Birthday Recap

My family are notoriously generous gift givers. We pride ourselves on out gifting one another. The goal is to get the recipient to cry tears of happiness, shock, and awe. If they don't cry it is an incredible disappointment to all parties present. We epitomize the moral it is better to give than receive. I have never in my, cough, 26 years spent more than $500 on myself in one sitting. It doesn't happen. I can't justify spending more than $30 for a pair of jeans never the less some expensive electronic. But send me out to by a gift for someone else and I can drop hundreds without batting an eyelash.

My Nana has always been extremely generous in regard to vacations. When I was 13, my grandparents took the entire family to Scotland to explore our roots and Auntie De providing matching green converse for the clan. At 18, it was a trip to the Bahamas. Then at 21, a cruise around Alaska's inside passage for 13 people. These vacations are burned in my memory and often come up at dinner parties. We will still laugh about Greyfriar Bobby, the booze cruise, cow bingo, crazy hat contests, Michael's glass smashing abilities, Rebecca's vomiting pyrotechnics, and Muchall's Castle. We returned the favor one year and bought Nana a laptop. She cried really good that Christmas.

This birthday it was my families turn to see me cry. I had been fantasizing about a Mac laptop for years. My old one is edging on 5 years and teetering on complete system failure. I covet that sleek MacBook design, easy operation, and suburb graphics. I would find myself in Apple stores drooling over the Mac Air and iPhones. However, I could never justify spending the money on myself. I planned on waiting until my Dell bit the big one and then buying another PC that would make due. I bet you can guess where this is going. My family chipped in and got me a MacBook. I almost shit my pants and thats putting it lightly. It was so unexpected, desired, and unnecessary for such an nondescript birthday. I am still in shock everytime I see it sitting in our den. Now, my problem is that I have no idea how to use it. I have been on the phone with Mac support three times already.

It was quite a lovely birthday and it was really nothing to be afraid of. I got to spend most of the day with my main Goose man which is always my favorite time. I went for a hot stone massage, courtesy of Terry. I had a charming get together with Kari, Erik, Bri, Jessie, Nicky and Becca after Wyatt went to sleep. I even indulged a bit having a glass of sangria and half a beer. Living on the edge!! Rebecca made my favorite ice cream sandwich cake, without the nuts. A good time was had by all in the land. I have been spending all of my free time getting to know my Mac and still having some trouble because I am stupid about networks, routers, and all things Internet. But I am so in love! Job well done family!!

The Move

OK, in an attempt to be a little more professional and accessible Bean on the Brain has a new web address. You can now find Kate, Wyatt, Terry, and the gang at:

www.BeanontheBrain.com

We are moving up in the world! You will be re-directed if you log onto the old address for several months but change your favorites. Thank you to all of my faithful readers. I know you're out there. I check my stats. Come on and comment already.

As Mr. Kite says "tune in, turn off, drop out, drop in, switch off, switch on, and explode."

Sweet Innocence

A Star is Almost Born

Ok, who was wondering why I was in a trailer mentioned in the previous post? Maybe no one picked up on it. I will spare you the suspense. Our smart and gorgeous Wyatt landed himself a commercial. Before you get all excited he was booked as the understudy baby so you won't be seeing him on the TV anytime soon. I got the call on Monday that the agency already had a baby booked for the commercial but it is customary to hire another one in case of fussiness. It is not the big time quite yet but I thought it was pretty cool. My secret hope is that Wyatt will be able to make enough money so that I can quit my job, Terry can quit the Army, Rebecca will go to Grad School on her nephew, and our addition will be paid in full. Yeah, I'll keep dreaming.

I took off from work and Rebecca, Wyatt, and I sprang into action. The residential set was only 15 minutes away from home so the 8:30 call time was no problem. Our entire roll for the day was to sit in a trailer, keep Wyatt entertained, and get paid doing it. Easy enough. It was exhilarating being around all the hustle and bustle, reminiscent of my days in theatre and Rebeccas days as a production assistant. We both felt fairly at home. I am not going to lie I was disappointed that baby 1 was able to shoot the commercial. It would have been a blast to see Wy on TV. But I am not loosing hope. He has got 3 agents/managers looking out for him now. He is bound to be in a Gap ad soon enough. Kids got talent! I swear!

It was on set that I took my whopping nose dive. Honestly, it would have been hysterical if I fell. Not so funny with Wyatt in my arms. Rebecca and I did have a chuckle once we got back in the trailer and realized that I was covered in grass. I didn't even know. I was so caught up in Wyatt. I had been talking to other mothers and production staff with twigs sticking out of my braided pigtails. Probably looked like a scene out of the "Magic School Bus" with me playing Ms. Frizzle. Fitting, no?

The Award Goes To...

The skies opened up and dumped rain down on the world. One of those quick, summer, onslaughts that leaves puddles in the driveway and a misty sheen the lawns where you can see the humidity rising into the air. The trailer was cramped and leaking from the recent downpour. We decided to go for a walk. I was dancing with Wyatt cradled on my hip. He loves when I dance with him. Yesterday was no different. He was laughing as I waltzed. A split second later I was on the ground. In slow motion, I felt myself falling, my feet slipping out from underneath me. I moved Wyatt to the front so that his head would not hit the ground. I landed on my side, my head bouncing off the ground, with Wyatt in standing position next to me. He started to wail and Rebecca supersonically lifted him from my arms. He was calmed quickly and we went about our day.

I decided to call our pediatrician just in case. He confirmed that unless he was really fussy or uncomfortable he was probably fine. Considering he was soundlessly napping I assumed that he was on the fine half of the argument. Wyatt was laughing and happy for the rest of the day. But something was nagging my conscience. Every time I stood him up he was favoring his left leg. He would bend his leg like a flamingo and when leaning to that side he would rest his weight on my arms instead of his two sturdy legs. I vowed to go to the Dr in the morning if it continued to put my mind at rest. At this point I was envisioning amputations, broken growth plates, small nubby legs, or nerve damage.

So, this morning comes and I try again. He is happy but still favoring his left side. I make an appointment at 9:15 and prepare to head off to work after they tell me everything is fine. What ensued was nothing short of a horror flick. Dr. Greg tells me he thinks it is a hairline fracture and we need to go immediately to the hospital, get x-rays, and see the pediatric orthopedist. My worst fears are confirmed and I am expecting social services to break down my door any moment. Blind terror rotating with uncontrollable panic is putting it mildly. I felt like someone ripped out my heart then fed the bloody mangled mess to a starving tiger. The four hour ordeal at the hospital confirmed the fracture and thankfully there was no cast needed. The bone, between his ankle and knee, will be perfectly healed in two weeks.

Yes, it was an accident but I should have known better. I should have been more responsible and should have understood the dangers of wet grass and flip-flops. I know that I cannot protect him forever. I know he would have gotten hurt eventually but I never in one million years thought it would be me hurting him. I am, almost 30 hours after the original incident, still shaken. Basically, I feel like I won the parental jackpot of neglect. The scarlet letter of stupidity brazen on my chest.

Wyatt, on the other hand, is perfect. He charmed everyone in the hospital and seemed unaffected on all counts. After his x-ray, he was laughing at the technician. He was contented to watch the other children in the waiting room. The pictures were taken after we got home, playing joyfully, happy and content. When the Dr came in with his x-rays, Wy decided that it was the perfect time to upchuck his entire stomach contents onto my shirt. The Dr was laughing so hard and was trying to hide it behind his hands. Finally, he looked up and said "that was something you see on YouTube."

Time for Some Campaignin'

Watch very carefully at the end. Literally, I was wetting my pants.  This was the handi-work for my devious little sisters.  Enjoy.

Keeping Score

On this blog, I try to be very diplomatic, evenly spacing out sappy posts vs. humorous posts, and giving each family member adequate air time. Unfortunately, it seems that I have left someone out. Lizzy seems to think that I go on and go about every one else, failing to mention how amazingly fabulous she is. Although there have been a few posts about her, she thinks it is an mediocre representation of her love for Wyatt and my love for her. The follow is a letter composed by Lizzy and her friend Kim for me to post since I am completely incapable of doing Lizzy justice.

Hello my faithful readers,

Sadly, I have been neglectful. Luckily not as a mother but regretfully as a sister. If I was neglectful as a mother no beads would gather at my brow because I have been blessed with a wonderful doting sister, Elizabeth. This blog is to honor her because previous blogs discussing my family members do no compare to the feelings of gratitude and admiration for my selfless beautiful sister.

Throughout my pregnancy, birth, and the rearing of my bundle of joy, Elizabeth has been my side kick. The Robin to my Batman, without the ambiguously gay undertones and obviously Lizzy would look better in the spandex. When I was stressed and felt as though the weight of the world was on my shoulders Elizabeth was there with a story or advice. Even though Lizzy is younger than I, she is indeed wise beyond her years. It is though Buddha has been reincarnated into my toned flaxen haired sister. As an Aunt, I have been amazed at her ability to care for Wyatt. He looks at her as though she is a Greek goddess. I then look in the mirror and see I have the same astonished look across my face. She continues to amaze me. She is like a magician who pulls a rabbit out of a hat.

There is a show on NBC called the Baby Borrowers. Parents lend their children to teenage couples for 3 nights to see how they fare. As I sit and watch this show I find myself repeating the phrase "I would never entrust my child's life in a teenagers hands." But I do just that, with Elizabeth. But I don't see her as the bumbling idiots on television. I see her as a gorgeous young adult with a bright future. She has so many wonderful traits that I would not be surprised if she ruled the world one day.

I hope you all found this as amusing as I did. On a seriously note, I have been truly amazed at the effort that Lizzy has put into Wyatt. She is an extremely busy, hard working 17 year-old, and when she is home she spends time with him. Anyone who lives with a Generation Y teenager can attest that quality time is pretty rare. The way he adores her is proof enough. Dare I say, she will miss him when she goes to college next summer.

Don't Tell Daddy ... I'm Voting for Obama

Growing Older but Not Up

I am turning 26 on Saturday. I don't bring this up so everyone can wish me a happy birthday and send me gifts. This birthday seems to be creeping up on me rather more offensively then I anticipated. I don't feel that old. I have always had this great fear of 28. It's my scary age. I thought I would have had it all figured out by then. I would have a fabulous career in an office with an amazing view and a husband that cooks for me. I would live in a house with a white picked fence and gardeners to keep it pruned. Our house would have water views and look like something out of a Pottery Barn magazine with deep pocket couches, throw pillows, and hard wood floors. I would have a rich mahogany party planning desk with lots of cubbies for organizing. And no one in the world would starve, gas would be 50 cents per gallon, ATM's would disperse free money, and Lima beans would taste like rainbow sprinkles. Yes, I know, unrealistic. But fantasies are, by definition, unrealistic.

Instead of my suburban nirvana, I have a career that is going no where fast, living in my parents house, single, with a gorgeous baby. Not exactly what I expected but life rarely goes the way you expect it. I have been good about throwing expectations out the window but for some reason 28 is bashing red flags on my head making turning 26 one year closer to the dreaded number. I am especially upset about the career portion. I graduated from a great private university. I am educated, competent, and motivated. I should have a better job; one with potential, responsibility, one that is engaging. Honestly, is that too much to ask?!

I am not complaining. I love my life. I am just having a hard time combining reality with my fantasy in the time span that I allotted for myself. So, in my most recent effort I applied to Grad school. I am thinking that I should become a teacher; a career that would challenge me on a daily basis, feed my addiction for office supplies, and allow for summers off to play with Wyatt. I have always been very proud of my mother for owning her business. To me, she epitomized that modern woman who has a family and is successful. She is business savvy, intelligent, and has the common sense to be competitive in a mans world. Owning the florist is a big undertaking and she does it with grace. I would like Wyatt to be proud of me and my career. If I have to be away from him, I want my absence to be meaningful and respected. I might not have everything figured out by 28 or ever for that matter but I need to start heading in the right direction.

The 4th

The 4th of July has always been one of my favorite holidays, definitely up there with Christmas. During my younger years, the 4th was spent down at the club with sparklers, bathing suits, and tons of other kids watching fireworks. Then it was spent on the beach with no shoes, beers, and tons of teenagers trying to cop a feel in the lite of the bon-fires. The 4th seemed to combine three of my favorite things: cold brews, old friends, and salty beaches. It was a night packed with excitement and I have many fond memories down on the beach.

I asked Mom a week in advance if she could babysit. I can count on one hand how many times I have gone out since Wyatt was born. I don't like leaving him although I know it is good for my sanity to venture out. Its not about guilt. I really love spending my free time with him. Most of the time I end up dragging myself away only to think and talk about him the entire time. (I admit I'm obsessed but he deserves it). Mom got all concerned, asking if I was handling every OK. She is very sweet but seriously Wyatt is 5 months. It is about time I got out!

I spent the first half of the night at the club with Wyatt and the family around the BBQ. Then I handed off the babe and went to Uncle Jackie's for some more adult fun. I had three beers over five hours. I am surprised I wasn't falling down drunk. It was a pump and dump night (ie. pump breast milk when you get home and dump it down the drain). No contaminated breast milk for my bundle of joy. I swear I was smiling the entire time. I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of my freedom and was pleasantly surprised to find myself happily cuddled with Wyatt around midnight.

I have always been a partier. I love being out at bars, or around pool tables, or dancing like a chicken with its head cut off. I miss parting every once and a while. I miss feeling that buzz, the loss of inhibitions, the giddiness that alcohol provides. I'm human and am innately social so I those feelings don't entirely fade away. But I don't want to be the mom too drunk to hear the baby cry. I want to be sober for him. I would rather spend my time with him. I want to be there for his every move. There is someone in my life now that is so much more interesting than the drink in my hand and he is the only one I want to be coming home to. I guess I am still working on the balance of motherhood.

Summer Lovin'

Gerber Baby

Here are some more pictures from Rebecca's new fancy camera that Bush bought. Its a Nikon D40 for anyone interested.

I would like to call this "The many Faces of Wyatt T. Goose" These pictures honestly just made my day. Because work sucks. All THE TIME!! Is it 5 pm yet? Isn't he the cutest baby in the WORLD?! Yeah, I thought so.

Star Mile

We had a very exciting day yesterday. Through various contacts from my former life as an assistant talent agent, Wyatt had his first audition in Manhattan for a TV commercial. I bet you weren't expecting that, right?! Don't get nervous. I am certainly not going to become one of those crazy stage moms. It is fine for now when I am doing most of the leg work and Wyatt is just looking cute and perfect. Once he gets old enough to understand what is going on then we are stopping. As Lizzy said "it's like breastfeeding. Once he knows its your boob, you should stop."

Anyway, Mom, Lizzy, Wyatt, and I pack ourselves up and headed off into the city. I was expecting Wyatt to sleep most of the way in but, of course, the trucks and bustle of the LIE kept him occupied. Besides his favorite Lizzy was in the back seat. If it wasn't a truck distracting him it was Lizzy. Mom waited in the car while Lizzy, Wyatt and I went up for our appointment. It was PACKED with kids. They were casting for 3 commercials at the same time so there were about 50 kids ranging from 6 months to 6 years. No air conditioning, no place to sit, it was insanity and they were behind schedule.

Wyatt was by far the cutest kid there. I know I am bias but honestly on the cute factor he won hands down. However, I don't know if the casting agents were going for the cutest, most perfect baby ever. Lizzy and Wyatt were champs, waiting patiently, and without crying once. After waiting about half hour Wyatt decided it was time for a snooze. Kid knocked out amid all the ruckus until it they called us in and I had to wake him up. Even then he was happy. They took his picture, took some video, and he charmed the pants off of the director. When I walked out Lizzy had made friends with twin 3 year-olds who were calling Lizzy their girlfriend and were very upset when she had to leave.

Overall, it was a bizarre experience. I can't image doing it all the time. Driving into the city, taking the entire day off work, and waiting in a hot room for an hour is not the best way to spend a Wednesday. However, I did get the afternoon to lounge in the AC with my main man. I think it would be really cool to get Wyatt some print jobs, see his cute face on posters and magazines but I am not going to put much stock in anything quite yet. I know, first hand, how finicky show business can be and am hesitant to immerse my child in it. Besides those show parents are Crazy! I will let you know if anything comes of it.

Oh, the Horror

I know it may sound weird but other peoples kids scare the shit out of me. Sometimes I will be out and see a toddler having a screaming fit. Or an 5 year old throwing a temper tantrum and being bribed with ice cream. Or a parent running around chasing their kid taking dirt out of their hands. This is my living hell. My throat closes up, break out in hives, start getting cold sweats. My worse nightmare comes to life in technicolor. Honestly, I have to hold on to something to prevent from throwing myself on the floor, writhing around, and having a tantrum of my own. Kids under 6 scare the shit out of me.

Pre-Wyatt I would sit in restaurants watching kids scream, spill soda, feed populations of ants under their high chairs and think "oh no, my kids would never be like that." I was going to have children that sit respectfully, like adults, saying things like "please pass the pepper" or "excuse me sir" or "thank you Mommy for taking me out to dinner. I will love you eternally." Then, I had Wyatt and came to realize that I have NO CONTROL over anything that he does. He has an agenda all his own that pays little respect to my needs, wants, or thoughts. He will inevitably scream his throat sore in the grocery store. I will be powerless to stop him and every other non-parent will stare at me thinking what a horrible mother I am. Because until you have kids, you never fully realize how little control you have over your children.

One of my first summer jobs was as a camp counselor to little camp 3-4 year olds. The only thing I learned was how truly terrifying other peoples kids are. I was hoping that my fear of toddlers would change once I had Wyatt. It has not. I have no idea how to interact with children under 6 years old. I am sure that I will know how to talk to Wyatt because we are growing together. He is not going to be 3 over night. Then maybe once he gets to be 6 my phobia will vanish because I will have experience dealing with that age bracket. Until then I will continue to be terrified, continue to speak to them like adults, and pray that one day I will understand.

The Nikon Chronicles

Rebecca got into Grad School!! She will be going to Fordham for her social work degree starting in September. In a celebratory fashion, she went out and bought a very nice new Nikon camera to chronicle the life of Wyatt. This camera takes amazing pictures and Rebecca has always had a knack for capturing moments. To highlight her effort, every Saturday I am going to post one of her pictures. I hope this is a welcome and enjoyed new addition to Bean On the Brain.

22 weeks (5 months)

Mr. Pants,

I tricked you into rolling over! July 1st, down in the baby book! I don't care that you had no idea what you were doing. You rolled over stomach to back! I had you on my bed watching me. I am very entertaining. I flail my arms, skip, dance like poisoned monkey, and all while singing songs from The Wizard of Oz just to get you to laugh. I was well into my normal routine, your eyes locked with mine, and I moved so I was just out of your eyesight. BOOM! You turned to keep watching me. That is when I really started freaking out. I was screaming, jumping, tripping over my feet, clapping my hands, generally any type of behavior that would land me in a mental institution. I scooped you up in my arms and we danced around the house together. I was so excited. Of course no one else was home to witness it and you haven't rolled since. You are probably terrified that mommy the insane will reemerge. Just remember that she loves you.

Last doctors visit she told me to let you cry it out at night. I think you heard her and actually thought I might do it. (Silly rabbit, you should know by now that I could never let you cry). Since that visit you have been progressively sleeping longer, consistently about 6 hours a night. Of course, you occasionally will sleep with me but for the most part you are making headway. It is amazing actually. You will start rubbing your eyes, give you a binky and a nite-nite, and two seconds later you're out. Same thing happens at nap time. Speaking of nap time, Auntie B has got you on a schedule. Woah, man. She gets pretty frustrated when I am home on the weekends because all routine flies out the window. During the week, you usually nap from 9:30-11 then again from 1:30-3. We freestyle a little more. There is too much playing to be done.

You have very good control over those pesky hands of yours. You like to play the Dropping game. I will be holding you on my hip and you will be sucking away on a toy. Then you drop it. I pick it up. Chew, chew, drop. You would think I would stop picking it up. Yeah, I tried that. You get all squirmy and start babbling until I pick it up and give it to you again. I am your trained seal. You put everything in your mouth. Doesn't matter what it is. You start sucking on the top, then bottom, then the side, then the other side. No part is left unslimed. Last night I gave you this little rubber duck that squeaks. I turned around for one second and its entire head was in your mouth. Just the little duck butt and squeaker sticking out.

My favorite time of day is when I get home from work. I spend all day thinking about you, wondering what you are doing, trying to remember how you smell. Sometimes I have to look at pictures of you to make myself smile. Then I recklessly drive home, run in the door, and race to find you in the house. Your face lights up and you break out into a huge smile when you see me. It is my favorite time. My gratification that you missed me as much as I missed you. When you smile sometimes you get shy and hide behind shoulders or your hands then will peek through to make sure I am still there. Yes, my love, I will always be right there.

I love you everyday,

Your Momma

My Saving Grace

Rebecca and I haven't always been friends. We had a rocky childhood. We were very competitive with one another, escalating in high school, reaching a point where we only spoke to one another in jabs or insults. She would ignore me when I walked down the hallways. I always felt as though I was embarrassing her. And I am sure that she always felt as though I was putting her down. We argued constantly in that shrill, glass breaking, girl volume that drove my parents crazy. Besides being blood related, I never thought we had anything in common. (In hindsight, our bickering probably had something to do with me dating her high school crush in which I was totally in the wrong and if I could undo all those years of torment between us, I would. I would much rather have the love of my sister over a guy any day.)

During our college years, we called a truce. We slowly began to embrace our relationship and steadily found ourselves relying on each other more and more. She would call me at the first sign of catastrophe. She became my rock, someone who I could always count on. More importantly someone who could point out my flaws with a matter-of-fact bluntness that you have to take seriously but not offensively. She knows exactly what to say to get me to crack up and can be my reality check when I am living in my head too much. She is the perfect definition of a sister.

Rebecca has been elevated to hero status since I broke the news of my pregnancy. She has been my cohort from day one, jumping right on board my crazy train without a moments hesitation. Not only has she given me the support I desperately needed, she adores and cherishes Wyatt as her own. The love she bestows on Wyatt is palpable, uncompromised, and unparalleled. I truly believe that he will share a pedestal with her own children. The genuine affection that she pours on my child is heartbreakingly gorgeous and brings me to tears of happiness.

There is no way I can repay her. Period. I could smother her with gifts and admiration every day for the rest of her life and it would not be enough. I hope someday that I can show her a fraction of the warmth that she has shown me. I am so blessed to have a sister so fiercely devoted to Wyatt and myself. She has been my saving grace through all this. She has provided the emotional and practical foundation that makes it possible for me to be a good mom.