Halloween...

We've had THREE costumes since late August/early September.  The idea was (since they were only $15 each) that Banner could "gently" wear them all before Halloween, and then have a pretty decent costume bin for dress up after the holiday had come and gone.

There was much debate, leading up to Halloween, about which costume Banner would ultimately choose for trick-or-treating.  Spiderman had been favored for weeks, and that was the costume of choice at Brook Hollow's annual costume party the Sunday before Halloween:

The boots make the outfit.

However, as Halloween approached, Captain America jumped ahead of the competition.  Banner even announced to his classmates that he was going to be "Cap'in Murica".  Many assumed the matter was settled.

But then the holiday arrived, and - after all this choices were presented to him - the HULK was ultimately triumphant.  It was an amazing come from behind victory that no one saw coming.  It was also very short lived, because the Hulk mask "hurt".  So short lived, in fact, that someone's mama didn't even get a chance to snap a picture (sigh).

So it was second place Captain America that actually made an appearance on Halloween night.  Fellow superheroes Superman, Ironman and Spiderman also joined in for the fun, because OF COURSE:

The best part of the night was how seriously Banner...err, Captain America took his superhero responsibilities.  Because, clearly, crime fighting is no joking matter:



(Well, mostly...)



Unexpected problem:  knocking while holding both a
shield and a bucket is impossible when you are two.

Captain America also had quite the haul of goodies.  Lucky for us, he was too tired to appreciate it.  In fact, he was too tired to even take a bath.  Poor little guy was out like a light (because, again, crime fighting is hard, y'all). 

Until next year...

Why is my child crying...

Because daddy tried to help him
put wings on his lego airplane...

QOTD...

Me:  "Banner, are you a big boy just like daddy?"

Banner:  "No.  Daddy is a big boy just like me."

 

Clearly.

That week we hit our head a lot...

 

I know it is all part of the boy package (or maybe he is just clumsy like his mama?), but we recently had one of those weeks plagued with injury.  First Banner managed to get attacked by his train table.  Still not entirely sure how he managed it, but I think it involved his desire to flip the table top over to the side with the waterways and trees.  Which is how he ended up with the goose egg in the photo above. 

 

And, yes.  In case you are wondering, he IS smiling in that picture because he got an ice pack AND a band aid.  Nothing makes a boo-boo totally worth it like an ice pack and a band aid (even if the band aid is on your hand...NO WHERE NEAR THE BOO-BOO). 

 

And what's icing on the ice pack and band aid cake?  Getting to walk into your classroom with said icepack and boo-boo, and all the other kids and teachers are like, "Oh, no!  Banner, what happened?"  To which he PROMPTLY replied, "I bump my head on my train table" (complete with oh-so dramatic sigh).  He was pretty much a celebrity at that moment, and he milked that attention FOR DAYS.

 

Then he fell off the couch after school a day or two later and landed on his head because of course he did.  Sadly (for him) I refused to put a band aid in his hair.  I'm guessing the poor boy will need years of therapy to recover from this slight.

 

Finally, Saturday rolled around and with it karate class.  They were warming up with a game of RED LIGHT/GREEN LIGHT when Banner failed to stop and rear ended the kid in front of him with his face.  All was okay for about 30 seconds, but then the blood started to gush from his nose. 

 

 

Sigh.  Boys.

 

Luckily, Banner was fine (as was the kid he ran into).  Well, technically Ban sort of started to stutter about this same time, but I was told by his pediatrician that that is pretty normal.  And I mean that developmentally.  Not because he broke himself by bumping his head so many times in a week.  Because, believe me, I asked for clarification. 

 

Also, I got all that blood out of his uniform.  I was so proud of myself until Trevor informed me that blood stains make you look tough and give you "street cred". 

 

Even when I win, I lose.

 

In other news, after nearly a month hiatus, I'm feeling the urge to write again.  Mainly, because it has been a stress filled September and October and I need an outlet before I implode.  No promises, of course, but I'm optimistic.  If nothing else, writing about my little guy makes me happy, and...well, I need a little of that right now.

Trevor promised to take him camping, so this keeps happening...

In related news, Banner has gotten waaaaaay too comfortable peeing outside.  I blame Trevor and our attempts at potty training on top of a mountain back in August.

Not long after the lower two pictures were taken, Banner announced he had to pee and immediately dropped trou.  He was alarming close to my head (I was lying on the ground), so I told him to quickly relocate to his big boy potty inside.  He complied, and ran inside sans pants.  I stayed behind briefly in the backyard to gather up all the blankets, his pants, miscellaneous toys, etc.

And that's when I heard it. 

DING DONG!

The doorbell ran, the dogs went crazy and - most alarmingly - I heard Banner veer off course AND OPEN THE FRONT DOOR.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo!

I immediately dropped everything, and ran inside only to discover the following:

1. Haskell "hiding" on his bed.
2. My son, without pants, standing in front of a very open front door screaming for Alley.
3. Alley SPRINTING across the front yard for the street.
4. Gypsy eagerly greeting a very confused looking cub scout and his father on our front porch.

I confess:  I just stood there for a split second not knowing what to do or where to start.

Since the most pressing issue seemed to be my suicidal dog, I ran after her first, convinced her freedom wasn't all it was cracked up to be and got her (and Gypsy) back in the house.  Then, I told Banner to go to the potty before he had an accident (he did and - thank goodness - returned wearing pants).  Then, and only then, did I turn my attention to the poor cub scout and his dad, who - bless them - were only trying to sell popcorn to raise money for their troop. 

I tried to apologize by buying the biggest box I could find.  Banner was thrilled we had visitors, the dad seemed amused by the entire spectacle and his son left with renewed hope that he might be able to raise enough money to qualify for a prize.  Hopefully a win-win for all.

Except for me, and my poor mortified heart.  ;P

Eyes gots a pickle...

That time Banner thought he found the world
 largest pickle in a pumpkin patch.

October 8th...

I know.  I know.  I'm behind.  But to be fair, it's been a little overwhelming lately with the fair, Ebola and that severe storm last Thursday that took out left hundreds of thousands (including us) without power for DAAAAAYS.

Also, I haven't really been in the writing mood.  I try and nothing comes out.  I have about twenty drafts saved on my blog dashboard that are little more than main ideas with little to no sentence structure.

Part of it is stress related.  Work has been crazy lately and I've been working a lot of overtime.  It is good to be busy, but it is also exhausting.

The other part is more emotional than anything, and just makes me sad.  For the last three weeks, I've been counting down the days…until today.  October 8th was my due date.

I went to a wedding over the summer, and one of my mom's friends took me aside and asked me how I was doing.  At first I didn't know what she was talking about, and I was all, "I'm fine!"  Then she confided that she, too, had a miscarriage decades earlier.

"How are you doing?  How are you doing really?" she asked.

I paused.  This was back in June when - honestly - I was still a wreck.  Physically I was experiencing frequent heart palpitations and inexplicable weight gain, and emotionally I felt hollow.  Like a complete failure and waste of space. 

"Does the pain ever go away?"

"Not really, but it does get easier.  You will never forget, though.  Whenever you see a child celebrating a birthday around the time yours should have been born, you will remember.  You will imagine how old they would have been, milestones they should be reaching, lost teeth.  And later, when you are my age, you will think of them at graduation ceremonies and weddings and the birth of grandbabies.  There will always be little reminders.  But with time, I promise, they will sting less.  Although, the ache...the ache will never truly go away."

So much of what she said resonated with me.  Since the miscarriage, there hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about where I would have been in my pregnancy.  Symptoms I would have been experiencing.  When I hit what should have been the 37 week mark, I started thinking about whether or not I would have gone into labor on my own, scheduled a C-section at 39 weeks or insisted on trying for a VBAC.  I've stared at other women's pregnant bellies with a combination of misplaced resentment and longing.

It's been a very difficult 28 weeks.  I have so many more white hairs now. 

 

But here we are:  D Day.  If that little boy hadn't died in my womb, he'd be here by now.  And yet...it is just another Wednesday in October.

Things have gotten better, though.  Really.  The heart palpitations now have an explanation (benign heart murmur and PVCs), and that random weight I gained disappeared - literally - overnight in late July.  I had complained to several doctors about the 10-12 pounds, and not one of them took me seriously.  They just told me it was most likely because I was getting older or eating more because I was still depressed about losing the baby.  No one would even consider that it was hormonal or water-related, which was crazy-making.  I was oh-so literally running until I bled trying to get it off, and borderline starving myself.  I had all but given up hope, and then *poof*.  The water went away, the PVCs all but stopped and I finally felt like my body was starting to get back to normal. 

Emotionally, though, I still have plenty of moments.

For instance…

…Trevor and I became Godparents on September 21^st, and Banner absolutely adores his God sister, Abby.  Banner and I have taken her to the Arboretum on playdates, and he loves to push her stroller and check on her.  One time, at lunch in August, she was fussy with reflux and red faced with tears.  Banner wanted so badly to help her feel better that he covered her infant carrier and feet with stickers.  Since then he asks frequently to go see "Baby Abby".  He will hold her hand and smile at her, and Abby will stop crying and smile back when she sees him.  It melts my heart to see them together, and I can’t help but tear up when I think that he was supposed to be a big brother by now.

Or…

…Back before Banner was born, my mother bought a newborn Santa outfit.  Ban was supposed to arrive before Christmas, but was stubborn and showed up nearly two weeks late.  When he finally arrived in January, it never occurred to me (blame first time parenthood) to shove him in the tiny little outfit for a photo before he was way too big for it.  Something I’ve always regretted.  When I found out I was pregnant back in January, one of the thoughts that made me happy was having another opportunity to use the never worn Santa outfit.  After all, the timing would have been perfect with the holiday’s right around the corner.  Maybe an announcement photo?  It is a silly thing to be sad about:  an unused Santa onesie.  But I am.  I tear up when I think about it sitting in a bag in attic with the tags still attached.    

Maybe tomorrow I'll find my words and finish one of those drafts on my dashboard.

 

Here's to hoping.  Here's to tomorrow.