DaDa

A milestone for Little Joe- he said his first word. He was lying in the playpen, looking at me hoping that I would pick him up, and began to babble, DaDa, DaDa over and over. I looked at Aunt Cheryl and said, "did he really say DaDa?" She laughed and said yes his did, and just as we were in wonder at this the phone rang and it was Becky. She immediatley heard him babbling, and was like, "Mama! Is he saying DaDa?" I told her she was, and I felt, really felt, the sadness she was feeling that she had to work and missed this moment. I lightened the moment when I told her to text Joe- he would be tickled to death. He was. Becky is very strong, and is a very responsible mama. She knows that in order for them to provide for Little Joe, they both have to work. She does this graciously, and with strength, but she does wish that she could be with Little Joe when these milestones occur.

Today, Martin went to work. You wouldn't think he would be able to, but we are in a medical era where things are much different than even 10 years ago. The doctor told him to take it easy, where he was met with the demand that he go into one of the rooms that make him ill. He asked if the personal protection equipment, (PPE) was available and if so, he would gladly go into that room. The supervisor asked him if he was refusing to go into the room, and again he said he was not refusing, but only wanted the proper PPE to protect himself. What he needs is a mask that will filter the air keeping out the agents that cause his lungs to flare up and become ill. The supervisor gave him a painter's mask, one that you can get at Home Depot before, but it is very unsuitable for what Martin needs. Today, the supervisor pointed at those masks and told Martin that they would give him nothing else. Martin asked if he would put that in writing, and the supervisor angrily turned, walked out and slammed the door. I knew that Martin was going to have grief today, and when he told me this, Gloomy Gussy came out in all her glory. My stomach got upset, my head began to hurt and I was awash with an anxiety attack. I mixed up a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough and baked some cookies, hoping to get my mind off of the situation, but it didn't help much. Just about this time, Little Joe decided that he did not want a nap, but instead wanted to play with Eli and Jacob who had come in after school. Eli was so good to play with Little Joe, and Little Joe has figured out that Eli is an easy mark to get him out of the playpen, or to just cart him around in general. Finally, Eli and Jacob wanted to play outside, and so I took Little Joe back, but Little Joe wanted none of that! He immediatly began to scream at the top of his lungs. He has discovered that he can scream, and he likes it, so he uses this at any given time to express his outrage. Mind you, he is only 5 months old, so I cant' really justify saying that he knows what he is doing, (but he does). When Eli came back in, I had had just about enough of bouncing a whining baby, Little Joe was so tired, and wanted to play so he wouldn't go to sleep. I asked Eli to warm a bottle for me, (he is very good at this)and soon he came hurrying down the hall and telling Little Joe that he had a bottle for him. Little Joe settled right down in my lap and began to slurp. Boy, that bottle emptied really fast, and I wondered how he could be so hungry, as I had just given him a bottle about 2 hours before. I felt a funny sensation on my entire left side of my chest, and noticed that Little Joe had formula running out the side of his mouth. I picked him up to see why, and then I realized that Eli had forgotten to put the little ring back into the bottle that keeps air out. The formula had been leaking out the whole time. My entire left side of my chest was sopping wet, and Little Joe's outfit was wet too. I could have screamed in anger on so many levels. My control was being tested, and I just sat there, holding Little Joe, and telling Gloomy Gussy that she wasn't going to have her way. I changed Little Joe's clothes for the fourth time today, put up his little tummy time toy on the bed and put him on it. I then changed my shirt, sat down on the bed next to Little Joe, and there they were: tears. Not huge sobbing gulping tears, just the kind that slowly trickle down your cheeks. Silent tears, tears manifesting my fear for Martin's employment, my frustration over the leaking bottle, and my pity for myself that I was even continuing in an ongoing trying situation. I didn't want to upset the baby, so I was really trying to get myself under control. Becky came home to get little Joe, and saw that I was upset, and asked me why. Aunt Cheryl filled in the blanks, and of course, Becky began to try to help by reminding me that being upset won't help, and I have to be strong. I was on the verge of telling her to stuff it when the phone rang. It was Martin. My heart leapt in my chest. Why was he calling? What was wrong? I asked if he was alright, and he said yes, but he wanted me to know that he wasn't upset about his job situation, because I had shown him how to be strong, and he knew that I was there for him no matter what. He told me it was a good thing that I was handling everything so well, because he thought he would fall apart if he had to do it on his own. Yes, he was very thankful to have me to fall back on, yes indeed. Really? He thought I was the strong one? Really? Right about that time, I felt Gloomy Gussy receeding. Within seconds, she was gone, and Strong Jodie was back. Strong, strong Jodie who can look difficulties in the face and laugh. I did laugh right out loud then, and felt a release of the fear and anxiety that had gripped me this afternoon. I know that things are still rough for us, but I have my Martin, improving and doing well, and that was the real trial. The rest of this, I can do, no matter what comes. After all, according to Martin, it is what I do best!