Pour Your Heart Out: A Birthday Glass

If you need more info about Pour Your Heart Out, see THIS post.

But, really, it's anything that YOU consider pouring your heart out.

Be sure to check out some of the links- you will find some amazing stories out there.

Again, just a brief reminder that everyone linking is pouring their hearts out and we should all be respectful in our comments. ;)

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Dear Monkey,


this weekend, you turn 6. Six. How did that happen? I still remember the day you were born like it was yesterday.


It has to be hard to be the oldest of three. There wasn't a very long time when you were the only child. When you were a baby, you HATED sleep. And only slept for 1.5-2 hours at a time until you were almost 6 months old. You must have thought your mama was crazy because I was often upset. It was the sleep-deprivation that did it.


You eventually slept better, though, THANK GOD. By the time you were 8 months old, we knew you were going to be a big brother. Even though we wanted it that way, I was still sad to think that you wouldn't be my only baby any more. Don't tell your brother, but I remember rocking you shortly before he was born and crying because I knew I'd miss those moments with just you and me.


You started climbing over the furniture shortly after that(which is how you got your nickname of "Monkey") and could run around by the time you were 10 months old.


Right before you were 17 months old, your younger brother was born. I'm sorry, my sweet boy, for how Mommy expected you to be a big boy then. You couldn't be carried and I expected you to listen to me and be good while Mommy took care of the baby. And you did. But, I'm sorry that you weren't allowed to continue being a baby for longer than that.


About a month later, you started speaking in sentences. Before you were even 2 years-old, you could hold complete conversations with people. You started speaking in essay-form. I don't know whether to apologize for not realizing that this was highly unusual or to be glad that I didn't know any better. If I had known how unusal that was, I might have been one of those obnoxious, bragging mothers. But, now I understand why others would give you weird looks when you could talk to them like that.


Everything seemed to come so easily to you. You loved adventure and trying new things.


You became a big brother again when you were 3.5 and took it all in stride. Shortly after that, you went to day camp. In the woods. Four hours a day for two weeks. I look at your younger brothers and think that there is no way that they could do that at that age. But, you were up for it.


Starting preschool was a breeze for you. Even when we had to move a year later, you loved the excitement and the beach.


You've made the transition to kindergarten so easily, too. I remember when you were a baby, thinking you would be starting in 2010 and that seemed so far away. But, now, you're almost halfway through kindergarten and on your way to being a first grader.


Time passes so quickly.


You are the child who is most like me. It's probably why we butt heads so often. We're both so strong-willed and stubborn. I love you so much and hope that you don't hate me for the disagreements we get into you. Even Daddy will listen to you, shake his head, look at me and say "He's so your child."


Daddy and I are harder on you than on your brothers. We go easier on Bear because there is much he doesn't understand and he was so sick that we constantly worry about him. And Cub is the baby of the family. It's not fair to you, I know. But, then again, I don't think you would tolerate us treating you like a baby anyway.


To my bright, sweet, stubborn, first-born, Happy 6th Birthday. I love you.

-Mommy

A Birth Story (Not Graphic, I Promise)

Wednesday, December 8th, 2004:
I am ginormously pregnant with my first baby. Have to make it through this week, plus two days of teaching next week and one teacher workday before it is Christmas break. Baby is due on the 20th, but doctor keeps saying that I could have a Christmas baby or asking if I want to induce on the 31st if the baby isn't here yet.


Uncomfortable. Only a few of my maternity clothes still fit. Wearing slippers at school and glaring at anyone who would dare to suggest that I can't.


End of grading period standardized testing going on. Pissed that my assistant got taken away to help in another classroom with testing. This means I must go almost 5 hours without being able to go to the bathroom. Worried that pissed might be more than just an expression.


Standardized testing ends after 2 hours. Assistant Principal walks in right then. I think he's there to collect my testing material, but he is there to observe me teaching. I glare and tell him my students just got done with two hours of testing- I was just going to give them a break. He tells me this is fine, but I know it's not. So, I subject my poor fifth graders to a math lesson.


Meet with AP after school to go over my evaluation. Start off the meeting by informing him, "I have NEVER received any comments in 'areas of improvement' and if you wrote anything in that box, I will be writing a rebuttal and filing it with the county office." Smart man has nothing but kind words to say about my teaching.


Thursday, December 9th, 2004:
Go into work and decide that this is all a bunch of crap and that tomorrow will be my last day. I'm too uncomfortable and tired to be working. Besides, we had just moved that weekend- it would be nice to be able to get unpacked before the baby comes.


Inform Principal of this decision. She's not happy that she will have to find a sub for the two days before Christmas break. Tells me I must have a doctor's note. Completely irritated because this is not true. I have the leave days, I can take them if I want.


Go to the doctor's office and tell them I need a note stating that I'm about due and that I will not be working any more. Receptionist rolls her eyes at the situation, but helps me out.


Friday, December 10th, 2004
Triumphantly plunk that note onto the Principal's desk. Stay after school until 5pm to get everything ready for next week.


Jump(literally jump) around Sam's Club as Hubs and I browse and I say I'm tired of being pregnant. Go to a late dinner. Then to the 10pm showing of Ocean's Twelve. Fall fast asleep and don't see more than the first 10 minutes of the movie.


Then home to bed. Practically cry because Hubs bought us a new bed and it's too high for my pregnant self to easily get in or out of. Fall asleep quickly.


Saturday December 11th, 2004
Wake up at three am, feeling ill. Won't describe it, but let's just say I was in the bathroom and it wasn't pretty. Can't get comfortable. Drag a chair into the bathroom. Having contractions, but never anything regular.


7am: decide that this hurts and I don't care that the contractions aren't regular, it hurts so bad that I need to go to the hospital NOW. Wake Hubs. He thinks he needs to shower first. We try to get things ready for the hospital. No clue why this all takes so damn long or why we thought we needed to do any of it. Only live about 10 minutes from the hospital, less than that at this time of day.


I am making these primitive, instinctive grunting noises. In so much pain. Notice that Hubs is going the back way to the hospital. I dig my nails into his arm and tell him he can't go that way. There are speedbumps that way and this baby will come out if we go over the speedbumps. Scare Hubs. Even more than he already is.


8:20: Being pushed in a wheelchair to a delivery room. Still not officially registered at the hospital and will not be until after my baby is born. Nurse telling me to stop making those noises, stop pushing. I beg for drugs.


Am checked. Fully dilated. Too late for anything to help with the pain. But, they do give me pitocin to make the contractions regular.


9am: Doctor arrives, breaks my water. Tells me to push.


9:11am: My oldest son is born. He is the most perfect thing I've ever laid eyes on.


My world is changed forever.

A Big Milestone

Do you know what today is?



My oldest son Monkey's birthday.



And he's FIVE.



How did that happen????

He went from this...

to this...
and then straight to this...

Or so it seems to me.


It was just yesterday that I stomped down the hall of the elementary school where I was a teacher, threw open the door to the principal's office and informed her that that I did not care that there were still 3 more days of work next week and that TODAY was my last day. Find a sub for me because I ain't coming in. My big ol' preggo self was DONE.



Good thing I gave her the heads up, since I had Monkey the very next morning.



Woke up in the middle of the night with lots of painful contractions...that never, ever got regular. So, until I was in excruciating pain, I didn't think that I needed to get to the hospital.



Woke up Hubs and told him we had to go NOW...and then wanted to strangle him for wanting to take a shower before we left.



Digging my claws into his arm on the short drive to the hospital when I realized that he was taking the back way there. "DON'T GO THAT WAY! THERE'S SPEED BUMPS THAT WAY! I DON'T WANT TO HAVE THIS BABY IN THE TRUCK!!!!"



Fully dilated by that point, they didn't even have time to technically admit me to the hospital before Monkey was born. I had him about a half hour after we got to the hospital. That also means that there was time for absolutely NO pain meds.



I remember looking down at his sweet little face and wondering how anyone can hold a newborn in their arms and not believe in the existence of God.



He was a horrible sleeper, not sleeping any more than 2 hours in a row until he was 6 months old.



He crawled early, walked early, ran early, and climbed over my furniture early. Nothing like discovering your 9 month old has not only climbed up on your couch, but flipped himself over the back of it to land on your kitchen counter and finding him playing in a sinkful of dirty dishes.



When he was just shy of 17 months old, he became a big brother and took that in stride.



Instantly protective, he didn't like when someone would try to reach down and touch his brother.



Even now, with all the fighting, no one else is allowed to touch his brother.



He's the same with his baby brother, born when Monkey was 3 1/2. He was a little disappointed that I didn't listen to him and give him a sister, though.



He's a tough kid. I always said that if he ever actually started to cry after a fall, I better get him to the emergency room because he really must be hurt.



He could have adult-like conversations before he was even 2.



He's grown up so much.



Made his own friends.



Gone to school.



Learning to read, write, multiply(addition is too boring for him), and put together kajillion piece puzzles. He believes himself to be smarter than most adults whom he encounters. I'm working on getting him to stop telling them so.



He has an opinion on everything.



Don't talk to him like he's a little kid because he does NOT like that.



He's 5-going-on-30.



But, regardless of how old he acts, I still can't believe that my firstborn is FIVE.



Pretty soon, none of my babies will be "babies" any more.



Someone stop me before I start thinking it's a good idea to try for that sister that Monkey wants me to give him. Not gonna happen...snip! snip!

Monkey...is me. The child most like his mama. Which is probably why we butt heads so often.

But, I still love him with all my heart.

Wishing my big guy a very Happy FIFTH Birthday!

Obnoxious Bragging

I know.



It's obnoxious when people brag about their children.



So, I try not to do it often.



I don't like the eyerolls.



And, I also try not to do it because my kids are so different and one of them struggles with the things that he "should" be able to do at his age.



So, sometimes, we downplay his brother's abilities.



Not to him- we let him know how proud we are of him.



We just don't shout it to the rooftops. I know how much it hurts me to hear what other kids can do when my own is struggling. My heart, it literally hurts.



But, seriously, do you know what Monkey, my 4 year-old, is doing right now?



He's sitting beside me, putting together a 1,000 piece puzzle.



A HARD 1,000 piece puzzle: it's of a bunch of postcards that are lying haphazardedly ontop of each other. It would frustrated the crap out of me.



And he's making amazing progress with it.



He's a smart little thing.



Though, if someone asks him a question that he feels is beneath him, if he senses that he is being treated like he is, in fact, 4, he will purposely give you the wrong answer or tell you that he doesn't know and then smirk.



WHAT am I going to do with this child when he is in school next year?