A challenging day

Hey Jakey,

I'm so glad I waited until the day after the "challenging day" to write about how gawd-awfully challenging it was, lest I come off as a certifiable preggo in need of sedation.

Anyway, I told your daddy I would take you out for a few hours on Saturday, and in exchange, he would use the kid-free time to work on my wireless network connection. It hasn't worked since I bought the laptop two weeks ago, and he's been trying unsuccessfully to convert our "wired" network into a "wireless" network. Until this is accomplished, my new laptop is basically a very expensive doorstop.

I also wanted some just-you-and-me time, since we've had precious little of it lately. You came back from your long-ass trip to San Jose, then I was working-working-working, and, well... sometimes I just feel like we need to get out of the house, do something fun and re-connect.

So after a bit of research online into "fun things to do with kids in Reno," I decided to go to Rancho San Rafael Park, which is a huge park in Reno that we've never been to, and there's a petting zoo with rides and nature walks and dinosaur bones, called Great Basin Adventures.

Well, we get there, and in that first picture above, you'll note that there's orange fencing all 'round the attraction. Yeah... it was closed. But no worries. There's an arboretum to walk around in, playgrounds and picnic areas, it's a really nice park.

So we walk around a bit in the expansive arboretum, looking at the beautiful flora and native plant exhibits. Which holds your interest for all of about 2.5 minutes.



I manage to find us a place to sit down for a bit to have a snack and something to drink. That's when you started to get a bit restless. I knew I would have a hard time herding you back into the truck. I was starting to get a tad tired and grouchy, and it felt like the baby was trampolining on my loins. You were taking off every which way, trying to go home with passing joggers, approaching growling dogs, climbing into barbecues. Just... being Jakey-like.

I cleaned up our snack-mess, and took you by the hand to lead you back to the truck, but you laid down in the dirt and tried to make me drag you. So I tried to put you in the stroller, but you fought me like a cornered sting-ray. I finally managed to get you strapped in, but you stood up and tangled yourself up and dumped yourself over the side, screaming and yelling the entire time. So you're hanging upside down over the side, half in and half out of the stroller, your head swinging a mere inch or two from the ground, and I'm dragging the entire mess down the path towards the car.

Now why do I never take pictures of shit like that...

I'm trying not to yell at you, hell, I'm trying not to push you into oncoming traffic, cuz I felt the eyes of the world upon me. I wrestled you into your car seat and managed to get on the road. That's when the waterworks started.

You've just never been like other kids, sweetie. When you were a baby, they called it "colic." As you got a bit older, the parenting books called it "spirited." Then later, doctors and specialists are calling it "sensory integration dysfunction."

Whatever...long story short: it's hard to take you places sometimes. There's a million places that daddy and I would love to take you, but we know that you just won't be able to handle it. Restaurants have to be chosen very carefully, lots of exits, pay up front if possible, lots of noise and bright lights and people. I've always dreamed of taking you to classes and other mommy-and-me activities, but I know these things would turn out disastrously for us both.

So--we do what we can. We pick and choose our outings and hope for the best. But Saturday, it just kind of got to me. I'm hormonal in the first place, and I cry lately when my rice turns out sticky... so when I started crying in the car, I didn't really stop for miles and miles. I think what got me to crying the hardest was the fact that I do spend so much time working, and that when we do get to spend time together, I feel like I spend all my time and energy yelling and screaming at you. I don't want you to grow up thinking that's what Momma is, the icky lady who works all the time, and takes occasional breaks to yell at and berate you. For God's sake, that's how your daddy already feels about me, I'm sure.

We weren't gone nearly long enough for daddy to fix anything, so when we passed up Washoe Lake on our way home, I decided to pull off the highway and check it out, since we had both calmed down quite a bit. It's a lovely lake in the middle of the desert, and hardly a soul about, so we staked out a picnic table by the water, and I let you run about a bit and wade around and skip rocks.



After that, we were both in a much better state of mind, and you went willingly to the car, and even managed to catch a few z's during the rest of the drive home.

The ironic thing is, the next day --today-- we spent the entire day home, hanging out on the couch, watching tv and movies and playing, and I feel 10 times more re-connected to you after today than I did after yesterday. You hung out with me in the living room most of the day, and at naptime, you crawled up into my arms, gave me a big, sleepy smile and promptly fell asleep. I don't know why I thought I had to drag you halfway across Nevada to work my way into your consciousness again. I mean, it would've been nice to play with dinosaur bones and pet a donkey, but I've got to remember, an all-day cuddle certainly goes a long, long way.

I love you.