Baby Daddy

My "baby daddy" is my brother. 

I know that sounds horrible (and kind of sickly humorous to me) but I will expound.

• I am the oldest of five, followed by my sister, my brother D, then two younger half-brothers.
• My adopted daughter, L, is actually my biological niece. The second (that we know of) child of my brother D.
• My (in process) adopted son, G, is my daughter's half-brother.
• My brother claims to be G's dad and is the "presumed father" by court rule.
• Currently, he is in jail, awaiting transfer to state prison in Florida. He is sentenced to 18 years for stabbing a man, who subsequently died. Yes, I am putting it lightly. For my own sake.

I deeply care about and want to say I love my brother but I don't really know him as a man. We have been estranged for many years due to his homelessness and drug abuse.  I love the little boy I remember. I was almost six years-old when he was born.  He was my first baby.

I ADORED him and eagerly helped my mom care for him.  He was quiet and very sweet natured. When I look back at his baby pictures, it is hard to find one where he isn't smiling. He was born blonde and blue eyed, taking after my maternal grandmother. Strikingly different looking than my sister and me, who were very obviously little Mexican girls. Eventually he got his brown eyes but his hair stayed light until he was about two years old. There is no doubt now that he is my father's son, however, my dad was not amused when people would ask if he was adopted. 

When was about five years-old, he picked bouquets for all the ladies in the neighborhood. I think he tore the flowers out of their own yards, but they didn't seem to mind. He had a few pet hamsters and he cared for them gently. He would spend time taking things apart and then reassembling them, like watches, to find out how they worked. A smart, sweet boy with so much potential. What a shame he got lost. Lost, in the way small, quiet kids become when their parents get divorced and fail to pay attention when they should.

As mentioned in my first post, I felt obligated to adopt my my niece and nephew. One of those obligations I felt was from the guilt I had about failing to save my brother, somehow. We were both growing up at the same time, in the same place and same family but worlds apart. By the time I was finishing high-school, he was in his early teens, suffering from dyslexia and getting into trouble. I am shocked, now, to hear about the things he has done. I regret not paying attention to him more.

I hope I can help my children to appreciate one another and become true friends, not just siblings.

BEWBIES!

*I am going to talk about breasts so if that makes you uncomfortable please skip this post. Thanks!*

After L came to live with us, I experienced an unexpected dilemma. It was about my breasts. Particularly in relation to a baby that I had neither birthed nor nursed. Maybe I am completely crazy, but I felt a little weird holding her against my bare chest. She had never been breastfed but I thought she might spontaneously try and that totally creeped me out.

Not that nursing a baby is creepy, I completely support breast-feeding, even in public if it's modest (hey, who doesn't have trouble not gawking at bare breasts in public?). It's just she wasn't my baby yet and all of the sudden I thought about these parts of my anatomy in a completely different way.

I am sure almost every parent has realized it is sometimes easier, and more practical when you and baby are covered in food/vomit/excrement/etc., to take a baby into the shower with you for bathing than doing the whole baby-bath or sink thing. It's fun and cute at first, getting the little tub ready and taking pictures. But when they get big enough to start flailing around, grabbing at things and splashing, it's not always such an adorable task.

One of us would get into the shower the other would hand the smelly, sticky, crusty baby in and a few minutes later, Voila! From behind a steamy curtain, a soft, fresh, clean-smelling, smiling baby would emerge. Catch it in a big towel and the world is right again.

When it was my first turn to do the shower thing, I had no qualms, until I was actually holding L against my chest. She was wiggling around and cooing, grabbing at the water drops. Then she got all warm and cozy and cuddled up to me, her cheek resting on one boob. Her little hand resting on my other boob.

Again, I truly believe it is a totally natural, normal, nurturing, and necessary thing for a mother to hold a baby or small child skin to skin. But I was not a mother and this baby was a stranger. Also she was not a tiny infant. She was now a very active, determined, and inquisitive 7 month-old. What do kids want to do every time they think they see a button? Push it of course, and that's what she did.

Poke, poke, poke, (baby giggle), smack, smack, smack (more giggling). How come she was relaxed and almost asleep in the shower when daddy-to-be is holding her against his chest but with me she is playing her version of whack-a-mole? She kept prodding and looking up at me expectantly, what do these toys do? No flashing lights or funny sounds.

Upon reflection, I suppose I could have just ignored it entirely and she might have stopped but apparently I felt compelled to make it game. I think I was worried I might have the wrong reaction that would affect her negatively somehow. Each time she poked, I would say "beep, beep" or "honk, honk".

From then on, it was her favorite game. Whether or not I was clothed. She would get mad, fussing loudly and furrowing her brow, when I wouldn't play. Always, it would have to be in the grocery store check-out line or at appointments with the social worker. She tried it on everyone, men, women, children, and when they didn't respond she would poke harder and whine. Many times, I found myself awkwardly trying to explain why my baby was obsessed with poking boobs. As she got older, she would point to her own chest and say "haw haw, bee bee". Eventually, she forgot about it and so did I.

However, I was reminded the other day by G. I exited the shower and leaned over the gate to kiss his forehead. I think I actually saw a light bulb spark on in his brain, right through his saucer-like, olive-green eyes. He reached up with his little claw hand and grabbed my boob, laughing maniacally, refusing to let go. It wasn't the first time he'd seen me sans clothes but, suddenly, it was the funniest thing he had ever seen and still is. Now when I am dressing, he will point and giggle, giving me a giant silly grin, making squeezing motions with his little claw hands.

I have learned a few things about myself through all of this. I am now much more comfortable with my own body, especially around my children. I love it when they snuggle and nuzzle into my chest for comfort and closeness. Lastly, and possibly most important of all, my boobs are not clown horns.


This post lovingly and humorously dedicated to my friend Kaylyn S.

P.E.A.S.

Your regularly scheduled blog has been interrupted to bring your daily serving of informational veggies via the Parental Emergency Alert System:

G's croup has evolved into an ear infection and slight pneumonia. L has allergic conjunctivitis. Neither are contagious. I just wanted to let those asking for it (those = my sister), why my next post is being delayed.

Ever try administering eye-drops to a preschooler? Guess it's better than a toddler who projectile vomits every time he has a coughing spell. It's like a sick kid rodeo over here. Precious moments indeed.

Thank you for your patience and continued interest in my blog ;)

Mommy Stalker

I am not ashamed to admit it, I am a stalker.

I stalk mommies. Mainly at parks. I look for the ones with children about the same age as mine. I like the moms that are involved and actually paying attention to their kids, not just yelling from the sidelines.  Any age or nationality, it doesn't matter to me. Even tasteful tattoos or small extraneous piercings are fine.  Although, I usually don't make too much effort on those with long neon fingernails, wearing heels, copious amounts of makeup or jewelry. It's easier to make an introduction if our kids start playing together or near each other but a power-struggle or small altercation works just as well. Of course, complimenting their kid's cute outfit certainly can get your foot in the door.

The last thing on my mind during my daughter's whirlwind arrival was acquiring a support network. I had absolutely no idea how invaluable it would become to my survival as a surprise parent or what wonderful friends I would meet.

Fortunately, a new-mommy neighbor's small, thoughtful gesture would save me before I even realized I would need rescue. We crossed paths one day and both were shocked the other now had a baby. I didn't know she was expecting and of course our child was a total surprise. We joked about it and went our separate ways. Later, I found a note in my door. She had noticed I was carrying a Kaiser diaper bag and invited me to the Kaiser mommy group she attended. Funny thing is, I got the diaper bag from my sister-in-law. We also had Kaiser insurance but the baby was not on the policy so I didn't make the connection. I don't know how long it would have taken me to figure out I needed a mommy group or that I could attend one provided by my own health insurance.

All we had for the baby was what I brought back with her on the plane from Colorado. Our sole focus was tending to the needs of a 6 month-old we hardly knew. Diapers, check. Bottles, check. Formula, check. Mental health support for parents, not checked. Thankfully, through the support group, I met most of my current mommy friends. I am exceedingly grateful for their friendship, commiseration, advice and encouragement. It has also been wonderful to see our children growing up together and developing their own attachments.

My daughter climbed and walked early, about 4 months after she came to us. We were now playing at the park often. I wanted to expand my circle of mommy friends and I especially wanted L to have a little girl her own age to play with. This led to the stalking.

One day, I was driving away from the park and across a large field I noticed a little girl, wobbling around in the grass, about the same size as my daughter. I promptly pulled over and ran across the field with my baby in tow. I was sweating, out of breath and surely seemed a little insane, "Excuse me, hey there, hi, I noticed you have a daughter like me!" The woman was young, mid-20's, and few months pregnant. She seemed somewhat startled but was friendly. The babies toddled around together for a bit, we chatted and exchanged phone numbers.  We texted several times but our schedules never seemed to match up for playdates. I am sure my first impression did not help facilitate another meeting.

However, I didn't give up. The mommy friends and their families that we spend the most time with now, I initially met at the park. And the neighbor I mentioned before, we are friends to this day. Weekly playdates and the rare mommies-only night out have now replaced the group meetings and have helped me get through the challenging times and celebrate the good times.

I am still on the prowl, though. I don't think I could ever have too many mommy friends!