4 going on 40

This year I turn 40.

Rocco turns 4.  

I feel like I should be upset about my age.  Don't women freak out about turning 40?  Maybe I will when it gets closer.  Today, I am totally fine with it.  I look and feel better than I did when I was 20.  And I'm much happier in my skin today than I have ever been.  40 can bring it. 

I'm more upset about Rocco turning 4.  He is my baby.  

Only he is no longer a baby.  He is a little boy.  One who runs and jumps.  Goes to school.  Has dentist appointments.  Spends every other weekend away from me at his Dad's.

He has opinions. He gets angry.  He remembers everything.  Mostly the things you hoped he had forgotten.  

He no longer needs me to carry him.  Nurse him.  Feed him.  

He doesn't need me like he used to.

This is all very bitter sweet.  I love him more every day.  He is so smart.  We have interesting conversations.  He makes me laugh.  I'm amazed by how his little brain works.  Each day is a new adventure.  

He is polite, He is kind. He is healthy.  Imaginative.  I like the person he is becoming.

But each day he grows I feel like I am that much closer to losing my baby. 

I remember thinking when he weened off breast feeding that I understood why people had more than one child.  The first tooth.  The first step.  The intimate, quiet bond of breast feeding.  Moments in time that are so beautiful and precious but that pass far too quickly.  You will never get those moments back.  But they are etched in your memory and you long for them back.  

I did not want more than one child when I had Rocco.  I always considered myself a 'one and done' kind of Mom.  Today I have no other option.  I AM a 'one and done' Mom whether I like it or not.  Rocco's dad and I divorced before Rocco was 2.  My current boyfriend is the father of a 20 year old.  He isn't interested in 3am bottle feedings and adding diapers to his budget after all of this time.  Plus, I am 40.  If I'm getting pregnant I need to do it quick.  It's just not happening.  

Even if I did have another baby that wouldn't keep Rocco from growing.  He is still going to get taller.  He is still going to have birthdays.  He is going to get too big to hang out in the bathroom with me while I pee.  Too big to take a shower with me when we are in a hurry.  Too big to want to sit on my lap while he eats his dessert at night.  Too big for me to lift.  Too big to share a swing at the park.  

Sometimes I think I am going to go nuts because he follows me from room to room and I often trip over him.  But one day he is going to lock himself in his room for hours and ignore me.

One day he will be a man.  Possibly taller than me.  With a deep voice.  And too much hair everywhere.  And he is going to be nothing like that 9 pound 13 ounce boy that was handed to me screaming and covered in my blood.    

It is interesting to consider what I might blog about when I am turning 50 and Rocco is turning 14.  Maybe by then I WILL be freaked out about my age and I will leave poor Rocco alone. 

Guilt

It has been about a year since I've posted anything about Rocco.
I'm a horrible Blogger.
We have been very busy and Rocco has had an exciting, eventful year.

Kingston YMCA

Rocco took swimming lessons at the YMCA.  He did not take off swimming like a fish.  But he did not hate it either.  I would highly recommend swimming lessons for baby.  It was a fun activity for the two of us to do together and made him a little more confident in the water.  

Mini March to support cystic fibrosis

Rocco started 'school' at The Children's Workshop of the Catskills.  When he first started at 18 months he was either crying when we dropped him off or when we picked him up.  But he quickly adjusted.  He loves his teacher Miss Karen.  He brings home sweet little art projects to hang on the fridge and he even walked in his first walk-a-thon fundraiser.  

He got his first tattoo....

Moved into a new house....

And he turned 2!

Unfortunately, Mommy has not been recording these life events because she lost his baby book.  

I obsess over it.  I feel so guilty.  

Up until we moved out of our last apartment in November, I was updating the baby book religiously.  

The dates of when all 16 teeth came in were written down.  Along with who came to see us in the hospital, his first foods, favorite books.  Photos.  Footprints from the hospital.  The movie ticket stub from his Mommy and Daddy's first date.  

Gone.  

My hope is that it ended up in a box that went with Eric and when he is able to sort through his things he will call me excitedly and say, "Kelli!  Stop freaking out!  I found it!"

It brings me back to my childhood.  The nightstand on my fathers side of the bed had all of our baby books in it along with mementos my parents chose to keep.  

I remember my pastel baby book with pictures of baby animals in unnatural colors.  Pink sheep.  Yellow bear. 

There was a period of time where I was very intrigued by what I was like as a baby.  I would leaf through it.

The first few pages were full.  My mothers handwriting exactly the same in 1975 as it is today.  In it was how much I weighed.  Who my first visitors were.  What kinds of baby gifts I had.  There were some weights.  There were a few 'firsts'.  And then the information started to trickle off.  Each  page I turned had less and less information in it.  

As a kid I remember having this feeling of insignificance.  I questioned whether or not I was important.  Why would my mother stop writing about me?  Didn't she care?  I now know as an adult, that people get busy.  I barely have time to pee let alone blog.  I would assume my mother, who had a total of 3 kids, had even less time than me.  

And as a mother I know that in the beginning, every single second is the most important moment in the world.  At the time it is.  The first coo.  Roll over. Tooth. Solid poop. Uninterrupted nights sleep.  But over time you realize...it really doesn't matter when they get their first lateral incisor.  And that 'favorite song' is completely irrelevant now.  Because your baby doesn't remember it.  He/she has had a dozen favorite songs since then.

Maybe that is why it is important to keep a baby book.  So we can remember those moments.  

So...what do I do?  Pray that Eric is going to find the baby book because I accidentally packed it with his things?  Rummage through the dump because it is entirely possible I threw it out during the chaos of my move?

Get another one?  It wont be the same....I have no fucking clue when Rocco got his first lateral incisor. 

I just don't want Rocco to feel insignificant.  I don't want him to think I didn't care enough.  Because I live to be that boys mom.  

BANG! BANG! (not in my house)

I've been hesitant to write this blog because I want to write it in a way that does not offend anyone.  That is something I have a hard time doing lately.
I tend to do things in a nontraditional manner.  And I happen to be opinionated.  The combination often makes people angry.  Since I'm doing something differently I must be suggesting that what others are doing is wrong.  Read into it what you will.  I'll do my best....

I was initially thrilled when I found out I was pregnant with a boy.  Eric and I were hoping for a son.  We were talking about 'Baby Rocco' long before we were even married.
But after I gave it some more thought I started to worry....
How was I going raise a boy?  Boys like baseball and...guns.

Guns.
I don't have very strong opinions about them.  I'm not educated enough about how they are regulated.  But I do know that guns are not toys.
Which leads me to the dilemma....How do I raise a boy who doesn't play with guns?
I know moms who insists that boys are born to make gun noises and when they learn how to use their fingers they turn their thumb and forefinger into a gun.  People wish me 'good luck' when I say I'm going to do my best to avoid it.
I was searching for information about children and guns and came across a blog another mother wrote about her reaction to the recent tragedy in Colorado.  She wrote that while she knows that all boys who play with guns do not grow up to murder people she does not believe allowing them to think they are toys can be all that great either.  One of the responses was from a man who said that toys as guns reinforce that life isn't precious.
That's it.
That sums it up right there.
And for me that holds true for not only other people but for animals as well.
I don't want Rocco to kill things.  I don't want him to shoot things.  Because shooting does lead to death.  And I don't think that should be treated as 'fun' or a 'game'.

Life is precious.  Accidents happen.  Children get into their parents desk drawer and blow off their heads.  Kids take guns to school and shoot classmates.
And you can give me all of that "Guns don't kill people, people kill people" crap.  I'm not budging.

Thankfully, Eric is on board with this.  We recently spent some time with a few little boys who were pretending to kill each other.  While we were reading to Rocco before bed and talking about all of the things we want for him in life Eric turned to me and said, 'Yeah...I'm not into all of that violent stuff.  I don't want him to play those games'.

I don't think that guns cause children to become murderers.  But.....I do not want to send a message to Rocco that death is fun.  I don't want him to think that 'killing' is OK.  

Bowling for Columbine is one of my favorite films.  I love Michael Moore and I think the movie is important for people to see.  The security camera footage from that horrible day really gets to me.   I can't help but think that once upon a time those two young men were little boys pointing their forefinger gun at some one saying, "I just killed you".

And the 2012 Mother of the Year is....

...not me.
Ok.  So not keeping up with a blog doesn't make me a bad mother or warrant a call to CPS.  But I have been feeling a little bit guilty about not devoting much time to Rocco's little newsletter.  The reason I have not is because I have been devoting my time to Rocco himself!
Most of you know this year has been extremely difficult for the Gilmore/Fortuna family.
Eric has been ill.  We lost a close friend to cancer.
And while we have been extremely stressed emotionally, financially, and spiritually we have been elated with our little man.
Rocco celebrated his first birthday with about 40 of his closest friends.

He took his first steps.
Visited the beach.
Has been taking swimming lessons.

While 2012 been a year of struggle and sorrow it has been a year of pure joy and excitement.
If I did not have Rocco to take care of I don't know where I would be.
I am truly grateful for this gift of motherhood.
And grateful for all of you who care about my son and make his world a wonderful place.
Mama is tired from chasing him around in circles all day.
I promise to write something more interesting soon.

9 months!

I can't believe Rocco is 9 months old already.  9 months of pregnancy felt like an eternity.  This time has passed so quickly.  As much as I love the surprises and milestones each day brings, it makes me sad that my baby isn't such a baby anymore.
Rocco is 23 pounds and 30 inches long.
The pediatrician said he is right on target developmentally and growing beautifully.

Not feeling the finger prick

He has 7 teeth.
He is waving and pointing at everything.  He eats three solid meals.  He seems to have his fathers appetite but is a picky eater like his mama.

He wants to drink from a cup but isn't really there yet

He pulls himself to stand and will walk holding onto the couch or coffee table.
Rocco continues to sleep through the night with an occasional rough night due to a new tooth.
Mama is getting ready to plan a 1st birthday for her little guy.  It is hard to believe.
Thanks for checking in with everyones favorite little monkey.

Rocco's First Christmas and Other Holiday Ramblings

Eric and I would like to thank everyone who made Rocco's first Chirstmas a special one.  He had no idea what was going on.  To him everyday is an adventure filled with new people and places.  But it was memorable for us.

We considered this our 'free' year.  Since Rocco is too young to comprehend the holiday Eric and I did not put up a tree or buy him a ton of gifts.  We know we have many years ahead of decorating and gift giving.  Which leads us to ponder this - how do we raise a child who understands what Christmas is about, enjoys the holiday, but does not see it as an opportunity to get EVERYTHING his little heart desires?

Rocco loved Santa.  He sat on Santa's lap at the mall, something Eric and I felt we had to do.  He did not cry and the overpriced photo came out pretty cute.  We went to a party on Christmas Eve where Santa came for a visit.  Rocco waved at him like they were long lost friends.  It was pretty cute.  But DAMN!  This could be bad.

I know a woman whom I have great respect for.  She has two children who are quite a few years apart in age.  She told me that her son was raised believing in Santa Claus but that on Christmas morning he knew that the gifts under the tree were from her and her husband.  As a result she says he is appreciative.  He understands that everything he is given on Christmas his parents have worked hard for.  He has gratitude and he is not greedy.  Her daughter has a different father and she claims that her in-laws have shoved Santa down her daughters throat.  Her daughter does not have the same gratitude her son has.  She presents a long list of wants from Santa and will not hesitate to say she does not like something.

Everyone I know who has children ran around like crazy spending, spending, spending the month before Chirstmas.  Every conversation I overheard was about holiday shopping.  Children don't just want a Barbie doll or a football anymore.  They want Ipods.  They want televisions. Wii's.  Laptops. They want items made for adults.  Items that will end up crusted in cereal and boogers.  Items that cost money and are expensive to repair.

How do I raise a son who does not want Ipods and cell phones?  One answer is to not allow him to watch television. (That is another blog topic all together.) I have also been told that kids want what their friends have.  (Which means Rocco can't have friends who watch television.)  I just can't help but think that parents have some responsibility in this as well.  

Stories and songs about Christmas indicate that Santa brought ONE gift to each child. The song "Jolly Old Saint Nicholas" says that "Johnnie wants a pair of skates. Susy wants a dolly.   Nelli wants a story book.  She thinks dolls are folly".  Eric and I have played with the idea of teaching this to Rocco.  He may ask Santa for one thing.  The rest of his gift will come from us, this grandparents, and friends.  Maybe this will keep him from thinking that toys magically appear on the living room floor.  We still have time to think about this.  But we need to do something to keep the greed under control.

While I am not a religious person I do want Rocco to understand the 'true meaning of Christmas'.  This may be a challenge since I'm pretty sure Jesus was born in August and I don't buy the immaculate conception story line.  Details aside I do believe that Jesus existed and is an important historical figure.  Thankfully I have several church goers in my life who can assist me with this.

 All of this being said Rocco has changed the holiday season for me.  It has given me a new found sense of what it important.  Waking up to a happy, babbling baby is present enough for me.  Although I really do love my new indoor cycle shoes. 

Damnation!

You may want to sit down for this one.

Rocco is not being baptized.

Some of you may be thinking, 'Pssh...big deal'.  Others may may be gasping for air.  I'm sure there is someone somewhere rolling over in their grave.

Eric and I have talked about it and we are sticking with our decision.  We believe in God but we are not religious.  We believe that Rocco has a Higher Power.  But neither of us believe Rocco needs to be baptized to have a relationship with that Higher Power.

I was brought up Methodist.  I guess.  I was baptized as a baby.  Of course I have no recollection of the event and can say it was a pretty meaningless act. Eric was brought up in a Catholic church.  Kind of.  He was Christened and made his confirmation.  Neither of us identities with the religion of our childhood.  Both of us found a Higher Power in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous and I bet our concept of God is much different than most.

Choosing a church would be our first problem.  Methodist or Catholic? And how hypocritical would it be for us to show up at a random church and ask them to perform this highly significant ceremony for a family they have never met?

To be baptized means to 'accept Christ' and to commit to living a Christian life.  I think that is alot to ask of a baby.  I hope to raise Rocco to be a good person.  Do the right thing. Tell the truth.  Help people.  But I'm hesitant to label that Christian. I don't think one needs to be Christian to be a decent human being.  And I want Rocco to make that decision for himself.  When he is old enough to understand what that means and responsible enough to carry that out.

My friend Brenda did not have her two children baptized as babies.  Yet this past year both Katrina and Matt decided that they wanted to be baptized.  They started to attend church with their aunt and decided that this was something important to them.  Both of them attended religious classes and have a full understanding of what they were doing.  Katrina is 13 or 14 years old and when I asked her about it she said she was glad she had the opportunity to do it when she was  older and it actually had meaning to her.

Some Christians believe you will go to hell if you are not baptized.  I do not believe in hell.  Problem solved.  I don't know if Rocco will believe in Heaven and Hell.  But if he does I do not believe his Higher Power would damn him to hell for not going through the motions of a baptism.

My hope is that Rocco does not believe in a punishing God.  That he is not fearful of God.  And I guess I have some authority over what he believes.  Eric and I plan to teach Rocco about God.  But just like Eric and I, Rocco has a Higher Power that is unique to him.  Maybe someday he will look for that God at church.  We will support that decision when the time comes.  And it should be his to make.