My husband was laid off from his job recently. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the unemployment rate rose to 9.4% in the month of May.
I’m not one to turn the attention to myself, but I was laid off once, and it was a very shocking experience. I was completely blindsided by it. I remember how it happened. My good friend/boss called me into his office and, me being naïve, I figured he was just chatting with me or showing me that day’s cartoon from his Dilbert calendar. But as I walked in, I saw that his face was serious and his expression pained. I wondered if it was a health issue. I asked him if he was ok. “I’ve got bad news,” he responded. “Corporate has been tightening our belts, and some positions have been eliminated in our company.”
“Oh my goodness!” I empathized. “I can’t believe they’ve cut your job!” I was dense. I started to offer my sympathy when it clicked in my brain that it was me, not him. Once his words registered, everything began to happen in slow motion. “Whaat? I’m laaaid oooooffffffff? Wheeennnnn?” I was incredulous. The room started to spin. How could this be? I’m Jackie, I thought. Nothing bad happens to me.
Random images and recollections flashed in my brain. . . the lunar landing, “One giant step for mankind,” . . . the theme song from Gilligan’s Island (the version where they sing “and the rest,” not “the Professor and MaryAnn” version), . . . the part of Star Wars when Darth Vadar tells Skywalker, “Luke, I am your father.” It was too much to bear all at once!
Within seconds, disbelief quickly gave way to reality and the fight-or-flight instinct took over. My martial arts background made the former my immediate reaction. Within two seconds, my boss had two black eyes, a dislocated shoulder, and a groin injury. I then surprised myself by unleashing a stream of unexpected obscenities that I heard on South Park on TV the night before.
What happened even after that was a blur. I know there was crying, biting, and I remember seeing a goat flying through the air in the office. When the incident was over, the goat was hiding behind a chair, and my battered boss tried to muster a sympathetic, understanding smile. He told me he’d take me to lunch in a few days. I apologized for the assault and attempted to make amends by petting the frightened goat. I threw a half-eaten Baby Ruth bar on the chair for him as a peace offering.
Though my head cleared later, I couldn’t figure out why the goat was present at the layoff, but when I called my old work number by mistake a few days later, I was taken aback to hear bleating on the other side of the phone. I should’ve known my boss was already grooming my replacement! And to think I shared a Baby Ruth with that goat!
My husband’s layoff was not a giant surprise, and no goat was present. Joe’s reaction to his layoff was different from mine -- very methodical and level-headed. He was upset at first, but like a machine, he generated resumes, made phone calls, and contacted the unemployment office. He has a routine he follows every day to look into new leads, make calls to old contacts, etc. It’s a wait-and-see game for us.
I don’t have a good stomach for such games, but Joe has his fail-safe backup plan of becoming a male stripper or male model if nothing happens in another month or so. He’s amazing!
The children are chipping in by waking at the crack of dawn and panhandling in front of the neighbors’ garages each morning. When the neighbors leave for work, the children let themselves in their houses and bring us food and clothing. They never steal valuables, however. That kind of behavior is beneath us.
I too have a back-up plan, unbeknownst to the family. I have taken all the money we have in savings and in the kids' college funds and bought TV network time at 8:30 p.m. on the 4th of July. I’m going to have a telethon to raise money for our family. It’s ingenious! I've contracted the most popular celebrities who appeared on The Love Boat and Fantasy Island. These celebrities have great draw and somehow they all cleared their busy schedules and agreed to put on a variety show/telethon to raise money for our cause.
According to my calculations, in that single half hour (which will preempt the fireworks), we’ll raise enough money to live off of, to send the kids to college, and even to take a trip to Europe! I’m so excited. I am hoping my husband won’t discover that I’ve depleted our bank accounts and savings before the 4th of July. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.
When I think of myself and all my wonderful attributes, I’d say creativity is one of my greatest strengths. I must also give credit to Abe Lincoln, whose words at his inauguration have inspired me. He said, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade,” and that’s just what I intend to do. Remember to tune in on the Fourth of July and send money.
<>
Jun 22, 2009
May 10, 2009
Happy Mother's Day -- and Don't Buy a Pet
To pet or not to pet. That is the question. Ladies and gentleman, I haven’t written my blog for months and months -- and for good reason. I have been pondering the age-old question that man has faced since the beginning of time. Should I buy a pet or live pet-free? Fear not, I have an answer for you, and that too on Mother's Day.
The answer is . . . . you should not have an animal in the home. Hear me out. Many say animals are a source of joy and comfort, but isn’t it much easier to seek love through food or alcohol instead? I have tried both, and eating cupcakes or having a nice daiquiri are both cheaper and much more fulfilling than having a dog and cleaning up after it.
Many people who don’t have pets long to have a fluffy, little animal to dote on and love. If you are one of those people, I will gladly lend you my little dog to help you see what a mistake you’re going to be making. Sure, Lucky is cute to look at, but he’s dim-witted and not very clean. If he were part of the Indian caste system, he would be an Untouchable. He cannot fetch, stay, roll over or get me a newspaper. Is it my fault because I never taught him those things? No. Scooby-Doo solves crimes, Mr. Ed gives Wilbur philosophical advice, but Lucky does nothing.
Having an animal is like having a grown child with serious hygiene issues. This blog is rated G to hold on to our toddler audience, so I will refrain from telling you all the unhygienic things that animals do -- but, believe me, it is not a pretty sight. My old neighbor’s large dog, who was the size of a bear, once greeted me at his house by slobbering several ounces of saliva all over my feet. As he walked away casually, I saw him smirking with satisfaction. My kids have never slobbered on my feet or smirked about it behind my back.
Animals are also very dangerous. I’ve heard horrifying stories of animals who have taken people’s lives in anger. Look at Sasquatch and Godzilla. Their actions have been documented through video footage.
Even fish aren’t safe. My kids asked for a goldfish one Christmas, but the salesman convinced me to buy the cute little fish in another tank that was even cheaper. The boys loved showing “Goldie” to their friends until he bit off the neighbor girl's hand. Who’d have thought a cute little piranha could be so dangerous? What has the world come to when you can’t even trust a fish salesman?
I don’t like to write a one-sided article, so I will share with you the other viewpoint (the wrong one) that animal proponents will argue. They say having an animal will increase the years of your life and keep you youthful. Lies! My husband is allergic to our dog, and I’m sure the medication he is taking is decreasing his days. It was written in the insert that came with his prescription, "Warning: this medication may decrease your life span." In addition, prior to having the dog, my husband had a full head of hair. Now, suddenly, it’s all gone.
Proponents say animals will love you forever, unconditionally, whereas humans won't. They’re right on this count. Say my kid committed a serious crime -- I would cease contact with him except on Mother’s Day in case a gift was forthcoming) and never claim him as my own. But my dog would love my kid even if he was a murderer. So I’ll make an exception to my no-pet rule. If your teenage child is already showing signs of delinquency, maybe you should go ahead and buy that pet to prepare for future disappointments. If your child has no criminal record, however, I see no reason for you to get a pet.
Another pro-pet argument that I can’t refute is one that my friend Carolyn sent me an e-mail about. She said pets are truly man’s best friend, over all other friends – including humans. She had me take a simple test. I had to lock up both my dog and my husband in the trunk of my car for half an hour. At the end of the 30 minutes, when I opened the trunk, I would find out who was my best friend. Lucky was so happy to see me, but Joe was mad as heck. I tried this with my neighbors and a door-to-door salesman who rang our doorbell, and, let me tell you, the dog consistently won every time! So maybe animals are better friends.
On the pro-animal side, I’ve also heard stories of animals that have saved people’s lives – in the Alps and right here in the good old U.S.A. Look how many times Lassie had to save that dullard Timmy. But then I heard stories of people who have saved people’s lives too, so that makes this argument a moot point.
So if you are seriously debating getting an animal, consider the points I’ve made. Do you really want to have Cujo as a family pet? It’s up to you. I’ve armed you with the facts, and now it’s time for you to decide. Whatever you decide, I’m sure you will thank me.
This blog posting is dedicated to my mother, who has been like a mother to me for 40 years. The other 4 years, she was more like a third cousin twice removed, but Mom and I have put those dark years behind us -- the important thing to remember is that prison made her a better person in the end. Just kidding. My mom is the best mom in the world, a good woman who put her heart and soul into her girls and helped shape us into what we are today. Sure I was the only one that turned out great, but even a good mom can't have it all. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, and all you other mothers out there too. My sisters are mothers, so Happy Mother's Day to Marian and Annabel too. Have a wonderful day! Make sure you milk it because you go back to being an indentured servant tomorrow.
Love, your daughter (or Jackie)
<>
The answer is . . . . you should not have an animal in the home. Hear me out. Many say animals are a source of joy and comfort, but isn’t it much easier to seek love through food or alcohol instead? I have tried both, and eating cupcakes or having a nice daiquiri are both cheaper and much more fulfilling than having a dog and cleaning up after it.
Many people who don’t have pets long to have a fluffy, little animal to dote on and love. If you are one of those people, I will gladly lend you my little dog to help you see what a mistake you’re going to be making. Sure, Lucky is cute to look at, but he’s dim-witted and not very clean. If he were part of the Indian caste system, he would be an Untouchable. He cannot fetch, stay, roll over or get me a newspaper. Is it my fault because I never taught him those things? No. Scooby-Doo solves crimes, Mr. Ed gives Wilbur philosophical advice, but Lucky does nothing.
Having an animal is like having a grown child with serious hygiene issues. This blog is rated G to hold on to our toddler audience, so I will refrain from telling you all the unhygienic things that animals do -- but, believe me, it is not a pretty sight. My old neighbor’s large dog, who was the size of a bear, once greeted me at his house by slobbering several ounces of saliva all over my feet. As he walked away casually, I saw him smirking with satisfaction. My kids have never slobbered on my feet or smirked about it behind my back.
Animals are also very dangerous. I’ve heard horrifying stories of animals who have taken people’s lives in anger. Look at Sasquatch and Godzilla. Their actions have been documented through video footage.
Even fish aren’t safe. My kids asked for a goldfish one Christmas, but the salesman convinced me to buy the cute little fish in another tank that was even cheaper. The boys loved showing “Goldie” to their friends until he bit off the neighbor girl's hand. Who’d have thought a cute little piranha could be so dangerous? What has the world come to when you can’t even trust a fish salesman?
I don’t like to write a one-sided article, so I will share with you the other viewpoint (the wrong one) that animal proponents will argue. They say having an animal will increase the years of your life and keep you youthful. Lies! My husband is allergic to our dog, and I’m sure the medication he is taking is decreasing his days. It was written in the insert that came with his prescription, "Warning: this medication may decrease your life span." In addition, prior to having the dog, my husband had a full head of hair. Now, suddenly, it’s all gone.
Proponents say animals will love you forever, unconditionally, whereas humans won't. They’re right on this count. Say my kid committed a serious crime -- I would cease contact with him except on Mother’s Day in case a gift was forthcoming) and never claim him as my own. But my dog would love my kid even if he was a murderer. So I’ll make an exception to my no-pet rule. If your teenage child is already showing signs of delinquency, maybe you should go ahead and buy that pet to prepare for future disappointments. If your child has no criminal record, however, I see no reason for you to get a pet.
Another pro-pet argument that I can’t refute is one that my friend Carolyn sent me an e-mail about. She said pets are truly man’s best friend, over all other friends – including humans. She had me take a simple test. I had to lock up both my dog and my husband in the trunk of my car for half an hour. At the end of the 30 minutes, when I opened the trunk, I would find out who was my best friend. Lucky was so happy to see me, but Joe was mad as heck. I tried this with my neighbors and a door-to-door salesman who rang our doorbell, and, let me tell you, the dog consistently won every time! So maybe animals are better friends.
On the pro-animal side, I’ve also heard stories of animals that have saved people’s lives – in the Alps and right here in the good old U.S.A. Look how many times Lassie had to save that dullard Timmy. But then I heard stories of people who have saved people’s lives too, so that makes this argument a moot point.
So if you are seriously debating getting an animal, consider the points I’ve made. Do you really want to have Cujo as a family pet? It’s up to you. I’ve armed you with the facts, and now it’s time for you to decide. Whatever you decide, I’m sure you will thank me.
This blog posting is dedicated to my mother, who has been like a mother to me for 40 years. The other 4 years, she was more like a third cousin twice removed, but Mom and I have put those dark years behind us -- the important thing to remember is that prison made her a better person in the end. Just kidding. My mom is the best mom in the world, a good woman who put her heart and soul into her girls and helped shape us into what we are today. Sure I was the only one that turned out great, but even a good mom can't have it all. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, and all you other mothers out there too. My sisters are mothers, so Happy Mother's Day to Marian and Annabel too. Have a wonderful day! Make sure you milk it because you go back to being an indentured servant tomorrow.
Love, your daughter (or Jackie)
<>
Feb 14, 2009
Happy Valentine's Day
Valentine’s Day is so exciting to most people. Not me. I just celebrated my 21st wedding anniversary two weeks ago. To celebrate love just a fortnight later is crazy. How much love can one feel?
I remember when I met my husband. I met him and knew I just had to marry him -- the INS called and threatened that if I didn’t get married soon, I would be deported. It was then that I realized Joe was the man for me.
Actually, I’m kidding. I met Joe in college. I was in the math lab. It was quiet. The mood was serious. People were deriving functions and solving equations. Then Joe walked in, and serious faces turned to smiles. The mood lightened up. People started calling out to Joe, talking and laughing. Everyone was suddenly giddy with glee. There was a sense of happiness and harmony that I’d witnessed only once before at a polka concert when the accordion-player took the stage. It was electrifying. Have you ever met someone who changed the mood of a room just by walking in? Joe did, and I knew I wanted to get to know him. We became fast friends, and within days I had a strong premonition that we would be married someday. I just had to figure out what to do with his current girlfriend, who was inconveniently alive.
Joe remembers our first meeting too, but his account is a little different. He remembers walking into the math lab and seeing this gorgeous, olive-skinned woman with long, black hair. I was standing next to her. Joe reminisces fondly that he liked me and thought I was kind, despite my homely appearance. As I recall, he was entranced by my unibrow and couldn’t get his eyes off of me. I knew I had him hooked at that point. The part of the story you don’t know is that that my sister and I both worked at the math lab where I met Joe. We didn’t work at the same time, so Joe didn’t know there were two of us. He thought we were the same person. To this day, Joe says he can’t be sure which sister he liked, but he’s 35% certain that it could have been me. Joe was excited about the thought of marrying me. He knew my father would offer a dowry if Joe married me, perhaps some cows and a few goats. Joe had always wanted his own goat. It was a deal he couldn’t pass up.
So, four years later, we tied the knot and never looked back. Marriage has been fantastic. There were some bumps in the road in the beginning – lies, deception, affairs with exotic women, but Joe has forgiven me for all that now. I lived at home until I was married, and then we started a new life in a crime-filled suburb of Philadelphia. It was a wonderful time. And now, 21 years later, it feels like we’re still those college kids. We really enjoy being around each other, and now we’re got three boys we love and enjoy, as well.
For our anniversary, we went for a romantic getaway. Things sure change over time. At our 10th anniversary, we went for a romantic retreat and Joe carried me over the threshold of the hotel-room door. This anniversary, Joe rushed to the door first, almost knocking me down as he tried to get in the room. Luckily, the weight of all the luggage he made me carry helped stabilize me, preventing me from falling. At our 10th anniversary, we were happy to be alone together. At our 21st anniversary, we were happy the room had a fridge and that we brought our reading glasses so we could see the numbers on the large-print TV remote. But these things don't matter. We are still happy to be together.
People have always told us that you have to work at marriage, but with Joe, I haven’t worked at all. I gave up on that a long time ago. We talk a lot, think alike, and we laugh more when we’re together than when we're alone. Most of it is cruel, angry laughter at the shortcomings of the other spouse, but who cares? Laughs are laughs. Plus, after years of training, Joe has learned to think like me, which makes me love him all the more. He’s finally accepted that my opinions are his opinions. For our anniversary, I got him a plaque that says, “If I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you.” I’m sure he was overjoyed.
So anyway, while many are celebrating a special Valentine’s Day, my husband is working on a science fair project with my son, I am typing alone on my computer, and I wouldn’t trade this for the world. Unless maybe George Clooney or Brad Pitt made me an offer. Then I wouldn’t give a second thought to old what’s-his-name. Just kidding. Happy Valentine’s Day.
<>
I remember when I met my husband. I met him and knew I just had to marry him -- the INS called and threatened that if I didn’t get married soon, I would be deported. It was then that I realized Joe was the man for me.
Actually, I’m kidding. I met Joe in college. I was in the math lab. It was quiet. The mood was serious. People were deriving functions and solving equations. Then Joe walked in, and serious faces turned to smiles. The mood lightened up. People started calling out to Joe, talking and laughing. Everyone was suddenly giddy with glee. There was a sense of happiness and harmony that I’d witnessed only once before at a polka concert when the accordion-player took the stage. It was electrifying. Have you ever met someone who changed the mood of a room just by walking in? Joe did, and I knew I wanted to get to know him. We became fast friends, and within days I had a strong premonition that we would be married someday. I just had to figure out what to do with his current girlfriend, who was inconveniently alive.
Joe remembers our first meeting too, but his account is a little different. He remembers walking into the math lab and seeing this gorgeous, olive-skinned woman with long, black hair. I was standing next to her. Joe reminisces fondly that he liked me and thought I was kind, despite my homely appearance. As I recall, he was entranced by my unibrow and couldn’t get his eyes off of me. I knew I had him hooked at that point. The part of the story you don’t know is that that my sister and I both worked at the math lab where I met Joe. We didn’t work at the same time, so Joe didn’t know there were two of us. He thought we were the same person. To this day, Joe says he can’t be sure which sister he liked, but he’s 35% certain that it could have been me. Joe was excited about the thought of marrying me. He knew my father would offer a dowry if Joe married me, perhaps some cows and a few goats. Joe had always wanted his own goat. It was a deal he couldn’t pass up.
So, four years later, we tied the knot and never looked back. Marriage has been fantastic. There were some bumps in the road in the beginning – lies, deception, affairs with exotic women, but Joe has forgiven me for all that now. I lived at home until I was married, and then we started a new life in a crime-filled suburb of Philadelphia. It was a wonderful time. And now, 21 years later, it feels like we’re still those college kids. We really enjoy being around each other, and now we’re got three boys we love and enjoy, as well.
For our anniversary, we went for a romantic getaway. Things sure change over time. At our 10th anniversary, we went for a romantic retreat and Joe carried me over the threshold of the hotel-room door. This anniversary, Joe rushed to the door first, almost knocking me down as he tried to get in the room. Luckily, the weight of all the luggage he made me carry helped stabilize me, preventing me from falling. At our 10th anniversary, we were happy to be alone together. At our 21st anniversary, we were happy the room had a fridge and that we brought our reading glasses so we could see the numbers on the large-print TV remote. But these things don't matter. We are still happy to be together.
People have always told us that you have to work at marriage, but with Joe, I haven’t worked at all. I gave up on that a long time ago. We talk a lot, think alike, and we laugh more when we’re together than when we're alone. Most of it is cruel, angry laughter at the shortcomings of the other spouse, but who cares? Laughs are laughs. Plus, after years of training, Joe has learned to think like me, which makes me love him all the more. He’s finally accepted that my opinions are his opinions. For our anniversary, I got him a plaque that says, “If I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you.” I’m sure he was overjoyed.
So anyway, while many are celebrating a special Valentine’s Day, my husband is working on a science fair project with my son, I am typing alone on my computer, and I wouldn’t trade this for the world. Unless maybe George Clooney or Brad Pitt made me an offer. Then I wouldn’t give a second thought to old what’s-his-name. Just kidding. Happy Valentine’s Day.
<>
Feb 1, 2009
A New Baby For "Dawn"
A friend of mine is way overdue with her baby – I think she was due a couple months ago. She's finally going to be induced tomorrow, Groundhog Day. Of all the days in the year, I think Groundhog Day has to be the coolest day to be born. My friend must think the same. She told me her due date has influenced the choice of a baby name. She’s going to name her little boy (to be) Punxsatawney Phil, the true name of the famous Groundhog Day groundhog. Isn’t that great? I always wanted to name one of my sons Punxsatawney, but I couldn’t spell it.
There are many groundhogs who are said to “forecast” the weather, but only Punxsatawney Phil is a certified meteorologist. He has even predicted in the presence of statesmen and presidents. He is published, a know humanitarian, and holds an honorary doctorate from Harvard University. Read more about him on this website: http://www.groundhog.org/about/.
But this article isn’t about that amazing groundhog, so I apologize for digressing. This posting is about babies. A few of my friends had babies recently, and boy does it bring back memories.
That moment when the child comes out and is placed on the mother’s stomach lives vividly in each mother’s mind forever. I was 12 or 13 when I had my first child out of wedlock, and when they gave him to me, it was a life-changing moment. I looked at little Hans and instantly felt a sense of awe. How could something so big come out of an area so little? One more look at him and I had to throw up. Not so romantic, but true. In my defense, seconds later, I looked at that adorable, hairy little baby with the big, gorgeous eyes. He looked like a little Oscar the Grouch on Sesame Street. At that moment, my husband and I fell in love with Hans. (Oh, I remember my husband being there, so I must have had the child while married at a later age. Maybe I was 28.) Anyway, when a grown man and woman look past the unibrow and into the beautiful eyes of their newborn, the connection that is formed at moment and the emotions it evokes is called true love. I knew God blessed us with the greatest gift he could give a couple. Later, as I looked at some poor, ugly babies that were born the next day, I realized that not only was our child special, so was I.
Once you have your first baby, the next week is overflowing with emotion – love, exhaustion, happiness, and, my personal favorite, panic. The panic comes from having no idea what you’re doing. I came from a family of three girls, so it was very scary for me when the doctors looked at my sonogram and told me I was going to have a boy. I didn’t know how boys think or what to do with a boy. I wasn’t the athlete I am today, so I didn’t even know about sports. All I knew was girly stuff – that David Cassidy and Robert Redford were cute, that you shouldn't store an electric toaster near the bathtub, and that you should always act like a lady. How could I teach that to my baby? I didn’t even know how to hold a baby. What if he jumped from my hands? What if I broke the baby? What if my girliness made him effeminate? Those are the fears that danced through my brain when brain activity did occur. My husband, a very wise person, assured me that I’d learn as I went along and said he was certain the baby would come out as an infant, not a full-grown man. He also reminded me that he would be the male role model and that I wasn’t expected to play both roles. (I had an acting background.)
When we brought little Hans home from the hospital, I showed him the house for the first time. We showed him each room, his crib, where we keep the car keys, and where he was to store his shoes when he came in from the rain or snow. Then I read him a long list of rules about curfew, household expectations, the equal sharing of chores – all the standard stuff new parents do when bringing a baby into the house. I threw a pack of cigarettes out the front door as a visual symbol that smoking would not be tolerated in the house. Our orientation went well. The baby didn’t argue or appear to be surprised by any of the house rules. I had a warm feeling in my heart. I knew we succeeded at our first act of parenting.
We soon discovered that little Hans was a very hungry person. Not at all like me or my husband. We ate three good, square meals each day, but this tiny one had a ravenous appetite! He ate every couple hours and sometimes even more. Joe and I exchanged worried looks when Hans ate an entire turkey breast and then wanted crushed pears and Gerber sweet potatoes just an hour later. He was just a newborn, but here he was, developing unhealthy eating habits after a few days at home. We had to put an end to it or at least hide this peculiarity from others. We didn’t take him out in public, embarrassed by his gluttonous behavior. It took us almost two years, but we finally got Hans’s eating issues under control.
There were other, more sensitive issues too. The child couldn’t use the restroom until well after he learned to walk. He had so many accidents. Ashamed, we discreetly bought adult diapers for small women at the all-night drug store. We were able to cope using them. Again, we didn’t tell others about this problem, but I look back and realize it must have been related to the overeating issue.
Hans wasn’t very verbal either. He didn’t speak for a full year. We looked to our past experiences to figure out what to do. My husband remembered from his childhood that he had a dog that started barking within hours of bringing him home as a puppy. Joe didn't recall teaching the animal how to bark, but we had to give it a try. We barked a few times, but the baby didn’t respond. In fact, this child didn’t say a word. He probably felt fear or nervousness about the eating issue. We decided to play it cool and not mention it again. Within a year, our prayers were answered. He began saying small words like Mama, jew (for juice), ball, and some curse words he picked up at the local pub. We were so proud.
Now our son is 16. He's smart as a whip, sweet, kind, and we love him to death. We had two other sons we love just a much, but, sadly, I don’t remember anything about when they were babies or young kids. I just tell them stories about their brother and pretend it was about them. Sometimes I tell them stories about my own childhood and substitute their names. This doesn’t always work out. My second son now has false memories about when he was a ballerina in the first-grade play. Rather than tell him I'm a liar, I let it go. He can work it out in therapy during his 40s.
Having multiple children also challenges your brain capacity. You remember stuff about the first, but then you get confused a lot. Soon, you find yourself calling the boys by each other's names, and eventually, you start calling them the dog's name. They won’t tell you this in Planned Parenthood. It’s one of those big secrets, like Area 51, UFOs, and whether lunar landings actually occurred.
Anyway, I hope my friend, Dawn, has a good delivery. (She was so worried that I would use her real name, Karen Schwartz, in my blog, but I didn’t. I have a post-it note on my computer that says, “Do not put Karen Schwartz’s name in blog.”) Anway, I hope Dawn has a good delivery and has better luck in the first few months with her baby than Joe and I did.
Happy Groundhog Day to all of you, and, mostly, happy birthday and a rousing “welcome to earth” to baby Punxsatawney Phil. Congratulations Dawn and husband Sven! We are praying for a quick delivery and a healthy, happy little boy!
Jackie
<>
There are many groundhogs who are said to “forecast” the weather, but only Punxsatawney Phil is a certified meteorologist. He has even predicted in the presence of statesmen and presidents. He is published, a know humanitarian, and holds an honorary doctorate from Harvard University. Read more about him on this website: http://www.groundhog.org/about/.
But this article isn’t about that amazing groundhog, so I apologize for digressing. This posting is about babies. A few of my friends had babies recently, and boy does it bring back memories.
That moment when the child comes out and is placed on the mother’s stomach lives vividly in each mother’s mind forever. I was 12 or 13 when I had my first child out of wedlock, and when they gave him to me, it was a life-changing moment. I looked at little Hans and instantly felt a sense of awe. How could something so big come out of an area so little? One more look at him and I had to throw up. Not so romantic, but true. In my defense, seconds later, I looked at that adorable, hairy little baby with the big, gorgeous eyes. He looked like a little Oscar the Grouch on Sesame Street. At that moment, my husband and I fell in love with Hans. (Oh, I remember my husband being there, so I must have had the child while married at a later age. Maybe I was 28.) Anyway, when a grown man and woman look past the unibrow and into the beautiful eyes of their newborn, the connection that is formed at moment and the emotions it evokes is called true love. I knew God blessed us with the greatest gift he could give a couple. Later, as I looked at some poor, ugly babies that were born the next day, I realized that not only was our child special, so was I.
Once you have your first baby, the next week is overflowing with emotion – love, exhaustion, happiness, and, my personal favorite, panic. The panic comes from having no idea what you’re doing. I came from a family of three girls, so it was very scary for me when the doctors looked at my sonogram and told me I was going to have a boy. I didn’t know how boys think or what to do with a boy. I wasn’t the athlete I am today, so I didn’t even know about sports. All I knew was girly stuff – that David Cassidy and Robert Redford were cute, that you shouldn't store an electric toaster near the bathtub, and that you should always act like a lady. How could I teach that to my baby? I didn’t even know how to hold a baby. What if he jumped from my hands? What if I broke the baby? What if my girliness made him effeminate? Those are the fears that danced through my brain when brain activity did occur. My husband, a very wise person, assured me that I’d learn as I went along and said he was certain the baby would come out as an infant, not a full-grown man. He also reminded me that he would be the male role model and that I wasn’t expected to play both roles. (I had an acting background.)
When we brought little Hans home from the hospital, I showed him the house for the first time. We showed him each room, his crib, where we keep the car keys, and where he was to store his shoes when he came in from the rain or snow. Then I read him a long list of rules about curfew, household expectations, the equal sharing of chores – all the standard stuff new parents do when bringing a baby into the house. I threw a pack of cigarettes out the front door as a visual symbol that smoking would not be tolerated in the house. Our orientation went well. The baby didn’t argue or appear to be surprised by any of the house rules. I had a warm feeling in my heart. I knew we succeeded at our first act of parenting.
We soon discovered that little Hans was a very hungry person. Not at all like me or my husband. We ate three good, square meals each day, but this tiny one had a ravenous appetite! He ate every couple hours and sometimes even more. Joe and I exchanged worried looks when Hans ate an entire turkey breast and then wanted crushed pears and Gerber sweet potatoes just an hour later. He was just a newborn, but here he was, developing unhealthy eating habits after a few days at home. We had to put an end to it or at least hide this peculiarity from others. We didn’t take him out in public, embarrassed by his gluttonous behavior. It took us almost two years, but we finally got Hans’s eating issues under control.
There were other, more sensitive issues too. The child couldn’t use the restroom until well after he learned to walk. He had so many accidents. Ashamed, we discreetly bought adult diapers for small women at the all-night drug store. We were able to cope using them. Again, we didn’t tell others about this problem, but I look back and realize it must have been related to the overeating issue.
Hans wasn’t very verbal either. He didn’t speak for a full year. We looked to our past experiences to figure out what to do. My husband remembered from his childhood that he had a dog that started barking within hours of bringing him home as a puppy. Joe didn't recall teaching the animal how to bark, but we had to give it a try. We barked a few times, but the baby didn’t respond. In fact, this child didn’t say a word. He probably felt fear or nervousness about the eating issue. We decided to play it cool and not mention it again. Within a year, our prayers were answered. He began saying small words like Mama, jew (for juice), ball, and some curse words he picked up at the local pub. We were so proud.
Now our son is 16. He's smart as a whip, sweet, kind, and we love him to death. We had two other sons we love just a much, but, sadly, I don’t remember anything about when they were babies or young kids. I just tell them stories about their brother and pretend it was about them. Sometimes I tell them stories about my own childhood and substitute their names. This doesn’t always work out. My second son now has false memories about when he was a ballerina in the first-grade play. Rather than tell him I'm a liar, I let it go. He can work it out in therapy during his 40s.
Having multiple children also challenges your brain capacity. You remember stuff about the first, but then you get confused a lot. Soon, you find yourself calling the boys by each other's names, and eventually, you start calling them the dog's name. They won’t tell you this in Planned Parenthood. It’s one of those big secrets, like Area 51, UFOs, and whether lunar landings actually occurred.
Anyway, I hope my friend, Dawn, has a good delivery. (She was so worried that I would use her real name, Karen Schwartz, in my blog, but I didn’t. I have a post-it note on my computer that says, “Do not put Karen Schwartz’s name in blog.”) Anway, I hope Dawn has a good delivery and has better luck in the first few months with her baby than Joe and I did.
Happy Groundhog Day to all of you, and, mostly, happy birthday and a rousing “welcome to earth” to baby Punxsatawney Phil. Congratulations Dawn and husband Sven! We are praying for a quick delivery and a healthy, happy little boy!
Jackie
<>
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)