apron strings

Our Holiday. The Red, White and Green of It

Cate loved her Barbie 4-wheeler. She came right down the stairs and got on it-but she does this puttering thing with it-where she goes and stops and goes and stops and looks back at us. It's very funny. I have video of it. But it's on the video camera 'cause I'm a sucky blogger like that. 

My mom got her a play high chair for her dolls-that she doesn't play with-and she put her dog Douglas, into it and pretended to feed him. Very funny. 

Otherwise she ran and played with her cousins and wrestled with her Dad. She climbs him and he acts like he is being attacked. She loves this. 

I didn't really get much-but who cares. My 35th birthday is on New Year's Eve and I may buy a fancy new camera that I don't really need. So take that you big birthday. 

How was your holiday?

Feliz Navidad, Good People.

 So, as you know I am the cheesiest person on earth. That's how I roll people. See, only the cheesiest person on the earth says things like "that's how I roll." 

Three years ago I decided that our annual Christmas dinner at my Sister-In-Law's house should be "Feliz Navidad" themed. 

Because I can't stand all holiday foods and I love tacos. And hey, why not insult some hispanic heritage why we are at it. 

This year we will have Feliz Navidad on Christmas day, tomorrow, at my Sister-in-Law's house. 

The Soundtrack

 
 

The menu

 

Tacos-as if. From the grocery store- the one and only Old El Paso Tacos. 

Arroz Con Creme . From Zacala's in NYC. You must make this-it is amazing. 

 

Mango & Avocado Salad with Spiced and Candied Pecans. 

  

Cinnamon Cornmeal Wafers (cinnamon cookies)

And, Mexican Hot Chocolate to boot! 

So, if you are wondering where I'll be (and I know you are) I'll be somewhere in nowhere Georgia listening to Spanish Christmas music and chasing Cate around with a taco-filled belly. 

I wish you all tacos or something that brings you as much joy as tacos do me. 

xoxo

Yeah, So WHAT'S IT TO YOU!?!?!?!?

I did the unthinkable.  It goes against every grain in my body. 

Well, every grain except the one that will do ANYTHING to get Cate to make that deep, guttural laugh that mandates she grab her belly from laughing.* With her bitty chubby hand. 

It all started well meaning enough. We took her to Toys R Us to get her cousins a little something for Christmas.  She mainly just wandered around-she is still tickled with herself for being able to walk. Plus, she likes to ask strangers for milk-by signing 'milk' and saying "mahlk" looking at them longingly.

Then she stumbled, quite literally, onto a pink ride-on. Motorized. A tyke-sized ATV.  I helped her get on it-the batteries were out and so I pushed her on it-and as we went down the aisle-I heard it-the deep guttural laugh.  K saw it too. We both looked at each other. With the same thought- "please don't let this cost hundreds of dollars......" because we both knew we would be buying it.

I must also admit that I did literally hours of research to get the safest most durable tot-ride  made.** 

I also spent over an hour, combined, on hold, trying to find the one in town with a drink holder and compartment. Surely, you don't think Cate will go anywhere without milk and Douglas?*** 

And so it is to be. Ms. Cate, as of Christmas morning,**** will be the proud new owner of a very pink, very Barbie, very small 4 wheeler. It goes 2 mph.  

  

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* Hopefully, you've long forgotten about the dumbest post I've ever written. But should you remember-yeah, it was dumb and my foot is in my mouth. I honest-to-Gawd can't believe I wrote that. 

**If you're in the market for a motorized tot-ride and want to know what I found are important safety considerations-only buy age appropriate. Which for new walker means-button push powered, 2 mph or less, no reverse, with hill control.  You also want it close to the ground so that they can easily get off and on it.   As far as durability- Fisher Price wins every time-they have good customer support. The funny thing is-they are just as inexpensive as the others- about $80-$90.00. 

***I can't believe I haven't told you guys about Douglas. A little dog Cate grabbed onto and in F.A.O. Schwartz in Manhattan-and is seldom without. 

****Assuming of course mommy and daddy can figure out how to put it together on Christmas Eve. 

He's Not All That Bad.

My cheating, if now remorseful, husband. And if you a part of your wifey's lack of sleep-at least leave a poem for her in the morning. Though, (should I admit this?) it is lately about my other love-dear Winston-leaving Cate and I). 

Waiting for me the morning following a, poem-defined, night. 

***

Insomniac

by Galway Kinnell

I open my eyes to see how the night
is progressing. The clock glows green,
the light of the last-quarter moon
shines up off the snow into our bedroom.
Her portion of our oceanic duvet
lies completely flat. The words
of the shepherd in Tristan, "Waste
and empty, the sea," come back to me.
Where can she be? Then in the furrow
where the duvet overlaps her pillow,
a small hank of brown hair
shows itself, her marker that she's here,
asleep, somewhere down in the dark
underneath. Now she rotates
herself a quarter turn, from strewn
all unfolded on her back to bunched
in a Z on her side, with her back to me.
I squirm nearer, careful not to break
into the immensity of her sleep,
and lie there absorbing the astounding
quantity of heat a slender body
ovens up around itself.
Her slow, purring, sometimes snorish,
perfectly intelligible sleeping sounds
abruptly stop. A leg darts back
and hooks my ankle with its foot
and draws me closer. Immediately
her sleeping sounds resume, telling me:
"Come, press against me, yes, like that,
put your right elbow on my hipbone, perfect,
and your right hand at my breasts, yes, that's it,
now your left arm, which has become extra,
stow it somewhere out of the way, good.
Entangled with each other so, unsleeping one,
together we will outsleep the night."

***

-This token reeks of the sweet, literature loving husband I fell in love with-what a nice reminder of such and reminder of what was and could be.

Oh No.

Winston bit the nanny's little boy. In the face. And then Cate. Luckily, no skin was broken-just a BITE-SIZED bruise under little boy's EYE. The little boy accidentally backed into Winston when Winston was (apparently) eating something off of the floor. But Cate wasn't near anything-she wasn't even touching him. 

I think he's had enough. 

So, yeah, Winston has to find a new home. 

I am heart broken. So is Cate. She signed "STOP!" when he bit her foot. 

I feel like I should have done something different. Maybe I let them play with him too much. Maybe I should have swept the floor better. 

K and I have gone over every scenario to try to find one where we could keep him-and there's just no way. Even if he had him trained-he can never be within biting distance of a child again. And we're about to add another to the mix. 

Man, this sucks. 

Greetings From the Front Lines.

Holy cow colds people. Can I sell snot? 'Cause if so, Cate and I would be RICH. We've been lying around since Friday watching Sesame Street re-runs and Charlie Brown.  

We are sick. My poor girl who's generally running around screaming at Winston to "STOCK!" while signing "stop"* is walking only enough to say "NAAAAAA_NAAAAAAA" with her fevered rosy red cheeks and puffy eyes.  Her little arms up-stretched for me to grab her.  I sound like a grey-haired truck driver who's smoked three packs of Malboro Reds for twenty years and Cate is a mini rosy-cheeked Darth Vader.

She will only wear her flannel footed p.j.'s. Who can blame her? She's not even asking to go outside (a big deal for her) she just looks out the window longingly.   

I've done nothing but hold her for the last few days. Seemingly forever. Ah, the sacrifice of motherhood. Having to hold my nineteen pound clingy-for-the-first-time-ever little girl. 

She will only eat oatmeal and drink milk. But at least she is eating. Yesterday-she had four adult-sized bowls in one sitting. As soon as I had one made she'd eaten it and had picked up the bowl to lick out the remaining. 

Winston in confused. K is healthy. 

Cate, Rosey and I are a lob of wet warm flesh on the couch laughing at cookie monster. 

My house is a mess. My clients are going insane with my unusual absence. Neither of which concern me enough to abandon my pink little rosy-cheeked Darth. 

_________________

* One day Cate will make the connection that Winston will "STOCK!" when she stops running behind him screaming like a wild banshee. Poor Winston. Continually harassed by a two-pint tike. 

It's All In The Small Things

So, as I blogged about a while ago- I told K that I need him to apologize for what he's done to me, us, himself, our girls and our families. We had a whole marriage counseling session about it. At the session I learned that he put off doing it because it was so hard for him to own up to it. Because, as he put it, "he's always thought of himself as a moral guy" and not in a "talk radio kind of way." 

Even after that session he didn't apologize. 

It may seem pissy of me to want-need- regular apologies-especially since it is so hard for him.  As I told him-it's hard for me to even fantasize about forgiving him-so, he needs to join the club. I need to hear that he's sorry-so that every time I face a trigger-like driving past the high school where he decided to throw our 14 years together away-I have a recent memory of his remorse to soothe the anger and sadness.  

I will also not assume that he is sorry. I assumed that he was just too busy or too stoic to be an intimate partner in this marriage-and worst of all, I assumed he loved me even though he didn't show it. 

I also feel, like so many betrayed spouses, that the world is moving on-that this nightmare in my life is a distant memory to them. Honestly, in the short run, it'd be easy for us both to forget that it ever happened-but that'd only make it worse. 

Thus, to be able to forgive I need  to hear an apology. Not a groveling boo-hooing deal-just "hey, what I did hurt you and I'm sorry." 

Which he has become the master of. He's so sweet about it- sometimes when he comes to bed after me-he'll curl up with me and whisper something like "What I did was horrible, and you -and we-deserved better....."

Today, after we watched the news about the Tiger Woods saga he apologized again. In a cute, "hey, babe, I really fucked up..." and then he turned around and said "and I can't tell you how much I appreciate you letting me move back in....." 

While I won't let him get out of giving me what I need to move on-to forgive-I do get and appreciate how hard it is for him.  And it is. He is introverted and while intellectually gifted-his emotional I.Q. is lacking to say the least. 

It's amazing what a simple sentiment said can do.  Every time he apologizes I move a bit closer to believing that I can stay and that we can work. Honestly, it makes my day so much easier. 

Most of all, it allows me to believe in our working things out and raising these girls together. 

_____________________________________________________

For the record-he's done so, so much to fix our marriage and himself. He's cut back on work, and works to present in our marriage.  He's even gotten a baby sitter and taken me out a couple of times. He is the one who insists on marriage counseling-he makes all the plans, etc. I think he is so happy to know that he doesn't have to be this lonely, grumpy, workaholic anymore.  What's funny-is that he is so much happier-well, we both are. For now at least.  I am still, in a lot of ways, waiting for the other shoe to drop-and no one could blame me. 

Moments Greater Than Me. (*Update*)

When I was pregnant with Cate and still healing my wounds from infertility-by living in fear of losing her-I had moments. 

Moments where everything just seemed to right with the world.  My favorite were when I swam in our gym's pool, listening to relaxing music on my ipod.  Every time, Apron Strings would come on, I would roll over to my back. And close my eyes. There I'd float, feeling a mass inside me, knowing that finally, finally I'd "have someone tied to my lonely apron strings..." The enormity of the joy that I hoped was coming made my teary eyed every time. Occasionally, a few tears would trickle down my cheeks into the pool's crisp water. 

Those moments seemed so large. Larger than graduating from law school or passing the bar-no moments in my life could ever even come close to those I had while trying to get my mind around the joy I hoped loomed. 

Nothing before in my life could compete with those moments-until-last night. 

My girls our on opposite schedules-as soon as I get Cate down for the night and finally sit down for the first time all day---Rosey comes alive. She's head down and likes to kick and punch and let me know that she's around. 

Cate, after sleeping for a couple of hours, woke up crying-which is rare for her. So, I went and checked on her and her with her sky-blue eyes demanded "upt! upt!" I did pick her up and I rocked her.  Before long both girls were still. Perfectly embraced in a peaceful sleep. 

I just felt such a wave of peace. I sat there rocking and listening to Cate's small breaths-I felt the still weight of Rosey. Knowing that I've ended up with two little beings-who mean everything to me-gives me a peace like no other. 

I realized that all the stress I've been feeling is for naught-if my Cate and Rosey are okay-the world could collapse around us and I'd still have everything I need. 

_____________________________________________________________

Apron Strings 

by Everything But the Girl

P.S. Ultrasound tomorrow to look at her heart. It is a precautionary measure because when I deliver I will be "of advanced maternal age" and because I am still on the medication I was when I had Cate. There's been no indication of any problems-but as you know-you always worry. 

UPDATE~Ultrasound was awesome. I must have been worried-because I literally slept all of two hours last night. She is measuring right on-and **her heart is perfect.** I just can't believe that all the stress that I've been under doesn't seem to have effected her. I mean, I am glad-so, so, so, -glad that it hasn't. I am sure our bodies are made that way. 

My PSA for the day-*when* (Hey, no one says I can't hope for you.) you are pregnant and given the chance for NONinvasive genetic prenatal testing-TAKE IT. I think most of you would-but there's this stupid rumor that if you wouldn't terminate the pregnancy under any circumstances you shouldn't bother-which is insane. As we all know-or should-whether or not you terminate is irrelevant.  Genetic testing tells you so, so much-were I going to have a higher chance of a special needs baby-I'd like to know so that I could read up on preparing our home, lives and families-or, if we're going to need a specialist on hand at her birth-I'd like to know that sooner rather than later. That's all. (she quietly steps down from soap box).

She Who Is Now Named.

We finally decided on a name. A first name at least. We decided that we liked the nickname Rosey first. In fact, weeks ago. 

No one will know of any of the names we pick because people in my life don't use their filter enough. When I told a dear friend of our chosen nickname, Rosey,  she wouldn't shut up about what a horrible idea it was to name a child after Rosie O'Donnell. Which we aren't doing-and hello! I wasn't ASKING you what you thought. When I told my mom of a middle name that we really liked and OMGoodness-ye who name children 'Peter Alvin' needn't be so quick to criticize the names chosen by other parents. Especially when the dear mother of the parenting duo is your own daughter.  

By the way-I like Rosey-because my dear friend from college, Rebecca, once dressed up as Rosie the Riveter-for a Women's History Month float. I dressed up as who knows and during our senior year-sadly one of last times together-rode a float all around the University of Arizona. Rebecca died suddenly a few years after we graduated. I would have used Rebecca in her honor but I miscarried a baby that I had planned to name Rebecca.  At Rebecca's funeral. 

Rosey is almost twice as nice to honor my friend Rebecca. Becky, a true Arizona girl-once slept on my couch with a shot gun, after the police left,  the night I caught a peeping tom standing outside my window. Where "biological" material was later found.  So, like Rosie the Riveter, she was tough as nails. 

 

Who in their right mind would criticize an expectant mother's carefully chosen name? Idiots, I tell you. I put my foot in my mouth at least weekly-and even I-have never criticized a name or even thought of feedback unless asked. 

So, alas only you, my dear five readers and K, and Cate, will know until she is born. Then they'll PRAY GOD have the decency to not even THINK of their irrelevant opinions.* 

I searched and searched for some sort of Rose name. I don't like "Rose" by it's lonesome. K's last name-and so hers will be-almost as common as Smith. Plus, Rose is a common middle name. Poor Rosey is already getting second shift-Catherine Annalis to "Rose" would exemplify that.  

The trouble is I just don't like the Rosabel's, Rosebella's, Roselei's....etc. Too girly. Or bella-esq. Are Twilight inspired. We almost choose Annarose-because it's German like yours truly and let's be honest I really want to name Shiny, my second daughter, ((sigh)) my first born's middle name-Annalis. 

I went to several baby names sites and begged for names befitting of a 'Rosey' nickname. 

At least 40 variations were offered. None that I liked. Especially, as one woman suggested, "Primrose." It sounds so stuffy. Probably because there are snotty overpriced private schools in Atlanta named Primrose. The "Prim" sounded so PRIM and proper. 

K loved the nickname "Rosey" but really was not found of the 'Rose' variations either. I finally forced him to sit down and choose something. He read all the responses-and immediately zeroed in on "Primrose." The difference in his response reflected the fact that he graduated valedictorian from high school and I graduated with 1.8 G.P.A. (I did eventually graduate with a 3.8 from law school so take that you silly Georgia public school system.)

K informed me that "Prim" means first in latin. The flower Primrose is named so because it is the "first rose of spring."**

That she'll be delivered via a scheduled c-section on the first day of spring is just a sweet little something. 

So, Primrose it is. 

______

I apologize for the lack of brevity-I wanted to type this so that I'd remember it to tell her. 

I've just made a client wait 15 minutes so that I can finish this. So, no editing. I just am so excited and wanted to tell someone. You. 

__________________

*How is anyone's bias based on one celebrity's anger management issues and their homophobia relevant to a sweet little girl nickname, "Rosey?" Yes, I am bitter. 

**A primrose is not actually a rose. Maybe if my Primrose is more of a bitter root this will give her an out. Have I ever told you that my middle name is VIRGINia?

True Remorse Stems From Ownership-And ~That's~the Hard Part

It finally occurred to me why "it's so effin hard" for K to "apologize!" A question I asked him not to long ago. Sometime after I discovered his betrayal, I'd told him-that to forgive him-I'd need him to apologize. A lot. 

Because nearly everyday-his horrific acts impact my day in some way.  Less now, but still. For instance, recently we met a couple who live in a school district where we might move before Cate starts school. Later I learned that our potential new friends and potential neighbors are friends with one of my closest friends-the lawyer I share office space with. Who knows about K's betrayal. As does his wife. I *think* I can trust them not to spill-but what if they do? These are friends whose children will know mine-they'll be in our house. We'll be in theirs. What if Cate finds out eventually? (by the way-in my real life very few people know-mainly just my family and two close girlfriends-no neighbors-not even our nanny or our extended families).

So yeah-his betrayal makes my life harder and that sucks. And is so unfair. So, as much as I have to live this-I want him to offer an occasional apology. Something that should sound like the one or two that he has said "hey C, I did a horrible, horrible thing...and I'm sorry...." It felt soooo good to hear that. The TWO times that he said it. 

We fought about his not apologizing once-if I demand it-it won't be meaningful, right? 

As I thought about his failure to do this one simple thing...on the way to work one day-I remembered a road rage criminal case that I worked on as a new attorney.  The case involved two college student drivers in S.U.V's trying to work out their hostility towards each other-total strangers-on the road. They chased each other at high speeds cutting each other off here and there. Luckily, it was so late at night that no other cars were on the road. The female cut the other guy off too close and flipped her S.U.V. And died on the scene. Because she had marijuana in her system and alcohol-he only got about a year in prison with the rest of the time to be served on probation. 

One part of his probation-that her family wanted in lieu of more jail time-was that he write a letter to them to apologize every year on the day of her death. Just a simple letter. This and a few other things were all this guy had to do to stay out of prison. After the first year he failed to write the letter. A simple letter. His probation got revoked and he got sent back to prison to serve the rest of a second year. He just couldn't do it.

I wondered, as I drove to work, if maybe K was having the same issues-or if I was merely making excuses for him as I did in the months that led up to this. 

I brought this up to our marriage counselor-and so that's what we talked about. She made me say exactly how his actions made me feel. Which I had never really said out loud to him. About all the hurt and feelings of anger and betrayal. How I had stood by him despite his emotionally checking out of life. Out of our marriage. How I had planned vacations-and flown his dad here and encouraged him to play golf and counseling, etc. 

I didn't plan on sharing the following to protect K's privacy-but if you know about the affair-which is humiliating to K-then you should at least know his response. That doesn't articulate what I am trying to say....hopefully you know what I mean. 

Then the counselor asked K to say how what I said made him feel.  He started talking about how I didn't deserve this and he said a few other things-and the counselor kept probing him- until all of a sudden I could see him sit up and put his face in hands-his face and neck turned even more red than usual and through sobs I heard him-faced covered-say "I just cannot believe that I took the most important person, Christina, and relationship in my life" and "said fuck'it." "That I could be so callous and indifferent to someone who means everything to me....." As he continued to talk through sobs I saw it. His remorse.  That he gets it. I've never seen him so visibly shaken-ever-in our thirteen years together. Ever. 

I still need apologies to continue to forgive and move forward-but now I 'get' why they are slow in coming.