Diaper DareDevils

Several months ago, I had this bright idea.  You see, we have a local gym (local being Havre, which is 40 miles away, but I digress) that does gymnastics and cheerleading and all kinds of fun stuff.  I knew for a fact that they did little kid tumbling.

I have a little kid. He's full of piss and vinegar.  Let's see how old they have to be to start tumbling!

I figured it would be 3 or something, but I wanted to get an idea.

And there it was.  Diaper DareDevils.  A class dedicated to babies.  Kids that can walk to age three.  Of course, at the time, he wasn't quite walking yet, so we had to wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

He started really walking after Christmas.  While we were in Iowa, Oma offered to help pay the tuition for his first session of classes.  When we got back, by the time he was really walking around well, I was deep into school work.  Although I hated to make him wait, I really couldn't spare the evenings to take him to class.

And then, after school was done, someone came down with a terrible bout of RSV.  So we waited some more.

And then, of course, we had a night of not sleeping followed by a day of the grumpys.  Bad idea to take him to something new when he was already in a crabby mood.

Finally, the day came.  Last night, we packed the boy child up and sped off to our first class.  He had so much fun!  There were five or six other little kids there, all of them girls of course.  I always knew my son would grow up to be Big Pimpin'.  The little ones basically were given free reign over certain pieces of equipment.

We started in the pit full of smooshy balls that had a beam over it.  He stood on top of the blocks and wasn't quite sure what to think.  After that, Daddy put him on the tumbling trampoline thingy-bobber.  He was not pleased with this at all.  So, I snagged him, gave him a cuddle, and we sat on it together.  And he took off.  It took him a little while to realize that he could jump on it, but he ran and crawled up and down, and tumbled off the edge onto the mat.

We ran around, walked on the balance beam, played with a massive ball, and stood proudly atop the vault.  It was glorious.

By the end of the class, he was cheerfully wading through the smooshy blocks, and working to impress the ladies.  Several of them weren't thrilled with his advances (we've gotta teach him that he's got to be smooth and gentle to the girls...pulling their hair and smacking at them won't make him any friends) but there were a few others that were willing to play with him.  He was the youngest one there, the next youngest being 16 months old.

Colin and I both had a lot of fun as well.  We visited a little with the other parents, which was nice.  I feel horribly out of place with the other moms though.  All of them look like they're gymnasts too--all tiny and adorable.  Here I am in my yoga pants and tanktop.  Yeah, ladies...I'm freakin' lucky I got a shower today.  Don't judge me!  But everyone was very nice, super friendly, very welcoming.  Roland got along well with the little girls, and was just his normal charming self.

Right now, we signed him up for one class a week.  I think that we're going to change that, and start taking him twice.  Mondays and Wednesdays for 45 minutes.  Theoretically, it'll help him blow off some energy, and it won't hurt him at all to get into a sport at a young age.  When we move to Missoula, we'll be signing him up at a gym there, provided he's still enjoying himself.

And now--a picture!  The future gold medal Olympian gazes off into the future, towards his hopes and dreams and many medals!  Oh, and cookies.  Don't forget the cookies...

Back to Work

Recently, I started mulling over the idea of going back to work full-time.  You see...we're going to be moving to Missoula in the near future.  In order to make the move (the way I want to make it, that is) we need to have a good chunk of money saved up.  We need to buy furniture and stuff and actually build a household.  We haven't really had much of our own stuff in 2 1/2 years.  We were living with roommates in Missoula, and then with my parents.  So...we have a lot of stuff to buy.  And, you know, things to decorate.

Oh god...I can decorate...the way I WANT to decorate!

I may just pass out from the excitement here.

Anyway.  The decision to go back to work full time is really a painful one.  Yes, I know many mothers do it. I know MANY of my friends do it.  I respect you all like crazy.  And while I really do miss working full time (and leaving the house every day...and having adult conversations...and clothes that aren't just yoga pants and tank tops) it still makes my stomach hurt to think about leaving Roland.  For one, he hasn't spent much time around other littles, and he doesn't play very well.  For another, he's terrible about napping, and I know that whoever takes him is going to hate me just a little.  And...well...I'll miss him.  I'll miss his antics and his sweet little kisses and cuddles.

I won't miss the temper tantrums, though.  Or the pinching.  Or the little nibbles.  Or the constant need to climb on everything and get into ALL the things.

But dammit if I won't miss him.

I'm worried about missing out on things.  Even the little, insignificant things like hugs and kisses and the happy grins when I chase him around the room, and the way he loves on the dog.

On the other hand, he needs the socialization.  And sometimes I think I need the break.  And despite the fact that we'll have to pay for daycare, the extra money from me working (I'm only taking a job that pays fairly well) will still be a huge benefit when it comes time to move.  Colin is picking up a second job until the end of the school year, and then will be working there this summer.  But the extra money will give us some padding, while still letting us do fun stuff this summer.

Rationally, all the signs point to me working full-time being the right choice in this situation.  Not just for the money, but because he has to get some time in with other kiddos, and we have to work through separation anxiety at some point.

I'm still going to miss my baby.  And I'm dreading the first full day that I have to leave him.

Not ok...

I want you to watch a video.  And if you are anything like me, it's going to be hard for you to stomach.  You might want to throw things or hit a pillow or cry.  But it's important to watch it anyway.

http://www.upworthy.com/cnn-pays-touching-tribute-to-the-rapists-who-attacked-a-16-year-old-girl

Where are the videos about the girl?  Where is the CNN tribute about how her life has been irrevocably changed due to the drunken stupidity of her classmates?  Where is her story, and where are the people who support her and love her and tell her that it's never going to be ok...but that life will eventually go on.

I'm furious about this.  I have righteous mommy rage over this.

Watching this video...well, the first boy didn't really seem terribly apologetic.  He apologized for taking the pictures and for them sitting around...he didn't really apologize for RAPING THE GIRL.  The second boy, yeah, his apology seemed a lot more heartfelt.  And I'm going to believe that, rather than assuming that he's just a good actor.  Yes, these boys are young, and their lives are going to be changed forever.  They are always going to carry this stigma with them.  Will it ruin their lives?  Perhaps.  If they let it.

Do they deserve it?  All of this and more?

You bet your fucking ass they do.

Actions have consequences.  It doesn't matter that they were all drunk and stupid...they should have stopped. Someone should have stopped them.  I read through many of the text messages and twitter posts that were sent the night of the rape and they're just...horrible.  There were some half-hearted attempts to stop this poor girls rape...but why didn't anyone call the cops?  Why didn't anyone go find their friends and force them to stop this?  Why did they let it go on?

Why didn't their parents teach them better than that?

I can't even imagine the heartache that the parents are feeling.  The parents of the victim as they watch their daughter go through something no one should have to endure, and the parents of the assailants, as they watch their children's lives fall apart, and wonder where they went wrong.  As a mother, my heart breaks for all of the people involved.  Yes, even the assailants.

Why don't more parents teach their sons that this is NOT OK.  Touching a girl, touching anyone, without their permission is NOT OK.  I'll never preach 'no sex before marriage' to my kids.  But I will absolutely make sure that they understand the repercussions of their actions.  Our sons--and our daughters--need to know that this is not ok.  Getting a girl drunk, taking her picture, and raping her...is not ok.  And the girl is not a whore because she gets raped.

It just...boggles my mind.  My heart breaks for this poor girl.  Not only was she violated, but all of her peers hate her.

Roland will be better than this.  And if he sees something like this happening, he'll stand up for the victim.  Because that is the way that we will raise our son.

I weep for a world where it's ok to blame the victim, and it's acceptable for news briefs to focus on the tragedy that the RAPISTS have lost out on their future.  That is not ok.  CNN, this is not ok.  What the hell kind of message are you sending here?

Chatty Boy

Every day, Roland is talking more and more.  I just love watching him pick up new words and parrot us.

He loves to sit there and chat.  It's a lot of babbling still, but I know that once he figures it all out, he is going to talk and talk and talk.

Mama
Dada
Cat
Dog
Piper
Buck
Bunny
Uncle
Cole
Please
Water
Bottle
Up
Get Out
Hi
Hello
Bye-Bye

Cuddly Baby

Roland has this new adorable, and slightly obnoxious habit.  If you are holding him and carrying him around, and you try to put him down, he'll pull up his legs and try to climb up you further so that putting him down requires placing him on his butt and getting all the way down on the ground.  On one hand, it makes you feel pretty good that he wants to be held and cuddled by you...on the other hand, this massive, 30lb boy is hell on my back anyway!

I first noticed him doing it last week with Colin, and then on Saturday when Chas was heading back to school he refused to let go of his Uncle.  He's done it to my dad and to me quite a few times since then.  Silly baby.

He is such a cuddly little lover.  Makes up for the moments when he is a complete pain in my ass!

Life of Pi

Last night, we watched Life of Pi.  I have to say that I was very impressed with the movie.  Visually, it was absolutely breathtaking.  I can't even imagine seeing it in 3-D.  Just...really stunning.  I could watch it over and over again just to see the scenery.

It also left me thinking, things that I am still trying to really wrap my brain around.

I am a very spiritual person, but I'm not religious.  I have a lot of issues with organized religion and the church, as a general rule.  I've had a lot of bad experiences, and if it weren't for my husband, I would never go to church.  I prefer to worship and pray in my own time and in my own way, without feeling pressure.

(I will warn you now, there are spoilers ahead.  If you don't want them, you should skip this.)

Pi weaves this amazing story for his new young author friend.  It is unbelievable and heartbreaking and inspiring.  At the end of the movie, Pi tells another story.  This story is just as heartbreaking and just as unbelievable, but in an entirely different way.

I've had a lot of arguments with people over the years about the Bible and the way that people interpret it.  I think this movie really sums my feelings up perfectly.

You can read the story about a mild mannered man who inspires people with his words, who teaches and preaches and spreads love and tolerance.  Then you can read a story about an energetic man who performs miracles, sowing love and belief wherever he goes.

They're the same story.  The start the same and end the same.  You can learn the same morals, find your heart filled with both.  But one is more exciting than the other.

It's my personal belief that very few of the stories in the bible actually happened the way they are written.  In oral traditions, stories are changed and embellished to captivate an audience and ensure they walk away with their lesson.  You need flash and you need excitement.

But just like in this movie, it doesn't really matter which story is true.

It isn't the end of the story that matters.  What really matters is the journey you endured to get there.

Shoes

This kid of mine...

Roland loves shoes.  He loves to play with his shoes, or Grandpa's shoes or Grandma's shoes or really any shoes that he can get his grubby little hands on (note to self--those hands need their nails clipped.)  Ever since he was little he has loved shoes.  He used to just chew on them.  Now, he'll pick them up and drag them around by the laces, untie and try to retie them, or put them on.

Unfortunately, I just missed the perfect photo op!  He had one shoe on backwards (toes towards the heel) and another shoe on his hand, wandering around looking totally thrilled with himself.

Nailed it!

For months, he refused to keep his shoes on his own feet.  Now, when he sees his shoes, he brings them up to me and whines until I put them on him.  He is so damn goofy.