So, the boy started t-ball four or five weeks ago. Today was the first day I was able to take him. I’m finally up on my feet and getting around. In my infinite wisdom, I decided to take the bus to the park field house so that I didn’t have to walk nearly two miles round trip. What I neglected to take into consideration is the considerable pain in the ass taking a stroller on public transit is. We’ve lived in Chicago for three and a half years, and today was the first day I took a stroller on the city bus. And Science help me, I never want to do that again. The ride to the field house was only bad. The ride home was terrible. More on that later.

After walking (in the rain) and hauling the stroller onto the (overcrowded) bus, we arrived at the field house. We were a bit early, so I encouraged Jude to run, run, RUN off some energy before his t-ball clinic started. All went well and when it got close to three o’clock, we headed inside. After getting Jude situated, Ramona and I went to play in the pre-school room. It was lovely. She was having a great time playing with the other babies and putting everything she could find into her mouth. Ten or fifteen minutes into the clinic, Jude came into the pre-school room. He wanted to check on me. (Sweet) He wanted to see Ramona. (Adorable) He doesn’t want to play t-ball, he wants to play with Ramona in the pre-school room. (What?) COME ON! Here’s the thing-normally, I wouldn’t care. Really. If he doesn’t want to do whatever it is we’ve set out to do, fine. We can change course. But! I’m hurting so, so much right now. And getting to t-ball really stretched me physically. And the whole thing just frustrated me. AND! Then things got worse.

We packed up and headed home. I checked the bus tracker, and it told me I had eight minutes until the next bus. We got to the stop and waited. And I checked the bus tracker again, and we waited some more. And then we waited. And Hey! Look! Bus tracker says a bus should be approaching. But it never did. Twenty or so minutes later, we were still waiting for the bus, and Ramona was screaming because she wanted to eat. Fine. I took her out of the stroller and latched her on. And then the mother fucking bus pulled up. So there I was, supporting a nursing Ramona in the cross cradle position with one arm, driving the stroller with the other, and wrangling Jude verbally. The bus, of course, was packed (again), and we got all the way to far end before someone offered me a seat. Thanks MisterOnlyGuyOnTheBusWithAnyManners. Finally, we got to our stop, and I somehow get us all off the bus and eventually, home.

So here we are. Honestly, my frustration has waned even since I started writing this post, but still! Child of mine! First-born whom I adore… Please. Cut me a break. I do understand that in his not quite five years on this planet, Jude really can’t grasp how much traveling today took out of me. He just doesn’t understand. And the nuance between being angry because I’m hurting and had a shitty time getting to and from t-ball and being happy to suck it up and get him to where he needs/wants to be even though I’m hurting is lost on him. But after all his talk this morning about being excited that I was going to take him to t-ball and how he wanted me to see what he was doing, he just wasn’t happy to be there. And that’s where I’m stuck.

Why, oh why didn’t that boy of mine tell me he didn’t want to play t-ball today before we schlepped it to the bus?

I’m happy to report that after nearly a month of bed-riddenness, I’m starting to feel better. Today I took care of some breakfast duties, got lunch ready and served, folded and put away towels, played with the kids in the playroom, did three sets of my PT exercises, and took care of most of dinner. I was on my feet more today than I had been in the previous three weeks combined. It was great to play with Jude again and to let Ramona play somewhere other than the bed. Additionally, Josh was able to work nearly three full days this week. On Wednesday and Thursday, Helen and Cathrine took turns hanging out and helping us while Josh was gone. Today, we survived alone.

So! Goals for the next few days:

1. On Sunday, accompany Jude to CeCi’s birthday party
2. On Tuesday, take Jude to t-ball
3. On Wednesday, take the kids out for coffee with our neighborhood artist friends
4. On Thursday, take Jude to soccer
5. Get the kids to the park on nice-weathered days

Wish me luck!

Good news! Today I was able to assemble and cook a quesadilla for Jude. That means I was on my feet for a solid… 7-10 minute. Progress, people. Progress.

Bad news! I had gotten word about a PT clinic that operates on a sliding scale for payment. Unfortunately, I live outside the area the clinic makes that option available to.

Good news! The chiropractic adjustment that I got yesterday seems to have done something good. Bonus good news! I have another appointment in the morning.

I’ve really felt disconnected from Jude since this flare-up began. Ramona and I spend our days together on the bed, but that’s just not interesting or exciting enough for a nearly 5-year-old kid. So, Jude has been fending for himself–playing his DSi, watching videos, building, pretending, etc. We’ve had a number of friends come by at various times to take him out to the park or story time or t-ball or soccer. That’s been especially rough for me. I’m missing out on a ton of stuff, and I’m sick of it. Jude also seems to be having a tough time being without Josh or me. Today he told me that he needs to have his parents at t-ball or he’ll cry. So, my goal is to get him to t-ball myself next week. I don’t know what will happen with soccer tomorrow. Maybe he’ll skip it, or maybe I’ll be scrambling to find someone to take him when he (inevitably) changes his mind at the last minute and decides he wants to go.

I’m really hopefully that I’m on the mend, though I hesitate to write that out loud. Keep the good thoughts coming, if you don’t mind. Jude’s next t-ball practice is just around the corner.

Thanks to our good friends Cathrine, Louise, Meg, Helen, Joslyn, and Christine, we’re pretty well set on food for this week.

Yesterday, Cathrine brought over pasta with marinara sauce-enough for dinner last night and lunch today.
This afternoon, Louise brought over a fritatta-hello dinner tonight!
Just now, my neighbor Meg left a pitcher of curried eggplant and lentil soup outside my door-tomorrow’s lunch.
This morning, I received a message from my friend Helen saying she wanted to bring lunch over tomorrow.
Yesterday, my friend Joslyn offered to bring us dinner on Thursday.
Also-Christine brought us cookies two days in a row. I love her. (Hey, Christine! What’s the first rule of baking chocolate chip cookies? Don’t leave the kitchen!!!)

On Friday we’ll probably finish up the quinoa/black bean burrito filling and pasta for lunch, and by the looks of the pitcher Josh just retrieved from outside our door, I’ll say there will probably be enough of the soup from Meg for us to have it again for Friday night’s dinner.

I am continually blown away by the generosity of our friends. I think I said that last night, but it bears repeating. Thank you, thank you, thank you, friends. Without you all, we’d be in a whole lot of trouble.

Yet, in the midst of all this suckiness, I’m happy and grateful. We’ve had friends offer their help and support in so many areas: taking Jude to the park/t-ball/library/story time; coming over and massaging my back; bringing us food; coming over to sit with me and lend a hand with Ramona while Josh is off at meetings. The list goes on and on and on (and I haven’t even mentioned my incredible acupuncturist, David, and his great staff who got me in to see him the same day I called, or Dr. Meggie, my chiropractor, who saw my distress posted on Facebook and called me to schedule an appointment). Our community of friends is incredible. I have never met such a generous group of people.

So here’s a public thank you to all of you who’ve helped and to those of you who’ve keep us in your thoughts and sent me healing vibes. We’re lucky to have you in our lives and we hope that if you ever need any help or support, that we’re able to do for you what you’ve done for us. Cheers!

Jude has energy, and lots of it. He go, go, goes from the minute he wakes up in the morning until the second he falls asleep at night. Finding ways to meet Jude’s need for movement and exercise and one-on-one interaction has been a real struggle since Ramona’s birth. It still is today, nearly nine months later.

Physically, I’m still struggling with the herniated disc issues I wrote about back in 2010. Actually, I’m in the midst of a really terrible flare-up that has had me bed-ridden for two weeks. Even taking these specific, acute injuries out of the scenario, I still have a hard time running and climbing and physically playing with Jude. Some of it can be blamed on the fact that I’m always wearing Ramona. An extra seven, ten, fourteen pounds make for hard running and climbing. Beyond that, I’m just out of shape. Simple movements, like bending, are hard for me in the best of times. So, once this back/leg pain lets up, I’m going to just commit to exercising. I’ll do my physical therapy exercises daily (and hopefully get to go for some instructed PT somewhere), and I’m going to start jogging. At thirty years old, my body is failing me. I need to figure out how to support it so that I can start interacting with my children the way I want to.

Emotionally, it’s hard for me to not be giving either child all that I can give. Jude ends up playing on his own a lot more often these days because Ramona won’t nap unless I’m lying right next to her (this is one way that she is very similar to Jude as a baby). Ramona doesn’t get all the cuddles that Jude got at her age because I’m constantly trying to direct my attention toward Jude, who most definitely needs and desires more of my focused energy.

Still, we’re making it work. One thing I’m really grateful for is Jude’s smooth transition to being an “only” to being  a big brother. Sure, for the first few weeks he had more meltdowns than usual, but considering his world had been turned on its side, I don’t think that was an inappropriate reaction. Luckily, he has only shown his sister love and affection since her birth. He relishes the chance to help me take care of her, and will even consent to letting her play with his plush Pokemon toys. I think that speaks volumes about his love for her.

I know most of you who read this blog in real life (or at least online through FB or Twitter), so this is probably not new information for you. Still, I feel like my daughter’s presence should be announced in a semi-formal way for all the interwebs. So.

Ramona Ivy was born on 19 July 2011. She was born at home, in a tub in our living room, into the hands of her loving Papa. (She may or may not have bounced off the bottom of the inflatable tub before settling into his grip, but generally speaking, he caught her). I started to write about her birth but never finished. I will though. Hopefully soon.

I’ve been feeling the itch to write again for awhile now. I haven’t for all the usual reason: I don’t have time, my son hogs the laptop, I need to reread The Hunger Games (again)… you get my meaning. But. Life is going by so quickly, and the kids are changing so much and at such a rapid rate, I feel like I need to. I feel compelled to jot down the details, to publish them to keep the memories clear and sharp.

There have been numerous times over the past few weeks when I have been struck with the realization that I have two children. I am a mom. I am an adult. (Eep!) Jude is nearly five years old and I am more than thirty. Being a mom… being an adult… these are not new states of being for me. Still, the fact that I have two children whose care I’ve been entrusted with, two children who call me “Mama,” well, that just blows my mind.

It has been nearly a year since the last time I updated this blog. At that time, Jude had just turned four, and we were (impatiently) awaiting Ramona’s arrival. So much has changed since then. Jude has immersed himself in the world of Pokemon-he collects the trading cards, plays the trading card game, plays the trading card game online, watches Pokemon television episodes and movies, plays Pokemon Black on his DSi, he (pretend) captures Pokemon and trains them, he draws Pokemon and writes about Pokemon, he challenges Josh and me to Pokemon battles daily, hourly, momentarily. It never ends. He started t-ball two weeks ago and soccer last week. Jude loves robots and Star Wars and his baby sister.

Ramona, now just shy of being nine months old, has five teeth. She can crawl and pull herself up and cruise along the furniture. She wants to walk. She says “mama” and signs “milk” and “more.” She looks like Josh. She likes to sleep on my chest and she likes to pull my hair through her fingers. She gives kisses with a W.I.D.E open mouth and lots o’ tongue. She like the “Baby Bumblebee” song her Uncle Shawn taught us at story time. Ramona is happy and wonderful and lights up at the sight of her big brother and her papa.

Josh and I are here. He’s working. His graphic and web design business is doing well, and he has recently partnered with a collective of really amazing, creative people. I’m at home with both kids full time, and am finally, kind of, sort of, adjusting to being a mom of two.

Jude has been swimming in the lake for more than two months now. Yes, that means he has been swimming since May. We only had a few hot days in May, so you can imagine what the water temperature was like. It was cold. In case that point wasn’t clear. Still, my boy was full-on swimming in that freezing cold lake. He’s a little nuts-obviously. Since last summer, Jude has gotten even more comfortable in the water. It used to take him a few minutes to warm up to the idea of swimming, now he takes off his shoes at the beginning of the beach and runs, without pause, directly into the water. Sometimes Josh and I are able to keep up. And other times… well, not so much. Jude loves jumping over and kicking the waves. He likes it when Josh helps him practice swimming and loves to make sure I’m watching when he does it all by himself. Jude has also been doing a lot more playing on the beach than he has in years past. He doesn’t even necessarily need a pail and a shovel. Sometimes he just looks for Pokemon to battle and catch; sometimes he pretends to be a Pokemon. This afternoon he lied on his stomach and dug with his hands.

I’m thrilled that Josh is able to shuffle his work schedule around a bit to join us most times when we venture east to the lake. Jude loves having a proficient swimmer to play with in the water, and I love not having to submerge myself in the lake’s icy depths. And although I could barely stand the heat and humidity that Chicago experienced today, I’m also really grateful for all the family time this nice weather has afforded us. Winter-Stay away!