The Love of a Practical Man

Posted by on February 14, 2011 25 Comments

I can count on one hand the number of times he’s bought me flowers, and one of those times he didn’t really buy them as much as he took them from the centerpieces at the end of a wedding he helped his dad cater.

It’s bothered me in the past. Why WHY can he never just buy me flowers?

It’s more of a symbol for other things, I think. He’s not one to really do anything impractical, it seems. He doesn’t like to throw money at things that don’t have a tangible purpose. He just doesn’t get it. Sometimes a girl just wants a stupid, pointless (in his mind), show of love that’s going to die, like a bouquet of flowers.

Our very first Valentines Day together, 10 years ago, he took my Jeep to get it’s oil changed and headlight replaced for me. At the time, I found it incredibly endearing and creative. But as the years passed, and I continued to get such practical gifts, I’m not going to lie, there were times I was annoyed that he wasn’t more thoughtful, less practical, more frivolous.

I’ve come to love him more and more for this side, though. Our many years together have taught me that this man shows his love by all the PRACTICAL things he does for me and his children. And I adore him for that. When I’m having a bad day, he doesn’t ever think to surprise me with jewelry. Instead, he pours me a glass of wine, tells me to sit down and cleans the house for me.

He may not be able to shop for me for Christmas without begging me for an itemized list of specific items I’d like, but every Saturday he lets me sleep in while he makes breakfast with and entertains Kendall.

So this year I really wasn’t expecting too much for Valentines Day. I did, after all, get my amazing Canon T2i camera for Christmas, and my 30th birthday is right around the corner. I figured I would get the standard card and candy.

Imagine my surprise when I came out of the room this morning to find on our kitchen island not only the standard card and candy (and Valentines from Kendall, too), but also a pair of pink Converse shoes.

Shoes I stopped to look at briefly over a month ago, and had long since forgot about. Not only did he make a note in his Iphone to go back and get them, but he also checked the shoes in my closet to make sure he got my size right.

“I was so excited when you said you wanted those! You need new shoes. They’re perfect,” he beamed over the phone this morning when I called to thank him.

I absolutely do need new shoes, and I absolutely love that they are pink.

Expensive? Not at all (on clearance at Target).

Practical? For sure.

Thoughtful? SO VERY.

Flowers? Pshaw. So much better.

Happy Valentines Day. I hope you’re enjoying all the ones who love you today, and ALL the ways they show they love you.

Scott and I have been together for 10 years and 14 days (our first date was 1-31-2001).

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Filed Under: Round 2, Terrific Terrorist Twos |Tagged With: , , , |25 Comments

I’m actually a little afraid to mention anything

Posted by on November 19, 2008 8 Comments

for fear I may jinx it, but I feel like I need to record this historic event in the life of me and my little boy so that I may refer to it in the future to reassure myself that my child, indeed, does have the capacity to sleep for more than 5 hours straight.  KENDALL SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT LAST NIGHT!! ::knocking on every piece of wood in sight::

I put him down at 7:30, fed him once at midnight, per our usual routine, then headed off to bed with three Advil and a big cup of water because I was feeling like ass.  I guess it’s a head cold or something.  I was exhausted and already dreading the inevitable trudge across the house in a few hours for the second nighttime feeding, and fearing any additional feedings that seem to be coming with this whole new world of solids introductions (because saying a baby will sleep through the night once they start solids is such a fucking lie, people!…. more on that in another post).  I made sure to turn the monitor up louder than usual because I knew how hard it was going to be to get out of bed.  Plus, Scott was out of town for the night and he’s usually the first to wake up when Kendall starts crying.  In fact, my lovely husband who I love oh so dearly is the one to go get Kendall 90% of the time and bring him to me to nurse him in bed in the middle of the night.  Then, only partly because he loves me so much and mainly because he’s afraid I am going to drop the baby in my sleep-walk haze, he is the one to take him back.  It’s things like that that really make up for the fact that he has no ability to control the volume of his voice while I am trying to get Kendall down for a nap.

Now, I’m really hoping that the reason why I didn’t wake up to feed him last night is because he really did sleep through the night, not because I was so incredibly exhausted that I slept right through his cries and my husband wasn’t there to rescue the baby. Ugh… the mommy guilt, it’s trying to take away my joy.  It’s trying to ruin this wonderful night of sleep for me!

Well, when I awoke this morning to, not the sound of a squawking/screaming baby, but to the sound of the school buses behind our house, I laid in bed for a minute or two wondering, “Why do I feel so…. so … rested?  So… refreshed?  Why do I not hear Kendall?  How many times did he wake last night?  Oh….my… God….  HE’S DEAD!!  HE MUST BE!!!”  I then leap out of bed, dart toward his room, fling his door open, and am greeted by my smiling baby, happily playing with his lovey.  If my boobs weren’t about to explode, I would have tried the duck and roll before he saw me so that I could get some more sleep.  I picked him up to bring him back to bed with me and reflected on a bit of advice my brother in law told me this summer.  It went something like this:

“There will be a morning when  you will wake up and not hear the baby crying, and you will  be tempted to run to their room to check on them because  you think they are dead.  The way I see it is just enjoy the extra sleep.  Chances are they are fine, and if they are dead, what are you going to do?”

Morbid.  I know.  It makes me chuckle every time.  I should have listened to his advice.

So we all know that since I’ve blogged about this wondrous event Kendall will wake 4 or 5 times tonight, just to prove it was a fluke.  Annnnnd… right on cue, like a scene from a movie, I hear him crying right now – 1 hour earlier than his usual first nighttime feeding, and this is actually the second feeding of the night already because he woke at 9:30.  Yeah…  it’s going to be a long night.  Damn.  I knew I shouldn’t have blogged about this.  I’m off.

Kendall is 6 and a half months old

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Seriously?!

Posted by on November 16, 2008 2 Comments

I love my husband.  He is a wonderful man who takes very good care of me and Kendall.  He works his ass off and is incredibly helpful with everything.  I am very lucky to have him.  Having said all that,  oh my God!  I want to KILL him!  Getting Kendall to take a nap these days is a battle of the wills equivalent to World War 3.  He fights and fights and fights.  I rock and rock and rock.  He throws his arms, kicks his legs, screams, shoots me evil looks with the eyes he is willing with all his might to stay open.  I just keep rocking, holding him tight.  It’s quite exhausting, really, but I almost always win.  It just takes time.

So this morning I am SO close to getting Kendall to go down for his nap.  SO FREAKING CLOSE.  Scott comes into the room with a paint can in hand (yes, we are STILL painting.  It will. never. end.), and instead of making the observation that I am rocking his son to sleep and perhaps he should *quietly* make his exit, he says, “Oh… hey… what wall does this go on?”  I shoot him the look, but he doesn’t move.  I then carefully motion with my hand that is free to leave the room.  Kendall is starting to pry one eye open.  Scott sees this, “What?  He’s already awake.  Just tell me what wall to put this on?”  SERIOUSLY?!  Do you not realize that he is “already awake” because you won’t shut the hell up?!  GET OUT!  But no… he won’t leave.  As I sit there silently, trying to telepathically move him into the other room with the death rays beaming from my eyes, he continues to ask questions.  It is too late now.  Kendall is WIDE awake.  All efforts on my part up to this point are futile.  I tell Scott what farking wall to paint that color, which, let me just point out, I have told him at least 10 times before this.  Then it’s back to the rocking… rocking… rocking….

Men.

Kendall is 6 and a half months old

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Mom abuse

Posted by on October 30, 2008 6 Comments

My kid beats me up. He bangs on my chest with his fists when he eats, he pinches me, scratches me, pulls my hair, my earrings, my nipple in his mouth as he rubbernecks to find whatever noise is distracting him. His favorite way of telling me he’s hungry is to grab both sides of my face, pinch my cheeks with his razor sharp fingernails (I really must learn an effective way of cutting those) and try to chomp down on my nose. I don’t know what he thinks this is going to accomplish. Well, if it’s that the attack on my head leads to me quickly flopping out a boob, then I guess he’s got me trained well.

I take it like a champ 99% of the time, although I tend to take the rubbernecking out on Scott since he’s almost always the cause of it. I don’t know how many times I need to tell him to please shut the fuck up when Kendall is nursing. We can resume normal conversation in approximately 7 minutes if he will just let him focus on me, my boob, eating. If Scott is in the room when Kendall is nursing, Scott merely has to clear his throat and Kendall begins winding his head around the room looking for him, all the while my nipple is still firmly clamped between those jaws and stretching out like some piece of taffy. Once he locates him, he smiles (but still manages to maintain a firm grip on my nipple, which is now hanging out of the side of his mouth) and then, like he just remembered what he was supposed to be doing, ravenously resumes eating.

As painful as that all may sound, it’s really not that bad now that I’m used to it. What I’m not used to is being BIT. Yeah… it happened. Kendall bit me for the first time this morning while nursing. After the “mother” side of my brain overrode the “get this predator off of you!” side of my brain and prevented me from throwing him across the room, I quickly unlocked his latch, looked at him with what I can only imagine to be a look of complete surprise mixed with a healthy dose of terror, and firmly said, “NO. NO BITING MOMMY. NO.” He looked contemplative for the briefest of moments then smiled and giggled at me. “No, no. No, no, no, no, no. This is NOT funny.” Another giggle. “Crap…”

The kid only has two bottom teeth so far, so no real damage was done… at least, there was no blood. But those top teeth are so very dangerously close to the surface! Once there is some counter pressure… ugh… what am I going to do?! I guess I just have to hope he doesn’t like the taste of blood mixed in with his milk. Or is this like when I first started breastfeeding and it hurt SO BAD and I was missing chunks of flesh from my nipple? Am I going to start building up callouses where he bites me? Will I just have to deal with the carnage for two months until all nerve endings in my nipples are completely shot?

Kendall will be 6 months old in 3 days.

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