Rex, Rocky, Vivi, and Billy                                                                            

Happy Birthday and I'm Crazy (A Combined Post)

Happy Birthday and I'm Crazy (A Combined Post)

Today is Rex’s third birthday.  Three feels old to me.  And I hate to say all the cliché shit, but where the hell does the time go? I mean, really.  Tell me.  Where does it go?!  Rocky turned one two weeks ago and the entire week was filled with these weird moments where I would cry for (kind of) no reason.  I've been trying to hold it together for Rex.  Yesterday we had a joint party for both of the boys (sorry to all of you wondering if your invite got lost in the mail.  It didn’t.  I kept it real small, because that was all I could handle. I’m sorry.) and my brother, Pete, orchestrated for a police car and a fire engine to arrive half way through to surprise Rex (and me).  The trucks pulled up with their sirens on.  Rex was smiling one of those huge take-up-your-whole-face smiles, totally ready for his first rescue mission---and there I was, crying.  “Samm, let me take the camera! You need to be in these pictures too!”---No, no. That’s okay.  Weird mom sobbing in front of the fire engine does not need to be documented.  Thanks though! 

And then Yesterday we were driving and Matt casually said, “So, where were you at this time three years ago? At the mall with your mom right?  Wondering if you were going into labor?....Samm?  Do you hear me?”----Sobbing.  I mean, c’mon. Get a grip.  The same thing happens to me when I walk the loop in my parents’ neighborhood that I walked right before leaving for the hospital with Rocky.  My mom and I walked it for an hour and I stopped every few feet with increasingly painful contraction before heading to the hospital to get my drugz.  Since then I have walked the same loop a few times and each time I get this crazy feeling in my stomach that makes me want to cry.  Yeah---it’s called crazy.  I guess mentally transporting yourself back to the moments right before your kids entered the world is just inherently gut wrenching?  Am I happy crying? Am I sad?  I don’t even know.  I really don’t.  Just too many feelings.  But in case you are curious, here is a list of some of the things that I feel slash worry about during these wacked out moments of emotional crazytime…

·       I need to take more videos.  I think I take an annoying amount of pictures, but not enough long videos.  Time is going too quickly and I am going to forget their little voices!  Okay, tomorrow I will pull out the video camera and make sure I get footage of all of my favorite words and phrases Rex says and all the silly faces and sounds Rocky makes.  That should be easy. They take direction well. Pffff.

·       I don’t think I have even read Rocky a full book yet.  He is now older than one and his mother hasn’t had the time or patience to read him a full book.  He’s never going to pass that stupid fourth grade standardized testing whatever it’s called.  And he doesn't really say anything.  And he hardly really waves.  And he points to his ear when I ask him where his nose is. Fuck!  This is my fault.  Okay, tomorrow will be book reading, wave learning, and nose finding. 

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·       I am going to wake up one day and I am going to carry Rex for the last time.  And I am not even going to know that it’s the last time so I am not going to know to hold on extra tight and carry him until my back breaks.  I will just plop him down and never carry him again.  Actually, ya know what--new plan, I’m gunna join crossfit and get jacked and carry him forever and maybe even invent an ergo that holds adults.  Bye.

·      What if Rocky feels like I am paying too much attention to Rex?  Or what if Rex feels like I am paying too much attention to Rocky?  Or what if they both secretly hate me?  No, they can’t. They don’t hate me.

·       Since they are officially one and three years old, I should probably start thinking about baby number three (yeah--lucky little bastard he will be, huh?).  I mean, not like NOW, but time to start thinking about when I should think about it. Oh God, but I didn’t give Rocky enough time.  I am just going to propel him into middle-child land without ever reading him a fucking book! Ok, gotta give him more time.  Or more attention. Something.

·       Do I spend enough time with them?  I mean, I am with them all the time but am I really present during that time?  Ugh. I need to delete Facebook. And Instagram.  And all my other distractions. I know, I'll throw my phone away, so I can be in the moment at all times and savor every second.  Shit, no, I still need my outlets or I will go insane.

·       Someday I will birth my last baby.  At some point I will celebrate my last first birthday party.  No.  That’s too sad to think about.  Shit, am I going to be some weird Michelle Duggar with 38 kids? Yeah, I will just leave that as an option.  Maybe I will have 38.  Okay, now I don’t need to feel sad today about it.

·       Am I doing this right?  I mean, they are alive, so I am doing okay right?  They know I love them right?  Like, they know HOW MUCH I love them, right?  Maybe I will tell them more.  Or maybe that’s overkill and then becomes meaningless so I should tell them less but say it louder? With more feeling?  Ugh.  I’ll google it.

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…Yeah.  Let all that crazy soak in. 

And now you are probably wondering---what the hell did I just read? This post is over the place and makes no sense.  Well that’s the point, kinda.  Rex is three and Rocky is one and moms (or just me) are crazy.  And milestones bring on extra crazy.  I think if you just let it all out and pretend it’s normal, it’s fine, right?  Yeah.  It is! So raise your vodka frescas and cheers to me for straight killin’ it for the past (exactly) three years.  And Happy Third Birthday, Rex.  (…okay now I’m crying again.)

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Hear Me Out

Hear Me Out

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