March of Dimes: Walk for Babies

Yesterday I was privileged to attend the March of Dimes Walk for Babies. The issue of premature birth is something near and dear to my heart. I was fortunate enough to be blessed with two beautiful, full term babies. And believe that everyone who wants children should be able to have them. All children deserve a healthy start. I pray with the work of The March of Dimes that one day all babies will be full term and healthy.

My dear friend, Michele, who has struggled for years with infertility and then loss of her beautiful children were my inspiration for attending. Through witnessing her and her husbands devastating losses I have come to understand the importance an organization like the March of Dimes.

WC went along with me to the soccer field of the local university. At the walk they passed out different colored bandanna's, each color with its own meaning. I chose to wear a white bandanna- which signified that I was walking in the memory/honor of a child who had been lost to premature birth. They had these lovely bright/sparkle "flowers" on which you write the name of child(ren) and plant in the children's garden. I chose a yellow flower and on the leaves wrote: Nick, Sophie & Alex's names and dates of birth. The photo is posted above- the yellow flower on the far right.

Now it all wasn't serious, WC had a good time on the giant inflatable slide, blew bubbles and made silly putty (which just turned into a rubbery blob that was neither silly or putty). I had him fingerprinted by the local police department. I'm proud to say he came up clean. He passed on the face painting but opted for a laser gun made out of a balloon. The walk started and he bounced down the street shooting bad guys with his laser gun. But then he began to complain about how much further we had to go. I told him that when we were done I'd buy him a milkshake and that pacified him for a time. Then he started to complain again and told me he also wanted a happy meal (upping his demands for cooperation). I never take him to McD's. He's gone with my mom a couple times. And I don't usually bribe him for his cooperation but I made an exception. Fine, we'll get a happy meal and a shake. But a little farther down I notice how red his face is. And neither of us can be accused of having a lot of skin pigment and the whole afternoon has been in the midday sun on a soccer field. At this point we were bringing up the end of the line anyway, so I pulled him out of line and we crossed the street back onto campus and sat at a picnic table under a shade tree until he looked better. We leisurely walked back to the car in the shade of the campus where I'd gone to college. A bit of nostalgia for me along with that I had contributed to a good cause and had a nice time with my son.

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WC...A Model?

Since WC was a baby, various people have told me that he should be a model. Now I've always taken this comment with a grain of salt. Of course I think he's gorgeous- I'm his mother. All mothers think their child(ren) are greatest things since the advent of the washing machine and scotch guard. A friend of mine sent me some photos of her son the other day that were really good. When I inquired if her husband took them- he takes most of the kids pics. She told me they were taken by a photographer from L.A. They had done a photo shoot with him in hopes to find him an agent and start modeling. So that got the wheels in my head spinning and did some research on child modelling, the how-to's and the scams. There seem to be a whole ton of scams out there set on taking advantage of parents who desperately want stardom for their child. Having previously been on maternity leave & not a whole of stuff on daytime tv, I've seem my share of E True Hollywood Stories. And personally the stories of child stars don't sound all that appealing to me. And very few end up being successful adult stars. Now my goal as a parent is to prepare my child for adulthood. Hopefully, to set him on a path to have a fairly happy & "successful" life. And I put "success" in quotes because for me it doesn't necessarily mean banking a million to be successful. It means different things to different folks and I want him to set and attain in goals in whatever makes him happy. And he does enjoy dressing up, posing and taking photos. So maybe he would like to try modeling. So I google for local modelling agencies-we live outside the metro city but it's an half an hour drive in that I already do everyday. I do some more online research of the few agencies that pop up. I also learn that, when dealing with children, these agencies don't need professional pics. Since children change so quickly a pic can be outdated in a mere month or two- so why spend the dough? One local agency accepts online submissions of two uploaded photos (one head shot and one full body). So I plug in WC's info and upload a couple photos and off they go. Jay makes some sort of comment along the lines of we don't have him playing sports, yet we're looking at putting him in modelling. Next thing he knows I'm going to tell him that WC's been signed up for ballet. I tell Jay not to be silly WC doesn't have the coordination for ballet.
I figured it would take a while to get a response back-if ever. But from the time stamp on the email it came back maybe a half an hour after I submitted the info. They think WC has potential and would like to schedule an interview 1) to explain to me what they do and what the local market it for models/actors. and 2.) to look over WC and evaluate him. They do new talent interviews on Tuesdays from 3-6. What time would be good for me.
Now my immediate reaction is that they responded too quickly. Does this mean that they send this auto email out to everyone who submits online? My skeptic meter flies through the roof. But I have responded back that 3 would be good for me, if open. We might as well go and see. I've researched enough that I think I can spot a scam. I know that if they ask me for any money up front then to walk away. According to research, and it makes sense, that if we sign with the agency then they book WC for a job and get paid approx 20% of whatever WC earns from the gig. If they don't book him jobs then they don't get paid. Simple as that. I don't need to use any pre-selected photographers or purchase any expensive packages, modeling coaches or stylists. Which I wouldn't anyway. If he ends up seriously doing it he will prob need a head shot or "comp sheets," a card of several photos. So we'll go & see. In the end it's up to him if he wants to go have his pics taken.

Adventures at the Social Security Office

Several years ago, a certain man, lost WC’s social security card but since we had the number I had not replaced it. However, I recently discovered we would need the document in order to register WC for kindergarten this fall. On Friday after the photography session I left the boys at home with mom and ventured to my local social security administration office. I had obsessed for days over the documents required to prove who he is. A birth certificate is not accepted yet a shot, daycare or baptism record is. Seriously, a baptism record, I used to write those things when I was receptionist of a church when I was like 20-not difficult to come by. And that is considered identification over birth certificate? The shot record the doctor gave me for kindergarten only had his name- nothing else. So I asked his preschool provider for his enrollment record from there. One catch- it has to be the original no photocopies accepted! And she couldn’t remove the original from the folder. Of course. But she was kind enough to re-write me an enrollment record. Off I go original documents in hand.
The air inside the social security office was stagnant and it smelled of body odor. The waiting area filled with the stereotypical who’s who of the carnie sideshow circuit and folks who can recall when Methuselah was an infant. An elderly gentleman with enormous glasses who still stared at everyone through a magnifying glass he held out in front of him scared the Dejesus out of a young (19-20) year old girl who came in by inquiring (in a volume with which you speak to friends during a rock concert) what number she pulled. She stared at him wide eyed & appeared afraid he would try to take it from her if it was better than his. His wife sat next to him engrossed in a large print copy of Readers Digest and seemed resigned to just ignore the man she’d married to for the past 6,000 years while he screamed at everyone to sign in at the computer. I settled into my seat and absorbed myself in a riveting game of Tetris on my cell phone. I’d probably been playing about twenty minutes when a woman came through the door from the back and screamed at me “Put that cell phone away. You cannot have that in here.” The phrase that was on the back of my tongue instantly was, “B%#$# don’t yell at me.” But something inside me said, be quiet this might be the person you have to deal with when you go back. So I hit the end button on my game and slid my phone into my purse without a word. I didn’t even look at her.
Luckily, it didn’t take long for another form of entertainment to appear in the form of a pissed off man. In this office there were two windows open with people helping and then an area of cubicles behind a door. I’m not sure if each is assigned to a certain issue or what. But this man was reaming the girl behind the window out. And in doing so, telling everyone in the waiting area his business. I know which of his relatives have congestive heart failure and that he was in Nevada last week, he has started businesses of his own before, etc. I also know that he was told over the phone by one person his check was mailed out, another told him it would be an electronic deposit and he hadn’t received any money at all and wanted to know where it was. The whole time telling her that it wasn’t personally against her yet he’s screaming at her. I honestly think I’d take a job shoveling animal dung before I’d go to the ss office and deal with this. So angry guy trudges on over to the waiting area because he’s waiting on someone new to yell at and a woman in the waiting area tells him to settle down. Now, I don’t believe they knew each other. And he retorts back to her, “excuse me…you don’t know nothing.” At this point everyone in the waiting area is staring at their own shoes. Angry man drinks from the water fountain & for some reason goes and sits down next to the woman. She leans towards him, touches his arm (I’m flabbergasted at this point) and begins a story, “Now, when my daddy died…” her voice dropped to where I couldn’t hear. But angry man just sits, listening and nods occasionally.
Finally, my number is called. The angels sing the hallelujah chorus and I get up- sure enough it’s the woman who yelled at me. We exchange pleasantries while walking back to her desk. I explain that I need to replace my sons lost ss card to enroll him for kindergarten. She takes my already filled out forms, notes I have the green shot record- then doesn’t even look at it, doesn’t look at the daycare record. She takes my licensed, types into her computer a little while, has me sign a form, then hands me my receipt and says the card will arrive in about 10 business days! I take my receipt and get out of dodge. Now, if I hadn’t obsessed over the documentation then I would have had issues. I’m also grateful for holding my tongue. I doubt the process would have been that easy. Now we’ll just see if the card does arrive in ten days. Pre-Registration for kindergarten is May 11-15th.

The Photo Session

Why am I surprised when things go better than expected? I dont consider myself a pessimist? Yet when I made the appointment for the boys to have spring photos...my thoughts were along the lines of: I'll just dress them in their Easter outfits and see what happens. I had no expectations- really. It was a difficult decision to even go somewhere for portraits- I usually take all their photos. But my limited amount of backgrounds didnt leave me with anything that I wanted. And I havent been able to photograph CJ decently since he discovered the preview screen on the back of the camera. Now he's running to look at it before I've even snapped the photo.
Yesterday evening I picked up WC and let him in on the plans for the next morning. Unfortunately he was game for photos' (as usual) but he didnt want CJ to go along because he would cry. We had a really bad experience with Christmas photo's that I tried to do on location at Cheekwood. It didnt go well. I explained to him that I wouldnt be the photographer in this case- I was paying someone else (much to my hesitation). WC wasnt optimistic either.
This morning I started him off with his favorite breakfast of pop tarts. I added in a dose of two allergy meds and some ibuprofen for those molars. We dressed and made it out of the house with out the pacifier (I had one in my pocket just in case).
I had made the earliest appointment possible- 9 am & we were the first customers through the door. The rooms still silent, which is ideal for CJ. So he wandered around the studio for a few minutes while the photographer and WC talked. Initially she tried to sit CJ next to WC on the wall and he was very hesitant- didnt want to leave my side. I hugged him and assured him that mommy wasnt going anywhere. When she quit trying to get him in a location and just decided to get some shots of WC by himself...then there wandered CJ in and climbed up on the wall. Being a good photographer she went with it and began snapping away. That's important, especially when photographing kids- the ability to just go with it. At one point she tried using a ball to entice CJ to smile and play. She believed that she could get him to throw the ball to her. But that's not him. He held onto that thing and the ball made it into a few shots as well. Overall, it was a positive experience. The photographer was extremely patient but fast and took 73 shots in less than probably a 30-40 min session. I had difficulty narrowing down what to purchase. Ended up with way too many pics! And a cd of all the shots. It will be a while before I have another photographer take their pics again. But for today, I'm glad that I did.

Missing: My Mind

“Of all the things that I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most.” Is a quote, to my surprise, that is attributed to Mark Twain. Seems like something a mom would say. It’s fitting of my life this week. I don’t know if it’s the added pressure of the extra care needed by Rhi- the diabetic cat who still won’t crap in her box. Or perhaps the whining demands of CJ. This week I haven’t even been able to make dinner without his forehead plastered to my thigh while I stand at the stove or he migrates in between me and stove/counter with the top of his shoved in my crotch like he’s trying to climb back up. During dinner, he’s in my lap. I know he has one, if not two, two year molars coming in and seasonal allergy issues. WC is completely irritated with him and snaps at him for whining then gets angry when CJ isn’t doing as he commands. Last night they were arguing over markers. CJ had one that he shouldn’t have, WC got out of his chair to tell on him and CJ climbed into his chair. Jay put on his referee hat and attempted to control the situation. It fell apart when Jay told WC to do something and instead he felt the need to still pull the marker from CJ’s clutches. He was surprised to find himself in trouble for not doing what he was told to do instead of policing his baby brother. He sat in the floor and sobbed his eyes out. I attempted to explain to him that once daddy or I were on the scene it wasn’t his job to correct CJ- we would handle it. He needed to do as he was told. I know I’ve had this conversation with him before. And I must be completely off my rocker to attempt to take them for photographs tomorrow.
Yesterday, I took the nebulizer and other medications to moms for CJ. He’d started a cough the night before- not bad- but just a precaution to have the stuff handy. Mom called me after I’d gotten to work and informed me that I neglected to pack the medication cup and paci attachment- things needed in order to deliver the medication to the child, thereby rendering the nebulizer and vials of meds useless. Nice. Luckily, he didn’t need it. On the way home last night I received a message from mom that I’d left his sweater, hat, pain medication (for the molars) and Benadryl at her house. This morning I got out of the car & told her that I’d forgotten the baby today- just kidding of course.
If you see my brain lying around somewhere please pick it up and notify me where I may retrieve it.
One month from today, CJ will turn two. I just can’t believe how fast it’s gone by. I now need to plan his birthday party-nothing big and fancy- Just some family at our house. But that’s stressful too. There’s so much to do…I don’t know how I’m going to do it.
A common practice of both my children is to call the inanimate objects they are “looking” for. For example if CJ is looking for his sippy cup ( a very common one) he wanders around calling out, “Cup…Cup…Cup” WC- who is well aware that inanimate objects do not respond will also employ this technique to find specific toys he is interested in. However, I suspect the object is to drive me insane to the point that I will quit what I am doing and locate the toy for him. The other night CJ is calling for his cup and I begin to wander around calling out, “sanity…sanity…sanity.” Jay comes in and looks at me puzzled. I shrug my shoulders and tell him. “Like everything else in this house, my sanity doesn’t come when called, either.”


* Special note: thinking about Sophia, born into heaven 14 months ago today. It doesnt seem like it should be that long ago. I'm sorry that I dont get to see the photos of your milestones. I bet you'd be putting those plastic Easter Eggs in your mouth and slobbering.

Easter: The Aftermath

Most parents of small children, in particular, know that a holiday weekend is anything but a relaxing time. Relatives near and far vie for a time slot in the already over scheduled two days. The kids nap and meal schedule flies out the window as they are filled with sugar and a new collection of cheap toys from relatives and doting grandparents. Unfortunately someone, somewhere has to be disappointed. “I’m sorry but I’m already scheduled for one brunch, two church services, three lunches and nervous breakdown on Easter.”
Our whirlwind Holy Holiday started on Saturday with the church egg hunt. It had turned cold the day before when severe weather brought in a front. So there we were- in jackets- me still freezing standing outside the front of the church waiting for instructions. Children becoming more like an unruly mob by the minute. A group of girls behind me plotting their egg hunt strategy and declaring the superiority of girls. The kids were separated by age group. So I had each kid in a different place. I started on the playground with CJ’s age group. It was his first hunt- that he participated in. He watched from the safety of his stroller last year. This year he was gung-ho to go hunt eggs. He didn’t know what was up at first. But he loves those plastic eggs & his age group they were merely strewn about the ground. So it’s more like egg collecting then hunting. But then again, if toddlers were expected to hunt for the eggs they’d just be out there wandering around, chasing their shadow in a circle. We entered the gated playground and I told him to get an egg. Which he promptly obliged by tripping over a 2x4 at the perimeter of the playground then came up happy- egg in hand. He wouldn’t deposit his egg in the bag until he had another one safe in hand. Then he walked around collecting a new egg and dropping the older egg into the bag I was holding. After he had a few, I left him w/ his grandmother and snuck out of the playground, ran across the parking lot to the field where the older kids hunt was in full swing. Spotted WC across the field and snapped a few pics of him hunting. Of course within minutes I spotted my MIL and CJ hand in hand headed across the parking lot- no doubt that he insisted on finding me. While others were still raking in the eggs WC came over to me and declared that he had enough now. It was cold, windy and somewhat muddy- I was grateful to go. After a nice lunch I had to get home and take Rhi to the vet- which was chronicled in yesterdays post. Then there were still my usual weekend activities of grocery and laundry and household tasks that needed to be done. A woman’s work is never done.
Easter Sunday morning arrived too soon. It was a crisp, beautiful morning. Children dove for their baskets from coast to coast and the candy makers rejoiced. WC, excitedly rummaged through the contents of his basket- which spilled onto the table. CJ grabbed his new rubber ducks and happily sat in the floor with those until he figured out more things were his. The 9 am church service was filled to capacity and somehow we managed to get the only two seats in the place that were in direct sunlight. Never before have I been so glad to stand and kneel so much- the only points in the service that we were in the shade. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that no matter how uncomfortable I was at that moment- it couldn’t compare to dying on a cross. So I refrained from knocking someone else over for their spot in shade. After brunch with the in laws we were off to my mother’s side of the family. It had been a while since any of them had seen my children- placing guilt over CJ’s nap we went. The thing about my mother’s family is that there are a lot of them. Mom is one of eight kids; her oldest sister had eight kids and most of them barely legal before starting their own broods. Whenever the family gets together the poor house is bursting at the seams. There isn’t an empty room to be found. Mom arrived and I no longer had to worry about CJ, he stuck to her like he’d been dipped in crazy glue. WC discovered cousins watching Bolt and that was the last I saw of him for a while. He didn’t even want to participate in the egg hunt- said he had enough candy. Although, I’m not sure you can call it an egg hunt when your cousin just hides wrapped candy.
Then it was off to mom’s house because it seems the Easter Bunny also visited there and two heaping baskets of crap…I mean…wonderful treats for two little boys. Although, I will admit, I was happy for the two matching push button flashlights. That gift was the winner of those baskets. The boys had a grand time.
CJ passed out on the trip home. I allowed him an hour nap because that late in the evening, I didn’t want him to sleep longer. Of course he made me regret waking him. And I still had laundry to finish up, a cat to medicate, children feed dinner. Our table top totally covered with remnants of an Easter basket bomb explosion. All in all a good time. That’s how you know it’s been a good weekend…you need another weekend to recover.
Hallelujah Hallelujay The Lord is Risen.
He is risen indeed. Hallelujah