In one week from today my mother-in-law will be arriving to spend a week with us. We haven't seen her since Nixon's birthday and I was not at my best, mentally wise. She'll be here one week before Mother's Day, which is cool since we haven't seen her for Mother's Day since....well, before Nixon was here.
That story goes like this:
Mac and I got married in March 2008. I found out I was pregnant in late-March/early-April, but we decided to wait to tell everyone because I'm superstitious and it seemed awesome that the end of the first trimester was very close to Mother's Day.
Not telling family for 11 weeks....hardest thing ever!
Mac and I had already made plans to fly to Miami and spend the weekend with his mom. We saw my family in March, so this was our first trip to visit his family since getting married. We had planned on not telling his mom until Mother's Day, but had to change that a little. I had horrible all day nausea and I'd lost over 15 lbs by the time we went to Miami. His mom knew something was up. I looked awful! I was super tired (tried passing it off as being tired from the early flight without success) and I couldn't keep anything down.
We went out to dinner with Mac mom, step-dad, brothers, sister-in-law and her family. I was trying to eat and not get super sick. Mac and I decided, since everyone was there and it was obviously going to be a long weekend, we were going to tell everyone after dinner.
As everyone may or may not know, Mac's mom is Vietnamese. Mac is half-Vietnamese but never showed much interest in that side of his heritage. (trust me this is important)
As everyone was getting coffee and dessert, Mac puts his arm around me and says to his mom, "Mom, how do you say "grandma" in Vietnamese?". She starts to explain, it depends on if it's the maternal or paternal side of the family. Then pauses and says "Why do you ask?". Mac says, calm and deadpan as can be, "Well, because you're going to be one."
Cue my mother-in-law asking "Are you serious?" a few times, other family members giving us hugs and congrats and my mother-in-law telling me "I knew you looked more than just tired!"
(Fast forward to our next visit to Miami before we left to move to Okinawa, when I fell in love with my mother-in-law's Pho...it's a soup that is A-maz-ING! But when I was pregnant, I could barely stomach the smell, let alone the taste. Thank gods, Nixon left my body and I could like my mother-in-law's awesome food once he did)
It seems crazy that it was five years ago that we told everyone Nixon (at the time Squishy) was incubating in me. I can not imagine my life without him, without Mac and without my awesome mother-in-law.
Here's to an awesome visit, a wonderful night-out with my husband and Nixon getting some quality time with his Nana while I remain in much better spirits than our last visit.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
"Mommy's brain is broken, kind of"...explaining things to a 4-year old so he understands them without being scared
Last night Nixon had an extra late night. He stayed up until almost midnight! He was in bed with me watching a movie on TV being good and quiet. Since Mac was working I was okay with a slumber party/movie night in our bed.
I had to go downstairs and take my medications for the night. I told Nixon I as running downstairs to get my meds and Nixon says "Mommy, I need meds too. I am sick." *sigh* This is when I have to explain to my 4-year old that my medications aren't for an illness but for my "broken brain".
me: Nixon, I take medication because my brain doesn't work right not because I'm sick.
Nixon: You brain is broken?
me: Yeah, kind of. It doesn't work like it's supposed to. The medicine helps it work like a regular person's brain. Like yours does.
Nixon: Because my brain isn't broken?
me: No, baby, your brain isn't broken.
Nixon: How did your brain break?
me: Oh, well, I didn't have a good childhood and my brain worked differently to help me deal with it. Now my brain thinks that's a proper way to function.
Nixon: But you brain is broken!
me: Yep, it doesn't know it is, but I realize it doesn't work like it should.
Nixon: Can I see you brain?
*I get on the bed so he can look at my head*
Nixon: I see it mommy! I see your broken brain. It's cracked right here *points*
me: Wow! You can really see it?!
Nixon: I'm going to kiss it, so you feel better. Then you can go take your medicine and be a good mommy for me, okay?
me: *almost tearing up* Okay, baby.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
This is a selfish post about me and my own issues....good and bad, with a little parenting tip at the end.
Since the first of January, I've steadily been losing weight. I'm not doing anything significant. No working out, no real diet plan (though for the first month I did eat a lot of fruits, veggies and salads to really kickstart the weight loss). The biggest thing I've done is make a commitment to use myfitnesspal.com daily and track my caloric intake.
Around Christmas time I realized my weight was creeping up over and past my comfortable heavy point. I decided after the holidays and starting January 1st, I was going to stick to something. Calorie counting was it, as a starting point. I also cut back on sugary snacks, soda and fast foods.
In January I lost almost 7 pounds.
In February, I lost 4 pounds.
March it all kind of tapered off, with a total loss of 2.5 pounds lost.
As off Monday this week, I've lost 15 total pounds. The most amazing reality of all this weight loss struck me yesterday after I got dressed. I've always been pear-shaped. It's my reality. Even when I was in my late-teens and early-20's, weighing not even 100 pounds (and struggling with poor self-image issues) I was always thicker on the bottom.
**I never really noticed, until one day while out with my then-boyfriend and his friends, one of his friends asked me, who at the time was probably only about 90-95 pounds, while wearing shorts at an amusement park "Why do your thighs rub together when you walk?". I remember, at that very moment I became very, very aware of my thighs touching and my perception of myself was suddenly very ruined. I never felt thin enough, pretty enough or tall enough. I couldn't fix my height, but I could fix my weight. Being only 5 feet, 1 inch tall I am a naturally petite person. I'm also naturally pear-shaped. At 18-22 years old, I couldn't appreciate my naturally curvy body because the people I surrounded myself with broke each other down instead of building each other up, like I later found out real friends do.
I spent several years hiding my lower body, while showing off my chest. It made no sense, but I didn't know any better, I didn't have any positive role models in my life at the time. As a result, I'm kind of permanently damaged when it comes to my self-esteem and how I see myself. The smallest, negative comment about my looks can send me into a downward spiral of self-doubt. Seriously, the smallest negative comment. It could be made in jest, but I'll hear it in a serious tone and take it as such. Luckily, I now have a supportive husband and some really great friends I can turn too and get some great, loving advice from when these comments happen.**
I put on my jeans yesterday, knowing they were looser, and feeling comfortable in them as a result. It was gorgeous outside, so I was even rocking a cute tank top, first of the season! I noticed, walking over to Mac's Geek Corner, my thighs don't rub! Not even in the jeans!
I don't know about most moms, but for me, this was total proof that the weight loss wasn't just numbers on a scale going down! That was concrete proof that I'm making real progress!
I've had bumps in the road, I've had weeks when my weight went up a bit and I've had trips to Taco Bell (mmmmm....those ranch doritos tacos!!) and even McDonald's. But the thing I've learned is moderation. I don't NEED to go large, a small is just fine. If I'm craving ice cream, I'll stick to the serving size. Or I'll make a smoothie instead.
It's hard, but well worth the effort.
Sorry, this blog wasn't about parenting exactly, but as a mom I struggled with my identity and image. Being able to look and feel good, I think helps me be a better mom. Also, I know how to help Nixon be a good friend, not the negative ones I had in my life for so long. I want him to build his friends up, not tear them down. Especially young girls, the smallest comment can have a lifelong impact on them. Sadly, I'm proof of that.
Around Christmas time I realized my weight was creeping up over and past my comfortable heavy point. I decided after the holidays and starting January 1st, I was going to stick to something. Calorie counting was it, as a starting point. I also cut back on sugary snacks, soda and fast foods.
In January I lost almost 7 pounds.
In February, I lost 4 pounds.
March it all kind of tapered off, with a total loss of 2.5 pounds lost.
As off Monday this week, I've lost 15 total pounds. The most amazing reality of all this weight loss struck me yesterday after I got dressed. I've always been pear-shaped. It's my reality. Even when I was in my late-teens and early-20's, weighing not even 100 pounds (and struggling with poor self-image issues) I was always thicker on the bottom.
**I never really noticed, until one day while out with my then-boyfriend and his friends, one of his friends asked me, who at the time was probably only about 90-95 pounds, while wearing shorts at an amusement park "Why do your thighs rub together when you walk?". I remember, at that very moment I became very, very aware of my thighs touching and my perception of myself was suddenly very ruined. I never felt thin enough, pretty enough or tall enough. I couldn't fix my height, but I could fix my weight. Being only 5 feet, 1 inch tall I am a naturally petite person. I'm also naturally pear-shaped. At 18-22 years old, I couldn't appreciate my naturally curvy body because the people I surrounded myself with broke each other down instead of building each other up, like I later found out real friends do.
I spent several years hiding my lower body, while showing off my chest. It made no sense, but I didn't know any better, I didn't have any positive role models in my life at the time. As a result, I'm kind of permanently damaged when it comes to my self-esteem and how I see myself. The smallest, negative comment about my looks can send me into a downward spiral of self-doubt. Seriously, the smallest negative comment. It could be made in jest, but I'll hear it in a serious tone and take it as such. Luckily, I now have a supportive husband and some really great friends I can turn too and get some great, loving advice from when these comments happen.**
I put on my jeans yesterday, knowing they were looser, and feeling comfortable in them as a result. It was gorgeous outside, so I was even rocking a cute tank top, first of the season! I noticed, walking over to Mac's Geek Corner, my thighs don't rub! Not even in the jeans!
I don't know about most moms, but for me, this was total proof that the weight loss wasn't just numbers on a scale going down! That was concrete proof that I'm making real progress!
I've had bumps in the road, I've had weeks when my weight went up a bit and I've had trips to Taco Bell (mmmmm....those ranch doritos tacos!!) and even McDonald's. But the thing I've learned is moderation. I don't NEED to go large, a small is just fine. If I'm craving ice cream, I'll stick to the serving size. Or I'll make a smoothie instead.
It's hard, but well worth the effort.
Sorry, this blog wasn't about parenting exactly, but as a mom I struggled with my identity and image. Being able to look and feel good, I think helps me be a better mom. Also, I know how to help Nixon be a good friend, not the negative ones I had in my life for so long. I want him to build his friends up, not tear them down. Especially young girls, the smallest comment can have a lifelong impact on them. Sadly, I'm proof of that.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
My inner demons won't stop me from parenting my son how I see fit....and fuck you if you don't agree!
I've struggled with writing this blog, for fear of the backlash, for a week now. I first went to a closed group on facebook looking for support and found judgement and condemnation. Last night, as fate saw fit to send me a kind and loving shoulder to lean on in the form of a BFF, I found the strength to be true to myself and confidant in my parenting choices.
It started last weekend. After weeks of Nixon's behavior getting worse and worse, I'd finally had enough. We had tried everything: time outs, taking toys away, no tv time, taking everything away, talking to him about his behavior, rewards for good behavior. Nothing worked effectively. His behavior in public was becoming horrific, despite our repeated removing him from the store to the car as soon as he acted up.
I finally had to make a decision I didn't want to and I fought desperately to avoid: I had to use spanking. But, I wasn't going straight into it, I was going to give warnings, chances to avoid the spanking and then only one spanking. I never spank out of anger. NEVER! If I can't rationally sit with Nixon and talk about why I spanked him, I won't do it. Spanking is not a means to control him, its a means to help him learn that his actions have consequences.
Over that weekend, Nixon got a handful of spankings. Every single one of them, he got his warnings, continued to go about doing what he was doing, and got the resulting spanking. He gets a swat on the bottom, enough to make him realize we mean business, but I'm not aiming to leave marks on him.
The one that really bothered me, and I felt made me "that" mom, happened Sunday night at the grocery store. Nixon was asked to help us do the shopping and stay out of the cart, without his PSP. A first, but I want him more connected to us and paying attention to us. He was doing really great for half the trip, he loved picking out the cats canned food! But, the empty frozen food aisle seemed to be a sirens call he couldn't resist. He slowly started to stray down the aisle, warning 1...started running down the aisle, warning 2....full-on bolted down the aisle, no more warning. He came over to me as soon as he saw me holding up 3 fingers, he knew what was coming. I realized there was no one around, I popped his ass right there in the ice cream section! His tears started, Mac and I took a couple minutes and calmed him down, talking to him (still in the frozen food section) about why he got the spanking and how he could avoid getting another one. He calmed down, and stayed right next to the cart with me the remaining time in the store.
Am I proud I'm spanking my child? No. That's not the point of this. The point is, I'm parenting my child in a way that works for him and in doing so I'm putting my own personal conflicts behind me. It'd be easy for me to use my abusive childhood as a reason to not spank, and I admit I never intended to spank at all. But the more head strong and imaginative Nixon gets, the more difficult it is to punish him effectively. Time out became a time for him to play with his imagination. How do you tell a child to not play with his invisible friends, if he's staying in his time out area? He's not breaking the rules, he's being quiet, and doing his time, he's just having conversations with his "friends". You can't break a child's imagination. He was looking at the wall, like he was supposed to. He knew why he was in time out, he'd tell me why he was there. It just wasn't effective.
The point is, since I made the decision to actively parent Nixon and use spankings, he's listening and paying attention. Last night we went to the airport to pick up Franny. Her flight came in around 1030pm, which is about an hour to an hour and a half past Nixon's normal bedtime. I was dreading it thinking he'd be a tired monster.
I was wrong. He was a delight. Held my hand, listened to me, sat next to me while Franny grabbed her bags. The only time he got a little upset was when he had to stop playing with Aunt Franny because we reached the parking garage.
A complete and total turn-around from a couple weeks ago.
He's not a changed kid, he's still the same, but he knows to listen and do as he's told when asked because there are consequences. The warnings are enough now.
I don't expect everyone to agree with my parenting choices. But I'm damned sick and fucking tired of being made to feel like a bad parent because I am being a fucking parent! I'm doing everything I can to help shape Nixon into a productive member of society and I'm not aiming to ruin him like I was ruined by abuse. It's a fine line, but I'm walking it with my head straight and my shoulders back. I want Nixon to know that his actions have consequences. It took only a few spankings for him to grasp that. I haven't had to spank him in 4 days now. I'm not saying spanking is the answer, but I'm also not going to let my child act up in public or set the rules at home because I'm too afraid to spank if that's the effective method.
I can't expect Nixon to be a strong individual in himself, if I can't be a strong role model as a mother.
It started last weekend. After weeks of Nixon's behavior getting worse and worse, I'd finally had enough. We had tried everything: time outs, taking toys away, no tv time, taking everything away, talking to him about his behavior, rewards for good behavior. Nothing worked effectively. His behavior in public was becoming horrific, despite our repeated removing him from the store to the car as soon as he acted up.
I finally had to make a decision I didn't want to and I fought desperately to avoid: I had to use spanking. But, I wasn't going straight into it, I was going to give warnings, chances to avoid the spanking and then only one spanking. I never spank out of anger. NEVER! If I can't rationally sit with Nixon and talk about why I spanked him, I won't do it. Spanking is not a means to control him, its a means to help him learn that his actions have consequences.
Over that weekend, Nixon got a handful of spankings. Every single one of them, he got his warnings, continued to go about doing what he was doing, and got the resulting spanking. He gets a swat on the bottom, enough to make him realize we mean business, but I'm not aiming to leave marks on him.
The one that really bothered me, and I felt made me "that" mom, happened Sunday night at the grocery store. Nixon was asked to help us do the shopping and stay out of the cart, without his PSP. A first, but I want him more connected to us and paying attention to us. He was doing really great for half the trip, he loved picking out the cats canned food! But, the empty frozen food aisle seemed to be a sirens call he couldn't resist. He slowly started to stray down the aisle, warning 1...started running down the aisle, warning 2....full-on bolted down the aisle, no more warning. He came over to me as soon as he saw me holding up 3 fingers, he knew what was coming. I realized there was no one around, I popped his ass right there in the ice cream section! His tears started, Mac and I took a couple minutes and calmed him down, talking to him (still in the frozen food section) about why he got the spanking and how he could avoid getting another one. He calmed down, and stayed right next to the cart with me the remaining time in the store.
Am I proud I'm spanking my child? No. That's not the point of this. The point is, I'm parenting my child in a way that works for him and in doing so I'm putting my own personal conflicts behind me. It'd be easy for me to use my abusive childhood as a reason to not spank, and I admit I never intended to spank at all. But the more head strong and imaginative Nixon gets, the more difficult it is to punish him effectively. Time out became a time for him to play with his imagination. How do you tell a child to not play with his invisible friends, if he's staying in his time out area? He's not breaking the rules, he's being quiet, and doing his time, he's just having conversations with his "friends". You can't break a child's imagination. He was looking at the wall, like he was supposed to. He knew why he was in time out, he'd tell me why he was there. It just wasn't effective.
The point is, since I made the decision to actively parent Nixon and use spankings, he's listening and paying attention. Last night we went to the airport to pick up Franny. Her flight came in around 1030pm, which is about an hour to an hour and a half past Nixon's normal bedtime. I was dreading it thinking he'd be a tired monster.
I was wrong. He was a delight. Held my hand, listened to me, sat next to me while Franny grabbed her bags. The only time he got a little upset was when he had to stop playing with Aunt Franny because we reached the parking garage.
A complete and total turn-around from a couple weeks ago.
He's not a changed kid, he's still the same, but he knows to listen and do as he's told when asked because there are consequences. The warnings are enough now.
I don't expect everyone to agree with my parenting choices. But I'm damned sick and fucking tired of being made to feel like a bad parent because I am being a fucking parent! I'm doing everything I can to help shape Nixon into a productive member of society and I'm not aiming to ruin him like I was ruined by abuse. It's a fine line, but I'm walking it with my head straight and my shoulders back. I want Nixon to know that his actions have consequences. It took only a few spankings for him to grasp that. I haven't had to spank him in 4 days now. I'm not saying spanking is the answer, but I'm also not going to let my child act up in public or set the rules at home because I'm too afraid to spank if that's the effective method.
I can't expect Nixon to be a strong individual in himself, if I can't be a strong role model as a mother.
Friday, March 8, 2013
He's my very own rage therapist.
Holy shit, I love Nixon sometimes! I mean, don't get me wrong, I always love him but there are sometimes that I just positively adore him a little bit more. Today, in the car, was one of those times.
Not too long ago, we had a talk about Nixon's perfect use of "fuck". A few weeks later we had a total miscommunication and utter misunderstanding over "bridge" versus "bitch", resulting in profuse apologies by Mac and I to Nixon, but evidently resulting in a lasting impression on Nixon over the importance of not using swear words.
Here's how it all happened:
*I'm driving on the highway, at about 65mph. The car in front of me hits the brakes as he sees cars in the on ramp that will be merging...eventually*
me: What the fuck are you doing, asshole? (I checked the left lane, signal and switch to get away from the old man driving)
Nixon: AHHH! Mommy, don't say that word!
me: I'm sorry Nixon, you are very right. I should not have said that word.
Nixon: Mommy, that is a naughty word. You should never say that word!
me: I know, you're right and I apologized.
*I drive a few more miles and then have another asshole drive stop in the middle of 2 turn lanes blocking both*
me: You are a goddamned moron!
Nixon: Mommy! That's another bad word!
me: Sorry, but he is a moron!
Nixon: Mommy, you need to just say "crap on a stick" instead.
me: I will next time.
Nixon: No! You say it now. Say "crap on a stick" mommy.
me: "Crap on a stick" Nixon. Happy?
Nixon: Yes. Now be nice and happy.
Apparently my days of unchecked road rage, with Nixon in the car, are over. Oh well, it was good while it lasted.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Nixon and I are on a break....for now.
As I'm writing this, coffee cup next to me half empty, Nixon is upstairs in the spare bedroom watching a Dinosaur Train DVD. Turns out parenting is just like any other relationship I've ever been in and sometimes, you just need a little space from each other.
We've been having a battle of the wills all weekend, over everything and nothing at all. I say the sky is blue Nixon will scream that the sky is purple. I'm exaggerating here, but you catch my drift. He's hellbent on being independent but at the same time will demand I help him do something like clean up his toys or wipe his butt. It's total madness!
This morning was the final straw. I know he's tired, he was up until almost 11pm last night because we did a movie night in my bed together. Then he woke up around his usual time of 7:30am, losing at least 2 hours of sleep from the get-go. He started demands for candy as soon as my feet hit carpet, not going to happen. Let the scream of displeasure begin. Breakfast distracted him for a little while.
Then he started throwing toys into the front door and at the wall! ARE YOU INSANE?!?! That's never been okay! He stomps upstairs because I take those toys away! He comes back downstairs calm, sweet and all apologies....and asks for candy. Promptly gets denied, since this was less than 30 minutes from the last time I had told him "no". An offering of water distracts him this time.
The final straw, the one that led to the realization that we need some alone time...or at least a little space from each other, was his screaming in my face because his lunchable didn't include a piece of candy. Oh the horror! He had crackers, turkey and 4 slices of cheese, plus a pouch of applesauce, which he knows he likes. If he'd eaten all of that without a fight, he'd have gotten a piece of candy, since I still have some leftover Valentine's Day candy hidden. But no, he has to throw a fit and try to wake up his sleeping father. Not okay.
It ends with him in tears, me very close to losing my temper and us in the spare room barely holding it all together. And then...he sees it. The Dinosaur Train DVD. And he asks to watch it, upstairs, in the spare room, by himself. And I say....sure. Did he deserve it? No. But the TV is small and we both need some time apart, to regroup and decompress from the events of the entire weekend. It's only 1:15pm and I feel like it should be the end of the day I've been butting heads with him so much my head hurts.
Sometimes, to be a good parent, I've learned its best to take a break. I can't leave right now because Mac is sleeping (he's not lazy, he's working midnights this weekend and still has to work tonight). So setting Nixon up in the spare room with a DVD while I get to read a book on my kindle while drinking a cup of coffee...well, that's the closest thing to a break as I'll get. It's not perfect, but we're not screaming at each other and my tension headache is going away. It's good when you know your limits and accept them. I'm not the world's most perfect mother. But I'm trying to be a good one.
We've been having a battle of the wills all weekend, over everything and nothing at all. I say the sky is blue Nixon will scream that the sky is purple. I'm exaggerating here, but you catch my drift. He's hellbent on being independent but at the same time will demand I help him do something like clean up his toys or wipe his butt. It's total madness!
This morning was the final straw. I know he's tired, he was up until almost 11pm last night because we did a movie night in my bed together. Then he woke up around his usual time of 7:30am, losing at least 2 hours of sleep from the get-go. He started demands for candy as soon as my feet hit carpet, not going to happen. Let the scream of displeasure begin. Breakfast distracted him for a little while.
Then he started throwing toys into the front door and at the wall! ARE YOU INSANE?!?! That's never been okay! He stomps upstairs because I take those toys away! He comes back downstairs calm, sweet and all apologies....and asks for candy. Promptly gets denied, since this was less than 30 minutes from the last time I had told him "no". An offering of water distracts him this time.
The final straw, the one that led to the realization that we need some alone time...or at least a little space from each other, was his screaming in my face because his lunchable didn't include a piece of candy. Oh the horror! He had crackers, turkey and 4 slices of cheese, plus a pouch of applesauce, which he knows he likes. If he'd eaten all of that without a fight, he'd have gotten a piece of candy, since I still have some leftover Valentine's Day candy hidden. But no, he has to throw a fit and try to wake up his sleeping father. Not okay.
It ends with him in tears, me very close to losing my temper and us in the spare room barely holding it all together. And then...he sees it. The Dinosaur Train DVD. And he asks to watch it, upstairs, in the spare room, by himself. And I say....sure. Did he deserve it? No. But the TV is small and we both need some time apart, to regroup and decompress from the events of the entire weekend. It's only 1:15pm and I feel like it should be the end of the day I've been butting heads with him so much my head hurts.
Sometimes, to be a good parent, I've learned its best to take a break. I can't leave right now because Mac is sleeping (he's not lazy, he's working midnights this weekend and still has to work tonight). So setting Nixon up in the spare room with a DVD while I get to read a book on my kindle while drinking a cup of coffee...well, that's the closest thing to a break as I'll get. It's not perfect, but we're not screaming at each other and my tension headache is going away. It's good when you know your limits and accept them. I'm not the world's most perfect mother. But I'm trying to be a good one.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Maternal Deafness....it saved my son's life today
Dear Nixon,
I promise, I am not ignoring you because I can not hear you. Believe me my love, I can hear you whine just fine. I'm ignoring you because of the whining. I am currently refusing to acknowledge your whining ways.
I'm calling it "maternal deafness" and it is currently saving your life. When you stop speaking in a whining tone, I start lavishing you with attention once again.
Sincerely,
your maternally deaf mother
*In all seriousness, if my son does not stop whining I'm going on vacation without him. Ignoring him right now is the only thing keeping me from yelling at him. I've sent him to his room, he whines louder. I've taken things away, he whines about what I've taken away. Finally, I've decided to fight noise with silence. My silence is the strongest and scariest weapon in my mommy arsenal. When Nixon knows he's done something wrong and I'm not saying a word to him, he is deathly afraid of me at that moment. Not because I've ever done anything horrible to him without saying a word to him, but because it's such an uncharacteristic behavior for me. I'm always talking or singing or making some kind of noise, so pure silence is odd.
I hope this is just a phase, because I'm going nuts with all the voices in my head plotting against my son while I ignore him!
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