She cried.

She cried so hard today.  It broke my heart.  I am assured by friends who have gone through the same thing, it's only the beginning.  Xyla is getting to an age where she knows what a birthday is.  She knows what Christmas is.  She looked around the park the other day and saw all the other kids playing with their daddies and I knew that she knew something was missing.  It's not like she hasn't seen her dad since then.  She has seen him.  She also knows inside that he is supposed to be where she needs him to be when she needs him to be there, and he's not.

I have been battling the last few months about how much and of what to write.  There are consequences when you talk about your ex online.  That is why I haven't written anything.  The idea that he could use any part of what I say in court has consumed me.  

I knew this would be coming.  I knew she would start to know.  I have to admit, I didn't prepare myself for it.  I thought I did, but I didn't.  I don't know what to tell her.  She's 2 1/2 and she is understanding concepts I didn't teach her about.  Maybe it's my fault.  I have done everything I could to make sure she knew who he was.  Now, she is finding out who he is.  I don't want him to break her heart.  

I really don't think he understood that this is what he was choosing when he chose to leave me when I was 3 months pregnant.  How do I protect her?  How do I tell her he made a different choice?  How do I tell her the truth without hurting her?  This is the hard part about being a single mom.  That is why I am sharing it now.  I know how she feels.  I know how she is going to feel.  I knew it would happen, how do I explain that?  

I have met my biological father, but I have never known him.  Instead I got a wonderful step -father.  It feels weird to write it that way.  I haven't known any other father.  I didn't have to bear what my daughter is going through because I had a choice, the same way my biological father had a choice.  When the time came for me to decide if I wanted my father in my life, I chose not to contact him.  There was nothing positive he could add to my life.  Only pain.  I didn't want the pain.  I don't want if for her.  

Similarly, her dad has only met his father once.  He had an idea in his mind about what his life would have been like if his father had been around.  When his father came he told him all the ways he could have been different but he just couldn't.  Even though he knew his son was out there he couldn't change his life to be there for him.  

Now here I am, at this cross road.  I just keep praying that God shows me the way.  That God comforts me.  That he gives me the courage to walk the path he's given me.  That he gives me to gentleness to help my daughter make sense of it all.  That she finds comfort in my arms.

She cried herself to sleep on the way home.  It didn't take long for her to be asleep.  She was already overly tired.  Friends, please pray for me.  Pray that God gives me the right words to comfort her and that he helps me keep a tight rein on the ones I want to say.

Fall photo shoot

This girl is, by far, my favorite person to take pictures of.  I decided to just walk around with her and take some pictures on campus.  Even though there was a football game being lost as we were there, she stayed really well focused.  

We ended up getting this shot at the railroad car in the McDonalds parking lot.  Yours doesn't have one?  How odd.  The leaves in the background was a bit of a fluke.  I pushed just the right combination of buttons and I was able to save it.  I tried to replicate the same move today but two things, I don't remember exactly what I did and I think they found their loop and closed it.

Oh well, I have this great frame-y thing and an amazing shot to go in it.  I will probably print this and take it to work.  I have my own little gallery going on there.

Sitting to Dinner with my Daughter

I watch her as she digs the plates out of her cabinet.  I can tell that she is proud of the fine meal that she's made, which is definitely not chicken.  She sets one plate in front of herself and one in front of me.  Her fine china is painstakingly mismatched but coordinating.  My design is a butterfly, hers is a heart.  Our guest has not yet joined us.  She had invited two kind young gentlemen but one declined, he had a previous engagement with Christopher Robin.

She decides to serve.  She waits with anticipation as I take my first bite.  "is it yummy, momma?"  I tell her yes it is very yummy, yummy, yummy.  The way she sometimes describes my cooking.  I ask her what she put in it but she won't tell.

She hears Mickey arrive so she sets about gathering another plate.  His is green with a flower.  I am not sure who designed the dishes but I want to tell him I don't think there is any such thing as a green tulip.  Something tells me he is not going to care.

I watch her as she dotes on the constant man in her life.  She feeds him a bite in between each of hers.  Of course, he lets her.  For a man of his age you'd think he would find it condescending but he just stares strongly into her eyes and lets her.

I look at her beautiful eyes.  Most everyone says she looks like her father.  Some say she looks mostly like me.  To be honest, I don't see either of us in her.  She is so beautiful.  I am not saying that just because I am her mother.

Perhaps I am teaching her bad manners when I pick up my butterfly and scoop the rest of my dinner in my mouth.  She decides it looks like fun and sets down the barrette she has been using as her fork and does the same.  Mickey just stares at us both.  Foolish, he must be thinking.

I set my plate down.  I ask her about school.  She mumbles something unintelligible then comes to my side of the table and tells me we can talk later but right now, we have to eat.  She says something about Mickey and then returns to her seat.  She is ready to bring out dessert.

Alligators served in water under a palm tree.  Usually the set-up has a few monkeys but she decided to bypass the monkeys this time.  I get the feeling Mickey may be allergic to them.

I am full so I let her know I won't be needing any dessert.  The company is nice.  Mickey can direct a decent conversation.  He always knows exactly what is on her mind.  I see the two of them and I wonder if my baby is growing up too fast.  Then I look at the gleam in her eye and realize this is her most perfect age.  I don't know how many pretend dinners I will be invited to by my 2 year-old but I intend to be present at each and every one.

See what happens is . . .

This has to be the toughest part of being a mom/student/employee and many others.  I paid my tuition Friday.  I should have waited.  I should have waited until Tuesday like I was going to.  I also had to pay my rent at the beginning of the month.  I paid that Friday too.  Usually they don't make the deposit until after the 5th.  I know with the holiday that it would be the seventh so I calculated that things would be ok since I get paid on Tuesday?  Sometimes I wish I still had that aspect of working for the state.  If the holiday is on Monday you get paid the Friday before.  Alas I don't work for them anymore.  

I don't like the feeling I have today at all.  I have a horrible pit feeling in my stomach.  I called to check on my balance to see if things would be ok and  . . . . nope.  I took a terrible chance.  I lost.  I am over drawn by $300.  What it means is they deposited my rent check before the holiday weekend.  It makes sense but I sure wish they hadn't.  Since the other was a certified check I don't have to worry about what went to the school.  Monday I have to go to my property manager and pay whatever fine I have to pay and hope I don't get kicked out.  

I have a sick feeling.  I feel wildly out of control of my life.  I hate being here.  I know come Tuesday that everything will be ok but I hate this feeling.  I want to cry today.  I want this to be done.  I want to have things be ok for once in my life.  I want a mate that understands anything I am trying to accomplish.  I want someone to rescue me.  These are the days when realizing that I am entirely alone really stand out.

For fun it's a wonderful toy. For constipation it's a wonderful tool.

I know my daughter is going to be angry one day, for my talking about her poop to . . . well, the world.  But this was too good to pass up.  Constipation.  Sometimes it happens because your kid isn't getting enough fluids.  Sometimes it happens if they get too much protein.  Sometimes it happens from not getting enough fiber (age plus 5 for a recommended amount up to 21 grams daily in case you wondered, I only know because everyone was telling me I wasn't getting her enough, I'd ask how much was 'enough' and no one seemed to know.  It took a couple of days but I found it.) Sometimes it happens because they are growing.  Sometimes it just happens.  For Xyla it usually happens right about the time she is going to hit a growth spurt.  It persists for a few days but we have always been able to resolve it naturally - that is without manual "help".

I know why she does what she does.  Mostly because I have been there myself.  You know when a poo is going to be solid.  TMI WARNING.  You know when the poo has the potential of ripping out of you quite literally.  When you feel one of those coming on, it is natural to not want to let it come out.  I get that.  That is why I will sometimes find my daughter hiding behind a door, or a towel, or a curtain, scrunching her face and crying a small desperate cry.  She is clenching her butt cheeks.  

She will walk around with her cheeks clenched.  It looks the same if you run into a coworker in hall who obviously waited too long to hit the head.  Stiff legged, waddle from side to side and sometimes stopping in her tracks because if she doesn't get it under control it will all be over but the crying.

When she was smaller I would put her on the toilet.  She was so small that her little feet would stick straight out and she wouldn't have a choice, your muscles don't have that kind of control.  She would go and I would be holding her for support both physical and emotional.  The poo would come and she would whimper.  We would flush it away and say "bye, bye, mean poo poo."  

There is no reasoning with her that everything will feel better if she'd just let it go.  I mean, when you have to go and can't you have this pressure working against you.  At best your back starts to hurt, at worst is positively aches.  When your back hurts it messes with your emotions and you just feel like a rotten mess.  At some point you hurt everywhere down to your toes.  But yet she is just sure that the pain of the poo is going to far outweigh anything she is going through.

That is what we have been experiencing since Friday.  Only, now she is too big for the potty trick so I have to let her sit there and she is really efficient at keeping it in.  So 15 minutes later we are back in the same place, doing the same thing.  We have been tied to the bathroom for about two days.  Whining, crying, whimpering.  We have gone through a few puuuwwups.

We had already been to the bathroom twice this morning in a span of 30 minutes when Xyla decided to go play in her room.  I hear a shriek.  I go in to investigate. 

Xyla was standing over her plastic rainbow colored slinky, which she obviously wanted very much to play with.   She was standing, stiff legged and trying to bend at the chest to reach the slinky.  Obviously this wasn't working.  She knows that if she bends over to reach the toy that there will be no more holding in the poo.  She also knows that she really wants that slinky.  

I told her if she wanted the slinky she would have to lean over and get it herself.  Honestly, I thought she would give it up and move on to the next toy.  I seriously underestimated how wonderful this toy really is.

I walked back into the living room.  After about 10 minutes and some barely audible whimpering my darling daughter comes running into the living room at light speed shouting, "I got it, I got it."  Consequently, I too, got it.  I peeked into her pull-up and the biggest, stiffest poo we have seen all week greeted me with a familiar smell.  

I told her, "see, now don't you feel so much better."  I changed her and we celebrated the victory with a dance to some swing music.  You can do that when you don't have to poo.

You know you are a mom when poop is like your favorite Christmas gift, ever.

Open gym. Free time is struggling to get out of the pit.

Really it was an experiment in learning about what my child might like to do in the near future.  I have been looking for something to put her in that will soak up some of the energy she drips with on a daily basis.  Most activity classes like tap, ballet ect are reserved for kids who are 3 and up (read - potty trained).  I found a place that has tumbling for kids walking to what ever age they want to continue participating.  The class itself will be on Tuesday nights but just to get a feel for the place we went to the Friday "Open Gym" night.  Note to the owners, if your website says open til 8pm let's do that, k?  I mean I did pay $7 to wear my kid out and honestly she could have used the extra half hour.  That is a discussion for another time.  

Right away Xyla found the kiddie toys section of the room.  rocking horse, tall thing to walk across (not a balance beam because wow for the little ones, that would be insane at that height).  She found the little trampoline.  Considering the way she insists on jumping on the couch I was rather hoping it wouldn't freak her out.  I was so unprepared for what happened.

It took me a few minutes to get her to realize the thing was a bouncy toy.  When she did, her eyes lit up.  It was like I had given her the keys to a Benz at 16.  While we were over there a girl about 8 or so in a bright orange leotard that said "gymnast" on it came over and announced that she 'loved' gymnastics.  I gather she must be part of the promotions team.  On the bigger kid side of the room there were about three other kids Xyla's age.  They were all happily bounding around all the equipment.  She decided to abandon the little trampoline to see what all the happy hubub was about.  She then began to realize there were several trampolines around the room.  Big ones.  The rules are only one kid per trampoline at a time.  One of the big trampolines is a runway that ends in a pit of large foam cubes designed to ease the fall should the children decide to hop right in.  She would watch many of the others run down the trampoline doing various tricks and then launch into the pit.  So she bounced down the run way got up to the edge of the pit and stopped.  There would be no hopping right in today.

On the far side of the pit from this trampoline is a small climbing wall, which appeals to Xyla's mommy very much.  To the left of the large pit is a small plastic slide that ends in - you guessed it- the pit.  I wish I could explain to you the love between this child and things that she can climb up to and scoot down just to do it all again.   It is her favorite thing next to chocolate milk and Gicky House (read - Mickey Mouse).  Sometimes she likes sliding more than Gicky.  She was trying to find a way to get onto the slide.  Ignoring two very important factors, one being the fact that the 'ladder' to the slide is obstructed by the pole that is over the pit for kids to skootch out onto and either just drop (which is what most were doing) or do a trick of some sort (which is what I-Love-Gymnastics was doing), into the pit of foam.

The pit is very friendly looking.  The ease with which the kids drop into it and bound out with the enthusiasm of a pointing dog on a hunt, is very deceptive.  As is the climbing wall, but we'll get to that in a minute.  I picked up Xyla and put her atop the slide, knowing full well that she didn't realize there was a bit of a drop at the end.  It makes sense though.  Putting the slide there, I mean.  How else are you going to get nervous kids to fall into a pit of something they have never seen before.  She skootches herself down the slide and is almost at the end and she stops in her tracks.  She is looking at the pit like it is filled with vipers.  Like it is going to swallow her alive as it seemed to be doing with the other kids.  I did what any mom would do.  I pushed her in.

Once she realized she was not being bitten or swallowed she grew a grin so big you could hear it in the next room.  She started navigating the foam and I fished her out and she said, "'gin, momma, 'gin."  So I put her up again.  Same thing.  Again. Rinse.  Lather.  Repeat.  

Next to the slide on the side away from the bar is a large mat.  The mat is about a foot and a half tall necessitating the fishing out of the small children to include lying down and  hoping you can reach their hand.  After a few trips down the slide, Xyla spotted the climbing wall.  I have tried to get her to actually climb the ones at the play ground and she hasn't shown much interest.  Surprising since she climbs everything else at home, which is significantly less secure than the wall. She goes over there and I follow.  I think, "the only way I am going to be able to help her is to jump into that stinking pit."  

Let me stop right here.  I get why they put the wall over the pit.  If anyone falls off (there are no top ropes) they will fall into a giant vat of fluffy foam instead of breaking themselves.  I don't know if these people are that in to climbing but since they encourage shoelessness and they have a climbing wall, I am guessing no.  The one thing they don't tell you that they really should is that there is no way to get out of the pit.  No ladder you can wade over to.  No hole or foot holds you can use.  Nothing.  I am sure they don't tell you this because you will only do it once.  I think they secretly enjoy watching people panic as they begin to realize there's no way out.  I was a little concerned at the fact that no one was willing to help the obviously misguided fat girl out of the pit either.  Finally someone rescued me.  He'd be my hero but he was married so we'll stick with rescuer.  I now know what it would feel like to be stuck in quick sand if I were a pig.

At any rate we spent much of the rest of the evening jumping on the trampoline.  Fun realized by the girl to the point where she squealed in such a joyous manner in such a high pitch that I was worried she was going to lose her voice.  Then one of the other girls did a backward summersault.  She had to try it.  Let's just say, we have some work to do on that one.  Can't get her feet over her head.  I don't think any of the websites or books really express when that particular skill is supposed to be mastered.  The other girl ran down the runway and launched herself into the pit.  Xyla ran down the runway and . . . stopped right at the edge with such perfect balance it seemed unreal.  I understand though.  I am not afraid of heights.  I am not even so much afraid of jumping from heights, it's when the height is attached to the lack of information about the drop and the clearance distance for the landing that paralyzes me with fear.  I know, that's really specific.  It helps me to understand where she is getting her ocd-like issues from.

She kicked me when they told us they were shutting the place down for the night and I picked her up to go gather our things.  It is the first time she was seriously defying me when she very clearly said, "no", after I told her we had to go home.  Doesn't matter, she is still small enough that mommy wins by sheer brute strength.  I am sure she will love tumbling.  I don't know if I will be able to get her to learn to wait her turn in line.  All in time.

On a completely unrelated issue, potty training is moving along swimmingly.  Stay tuned.

A whole different animal . . . indeed.

The reader's digest version of the first two experiences is this. My parents live in Montpelier. Frontier has a tendency to give very little time on layovers. They lost my luggage and had to fly it in to Pocatello via Delta for me to pick up. Forget the fact that Montpelier is 1.5 hours from Pocatello. I had my friend, whom I was going to visit anyway, pick it up and it all worked out. 

The second time, I was on my way home from my mom's house and since she had bought a car seat for Xyla, she sent it home with us. I checked it at the counter and it was the only car seat I was going to be able to use to get from the airport home. They lost it. They also apologized because they didn't have a spare for me to use. "So sorry". I was able to find someone I knew who had an extra but that added 2 hours of airport time with an infant to my trip. It was a nightmare. Fortunately, when they did find it (on a plane in California) they delivered it to my home since I clearly wouldn't be able to bring my child to the airport to pick it up.

This trip, I paid for two tickets since Xyla is "technically" over two years old. On the way home, I had two bags we carried on plus my personal item, which was a bag my sister gave me to fly with and I was unfamiliar with. Long story shot in the attempt to deplane smoothly, my license fell out of the bag and into the seat-back pocket. It was found by the crew and left at the baggage counter. 

The next day, it took several people to try to call and apparently only one was wise enough to know that when you call a long distance number you have to dial the area code, even if said area code is the same as the one for the airport. After a discussion of "I live an hour away so, acutally, I can't just drop by the desk and pick it up at my convenience." There was a declaration of "we don't usually send them to people through the mail, but in this instance I think we can make an exception. I will put it in the outgoing mail today." I was so excited that I was getting positive customer service that I didn't ask her name. Shame on me, I know better. At the time it wasn't a big deal because I didn't need it for anything for two weeks. I know the mail takes about 5 days to get from OKC to Stillwater sometimes, though I don't know exactly why. After five business days, I didn't see anything in the mail. Figuring that someone higher than her may have railroaded the plan, I thought I'd call and check on the status of the id. The guy I spoke with told me he was the only one there and that my id wasn't in the place they would normally leave those things so it most likely wasn't there any more. I was thinking if it was, since I would be going through there that day anyway, I could drop by and get it. Since it wasn't, I thanked him for his time and hung up. Again without asking his name. (Again, I know better than this.) I have been to their service desk and, having sympathy for how long it takes them to check in a flight, I didn't want to back up the process. They nearly made me miss my plane once because they were having difficulty finding a reservation for a passenger who was checking in for a much later flight and instead of asking that person to wait they almost made the whole flight miss the plane.  

Yesterday, it was the end of the second week since the license was supposedly mailed out and I still haven't seen hide nor hair of it. I called them to try to track down if it was a problem on their end or a problem on the postal service end (don't get me started on them). See it is important next week because I have to have it to pick up my federal id on Tuesday and I just needed to know if I should go get a duplicate or not. I made sure to call with plenty of time left in the business day. 

Gail, Gail is the name of the person who helped me this time. I related all of this to her and she acted like it was unreasonable for me to be so exasperated about this whole thing and that she "was" just trying to help me. Just before she hangs up the phone she says, "I am going to make a note of this and we will try to find out what is going on and someone might call you back." I said, "Gail, I don't want that to be a 'someone might call you back' I want you to say that someone will call me back." She got frustrated. I was more than frustrated. She said, "I am doing my best here, I have to go find out who was working and all . . . " I stopped her short and said, "I know you have some work to do looking into this but I want you to own the responsibility to ensure that someone will call me back and let me know what is going on, it is very important that I know what I need to do from here."

I knew that she wouldn't be calling me back. She still hasn't, no one has. There is someone on shift at that airport from 4 am to 10 pm even on weekends and no one has followed up with this. I left for the dmv to get a duplicate license as soon as I hung up with her. It will not be resolved by Tuesday. I know other people love Frontier for the no fees for the first checked bag and because they don't have to spend hours in Denver waiting for their other flights, etc. So I figure this is mostly just me, so I probably will not be using their service again.