My son, the genius

I have decided that my little man is a genius.

Yes, yes, I know what your going to say, all parents think their children are the smartest things they have even seen.  I am no exception :)

I would have been blogging more about the smart child that I have, except that one day I opened up my laptop to discover that most keys on the keyboard had been plucked off by my smart child.  I was ready to read him the riot act, however he cozies up next to me, points to the keyboard and with a sad face and those big, brown, puppy dog eyes says, "I broke it, you fix it?"  I tell him no baby, mommy can't fix this, you broke it and you know you are not supposed to touch things that belong to mommy or anyone else.  He just looks at me, gives me a kiss, and says "I fix it Mommy".  Smart kid...knows how to butter up the mommy so her heart melts with how sweet he is and will forget about the very bad thing he has done.

Besides being a normal, destructive two year old boy, he is really become quite the smart little man.  He is very inquisitive, and has a thirst to learn new things each day.  First came colors.  He has these Mega Blocks, which he loves.  He will spend all day building what he calls "big block towers" that are taller then he is, then watch them fall down as he yells "TIMBER".  One day he started bringing me the different colored blocks and asking me what they were, so I would tell him the colors.  That was it, he was telling us colors of everything.  Numbers came next.  One of his favorite shows on Nick Jr. is Team Umizoomi, which are tiny superheros that use their mighty math powers to solve problems in their city.  They teach numbers, shapes, measurements, and the like.  He started telling me the numbers he was seeing on the screen before they would say it on the show, so I started counting with him and showing him the numbers.  Now he counts to 10 with ease, and is working on counting to 20.  From this he also learned his shapes, and can tell point out to me rectangles, triangles, pyramids, diamonds, squares, ovals, circles, cylinders, and even pentagons! 

The ABC's have been what we are currently working on.  Again, those blocks he loves to build with have the letters on them, and he started bringing me the blocks and pointing to the letters and asking me what they were. So we started using the blocks to teach him his letters, and of course he picked that up like no one's business.  Now he can tell us every letter of the alphabet.  I began singing the ABC song to him multiple times a day, and now he is starting to sing it to me, although there are letters missing from the song :)

On the subject of singing, this is his newest hobby.  He has finally learned how to sing songs.  He sings "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" (with the hand movements).  There is also a women on Nick Jr. who sings songs and does sing language and he has started singing those songs around the house and doing some of the sign language. 

His vocabulary grows by leaps and bounds everyday.  He can string up small sentences together, and he can tell us things he wants.  Like tonight, he was playing with a bouncy ball and it somehow got into the kitchen sink.  He came over to me and said "Mommy ball in kitchen, come get it".  He is also just a little parrot, and says the funniest things.  The best part is that he knows he is funny.  He has a great personality.

He loves books, and at nap time and bed time we sit down together on my bed, him laying in my lap on a big blanket, and we read.  The other night I came into my room for reading time and he was sitting on my bed with his favorite book open.  I sat down next to him and he began "reading" the story to me page by page, picking out key things he knew about the story to tell me.  This shows me he already has great comprehension and memory skills.

Our only struggle at this point is potty training.  He knows what a potty is, and he knows what you do in the potty, but when bringing out the little potty and getting him to go on it is a struggle.  I have kept him bottomless, so that he is more aware of the urge to go, and explain that when he has to go, he sits on the potty.  He brings me a diaper instead and tells me "Please Mommy, diaper", and will hold it until the diaper is on, or he just pees on the floor.  I know he can figure this out, but either he likes the security of the diaper, or he is just being stubborn.  So it is a work in progress.  I'm not pushing him because I don't want him to get frustrated or have anxiety over using the potty, but it is mentioned all the time that big boys use the big potty.  I have also switched him over to Pull-Ups so he gets more of the underwear type feeling then the diaper feel. 

I am just so proud of my little man.  I think everyday as I watch him grow and play that my mom is missing out so much on this.  This is the age she loved and was so excited to watch him be because she would always so this is when they are so much fun.  I know she is watching over him.  There have been a few times very recently where he has been playing by himself and I hear  him say "Hi Geema", which was his little nickname for grandma, and he'll act like he is talking with someone.  The other day after he mentioned "Geema" a few times while I was in the kitchen, I went over to him in the living room where he was sitting on the couch with toys.  I asked him where Geema was, and he looked at me and said "Geema at doctor".  I know when Mom was going to her appointments a lot I would tell him we were taking her to the doctor.  Then I asked him where Geema was now.  Anytime I ask him he points to the ceiling and tells me "Up there".  This isn't something I have addressed with him yet because at the time she passed, he has no idea what happened and was so little he never asked where she went.  She spent so little time in this house that I think he was used to her not being here.  It may have been different if we were still living over in our old apartments.  But now as he is getting older he is mentioning her more, which makes me believe she is probably giving him little visits.  I plan on putting together a scrapbook of her with all the boxes of pictures she has just for him, and then we can sit down together and I can tell him stories about her.  I think she would like that.

Happy 33rd to Me

A few days ago, I celebrated my 33rd birthday. It was a quiet day here for me, just doing what I do everyday, taking care of my little boy. As nice as it would have been to get out and do something, who the heck wants to go out when it is 110 outside!? Not this lady...

It was a hard birthday for me though, the first one without my Mom. She loved celebrating my birthday so much, any birthday in fact. When I was a kid, she threw me a birthday every year from the age of 5 to 18. She'd spend time planning the menu and the games and who we should invite. When I was 16 and decided I didn't want a birthday pary, she decided to throw me a suprise party anyway. Once I became an adult, we didn't have anymore parties, but she always made sure that I had a cake and nice dinner and we spent it together. 

I'd like to think that in Heaven, she was up there with my family and throwing me a party up there, still enjoying the day. Or at the very least, she was looking down and smiling, remembering it was my special day. It just brings it closer to home that these are events that she will no longer be apart of with us in person, but only in thought and spirit. Four months later, and I still feel like I am in shock, like I expect her to just walk through the door at any minute.

But I know that she would want me to continue to live my life to the fullest, and celebrate these events and holidays with the same enthusiam ad gusto that she always did. And so I will.

Posting a little Bzz on Filippo Berio

For those of you who don't know, I am a member of a site called BzzAgent (www.bzzagent.com), which deals with word of mouth marketing.  You will be invitied to campagins based on your likes and what fits best with you based on survey answers, and they send you bzzkits, which contains a free sample of the product, plus coupons to pass along to family and friends.

I recently was invitied to join their Filippo Berio Olive Oil Campaign.  I was excited to try this brand, because I do love to cook with olive oil, it is healthy for you, and well, I am Italian, olive oil is something we love to cook with!  I normally only buy the store brand though, because other brands are just too expensive.

The other night I have some chicken that was stuffed with aspargus that I had purchased at Fry's, and I drizzeled a little of the Filippo Berio on top.  The first thing I noticed was how think the oil was, not runny like the store brand.  Also, the flavor was so good, I could actually taste what real olive oil should taste like.  It is now my go to oil whenever I need to sautee some chicken or veggies, or just as a little dressing on a salad.

Happy Mother's Day

I took some time away from my blog, and really haven't spent much time lately on my actual laptop.  I check my emails and Facebook through my phone, but haven't had the motivation to get on here and blog, or play the games I normally like to play at night after my little one goes to bed.  I find that during the day, I get so busy taking care of my little one, that I don't have time to dwell on the grief I feel.  However, it is at nighttime, when everyone is asleep, my husband is at work, and I am all alone, that I just feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.  I feel the grief, and all I want to do is get under the covers and just be.  I don't feel like moving, sometimes I don't even want to watch TV.  Sleep is okay on some nights, so-so most of the time.  I'm also angry, at her.  I am angry she isn't here, I am angry that she died, I am angry that she left me.  Then I feel guilty for being so angry with her.  But I know that is all part of the stages you go through.  I have felt like I haven't been able to get past that.  I realized tonight I need to start writing here again, talk about  how I feel.  Keeping it all inside doesn't help, and won't help me get to the point of acceptance.

Tonight, though, on this first Mother's Day without Mom, I reflect on just how wonderful of a mother she was, and how much she taught me, and helped to shape me into the woman and mother I am today.  My mom was a mother young, at 18, and her and I grew up together.  She didn't know what she was doing, but she knew she loved me, and that was all she needed.  She raised me to be a person of strong character, strength, love, compassion, and respect.  A lot of times, people would call me "little mother", because as much as she mothered me, I mothered her right back.  I am just a natural care-taker, and I just always had the sense that I needed to take care of, that without me she wouldn't be able to survive.  I know this may sound silly, but I believe we did need each other to survive.  We had the perfect balance in our relationship, growing up she was my mother and I respected her, and I knew that if I was told not to do something, I better not do it because she would be good to her word on whatever the punishment might be.  But we were also friends, and as I become an adult, we became best friends.  I could tell her anything in the world, upsetting or embarrassing, and she would never judge me.  She just listened to me quietly while I rambled on, and then she'd offer up the best advice ever.  She never failed in making a bad situation better.  I could have lost everything in the world, and she would have known just what to say to make me calm and feel better.  She made sure that I had the best things, even is she had to scrimp and save for weeks or months in order for her to be able to get them for me.  She was also the most selfless person I have ever known.  She gave to others before she took for herself, and she would go without to make sure her family was taken care of.  Her sense of humor was awesome, her and I laughed all the time, and she had the weirdest quirks, but it made her unique.

I suppose it is very honest to say that the mother/daughter relationship we had was unique as well.  I wanted to be around here, all the time, I had no problem living with her and seeing her everyday.  We did everything together.  We'd spend hours together, only for me to go home and talk to her more on the phone, or computer.  I wish that everyone had the kind of relationship with their mother that I had with mine.  I feel badly for those who don't.  I'm not sure why we were as close as we were, perhaps because we grew up together.  I just know I'll never have that with anyone again.

Today we sent up a balloon to mom, we all wrote on it, the baby scribbled on it, and off it went to her.  It's just a small way to let her know how much we still love her, and always will.  Today I hugged my son, grateful that she taught me how to be a good mom, and glad that I can be here to continue on her legacy, teaching my son things she would have taught him, and making sure he never forgets just how wonderful his grandma was.

Happy Mother's Day Momma, I love you with all my heart.

Trying to Deal

Lately I feel like there is something wrong with me.  I feel as though I should be acting differently then I am.  I feel as though I should be curled up in bed under the covers, crying constantly, totally consumed in grief.  I mean, this is my mom I just lost, my whole wide world.  She was my everything, my best friend.  I could always count on her being right there at my side through life.  I probably depended on her more then I should have.  But I didn't care, she needed me, and I needed her.  This is a huge loss for me.  Actually, huge doesn't even begin to describe what kind of loss this is for me.  Imagine someone being there every single day of your life, no matter what, loving you and supporting you, being your rock, your best friend.   The one person you do everything with.  Then, just take them away and try and understand that your never going to see this person for the rest of your life.  Never hear their voice, their laugh, watch all the little quirks and things that they do.  It's as though someone reached into your soul and just stole it.  I feel as though I should be a basket case.  Yet, somehow I wake up every morning, and some days I manage to go by without shedding a single tear.  I believe my son has a big part in that.  I am mommy, and that is a never-ending job. As a two year old, he doesn't comprehend what is going on around here, and the loss we are all trying to deal with.  He just knows he needs me to be his mommy, kiss his boo-boo's and make him food, and play with him, and take care of his daily needs.  He is truly what keeps me going.  Without him, I really do think I'd be a basket case, laying in bed all day never wanting to emerge from the covers. 


But life goes on, they say.  I know I  need to grieve, and go through all those stages they take about.  But I feel like I stop myself.  I really don't know why.  Perhaps I am just used to being the strong one, and making sure everyone else is taken care of.  But, to be truly honest with myself, I just don't think I have admitted to myself she is really gone.  It is easier for me to put it out of my mind, like she is just still at the hospital and one day she'll get better and be able to come home.  This just doesn't seem like it could be true, how in the world did we lose her!?  She was just diagnosed, they have a treatment plan set for her, and even though the prognosis wasn't the best for her, we knew we had some time left.  The BAM!  Reality smacks you in the face.  Bringing home her urn, and placing it on our wall unit, bring the reality of what happened truly home for me.  I find myself looking at the urn, and thinking, "How the hell did this happen?  How the hell did you end up in a box!?".  It is getting harder each day to keep up the charade in my head that this didn't happen with an urn is staring you in the face. 


I just wish I knew how to deal with this.  I wish she was here to tell me how to, because she'd be the one person who would have all the right words to  make me feel better.  But I know what she'd tell me.  She'd say, "Don't be upset, because I am happy now.  I don't have any pain, I have a healthy body, I have family with me, and am finally where I have always wanted to be, with Jesus, praising him all day long and learning from him.  I had a hard life, things never went the right way for me, I always felt like a burden, even though everyone would tell me I am not, I never felt well for the longest time, I worried about finances and always felt like an outsider.  Now, I am released of all that.  Just be happy for me".


As I just typed these words, I feel as though she was just speaking through me, and I have to take comfort in that.  I have no doubt those words are what she'd speak to me if she could.  So I try not to be so sad, I just try to live my life, take care of my son that way she would want me to, make sure my dad is being taken care of just like she would have, and take care of my husband.  I found an email in her account tonight where she was telling someone about me, and she said she thought I was perfect no matter what, and that I was the best thing to ever happen to her, and she'd go through everything she had to again just to still have me.  You know what mom, you were perfect to me too. :)

Rest in Peace

On March 2, 2012, at 1:50pm, my beautiful mother, Cynthia, went home to be with the Lord. 


As I last posted, her doctor had asked us to make a very hard decision as to whether or not she would want to live her life out in the hospital bed, hooked up to some many tubes and IVs, laying there on a ventilator because she was unable to breathe on her own, and on constant kidney dialysis because her kidneys had completely failed.  My dad wanted to take a few days to think over this decision, because ultimately, he was the one who was going to have to have the final say, and he wanted just some sort of glimmer of hope that she might pull through, or start improving.  The meeting with the family was on Wednesday, and Friday morning, we received a call from mom's nurse stating that it looked as though Mom had a massive heart attack, and they had been having a very tough time keeping her blood pressure up.  With this latest news, we knew that she had made this very hard decision for us. 


We gathered at the hospital, and they called in a chaplain to be there with us.  As I went into her room, I felt so dizzy and lightheaded.  While on Wednesday I had said to her what I needed to say to her to get in my goodbye's in case I didn't have a moment alone with her again, it all just felt surreal.  I keep thinking in my head that God was going to give us a miracle, she was going to wake from this.  But the nurse said even when they lowered her sedation, she wouldn't respond or move, even though she had been before.  It was just time for her to get peace.  Her body, her shell, was too sick, and her spirit I know must have been watching over us waiting to be released to Heaven.  But even though I knew she would be happy to go to Heaven, us who have to stay behind are selfish. 


We finally had to let her go, and I wish I could say it was a peaceful experience when we entered back into that room after they removed her breathing tube, but it wasn't.  Her eyes were wide open and her mouth wide open, and she seemed to be gasping for air.  While I know she wasn't suffering, and it was just her body doing what it needed to do, and she was probably already gone, it was just too much for me.  I thought I could handle anything, but this, no way.  I kissed her hand and I told her it was OK to go to Heaven, that I'd take care of everyone.  Then I just felt this overwhelming urge to throw up, and at the same time, just a force trying to get me turn around and not look at her.  I turned my chair as fast as I could so my back was to her, and the Chaplain prayed from Psalm 23.  Then, it was done.  Once I heard the monitors start beeping, I knew she was gone, and again I felt a force to just get out of the room, and my aunt Kelly helped me. 


I truly believe in that moment, Mom was there, watching over us.  I truly believe she knew I shouldn't be there for that, and she was protecting me by giving me that force to turn around and not see her die, and to get me out of that room so I wouldn't turn around and see her laying there.  I know that she knows I was not strong enough for that.  It gives me some peace in my heart to know that even as she was heading to Heaven, she thought enough to protect me. 


It has been seven days since my mom has passed.  I feel numb.  I feel like I stop myself from crying because I want to be strong for my family.  She always said I was the glue that held the family together, and I feel as though I need to be strong so they can grieve and have me to talk to, to help them through this.  I just don't want to deal with this.  I have a hard time believing I am never going to see my mom again, that I am never going to talk to her, touch her, hear her laugh.  The last month of her life she was so sick, and I think she knew that she was not long for this life, but she never made this known to me.  The last few days she was at home before going back into the hospital she didn't talk much really, slept a lot.  Didn't seem to want to carry on any kind of conversation.  In return, I tried not to be around her as much because she didn't look herself, she looked sick, and I think I knew, subconsciously, that she was dying, and I refused to face it.  Looking at her was so hard for me, I remember telling Phil on several occasions that I felt better when she wasn't home because then I didn't have to face how sick she was.  Now, I have regrets.  I should have talked to her more, I should have let her know that she could have talked to me openly.  However, I believe she just was trying to protect me again.  She knew how upset I was, and I think she kept it all to herself.  We talked about anything, but this was the only thing I don't think she felt she could talk to me about, and now I feel  bad. 


The chaplain asked us to tell her about my mom, a favorite memory, her personality.  Where do you even start with her.  My mother was the kindest, wisest, beautiful, smartest, and caring person I have ever known.  She always knew how to fix things, make things better.  She had wonderful advice, though I never always took it.  She had the best sense of humor, we'd laugh for hours.  She loved her family so much.  She'd always give and give, and never take anything in return.  She always felt she was a burden,  but she never was.  She never thought she was smart, but she knew so much.  She was the best mother.  She knew just how to have the perfect relationship with me in being  my mother, and my friend at the same time.  Honestly, I can look back at my childhood, and as I told her recently, I have no bad memories.  We always had fun, she always kept me safe, she always kept me fed and dressed with a roof over my head.  She was truly my other half.  It was as though we were always attached right at the hip.  There was never a day that we didn't see each other, or didn't talk. 


The thing I am happiest about is that I was able to give her a beautiful grandchild that was just her whole world these past two years.  She was so excited about being a grandma, and when he was born she even shook his hand and told him it was nice to meet him.  She said she felt they should have a formal introduction.  She was so funny like that.  She would do anything for this little boy, her face would just lit up every time she saw him.  She wanted to watch him grow up, and she wanted to teach him so many things.  He just loves her too, in fact a lot of times he used to call her mama, because was like another mommy to him.  The one thing she was most proud of though:  he has her nose, and she thought that was so cool..


My aunt said that I am made up of all the best parts of my mom, and I sure hope so.  I hope that I can do her proud in my life, and continue on traditions and such that she liked and would want us to do in her place.  I hope that I can continue her legacy of being such a good person, who takes care of everyone.  I hope I can be just half the mother to my son that she was to me, and that he will live on in her as well. 


I just have to figure out now how to live without my other half being with me.  Even with all my family and friends around me, I have never felt so alone in my whole life.  But, she is no longer suffering.  For that, I must be happy that she gets to be with the Lord, be with her father, and other family, and even the baby Phil and I lost a few years ago.  I couldn't ask for anyone better to be there taking care of that child until I am able to be reunited with them again someday.


I love you mommy, rest in peace my sweet girl.

Reality

My mom's doctor called us in for a meeting yesterday.  While sitting there staring at my mother, with the breathing tube down her throat, the ventilator, the constant kidney dialysis machine running, and so many other tubes and IV wires going into her that I lost count, he told us he is chasing his tail in treating her.  They have done everything that they can for her, but even if they can get her off the vent, or her  kidneys start to improve, the cancer within her is going to keep growing and spreading.  Basically, even if they could get her stable and fix even one or two things that is wrong with her, the cancer is going to take her over anyway because she isn't strong enough for cancer treatments. He asked us, if she could step out of the bed, stand where we were, looking at herself like that, is this what she would want for her?  Is this how she'd want to live out her life?

Reality hits you at that moment.  At least it did for me.  I am always the strong one in the family.  Mom always calls me the glue that keeps the family together.  As hard as this has been, I keep a strong, brave face when dealing with the family, in person, or in phone calls, because I want to be here for everyone, I want to make this better for everyone who is suffering.  Nights are the worst for me, when my husband is working, and my son and dad are asleep, and I am alone in my room.  That is when I have my moments, when I break down.  I feel like I need to do this in private, although I am not sure why.  It isn't like anyone who blame me for breaking down.  However, as reality hit me, straight in the face at 9am on a Wednesday morning, I couldn't hold it anymore.  I broke.  I crumbled.  I cried, I couldn't look the doctor in the face, I could no longer hear what he was saying.  All I did was look at her, laying there asleep, under heavy sedation, and tried to will her awake.  I prayed for a miracle.  Her eyes would open, and she would move around, and I kept thinking she was listening to this doctor tell us we had to  make a decision on whether to end her life, and how scared she must be, but the doctor said she was under heavy sedation and that she couldn't hear us, or knows what is going on, it is just reflexes. 

How do you make that decision, how do you decide if it is time to end someones life, when they aren't in the position to make that decision for themselves?  It would be great if she had a living will, where she stated this isn't what she wanted for herself.  Even better would be if she had the ability to tell us for herself if she is ready to go home to Jesus.  Things go through your mind, what if she would be mad at us?  What if she wants to keep holding on?  What if she is just screaming inside for us to let her go?  And selfishly, I think the main issue is, what do we all do without her?

A few weeks ago my mom had a vision.  She was alone in the living room, sitting her in recliner, and she said in front of her a vision came before her.  It was a meadow type place, with a big tree.  As she approached the tree, underneath was Jesus, and her father.  She stood under the tree with them, one of them of each side, and she said Jesus put his arm around her, and stroked her hair, and told her it was okay, he was with her.  They were both with her.  She told me that if something happens to her, I should take comfort in the fact that she will be under the tree with Jesus and he'll take care of her.  I've heard before that people have premonitions.  Sometimes people know when things are going to happen to them.  Maybe this is a sign she received, to know that she would be in Heaven, and she would safe in Jesus's arms.  That her father she loved so much would be with her again taking care of her as well.  I suppose that comforts me a bit, knowing that she will be where she wants to be, home with Jesus.  She'll have a healthy body, she'll feel no more pain, she'll be happy.  It just doesn't seem fair for us, the living.  How do I get through a day without her?  How do I get through life?  Will she watch over me?  How do I make decisions without her, or get through a bad day?  Who do I talk to, when I really need to confide in someone, when I really need someone to be there for me who understands me like no other? 

As much as I have family and friends around me to help me, love me, and support me, I've never been so alone in all my life.  And I always will be.