull over RIGHT NOW(!) and let you out HERE(!)" because we got a little loud. But then, my parents didn't have to go through the agony of installing child restraints in their car.
And since when has our garage become the habitat for CRAWDADS (crayfish, crawfish, baby lobsters, nasty insects, whatever)?! I swear, there was a 4 inch long crawdad crawling around a corner of the garage as I worked on this project. Sometimes, life in the country stinks a little bit.
At last, the bigger, better child restraint appears to be installed (possibly correctly) and we're going for a test ride to the park today, to go swinging! June Bug, surely you know how much I love you!
Labels: Baby Spartacus, The Absurd
Lookit!
Julian's 2nd outing to the pool and still he's looking completely unimpressed with the whole thing. Me, I LOVE swimming so I expected nothing but giggles, splashing and hand clapping. Instead, I got this. Smug drifting, on his ($1 garage sale find!) floatation device. He's looking more like a jaded, can't-be-bothered-right-now, child star than a baby enjoying his first swimming lesson. Maybe it's the matching hat.
Don't worry, Mom. He's slathered in spf 50 sunscreen. Not to mention a shirt and hat, for goodness sake.
Labels: Baby Spartacus
Peek-A-Boo!
Labels: Baby Spartacus
The Pink Elephant
This is the post I feel I have to write before I can go on. It's as if to ignore the huge pink elephant in the room, I am somehow lying. It's as if I can't blog at all unless people know what is really going on in my life because without a proper dramatic backdrop, the trite and trivial stuff that I would rather comment about is just buzzing in my ears, and it gets annoying even to me. It's a variation on the "without the bad, we can't appreciate the good" cliche, only here, I would replace "good" with "little things."
Part of what holds me back, aside from my most introverted nature and the fact that I don't really have the time, is the fact that what I perceive as "bad" or troublesome
pales in comparison to
the pain and suffering of others in the world. I really try to keep things in their proper perspective, but that said, this past year has been especially painful and troublesome for me and this is my journal, not the Hitchhiker's Guide to the whole entire Galaxy, for Pete's sake.
So here's the bad, from my little corner of the world...starting with the good...
Most people in my world now know that I have a little grandson, named Julian. He just turned 9 months old but was born 10 weeks early, so he's not even crawling yet (his Auntie was racing around our apartment on her hands and feet at this age, and running around the entire park at 12 months)! I love him dearly! I can honestly say, I think I love him more than any other person on earth! I've never known the strength of the parent-child love relationship like I know it with Julian (C.S. Lewis wrote a brilliant little book on this, along with the three other kinds of love, in a book entitled...wait for it...The Four Loves). While I have known and helped raise my two step-daughters since they were 6 months and two years old, we didn't have custody of them until they were 4 and 5, after the most important formative, bonding years were over (in my opinion). Not that I didn't love them and raise them as my own from that point forward, but I never felt like this before. Their biological mother was still a big part of their lives even though she was a severe alcoholic. I still deferred to her role as their mother and tried not to poison them (not always successfully, I might add...I'm not looking for any Mother-of-The-Year nominations here!) Maybe because of that, I never felt fully in control of their lives (ahem, I do know who's really at the Helm), and my controlling nature tends to let go of things if I cannot control them. All I'm saying is that, while I have helped raise two bright beautiful girls (more about one of them in a minute), I've never felt the love I feel for Julian. And that is such a true blessing that I feel guilty about the fact that I am so emotionally bankrupt right now.
And now, for the bad...
When our oldest turned 18 (actually two weeks after she turned 18, even though I showed her the door on her 18th birthday since she'd been talking about this moment since she was like 12), she moved out to experience all of the freedom she expected to find in the real world. Of course, what she found in reality was that freedom comes with responsibility and that without behaving responsibly, one can lose the freedom she craves very quickly. And she did. She must have gone to jail 5 or 6 times in the course of a year, all for misdemeanor infractions ranging from unpaid parking tickets to shoplifting.* After her second time, we quit getting the crying "please come bail me out" phone calls because we refused to bail her out. Instead, she became well acquainted with a particular bail bondsman who became one of her best friends. We would always breathe a sigh of relief when we did get those calls because at least, we knew where she was and that she was alive. Amazingly, she did not get caught or go to jail for the more serious crimes that she committed while running with a dangerous crowd of drug dealers and car thiefs (oh yeah, one of the cars stolen was mine, since I let her drive it on the night she left and decided not to come home...the police were no help when I admitted that yes, I had given her the key but not permission to take my car indefinitely).
*I should mention that this is no small issue in my eyes given that nobody in my family has ever gone to jail for anything except the 4 hours my husband spent doing time for picking up mussels on the beach without a license, which is a funny post for another time. It's not like Jerry Springer around here.
When she learned she was pregnant, she was living with her fiance at the time. She called us up and wanted us to meet him. They came over and fixed us dinner. We thought that, all things considered, he seemed like a nice guy...until we learned that he too, was a drug dealer, and packing heat at our house (notice the jacket? He never took it off)! We later learned that he also trafficked in fake payroll checks among any number of other unknown "trades" and was doing very well financially. He was also in this country illegally. And while he may be Julian's biological father (he's not on the birth certificate and no paternity tests have been taken since he is nowhere to be found...we hope he is either in prison or back in his home country), he has had no contact with our daughter or Julian since she was about 2 months pregnant. At that time, they broke up, and our daughter asked if she could move back home. We saw this as an opportunity for her to clean up her life and get off of the destructive path she was on, so we ultimately agreed, with a lot of conditions. And basically that is what she did until Julian was born.
During the months she was living with us, we tried counseling her about placing her baby for adoption. We knew she was not ready to be a mother and abortion was not an option (despite her careless and unscrupulous lifestyle, she feels strongly about abortion, so I give her some credit). And despite her adamant resistance, we continued to hold out hope that time would change her mind and we thought we had plenty of that. Until Father's Day, when, 10 weeks early, Julian decided to enter the world before anything could change her mind.
Fast forward, through 6 weeks in the NICU, bringing home a 5 pound preemie (still a full month earlier than his gestational birthday), many sleepless nights, difficulties bonding with a baby that interfered with her "freedom," lots of babysitting on our end while she got her first real job in over a year and a half, working evenings as a waitress (we were thrilled that she was on the right track even if this meant more babysitting for us...it helped relieve some of her stress which made her easier to live with and frankly, we relished the alone time with Julian). Eventually though, exhaustion, depression and temptation got the better of her. Hanging out with friends at work after hours lead first to late nights, then to all nights, then to several all nights in a row of partying while we sat home with Julian wondering where (in the HELL?!) is his mother and what does she think she's doing and why won't she even answer her phone, let alone call to let us know where she is?!?! Well, you get the picture. Basically, we freaked out, bought some home test kits for her drug of choice, methamphetamine, and sure enough, she was using again. Initially, we insisted that if she wanted to continue living in our house, she had to stop using and get into a recovery program. She did that, but prior to our Christmas vacation, she dropped out of ithe program. We tested her again before we left and sure enough, she was still using. The withdrawals made her a bear to travel with! We went on vacation anyway and had serious reservations about leaving her with Julian alone in the care of other family members (namely her mother who is at least now a recovering alcoholic and knows about her daughter's "issue" and was prepared to intervene if problems arose). Still, we worried, but then, a miracle happened...Julian got sick with brochiolitis and had to be hospitalized. Our daughter's motherly instincts kicked up a notch and she actually remained clean throughout the vacation and things were good until just before Valentine's Day. We began to have hope that maybe she was really committed to a life of change and we talked to her about resuming the recovery program "just in case." She thought she could do it on her own.
When the inevitable relapse happened again, this time we kicked her out (she was already out...we simply told her that she wasn't welcome back into our house until she checked into a fulltime in-patient program and committed to a long-term treatment program following that. Truly committed. At that time, thank God, Julian was already in our care, so we didn't have to wonder and worry about where he was while she was out "partying." Our biggest fear has always been that she might "run" with him although honestly, she sees him as a noose around her neck and would love it if we would take him off her hands. Our second biggest fear is that Julian might become a pawn in her hands, a way to get what she wants when she needs it (welfare assistance, for example), a thing to call her own, something to fight for, but not someone to love and nurture and care for like he deserves. I didn't want this to be a case of history repeating itself, much like her own mother who fought for custody of two girls that she later admitted she had no business raising in her condition.
At first, we had some hope that she would check into a program and make the right decision. That was foolish on our part. Since we kicked her out, we have received two phone calls, each time she claimed to be in a program (we confirmed with her employer that she had requested a leave of absence, but we couldn't confirm anything with the facility). And both times, her cell phone log betrayed her. It appears that she may have checked in twice, judging by the lack of calls for a few days at a time, but it also appears she checked out, judging by the round-the-clock phone calls following the "quiet" days. But none of those phone calls were to us and none of our phone calls to her were answered. I can't tell you how utterly angry, hateful, frustrated, disappointed, and terribly sad this makes me.
Yesterday morning, before my husband went to work, she showed up at our door crying, for the first time in over a month. She claimed that she missed her son (whom she hadn't even asked about for over a month), but she went first to her room to gather up some things. I jumped out of bed when I heard her talking and ran to Julian's room like a mother bear protecting her cub. I begged my husband to stay home until she left (we both agreed she could not stay) because I couldn't trust her with him and he couldn't trust me with her! When she finally asked to hold Julian (he woke up during the commotion and I was holding him), I hesitated at first, but with my husband as back-up, I handed him over and pleaded with her not to cry and upset him. She cried anyway, and then he cooed and smiled and giggled at her, making all of us cry. I really thought after that, that our offers to drive her straight back to the rehab facility might be accepted, but instead, she asked to be dropped off at the Quik Trip in her old stomping grounds.
At this point, I hold no hope for her recovery. She has been given more chances than many and yet, if she were a drowning victim in the high seas, she refuses to grab the rope. Now, our only focus is on finalizing the paperwork and proceedings to become Julian's legal guardians (a process we temporarily put on hold over the holidays and then some, while the situation appeared to improve) and to provide him the best we have to offer.
All that to say, I really need your help. Julian is not the problem. Our daughter is not even the problem. The fact that I am still working part-time when I'd like nothing better than to stay home with him full-time is not the problem. The fact that as of April 15th, I'll be able to stay with him full-time but then won' t be making any money is not the problem. All of those are worries that can and do cause me to cry, but the real problem is the resentment and anger and something that borders on hatred that I feel towards her right now. I don't want this to affect my relationship with Julian and I don't want it to affect his life anymore than the issues surrounding his mother and father already will. I know some might say that placing him for adoption would be the best choice, to remove him from the situation completely, but I assure you, there is no place in our hearts to do that. I need your experiences, expertise, prayers, wisdom, guidance, whatever you can offer. My problems may be few but they run deep and most of them stem from my fierce stubborness and self-reliant independence. For me to move on right now, I really need help with forgiveness. I know, intellectually, that this is what I need to do, but emotionally, I'm on a very slippery slope...
Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family, Insanity
Grandma's Glasses
As you know, babies like to pull things off of your face and ears, so I often feel the tug on my glasses. This time, I turned the tables on Sparky and snapped this photo...he actually seemed to enjoy wearing them. I wonder what his world looked like given that I'm nearly legally blind without them?
Labels: Baby Spartacus
Facebook and Television Violence
I'm not quite sure how it happened, but apparently, I set up a Facebook account over a year ago and then never populated it except to upload a profile picture. Then I decided to accept and send a few (very few) "friend" invitations over the weekend and now, I'm up to 9 friends. Nine! This is rather paltry in the world of Facebook, I realize, but such is the story of my life. And as my husband says, you're lucky to have even one good friend in this day and age. I'm a bit overwhelmed by all the "garbage" on Facebook and am not likely to use it much because it's just so...much. And without a user's manual (or a 13-year-old), I can't figure it out. Certainly, I'll never be a Facebook addict, but I can see how it could become a great time consumer what with all the kidnapping, mafia hunting, egg gathering, flair sporting, quiz taking, bubble wrapping and gingerbread baking activities goin' on. Holy cow, Batman! Please, just give me a few good friends. To those who have accepted my request of friendship, thank you! :-)
Baby Spartacus watched the Super Bowl last night (following a long afternoon of cage fighting, "Grandpa, what are you watching with him, anyway? He is glued to the television!" "Cage fighting. He likes it." "CAGE FIGHTING?! What are you teaching the boy?! Oh, please, turn that crap off!"). The funny thing was, he really did seem to enjoy watching both the game and the cage fighting. Even if Grandpa wasn't holding him facing the tv, he laid on his blanket full of toys and ignored the toys, staring instead at the tv overhead. Later, there was much "unnecessary roughness" going on in our house. Little Sparky has already learned to hit! Everytime Grandpa tried to feed him, or wipe the drool off his mouth, or just hold him, there was much wild flailing of arms and smacking of Grandpa on the knuckles (especially painful if he happened to be holding a rattle). It was hilarious, really, because Grandpa asked for it. He doesn't do that at all when I hold him. It must be a boy thing. Finally, Grandpa had to throw down the yellow flag because seriously, who wants to get that call from the Kindergarten teacher?
Labels: Baby Spartacus, Fellow Bloggers
Sharp Dressed Man
When in Chinatown, who can resist these adorable (and cheap!) outfits?
My favorite part is the hairpiece. :-)
Here's another rare photo of Baby Sparky in real clothes (as opposed to footed jammies), on his way to (Great) Grammie and (Great) Grandad's for a belated Christmas celebration...
You've come a long way, Baby...
(6 days old)
Labels: Baby Spartacus
To Blog, or Not, That is the ?
Cuteness So I have this blog, see. And I feel like I should post stuff on it. But I've nothing to say. Kind of like a Pooh moment. Or many Pooh moments. And then I try to post and my wireless internet connection is all like, "now you see me, now you don't." So I get frustrated and mad at myself for wasting precious time trying to post only to accomplish nothing. And I can't blog (or access blogs) at work anymore because of the severe restrictions Big Brother has placed on our internet access. And I have friends and family with whom I haven't kept in touch and I think, if I would at least update the blog, that would be better than no communication at all even though it doesn't take the place of a private email, or letter, or (gasp) a phone call.
The little one should provide plenty to blog about...if nothing else, his cuteness and sheer size is blog worthy. The boy is now a whopping 21 pounds!! A ham! We finally convinced the doctors that we needed to switch formula because we fear this might be hindering his development in other areas, such as his ability to do basically anything but eat. He's finally successfully rolled over on his own and much enjoys belly time, but he still can't sit up on his own even though he's seven months old (or 4 1/2 if you consider he was 10 weeks early). Actually, he seems to want to skip sitting and crawling altogether and move straight ahead to walking. When I try doing sit-ups with him, he stiffens up like a board and pushes himself upright into the standing position and lets out a big grin. Every time. Here he is in his snow suit.
My, what big feet you have!
I could also blog about the fact that I just colored my hair. This is only blog-worthy if you know that I am not one to change my hair color. Ever. I have been a dirty golden blonde all my life, sometimes more golden than others, but never any other color, until my family convinced me that I would look better as a brunette. Not being one to worry much about my hair, I let my daughter (the future beautician in the family) pick my hair color. The box said "light golden brown" which sounded good. The results are much more like "medium espresso with a hint of red dye #5." A drastic change, yes, but I kind of like it. So far, the reactions from people have been positive. Now though, I realize this means some kind of upkeep or transition plan is needed if I ever hope to go back to my natural color (and I don't mean gray). There are no pictures to document this major event in my life.
My transition to stay-at-home-grandma is slowly progressing. I am supposed to be on contract for 20-30 hours a week with my old employer (my former "employer" is now my "client"), working mostly at home. So far, those hours have been mostly in the office. This transition takes time and patience and discipline but is finally on the move. I think the secret will be in not being at the office. I've had a number of clients ask me to take on their work personally, but I'm trying to say "no" as much as possible, preferring instead to contract for a few accountants (in addition to my former employer), helping in their "back office" so to speak. I want to keep my client responsibilities to a minimum for now while I work on the transition. If ever I decide to start up my own practice, I want to do that in the Pacific Northwest, if and when we ever get there. I need to work on getting my home office fully functional, both in terms of hardware and software. Now that the spare bedroom has become a nursery, I may have to move to the basement which is a fate almost worse than death.
Oh, yeah, the Inauguration (did I spell that right?)! I didn't watch it because we (my daughter and I) were busy at the doctor's office with Baby Sparky, getting his "contact dermatitis" confirmed (hoping to rule out all manner of other obnoxious sources of rashes that won't go away). Now, two days and a big jar full of steroid filled Aquaphor later, his skin is good as a baby's again. And there is much rejoicing because now he can sleep! But seriously, I must admit to much more optimism about Obama's presidency than I had expected. It is good to see the American people energized and enthused. It is good to see Obama acting seriously and quickly to address some of the bigger concerns. It was good to hear him address the fact that we, as individuals, are responsible for our own cure here in America (i.e. that it's not just a government problem). And it was nice to see such a beautiful all-American family exemplifying family values on this important day. I pray for the Obamas and for America.
And one more thing...I wanted to share the results of my latest framing experience...remember the Pig Farm? Here it is in framed form, shadow boxed on a "grappa" (burgundy) colored mat, hanging on our wall that was seemingly painted to support this particular painting...I was very pleased!):
(click to enlarge)Hanging next to the Pig Farm are two paintings done by my mother who is an outstanding artist in her own right. Below is the other framing project, a painting my mom gave us for Christmas, of San Simeon Cove (near Hearst Castle on the Central Coast of CA where she lives and one of our favorite places in all of America)...beautiful, no?
(click to enlarge)
Labels: An Accountant's Life, Baby Spartacus, Politics
Home!
We're back! It was a nice long journey around the western half of the United States, a good balance of time with family, sightseeing, and just plain chilling out/alone time. 7,100 miles of driving, 90% of which was driven by my husband. Our timing could not have been more perfect as we dodged every snow storm, flood, and avalanche. Our only weather event was constant rain on the drive down I-5, from Seattle to San Francisco, and some nighttime fog, but at least we got out of Seattle before they closed down I-5 (and 67 other highways altogether). We would still be there if not for Julian being admitted to the hospital, forcing us to leave early. And we flew through Flagstaff twice (both ways!) immediately
after the snow had been plowed off the roads. I figured we'd surely hit a Wintry Mix as soon as we headed north to Kansas City, but it was sunny, dry and 40 degrees the whole way. We arrived home 1 hour before our daughter had to be back at work (she had been admonishing us for 4 days to "hurry up," claiming that she would be fired (from her $3.30/hr job) if she didn't show up for work on Thursday at 5:30...each time she admonished us, we slowed down and told her to relax, we'd get her home on time...we left no room in our schedule for weather delays, but she did get to work on time :-). Now it's time for an oil change.
We learned on this trip that Julian is a champion traveler. While it's true he got sick after receiving 1,000 kisses from all his "new" relatives (actually, his own mother was the one to get sick first), he is much better today. I think the long naps sleeping upright in the warm carseat did him some good. That, and the nebulizer (thank goodness for car power plug-in devices!). I also think that because he got sick while we were not with him (he and our daughter were staying with her other family for about a week), it helped her act more like a mother (as soon as we picked them up though, she quickly reverted to being the child again, which was very frustrating).
It was fun to watch his expressions change as he warmed up to each new person he met. A month ago, he did not know a stranger, but now that he recognizes faces and voices, he leans back and looks down his nose skeptically at each new person he meets, sizing them up first before smiling at them. Now he insists that they sing first. Any Christmas song will do.
While I thought we were crazy for traveling with an infant, now I can see that it was a good thing. There is no doubt that Julian was in charge the whole way. One night, on our way home, the three adults in the car were bickering mightily over something and he started crying persistently. Big tears! We were in Texas and pit stops were few and far between. My husband became more inconsolable than Julian...it's "funny" how the most stressful thing about a baby crying is the pain it inflicts on others. Finally, we arrived at a Super Mega Pit Stop, the nicest rest area I've ever seen, with every amenity needed. We pulled in, got out the diaper bag full of pharmaceuticals, and went inside to determine the cause of Julian's crying (which, of course, had now been replaced with giggles and smiles). The three of us got to the business of changing diapers, taking temperatures, administering drops, creams and ointments (it was actually
my idea, the "paranoid" one, to let him wear the new onesie he got for Christmas, without washing it first...it's true what they say about that, by the way) , and ultimately focussed all of our attention on the Little One who secretly knew he had already done his job of settling our dispute, whatever it was.
And no post would be complete without a picture or two, although it seems the cameras were packed away for most of the trip.
Our Last Sunset on the Coast
Watching Timothy and Blossom
Sunset Somewhere Over ArizonaLabels: Baby Spartacus, Travel
An Update on the Baby Spartacus
Thank you all for the prayers...little Spartacus has been released from the hospital and should be ready to travel back to the icy cold miserable Midwest soon. He's a trooper. When we arrived at the hospital to visit him, he was singing and babbling to his toys. When he saw us (and especially his grandpa), he let out a big toothless grin. When I sang "Here Comes Santa Claus" he let out a big giggle. What a wonderful feeling. He's still wheezing a bit but the breathing treatments are helping and he's much better than he was...a huge relief!
Labels: Baby Spartacus, Travel
A Quiz
A question for mothers everywhere...when your baby is crying, should you...
a) Attend to the baby in an attempt to determine the cause of crying,
b) Leave the baby in the motel room and go sleep in the car (when it's 17 degrees outside), or
c) Lock yourself in the bathroom to escape the sounds of the crying baby and sleep in the bathtub...all night?
Here's A Hint (Exhibit A)Labels: Baby Spartacus, Travel
Never Too Young To Read
Labels: Baby Spartacus
Knock, Knock
Is anybody out there?
I know it's been awhile. I'm not myself lately. Life has been hard. Not as hard as it gets, by any means, but frustratingly challenging as compared to the easy life to which I've become accustomed. And while it might prove to be an interesting topic for the tabloids someday, I'm afraid I'm still so enveloped in the details that I can't muster up the strength to write about it. I'll let a few bullet points serve as a place marker for the day when I can look back and laugh. That day will come, right? Right?!
Yesterday marked my informal last day of gainful employment (yes, I realize this is a time when people are losing their long-time jobs and bemoaning the fact that they are woefully unemployed...and yet, somehow, I don't care). It's been a fast paced furious march towards the day that would really be my official last day...12/31/08 (but since I will be on vacation for the duration, yesterday was my informal "last day," and it went mostly unnoticed and uncelebrated by my co-workers, in part because there are so many loose ends that I will have to return to the office upon returning to clean things out...that, and I agreed to assist on a contract basis through 4/15 as long as I could work from home...so really? I'm not free yet). This march has involved a lot of lengthy transition conversations with clients and co-workers as well as year-end planning for my soon-to-be former clients. Along the way, I've had a number of conversations about outsourcing tax services to other CPAs as well as a few of my clients who prefer not to be "transitioned" to anyone else. And while I wasn't looking for this kind of work, the requests have offered some assurance that perhaps we won't go hungry.
November 4th marked the day we checked our daughter into outpatient drug rehab. While we were very disappointed to discover she had returned to a habit she developed before getting pregnant, we were optimistic when she acknowledged that she needed help and volunteered to seek treatment.
December 14th marked the day we committed to taking steps to obtain guardianship of our grandson when our daughter tested positive yet again for crystal meth...it has become painfully obvious that she can't work on recovery and parenting at the same time, especially when she is only partially committed to both...so we will do the parenting...and we pray that she will choose to commit to her recovery, but we're not very optimistic...this breaks our hearts, but we know she is in God's capable hands.
The vacation? Those with babies will, I think, appreciate the sheer insanity of this...we are currently en route to CA, and Seattle, starting in Kansas City...by car...with a 6 month old baby and his drug addict mother. The trip started just 5.5 hours ago. I'll update as I feel motivated, but so far, so good. I can only report that so far, the daughter and grandson have slept the entire way. The funny part is the luggage ratio. While the adults are carrying roughly 1/8 their body weight, the baby is packing roughly 10 times his...everything from clothes and blankets, diapers and formula to a crib, stroller and bathtub, and everything in between. Should we encounter a blizzard, we're all prepared to live on formula and wrapped in baby blankets for a few days.
Okay, that was a bit more than a bullet point list, but still...there's so much more...
But in all the "blah," Julian makes us smile and giggle every day. He's doing great, growing faster than a beansprout and making us happy. He's already 18 pounds and very healthy, according to his 6-month checkup last week.
Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family, Toil and trouble, Travel
