Archive for the ‘The Bean’ Category

Yes, it’s true. Our family of three just became a family of four. I’m so happy to announce the arrival of our slimy, scaly bundle of joy.

I bought Bean a fish yesterday. Which caused an argument between me and Chris over the necessity of another living being in our house at the moment. But I insisted. Bean loves fish. Ergo, Bean NEEDS a fish. And now, Bean HAS a fish.

Chris doesn’t think I can keep this fish alive, but I beg to differ. My track record with fish is excellent.

First, there was Dave the Fish in my dorm room in college. Dave was named after my dad because my dad said I shouldn’t get a fish. So, I did anyway. And then I named it after him. I kept Dave alive for two entire semesters. But then he died tragically when I accidentally left him in my dorm room over Spring Break. My friend, Sarah, and I buried him outside my dorm under a bush. And then we mourned.

Next there were the four Beta fish that Sarah and I bought a year later when we moved into an apartment together. We named them Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha. Sex and the City was big back then. Our four fishy friends sat on a bookshelf and were happy and healthy. But then Sarah and I decided to put a light over them so that they had some “sunshine.” This, unfortunately, caused tumors to grow on most of the fish. In multiple places. Sarah and I then were grossed out by our fish and so we called our friend Eric to come over and flush them down the toilet for us. We didn’t really mourn that time.

Finally, there was George W. George W. was my fish my senior year of college. He lived in my office which, at the time, was in the basement of the Capitol building in Tallahassee. It was an election year and George W. Bush had just been elected. I named the fish George W. not because of any affiliation I had with the President, but because whenever something wacky happened in politics, my co-workers would come into my office and vent their frustrations to the President, George W. One time, a bill that my department wanted to pass wasn’t passed and by the end of that day I had two lobbyists and two state legislators standing in my office, waving their hands and cursing George W.

When I graduated from college and moved out of my basement office at the Capitol, I gave George W. to my parents because Chris didn’t think we could drive him from Florida to Connecticut, where we were moving. George W. lived approximately two months in my parent’s tank before the bullying began. The other fish in the tank began to eat him, fin by fin. Eventually they ate him completely. And that death is clearly not my fault. But I did mourn.

And now, there is Bean’s fish. I like him. He looks tough. I think he can hang in our house, provided he can live through a couple good whacks from Bean and his golf clubs.

When we were at the pet store, I found this little army man to go in the bowl with him. I thought that would add the sufficient amount of “boy” to Bean’s fish. Though once I got him all set up in Bean’s room, I wondered if it was a little too violent. Eh, well. Maybe I’ll get creative and paint a little peace sign on him and a daisy at the end of his gun.

Eh, probably not.

When Chris got home from work, he brought a big gallon fish bowl with him from his office. It was formerly his candy bowl. But he’s willing to make sacrifices for his child’s well being. And also I called him at work and yelled at him until he agreed to bring it home.

Now, I think everything for our fish is perfect.

Except, we don’t have a name yet. And that’s where you guys come in. I’m going to let you all vote on what we should name our fish. This is an important election, people. Every vote counts when a fish’s name is at stake.

First, let me tell you our options and why:

Squishy - A blog reader actually suggested this one on Twitter and the minute I saw it, I knew exactly why it was perfect. In Bean’s favorite movie, Finding Nemo, there is a part where Dori finds another fish and says, “I shall call him Squishy and he shall be mine. And he shall be my Squishy.”

Lieutenant Dan – I like this one because the fish is in a bowl with a soldier. Just makes sense. And it would always be pronounced with a Southern accent, just like Forest Forest Gump.

Now, those are your choices, so vote below and we’ll name the fish whatever the people decide.

God Bless America.

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The other morning at 7:30, Bean came toddling into my bedroom.  He had his two golf clubs with him, as always, and he used them to poke me awake.  Then he broke into his big ol’ giggle and started holding his arms (and golf clubs) out to be picked up.  I pulled him into bed with me and we snuggled and laughed and I hid from him while Bean swatted around with his clubs.

Super sweet, right?

WRONG.

Absolutely not sweet.

In fact, this is grounds for divorce in my marriage and Bean is merely a pawn.

See, Chris and I take turns getting up with Bean every day.  Bean gets up at 7:00 on the dot every morning and we alternate who is going to get up with him, change his diaper, get his breakfast, and feed the dogs.  It’s a whole routine.  And while one person does it, the other person gets an extra half hour or so of sleep.

So, what’s all the fuss?

Well, lately, Chris has been sending Bean into my bedroom to wake me up.  He says it’s cute.  It’s sweet.  Bean loves me.  Blah, blah, blah.  I don’t care. I don’t care how cute he is, he’ll still be cute when I wake up in half an hour.

And yet this is the perfect crime because what exactly can I accuse Chris of in this situation?  Think about it.  Any argument I try sounds ridiculous:

“Why did you bring the baby in to see me?”

“I don’t want to see the baby right now!”

“Take the baby away!”

See?  All of those make me sound like a jerk.  So, Chris gets to sit back and watch while I simultaneously love and hate this new morning ritual.

Now, it’s true that I am not completely innocent in this.  In fact, I was the one that created this game.  I used to send Bean in to wake up Chris on the weekends when he slept past 9:00.  I mean, we had things to do.  Places to be.  And Chris needed to get his arse up.  But I would like to argue before the court that that situation is very different than using that tactic at 7:30am on a weekday when I had only an extra 15 minutes or so of sleep.

Chris and I have never argued about this before because of the aforementioned complaints making us sound ridiculous, but we do smile sweetly to each other and say, “Isn’t it sweet?  I loved when you made him wake me up yesterday like this.”

Did you get that?  That subtle hint of a complaint in there?

THIS HAS GOT TO STOP.

So, today before God and Internet Land, I am declaring a truce, Chris.  I will keep Bean out of the bedroom while you are sleeping and you need to keep him out of the bedroom when I am sleeping.  No matter what.  It’s the right thing to do, my love.

Because I would hate to file for divorce on the grounds that my husband forced me to snuggle with my child.

As much as I am loving this time to be home with Bean Man, I am still job hunting.  I used to be really uncomfortable staying home, but part of this whole Bloom Where You Are Planted thing is coming to peace with where I am right now and right now, I’m home during the days.  Actually, I’m getting pretty good at it now!  I’m much better at play dates, I’ve made some really nice friends with other SAHM’s here, and I’ve completely gotten used to being out and about during the day by myself with Bean.

The thing is, I’ve gotten so good at filling mine and Bean’s days with fun things that sometimes Chris feels a little left out.  When we’re on the go all day long doing fun things, I can tell when I talk to him that night that he wishes he’d been able to go with us.  Lately, I’ve been making an effort to make sure that he doesn’t feel left out of anything.  Now, we use weekends to do a lot of “Firsts.”  Like, the first time we took Bean to a pool was on a weekend with Daddy and the first time we let Bean order off of the restaurant menu was on a weekend with Daddy.  None of those things are milestones or will probably be significant looking back at Bean’s childhood, but they go a long way to make sure Chris knows how important he is in Bean’s growth.  After we’ve had the “First” with Chris on the weekends, I can add it to my regular rotation of activities we do during the week without feeling like I’m experiencing anything with Bean that Chris would miss out on.

Does that make sense?

On Friday night, Chris and I were up late watching Season One of The Shield (holy smokes what a show!  wowza!) and in the middle of one particularly intense scene, Chris looked over to me out of the blue and said, “Let’s take Bean to the zoo tomorrow.”

Now, I know this is going to sound melodramatic and ridiculous, but I could actually FEEL myself fall more in love with him when he said it.  It wasn’t the zoo that was important to me.  It was that Chris was thinking of things for us to do as a family together.  Knowing that Chris LIKES spending time with us and that he WANTS to be there with us is something that I don’t take for granted.  Lots of dads aren’t like that and I know how lucky we are to have one who is.

So, Saturday morning, we got up and headed to the Central Florida Zoo.  We spent the morning there seeing all the animals and making animal sounds with Bean.  This zoo had a little splash park inside of it, too, so when it got hot around lunch time, we changed into Bean’s swimming trunks and let him splash around for a while before we headed home.  Bean Man was asleep before we even pulled out of the parking lot.  It was a big day.

Blooming where you are planted is hard stuff, man!  You have to be sure you are blooming as an individual, blooming as a couple, and blooming as a family.  That’s a lot of bloomin’ blooming!  But each step is important and to fall short in one area can throw all the others out of whack.

This is one of the many hundreds of thousands of reasons that I am thankful to be married to someone who is not just willing, but who WANTS to hold my hand and bloom along beside me.  And who makes the effort to be there to bloom together as a family.

Because seeing his parents make that effort together is what will give Bean the confidence and security to bloom on his own his whole life.