Play-Learn-Grow-Repeat

Two weeks ago, our family sent us on our first Andrew-free vacation. Andrew had a blast being spoiled rotten by his grandparents. While his parents enjoyed getting away and spending time together, we also missed him terribly.

When we pulled into the driveway at my parents’ house, Andrew came right over. His face lit up as he screamed “MOMMY!” and threw his arms up in the air so I could scoop him up. As soon as I went in for the kiss, he literally jumped out of my arms and covered daddy’s face in kisses.

The ENTIRE ride down to our house, Andrew was sobbing. He begged for his grandparents. Told us he didn’t want to go home. That it was no fun at home. He didn’t want anyone other than Nana to put him to sleep.

Andrew was a little stand-off-ish for a few days after that, but by the end of the week, it seemed like we were finally forgiven for going away.

Unfortunately by the end of the week, we took off again. This time we went down to Virginia on Friday night for a wedding. Andrew returned to the fun house with Nana, Papa, Alli (my sister) and Rosie (their dog that Andrew has declared to be his). We met up on Sunday morning for brunch.

Andrew refused to look at us. He clung to my mom’s neck like it was a life preserver. He wouldn’t sit next to anyone but Nana. Wouldn’t talk to anyone but Nana. I couldn’t even bribe Andrew into a smile with new trains or Lightening McQueen stickers.

Again, the entire ride home he bawled and screamed that he wanted Nana and Papa, not Mommy and Daddy.

I won’t lie. It stung. I missed the little guy like crazy. I know he missed us too. But instead of embracing us when we got back, we were in the dog house for leaving him in the first place. Maybe that’s normal for kids…but it’s still real hard to take.

Early Monday morning, about 20 minutes after I finally got to sleep, Andrew woke up screaming for me. It was the first time in awhile he woke up in the middle of the night. Part of me wanted to let him cry himself back to sleep, but I also knew he just needed to see we were still there.

I ended up spending the next four hours asleep in the rocker at the foot of his bed. It made for a long right for me, but maybe it helped him feel a little more secure. At least I’d like to think so… Maybe it’ll even get me out of the dog house sooner rather than later.

As many of you know, my parents sold their house and moved into my home after my divorce last year. While many people may think we are crazy, things have really been going well. I know Brady LOVES having Mamaw and Papa living with him. And I have heard my parents say many times how they will cry when (and if) the day ever comes that Brady doesn’t live with them. (Notice, they didn’t say they would miss ME – just Brady). But you know what, that is okay.

Sometimes I feel like the middle of a sandwich: tending to my 4-year old and helping my parents with random tasks. Thankfully, they are both fairly healthy. Now my mom’s mother has been very ill lately and that has taken quite a toll on my mom. But that would require it’s own blog entry!

Brady loves having both Papa and Mamaw here. Some of his favorite activities are doing mulch with Papa, riding to sneak some Dunkin Donuts in Papa’s truck, and just spending some “guy time” together. I am so glad that Brady has this positive attention from a male. And I think it really keeps my dad younger. He always asks Brady to come help him and claims that Brady is a huge help. I think Papa just enjoys being with the little guy myself. They both wear lovely straw hats, carry their water bottles, and take LOTS of little breaks to sit on the deck.

Now don’t think Mamaw doesn’t have her special place in Brady’s life. I think every child needs someone who truly thinks they are amazing – that is Mamaw. I often tease her that she thinks that Brady can walk on water. And although we sometimes disagree about acceptable versus non-acceptable behavior (I am a bit more strict), it is nice to have someone out there rooting for your son. She truly sees the best in my little boy and believes he will do great things.

Living together does have financial benefits too, as well as workload benefits. I don’t use my parents much as babysitters, and I rarely even ask them to watch Brady so I can get a haircut. But they frequently will play with him while I take a shower or am on a business call – which is nice. We each have our chores, which cuts down household work time. No one ever said who would do what, it seems we have just fallen into the roles.

So although I never imagined that I would be 33-years old, have a 4-year old son, be divorced, have my parents move into my house, etc.. It has been a HUGE blessing. We have always gotten along very well, so that was never an issue. Brady adores having three adults around. It keeps my parents younger. And our family sandwich may not be a traditional turkey on wheat, but the ingredients that we have put together to create our sandwich have changed the lives of all four of us.

Andrew is two years and four months old. You can probably count on one hand the number of days that hubby and I have spent away from our little guy. We’ve taken vacations, but always as a family.

It’s not always the most relaxing trip when you’re traveling with kids. I’m happy for any time away. But as I chase after Andrew or he wakes up multiple times in the middle of the night, I can’t help but think that sometimes these vacations are more work than being at work.

Next month, I have to go to St. Thomas for a work related thing. Our parents have generously offered to watch Andrew, which allows Hubby to come along. I’m so excited for our first munchkin free trip.

Of course, part of me feels a little guilty leaving him for the better part of a week. I wonder if our parents really know what they’re getting themselves into. But to them, I say thank you. And to everyone else, I say vacation, here we come!

I don’t think Andrew will ever like sleeping. He is so into checking out everything. Boxes. Light switches. Toys. A leaf blowing across the yard.

He fights sleep until he literally can’t keep stay awake any longer. We promise him that if anything exciting happens, we’ll wake him up. I don’t think he believes us though…

We’ve had a problem with Andrew waking up in the middle of the night. Every night. Several times during the night.

It would have been okay if Andrew got up and just wanted to play in his room. Instead, he would get up and bang on the door while screaming at the top of his lungs. Once you get used to the banging, you can sleep through it. In fact, I often did.

That didn’t make hubby happy though. He’d get up with Andrew in order to stop him from banging on the wall and doors. We’re in a townhouse and thought it was rude to our neighbors who share a wall with us. (I was of the opinion that, as parents, they would understand the 2 AM wake up calls wouldn’t last forever.)

So two weeks ago, Papa and Grammy came to visit. Papa is amazingly handy… I can’t believe the stuff he can do. Granted, in my family, changing a light bulb is about as handy as we get, but that’s another story. Papa and hubby were determined to figure out a way to muffle the sound of the nightly banging.

They tried boards of foam. They used scraps of carpet. They tried other things which I can’t even describe because they knew better than to try to explain to me what they were doing. Finally, they took an egg crate (yes, the foam mattress pad) and duct taped it to the door. Satisfied that it sufficiently muffled sound, they called me upstairs to take a look.

It looks ridiculous. I know in describing this, it sounds dumb. But let me tell you something. It WORKED.

The first night, Andrew tried to tear the egg crate off the door. Hubby was not to be deterred and reinforced the egg crate against the door with half a roll of duct tape.

It looked even worse. There’s ugly silver tape wrapped around all sides of the door. I wasn’t hopeful.

I was wrong.

Because ever since that night, Andrew has actually started sleeping through the night. It was immediate. He’s been consistently sleeping until 7 in the morning.

For Andrew’s sleep deprived parents, this has been awesome. After two years and three months, he’s finally sleeping through the night. It’s amazing that all it took was a little bit of creativity and a really big egg crate.

This past week has been rough.  My grandpa passed away early Sunday morning.  For most of the week, we’ve been out on Long Island with the rest of the family.  We’ve been camped out at my grandparents’ house and in a hotel around the corner.

Even under the best of circumstances, having a 2 year old off his routine and in different surroundings is a challenge.  Everyone had their doubts about how Andrew would handle the funeral and all the people who would be at the house while we were sitting shiva.

We did not give the little guy enough credit.

Like all 2 year olds, Andrew can be remarkably stubborn (just like his parents).  He also can  be incredibly sweet and caring.   Despite being in the throes of a terrible twos moment just seconds before, if he senses that other people around him are upset, he’ll slide back into being the loving little guy.  No matter how sad you might be, he can always make you feel better.

Over the course of this week, I can’t even count the number of times Andrew scrambled up the stairs, slid back down and screamed “AGAIN!” upon reaching the bottom of the steps.   He was so thrilled at the simple act of racing down the stairs that it made everyone smile.  After a couple trips, we were all cheering Andrew on, shouting “AGAIN” right along with him.

When I would start getting sad, Andrew would run over, climb up in my lap and throw his arms around my neck.  He’d grab my hand and run his little fingers over my knuckles gently.  The gesture was soothing and I recognized it as the same thing I would do for him when he was upset.

He gave hugs when people needed them most;  zoomed around with his cars when people needed a distraction; acted completely goofy when people most needed to laugh.

He was a total joy, despite one total meltdown when I wouldn’t give him a cookie… Now that we’re back home, I think everyone still out on Long Island misses Andrew more than me or Hubby.  I have it on good authority that my grandma hasn’t stopped talking about him and what an adorable kid he is.

I honestly don’t know how any of us would have gotten through this week without Andrew.  Without his hugs and kisses.  Without the crazy way that he sings “Ba Ba Black Sheep” at the top of his lungs.

I was so proud of my little guy this week.  And he really showed us that no matter how little and how young he is, that boy is capable of such great things.

My last few posts have been building up to this very special week.  We have decorated, baked, wrapped presents, mailed cards and (hopefully) finished all of our shopping.  Now it’s time to enjoy all the hard work and visit with family.

Today, Candymum and Grandaddy arrive to spend several days with us.  We don’t have too much planned, but we are happy to have them.  Jack was lucky to have spent some quality time with them this fall while I went to visit my husband in Thailand.  My husband hasn’t really seen his parents in almost 2 years (except for about 48 hours at his sister’s wedding).  He is looking forward to catching up over the holidays.

Jack is hoping we also get another visitor this week.  He is constantly talking about Santa and how we MUST leave him cookies and milk.  He thinks by leaving out the cookies and milk we are guaranteed a visit from the jolly man.  I try to tell him that being a good boy and listening is a big part of it too, but of course that goes right over his head.  Don’t’ get me wrong, for the most part Jack is a good little boy  (excuse me BIG boy according to him) but like all of us he has his moments of insanity that need to be addressed.

Jack is so excited for all the festivities this week.  It is so much fun listening to what he has to say and how he interprets what Christmas is all about.  I can’t wait to see how his opinions change through the years and what is really important to him.

Merry Christmas!

So many of my favorite memories from when I was little involve baseball. My dad had my sister and me playing t-ball as soon as we could hold up a bat without falling over. He coached our little league teams for so long that the town almost named a baseball field after him. My sister and I both played catcher, and I’ll begrudgingly admit that she was far better at it than I ever was. But no matter what else he had going on, dad always came to our games.

Sundays have always been about baseball. My dad started taking me to games when I was 5. I knew how to score a game by age 7. In the beginning, he would bring an activity bag full of toys and coloring books. When I was older, my sister was the one with the activity bag and I was almost as into the game as my dad and uncle.

When I heard I was having a little boy, I couldn’t wait to continue the tradition. (I would have been equally excited to introduce a little girl to baseball.) Andrew has his own little Jeter jersey, a baseball glove, tons of baseballs and a little bat that he likes to swing around like a golf club.

Andrew is learning baseball slowly, excitedly pointing out whenever he sees someone playing. He sat with me on the couch and, like all good Yankee fans everywhere, together we rooted for the Angels as they ended the Red Sox’s time in the post-season.

Traditions are important. Every family has them, no matter how big or small. I still think it’s the most special thing when I get to sit next to my dad at a ballgame. It’s just not the same without him. And I love being able to share this one with him.