I have a problem.
I have a problem elbow.
I've been suffering (and I don't use that term lightly) from lateral epicondylitis -aka tennis elbow, for 17 months now. And it isn't getting better.
At the beginning, I was able to control my symptoms with ice and anti-inflammatory drugs. There was one particularly bad bout in November of 2009 that I opted to use ultrasound and iontophoresis and it resolved. I mean, completely resolved.
When I transferred from outpatient to acute care, I began having twinges again. I tried stretching, ice, ultrasounds and NSAIDs, but when it didn't get better after a couple of months, I finally gave in and had a cortisone injection. I had immediate and complete relief that lasted about two months.
We had a period of time at my work where we had a lot of bariatric patients and that aggravated my elbow again. Three months later, I was back at the orthopedist's office getting yet ANOTHER cortisone injection, but this time the relief wasn't immediate... and it wasn't complete.
After two months of discomfort, I decided to have someone other than myself treat my elbow. I have been going to outpatient for about three weeks now.... and I was seeing a small improvement until last week. I had a patient who began to fall, and used my PT instincts to catch him before he hit the ground, wrenching my elbow in the process. My elbow is now swollen and sore.
And I'm really scared.
I know the statistics: I know that if you have a prolonged tendonitis or inflammation around a joint that you are more likely to develop scar tissue. I know that I only have one more cortisone injection in my future. I know that the next course of action after the injection is surgery... and that lateral epicondyle releases aren't always successful, and may lead to weakening of the extensor tendons.
I know that if I have surgery I'll essentially end my career as an acute care PT.
I had a long heart-to-heart with my PT, who is also my former boss, and I shed a few tears. He told me that when he palpates my elbow he feels a lot of inflammation and scar tissue. He told me that while outpatient therapy is making small gains, I have a set back everyday when I go to work. He told me to come home and carefully look at my options.
Since my first year of undergrad, I've never wanted to be anything but a physical therapist. I just don't know what my options are right now.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Hollywood makes it look easy.
When I pictured my life with kids, I had an idyllic sense of what my life would be like:
I would come home from a fulfilling day at work and make a delicious and nutritious dinner that my family would devour. My children would happily play with one another while I cooked, with the occasional squabble that could be nixed with a stern glance. We would eat together as a family and then play a game or read a book together. My children would crawl into bed, I'd sing them a lullaby, and then I would finish whatever minor things needed to be done around the house, like the dinner dishes. I would crawl into my own bed, and fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Reality has a way of kicking you in the butt and then taunting you while you're down.
My work is just that: work. I deal with really sick people, some who are dying, all day long. It seems like lately we've had more people die than success stories. I leave work exhausted and emotionally drained. Most nights, I meet Scott and home and we throw something together for our dinners: one for us and one for Chloe. She is such a picky eater. Usually her supper consists of bread and yogurt. We keep trying to introduce new things, but she isn't buying it.
The kids squabble. With each other. With the animals. With us.
I'm tired of telling Chloe to stop screaming and use her words.
I'm tired of telling Caleb to stop whining and tattling on his sister.
I'm tired of telling both of them to quit tackling the cat or stop cornering the dog.
Bedtime is a battle every night with Caleb.
I just finished another round of sleep training with Chloe who completely lost her ability to self-soothe after months of teething and ear infections. Fingers crossed, its working so far.
My house looks like a tornado hit it.
My kitchen is consistently dirty.
But despite all of this, I'm happy. Really happy, not in that fake Hollywood kind of way either.
I would come home from a fulfilling day at work and make a delicious and nutritious dinner that my family would devour. My children would happily play with one another while I cooked, with the occasional squabble that could be nixed with a stern glance. We would eat together as a family and then play a game or read a book together. My children would crawl into bed, I'd sing them a lullaby, and then I would finish whatever minor things needed to be done around the house, like the dinner dishes. I would crawl into my own bed, and fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Reality has a way of kicking you in the butt and then taunting you while you're down.
My work is just that: work. I deal with really sick people, some who are dying, all day long. It seems like lately we've had more people die than success stories. I leave work exhausted and emotionally drained. Most nights, I meet Scott and home and we throw something together for our dinners: one for us and one for Chloe. She is such a picky eater. Usually her supper consists of bread and yogurt. We keep trying to introduce new things, but she isn't buying it.
The kids squabble. With each other. With the animals. With us.
I'm tired of telling Chloe to stop screaming and use her words.
I'm tired of telling Caleb to stop whining and tattling on his sister.
I'm tired of telling both of them to quit tackling the cat or stop cornering the dog.
Bedtime is a battle every night with Caleb.
I just finished another round of sleep training with Chloe who completely lost her ability to self-soothe after months of teething and ear infections. Fingers crossed, its working so far.
My house looks like a tornado hit it.
My kitchen is consistently dirty.
But despite all of this, I'm happy. Really happy, not in that fake Hollywood kind of way either.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
My Girl
Looking back, the majority of posts lately have been about Caleb and how I am adjusting to parenting a toddler, now preschooler. But there is another very important little one at our house: my girl.
Chloe is chill. She takes everything in stride. Brother beating her over the head with a car? A quick yell, and she moves away from him. Mean mommy takes away the markers she is trying to eat? Stomps her feet a couple of times and finds something else to play with. And she loves books. I mean really loves them. She will bring me a pile of books and happily sit in my lap while I read to her for half an hour.
She wakes up in the morning glowing. She is full of smiles and cuddles for mom or dad. She claps her hands when she sees her daycare teachers and friends. She says "Hi!" to just about everyone in the supermarket.
She is that confident, exuberant, effortless beauty that I always wanted to be. I hope her charisma and laid back attitude stay with her - especially during those tumultuous teenage years.
Sometimes, I look at Chloe and I wonder what I did so differently between my two kids. Caleb is shy, and occassionally self-depricating. I wonder if it is the difference in my confidence in my ability to parent this time around or truly deep-rooted personality differences? Believe me when I say that I understand (even though I am an only child) that there are differences between my kids. I know that even if I was doing exactly the same thing with them, that they would turn out to have their own personalities and quirks. I guess it just makes me reflect back on my psych minor and wonder the extent of nature vs. nurture.
Chloe is chill. She takes everything in stride. Brother beating her over the head with a car? A quick yell, and she moves away from him. Mean mommy takes away the markers she is trying to eat? Stomps her feet a couple of times and finds something else to play with. And she loves books. I mean really loves them. She will bring me a pile of books and happily sit in my lap while I read to her for half an hour.
She wakes up in the morning glowing. She is full of smiles and cuddles for mom or dad. She claps her hands when she sees her daycare teachers and friends. She says "Hi!" to just about everyone in the supermarket.
She is that confident, exuberant, effortless beauty that I always wanted to be. I hope her charisma and laid back attitude stay with her - especially during those tumultuous teenage years.
Sometimes, I look at Chloe and I wonder what I did so differently between my two kids. Caleb is shy, and occassionally self-depricating. I wonder if it is the difference in my confidence in my ability to parent this time around or truly deep-rooted personality differences? Believe me when I say that I understand (even though I am an only child) that there are differences between my kids. I know that even if I was doing exactly the same thing with them, that they would turn out to have their own personalities and quirks. I guess it just makes me reflect back on my psych minor and wonder the extent of nature vs. nurture.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
On Parenthood
We have officially been living in our house for two years now. And FINALLY, I feel like we are making some friends. There are two sets of parents who have little ones Caleb's age whom we have become closer with. Close enough to count them as our emergency contacts for daycare. Close enough to call up for an impromptu dinner or playdate. And it's nice. Really nice.
But it's not the same as having a good girlfriend.
When we were living in Alabama, the girlfriends that I had that had children of their own we in the same new stage of mommyhood that I was in: inexperienced, full of doubt, and a little scared.
I'm still scared.
I'm scared that I am going to so thoroughly mess up my child that he won't be a productive member of society. I am scared that when I lose my temper with him that I am scarring him for life. I'm scared I'm over-disciplining him. I'm scared that I'm not disciplining him the right way.
I want so badly to have a child that is a competent, rational thinking, charismatic, loving member of society. And I'm really afraid of screwing him up.
The moms that I've met here are confident. And chill. I don't feel like they obsess over parenting like I do, because it seems to come so naturally to them. I wanna be chill. But it's not in my make up.
For example, we had a playdate today with a mom and her two boys who live down the street. We were going to play in the pool, eat some hotdogs and hang out. I worried so much about it I had bad dreams last night. Then I frantically cleaned the first floor of the house this morning. And to be honest, the playdate went well, but I over-thought every little thing and stressed out about how I spoke to my children in front of this other mother.
So, I need to learn how to chill. Are they selling personalities yet on ebay?
But it's not the same as having a good girlfriend.
When we were living in Alabama, the girlfriends that I had that had children of their own we in the same new stage of mommyhood that I was in: inexperienced, full of doubt, and a little scared.
I'm still scared.
I'm scared that I am going to so thoroughly mess up my child that he won't be a productive member of society. I am scared that when I lose my temper with him that I am scarring him for life. I'm scared I'm over-disciplining him. I'm scared that I'm not disciplining him the right way.
I want so badly to have a child that is a competent, rational thinking, charismatic, loving member of society. And I'm really afraid of screwing him up.
The moms that I've met here are confident. And chill. I don't feel like they obsess over parenting like I do, because it seems to come so naturally to them. I wanna be chill. But it's not in my make up.
For example, we had a playdate today with a mom and her two boys who live down the street. We were going to play in the pool, eat some hotdogs and hang out. I worried so much about it I had bad dreams last night. Then I frantically cleaned the first floor of the house this morning. And to be honest, the playdate went well, but I over-thought every little thing and stressed out about how I spoke to my children in front of this other mother.
So, I need to learn how to chill. Are they selling personalities yet on ebay?
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Where nonsense seems sensical
Despite multiple promises to myself about keeping up with blogging, and keeping a list of entries that I want to write, things have fallen by the wayside and I find myself playing catch-up again.
I makes me sad when I get so far behind in blogging, because I really enjoy writing - it is a good outlet for me. Organizing emotions on a page and making sense of things, ordering them... very therapeutic.
So, a quick update:
We have finally found our groove as a family of four. And it feels pretty cool.
We finally have two kids who sleep through the night. And that is even cooler.
Caleb and Chloe have both discovered that the other one isn't leaving. Some moments of cool, some moments of arrhgghhhhhh!!!!!
We are working on sharing. We are working on being patient. We are trying to remember how to discipline a 13 month old, but I don't remember Caleb being this rambunctious.
And I, I am working on controlling my temper. I am working on controlling my voice. And I started running.
I makes me sad when I get so far behind in blogging, because I really enjoy writing - it is a good outlet for me. Organizing emotions on a page and making sense of things, ordering them... very therapeutic.
So, a quick update:
We have finally found our groove as a family of four. And it feels pretty cool.
We finally have two kids who sleep through the night. And that is even cooler.
Caleb and Chloe have both discovered that the other one isn't leaving. Some moments of cool, some moments of arrhgghhhhhh!!!!!
We are working on sharing. We are working on being patient. We are trying to remember how to discipline a 13 month old, but I don't remember Caleb being this rambunctious.
And I, I am working on controlling my temper. I am working on controlling my voice. And I started running.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Accomplishments
When I was young, I used to measure the success of a day on how well recess went: if we played Gummi Bears or HeMan, it was a good day. If we had to play Smurfs, or (ugh) house with boys, it was a bad day.
When I was in seventh and eighth grade, success was not having any of the popular kids upset with me. I so desperately wanted to be cool and liked...
(There is a part of me that wishes I could travel back in time and show my 12 year old self what my life is like now. I wish I could tell that girl that being "cool" isn't as important as being kind. It would have saved me a lot of grief in my later years.)
In high school, a successful day was catching the eye of *that boy*. You know who I'm talking about: the guy whose name you scribbled all over your diary, the one that made you turn 12 shade of red when he caught you staring across the cafeteria, and the one that still gives you a little smile when you think about him (unless of course, you had extremely poor taste in men, and then you might cringe a little...)
When I finally went to university, a successful day was making to all of my classes, going to work, and preparing a meal that was edible. Studying was a bonus.
From July until October of 1998, a successful day was making my mom laugh.
In Grad school a successful day was all in the adaptation: adapting to a new culture, a new climate and new roommates. Sure, there was studying to be done, but it wasn't the mundane studying that I had in undergrad, because I knew that everything I was learning was going to be put to use in my career and that in itself was fulfilling.
Clinicals: a successful day was not crying. Especially not in front of my clinical instructor.
Parenting has brought about a whole new perspective and an entirely different idea of what success is: Some days it is about survival. Some days it is watching your child do something for the first time. Some days it is about learning to hold back. Some days are about how to hold on tighter. Some days are about the moments that you thought parenting was all about. Some days are just a success because you only sent your kid for 10 time outs.
Today, my success stems from realizing that forming these little minds into productive members of society is an accomplishment. Even if today the only lesson learned is how to share the MagnaDoodle.
When I was in seventh and eighth grade, success was not having any of the popular kids upset with me. I so desperately wanted to be cool and liked...
(There is a part of me that wishes I could travel back in time and show my 12 year old self what my life is like now. I wish I could tell that girl that being "cool" isn't as important as being kind. It would have saved me a lot of grief in my later years.)
In high school, a successful day was catching the eye of *that boy*. You know who I'm talking about: the guy whose name you scribbled all over your diary, the one that made you turn 12 shade of red when he caught you staring across the cafeteria, and the one that still gives you a little smile when you think about him (unless of course, you had extremely poor taste in men, and then you might cringe a little...)
When I finally went to university, a successful day was making to all of my classes, going to work, and preparing a meal that was edible. Studying was a bonus.
From July until October of 1998, a successful day was making my mom laugh.
In Grad school a successful day was all in the adaptation: adapting to a new culture, a new climate and new roommates. Sure, there was studying to be done, but it wasn't the mundane studying that I had in undergrad, because I knew that everything I was learning was going to be put to use in my career and that in itself was fulfilling.
Clinicals: a successful day was not crying. Especially not in front of my clinical instructor.
Parenting has brought about a whole new perspective and an entirely different idea of what success is: Some days it is about survival. Some days it is watching your child do something for the first time. Some days it is about learning to hold back. Some days are about how to hold on tighter. Some days are about the moments that you thought parenting was all about. Some days are just a success because you only sent your kid for 10 time outs.
Today, my success stems from realizing that forming these little minds into productive members of society is an accomplishment. Even if today the only lesson learned is how to share the MagnaDoodle.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Calebisms
There are many joys to having a three year old - there are the constant mood swings, the temper tantrums that are punctuated with moments of sanity and reason, and the verbal diarrhea. Mostly the verbal diarrhea.
Sitting at dinner tonight Caleb was talking non-stop nonsense. I looked at him and said "You're crazy."
"No I'm not!"
"Are too."
"No, I'm three!"
*Sigh*
He also gets on these tangents whenever he sees Chloe doing something. "When I was little I (insert whatever Chloe is currently doing)." He then becomes very defensive if I tell him "No, Honey, you didn't do that."
*Double sigh*.
I think I also traumatized Caleb for life trying to explain true tooth fairy to him. "When you get bigger your teeth are going to fall out." His eyes immediately filled with tears and said "I don't want my teeth to fall out!" I then had to spend the next half hour showing him pictures of me when I was little without teeth and telling him about the joys of getting money under your pillow. Way to emotionally scar your child on a Tuesday night.
And finally, the other day I was discussing Scott's job and I referred to him as my husband. Our daycare teacher looked at me funny and said "You're married?!?!"
"Yes, for five years."
"Oh!! Caleb told me you weren't. He was telling two of the little of the girls in his class that he was going to marry them. When he other teacher and I told him he was a little young he told us 'My mom and dad aren't married so I can get married whenever I want.'"
Fabulous. See what I mean about the verbal diarrhea?
Sitting at dinner tonight Caleb was talking non-stop nonsense. I looked at him and said "You're crazy."
"No I'm not!"
"Are too."
"No, I'm three!"
*Sigh*
He also gets on these tangents whenever he sees Chloe doing something. "When I was little I (insert whatever Chloe is currently doing)." He then becomes very defensive if I tell him "No, Honey, you didn't do that."
*Double sigh*.
I think I also traumatized Caleb for life trying to explain true tooth fairy to him. "When you get bigger your teeth are going to fall out." His eyes immediately filled with tears and said "I don't want my teeth to fall out!" I then had to spend the next half hour showing him pictures of me when I was little without teeth and telling him about the joys of getting money under your pillow. Way to emotionally scar your child on a Tuesday night.
And finally, the other day I was discussing Scott's job and I referred to him as my husband. Our daycare teacher looked at me funny and said "You're married?!?!"
"Yes, for five years."
"Oh!! Caleb told me you weren't. He was telling two of the little of the girls in his class that he was going to marry them. When he other teacher and I told him he was a little young he told us 'My mom and dad aren't married so I can get married whenever I want.'"
Fabulous. See what I mean about the verbal diarrhea?
Sunday, February 21, 2010
On The Bright Side
We had a real adventure last night. At least, that's what we're telling Caleb.
Yesterday afternoon our power shut off, which is not unusual, but it only came back on in half the house. The rooms that were not working were very sporadic: the master bedroom, the living room, the toy room and our dryer (but the washer was okay). Most of you are unfamiliar with the layout of our house, but the master bedroom and the living room are on opposite ends and two different floors - so it doesn't make a lot of sense for them to be out at the same time.
So I did what every electrically defunct wife does: I told my husband. :) He went down and checked the breaker box - nope. He turned the main electricity thingy (and yes, that is the technical term) off and back on - nope. He finally called his dad for advice. Fortunately his dad was curling, and one of his teammates was an electrician. After a conversation about which electrical thingamabobs and doohickeys had been checked, the electrician (a mere 1,600 miles away) diagnosed the problem that one of the "legs" coming into our house was not functioning properly and we needed to call our utility company. So we did.
Two hours later, a man in a truck showed up, trudged through the foot of snow to the meter box. Scott and I were watching a movie, and the electricity in the affected rooms flickered on and off a few times. "That's a good sign!" we smiled to ourselves.
About twenty minutes later, the man from the truck knocked on our door. "Did you hear me talking outside on the phone?"
"No sir."
"I was just on the phone with my boss because I don't know what to do about your problem." Uncomfortable pause. "The way that electricity comes into your house in through live 'legs'. Your house has two of them. In order for the live legs to work, there has to be a ground, or a neutral, in order for them to run. What has happened here is that your house has settled and one of the live legs has been pulled out completely. The neutral is barely attached."
And then came the words which shocked me the most "It's amazing that your house hasn't caught on fire."
Woah. Sharp inhale. Amazing that our house hasn't caught on fire!?!?
He continued. "I can try to jerry-rig something so that you will have power tonight, but I think that your best option would be to completely cut the power off, go to a hotel, and call an electrician in the morning. The electrician will have to get your a new meter box, drop it down about six inches, reconnect you, and then you will have to have us turn the power back on afterwards."
Exhale. My mind started racing. Do I need to pack all of the photo albums? What essentials do I want to bring with us? What will we do with our pets? It's 30 degrees outside... they can't be outside all night! Scott saw my panic and quickly assured me that if they cut off all the power to our house that the risk of it catching on fire was gone.
So, at 10PM, we packed a suitcase with clothes, a bag with bottles and formula, the pack-and-play and headed to the Hampden Inn, 15 minutes away. Caleb was confused, but saw it as a cool experience. Chloe wasn't so thrilled and had a rough time falling asleep in the room. Caleb then proceeded to switch whom he was sleeping with about, oh, 83219 times. I don't think I slept more than half an hour at a time, with Caleb kicking, both boys snoring, Chloe whimpering, and my mind still racing.
We woke up at 7AM, after a 4AM feeding for Chloe, and had our complimentary breakfast. Scott called an electrician and met him at the house. When he came back, Caleb and I went swimming. (Somehow, in all that mayhem, I thought it would be a good idea to pack bathing suits.... funny how our minds work.) We had a slightly later check out of 12PM, went out for lunch, and when we returned the meter box was ready and the electric company was on its way.
It was... an adventure. I know that it could have been much worse. I know how blessed we were that we were given the sign of the power going out rather than the house catching on fire. I know that we are blessed that we are all safe and sound. But really, I could have done without the excitement this weekend.
When the power was finally restored, Scott went to the grocery store. When he came back he said, "On the bright side hon, I won $30 on a scratch ticket."
On the bright side. :)
Yesterday afternoon our power shut off, which is not unusual, but it only came back on in half the house. The rooms that were not working were very sporadic: the master bedroom, the living room, the toy room and our dryer (but the washer was okay). Most of you are unfamiliar with the layout of our house, but the master bedroom and the living room are on opposite ends and two different floors - so it doesn't make a lot of sense for them to be out at the same time.
So I did what every electrically defunct wife does: I told my husband. :) He went down and checked the breaker box - nope. He turned the main electricity thingy (and yes, that is the technical term) off and back on - nope. He finally called his dad for advice. Fortunately his dad was curling, and one of his teammates was an electrician. After a conversation about which electrical thingamabobs and doohickeys had been checked, the electrician (a mere 1,600 miles away) diagnosed the problem that one of the "legs" coming into our house was not functioning properly and we needed to call our utility company. So we did.
Two hours later, a man in a truck showed up, trudged through the foot of snow to the meter box. Scott and I were watching a movie, and the electricity in the affected rooms flickered on and off a few times. "That's a good sign!" we smiled to ourselves.
About twenty minutes later, the man from the truck knocked on our door. "Did you hear me talking outside on the phone?"
"No sir."
"I was just on the phone with my boss because I don't know what to do about your problem." Uncomfortable pause. "The way that electricity comes into your house in through live 'legs'. Your house has two of them. In order for the live legs to work, there has to be a ground, or a neutral, in order for them to run. What has happened here is that your house has settled and one of the live legs has been pulled out completely. The neutral is barely attached."
And then came the words which shocked me the most "It's amazing that your house hasn't caught on fire."
Woah. Sharp inhale. Amazing that our house hasn't caught on fire!?!?
He continued. "I can try to jerry-rig something so that you will have power tonight, but I think that your best option would be to completely cut the power off, go to a hotel, and call an electrician in the morning. The electrician will have to get your a new meter box, drop it down about six inches, reconnect you, and then you will have to have us turn the power back on afterwards."
Exhale. My mind started racing. Do I need to pack all of the photo albums? What essentials do I want to bring with us? What will we do with our pets? It's 30 degrees outside... they can't be outside all night! Scott saw my panic and quickly assured me that if they cut off all the power to our house that the risk of it catching on fire was gone.
So, at 10PM, we packed a suitcase with clothes, a bag with bottles and formula, the pack-and-play and headed to the Hampden Inn, 15 minutes away. Caleb was confused, but saw it as a cool experience. Chloe wasn't so thrilled and had a rough time falling asleep in the room. Caleb then proceeded to switch whom he was sleeping with about, oh, 83219 times. I don't think I slept more than half an hour at a time, with Caleb kicking, both boys snoring, Chloe whimpering, and my mind still racing.
We woke up at 7AM, after a 4AM feeding for Chloe, and had our complimentary breakfast. Scott called an electrician and met him at the house. When he came back, Caleb and I went swimming. (Somehow, in all that mayhem, I thought it would be a good idea to pack bathing suits.... funny how our minds work.) We had a slightly later check out of 12PM, went out for lunch, and when we returned the meter box was ready and the electric company was on its way.
It was... an adventure. I know that it could have been much worse. I know how blessed we were that we were given the sign of the power going out rather than the house catching on fire. I know that we are blessed that we are all safe and sound. But really, I could have done without the excitement this weekend.
When the power was finally restored, Scott went to the grocery store. When he came back he said, "On the bright side hon, I won $30 on a scratch ticket."
On the bright side. :)
Saturday, February 20, 2010
I'm working on it.
Some how, over the past six weeks, between children being ill, parents being ill and my new job (more on that later), the blog has fallen by the wayside. Sleep has also fallen by the wayside, but I guess you are to expect that to an extent as a parent, right?
When we got back from Christmas in Canada, Chloe "forgot" how to sleep through the night. I have tried everything: giving her cereal at night, feeding her late at night, trying to let her cry it out. The problem is that she has been growing, teething, and had two ear infections and she consistently wakes up between 2-4 AM. This is tough because I have to get up at 5AM for work, so there have been many a day that I am up at 3:30 for the day. Blah.
So, about my new job. I loved the clinic that I was working at, but after bedrest and mat leave that ended up being for 7 months instead of 3.5, I needed the full time hours to catch up, money-wise. I am working at a hospital 7:30-4:00, M-F, no weekends, no crazy holidays like Thanksgiving or Christmas. So, while I don't relish the idea of cleaning up as much poop and sputum as I have over the past 5 weeks, it is a necessary evil ... at least until we win the lottery ;)
So, more to come soon. The kids are doing great - Chloe is military crawling, pulling up and chewing on everything in sight. Caleb has had a couple of problems at daycare and is definitely showing his older "jealous" side... but I promise to elaborate on this soon.
When we got back from Christmas in Canada, Chloe "forgot" how to sleep through the night. I have tried everything: giving her cereal at night, feeding her late at night, trying to let her cry it out. The problem is that she has been growing, teething, and had two ear infections and she consistently wakes up between 2-4 AM. This is tough because I have to get up at 5AM for work, so there have been many a day that I am up at 3:30 for the day. Blah.
So, about my new job. I loved the clinic that I was working at, but after bedrest and mat leave that ended up being for 7 months instead of 3.5, I needed the full time hours to catch up, money-wise. I am working at a hospital 7:30-4:00, M-F, no weekends, no crazy holidays like Thanksgiving or Christmas. So, while I don't relish the idea of cleaning up as much poop and sputum as I have over the past 5 weeks, it is a necessary evil ... at least until we win the lottery ;)
So, more to come soon. The kids are doing great - Chloe is military crawling, pulling up and chewing on everything in sight. Caleb has had a couple of problems at daycare and is definitely showing his older "jealous" side... but I promise to elaborate on this soon.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
And then there were four...
So, what have you been up to?
Not much -just kinda busy with the holidays.
Oh, where did you go?
Well, we went to my in-laws for what was supposed to be a week, but then we got snowed in for another two days. Twenty four inches of snow in twenty four hours does that to you.
Was it a good trip?
The travel part pretty much sucked donkey balls. On the way there, our first flight was stuck for 3 hours on the tarmac - it was pretty awful with a 2.5 year old, even though he was trying very hard to be good. We got re-routed from our original itinerary to International Falls (close to my hometown) to this other place called Bemidji which is an extra hour drive... in total we spent 22 hours travelling on the 19th. We also lost part of our luggage which added to my frustration. We hjad a nice visit with Scott's family though, and got to spend a lot of time with Great-Grandma, who was kind of the point of the visit. She has colon cancer and we wanted to make sure that we were there this year. Caleb got to build snowmen, go sledding and play curling. He was pretty thrilled! On the flight back they lost all of our luggage, including Chloe's car seat, plus we were late getting in AND my dad was already at our house.
Your dad was down? That must have been nice.
It was, but with work I didn't really feel like we had a good visit. I spent most of the day Tuesday running errands, worked Wednesday and Thursday, which left Friday for visiting and he left Saturday. I was really sad to see him go.
***
What is new with the kids?
Caleb decided at Thanksgiving that he was ready to be potty trained. That was pretty fantastic. He has had a couple of accidents (maybe five..) since then, but is doing really well. He is still wearing a diaper at night, but I am okay with that! Chloe is growing like a weed. She has three teeth now, all bottoms ones which weirds me out a little - I hope she gets some top ones soon...
How is Scott?
Frustrated with his job, frustrated that he is so far away from his family, but he hasn't had any nasty migraines since his doctor improved his "sleep hygiene". I am really thankful for that!
What about you?
I am doing pretty well. I had to resign from my job yesterday which was really difficult. I love doing outpatient, but in order to have full-time hours my boss wanted me to work until 7PM three nights a week, and I just can't do that with two little ones. I have a new job at Select Speciality Hospital in Camp Hill with much better hours, benefits and pay so I think in the end it will be a good situation, but I am really going to miss outpatient and my co-workers.
Anything interesting happened lately?
Well, Caleb is really big into pretend play now. He makes either a train, plane or boat every night and you are expected to ride on it. He also makes up songs and is getting much better at repeating songs. The funniest thing that he has started doing is wanting to play hide and go seek, which is great, but he tells you where to hide, or where he'll be hiding. Scott and I have tried explaining that you have to look for the person, but he doesn't really get it.
Chloe is all about rolling to get where she needs to go. This morning I put her down in the toy room while I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes and found her 20 feet away near the open door to the basement stairs. Needless to say, she'll be put in the Ring of Neglect (Exersaucer) or Pack and Play when she is not in my direct line of sight.
Not much -just kinda busy with the holidays.
Oh, where did you go?
Well, we went to my in-laws for what was supposed to be a week, but then we got snowed in for another two days. Twenty four inches of snow in twenty four hours does that to you.
Was it a good trip?
The travel part pretty much sucked donkey balls. On the way there, our first flight was stuck for 3 hours on the tarmac - it was pretty awful with a 2.5 year old, even though he was trying very hard to be good. We got re-routed from our original itinerary to International Falls (close to my hometown) to this other place called Bemidji which is an extra hour drive... in total we spent 22 hours travelling on the 19th. We also lost part of our luggage which added to my frustration. We hjad a nice visit with Scott's family though, and got to spend a lot of time with Great-Grandma, who was kind of the point of the visit. She has colon cancer and we wanted to make sure that we were there this year. Caleb got to build snowmen, go sledding and play curling. He was pretty thrilled! On the flight back they lost all of our luggage, including Chloe's car seat, plus we were late getting in AND my dad was already at our house.
Your dad was down? That must have been nice.
It was, but with work I didn't really feel like we had a good visit. I spent most of the day Tuesday running errands, worked Wednesday and Thursday, which left Friday for visiting and he left Saturday. I was really sad to see him go.
***
What is new with the kids?
Caleb decided at Thanksgiving that he was ready to be potty trained. That was pretty fantastic. He has had a couple of accidents (maybe five..) since then, but is doing really well. He is still wearing a diaper at night, but I am okay with that! Chloe is growing like a weed. She has three teeth now, all bottoms ones which weirds me out a little - I hope she gets some top ones soon...
How is Scott?
Frustrated with his job, frustrated that he is so far away from his family, but he hasn't had any nasty migraines since his doctor improved his "sleep hygiene". I am really thankful for that!
What about you?
I am doing pretty well. I had to resign from my job yesterday which was really difficult. I love doing outpatient, but in order to have full-time hours my boss wanted me to work until 7PM three nights a week, and I just can't do that with two little ones. I have a new job at Select Speciality Hospital in Camp Hill with much better hours, benefits and pay so I think in the end it will be a good situation, but I am really going to miss outpatient and my co-workers.
Anything interesting happened lately?
Well, Caleb is really big into pretend play now. He makes either a train, plane or boat every night and you are expected to ride on it. He also makes up songs and is getting much better at repeating songs. The funniest thing that he has started doing is wanting to play hide and go seek, which is great, but he tells you where to hide, or where he'll be hiding. Scott and I have tried explaining that you have to look for the person, but he doesn't really get it.
Chloe is all about rolling to get where she needs to go. This morning I put her down in the toy room while I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes and found her 20 feet away near the open door to the basement stairs. Needless to say, she'll be put in the Ring of Neglect (Exersaucer) or Pack and Play when she is not in my direct line of sight.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
That's a Daddy Question.
There are numerous reasons why I love being married to my husband. He is kind, he is funny, and most of all, he is an active partner in parenting.
I was particularly grateful this morning. While I was getting Caleb dressed, he kept pulling at his underwear.
"What are you doing, Buddy?"
"I'm trying to put my hand in my pocket."
"That's not a pocket Bud."
"What is it?"
"Go ask your father."
I was particularly grateful this morning. While I was getting Caleb dressed, he kept pulling at his underwear.
"What are you doing, Buddy?"
"I'm trying to put my hand in my pocket."
"That's not a pocket Bud."
"What is it?"
"Go ask your father."
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Orange Cat
I have a new man in my life.
Let me rephrase that.
I have a new used-to-be-a-male in my life
His name is Orange Cat, and he is wonderful.
We initially met one day while the entire family was out for a walk in the easement property, and there was this small, orange cat lying on the large pile of grass clippings that we had accumulated over the summer. I was initially very skittish and worried that he may be rabid or wild, but those fears were quickly assuaged after Callie went up for a smell and this little cat wrapped himself around her legs. The first words out of my mouth to Scott were "Looks like we have a new cat!" to which he replied "No, we don't."
Over the next three weeks, we (Scott and I, just to clarify) put out small bowls of food for our new friend. Caleb would wake up every morning and want to go outside to see Orange Cat. We often found Orange Cat sleeping outside in Chloe's stroller (which we leave on our porch for ease of use), and if we went for a walk in the neighbourhood, he would follow us along.
Then we found out he was cheating on us. Three other families in our area were also feeding Orange Cat - but he went by different names: Kit Kat, Tom, and Kitty. No one, however, seemed to know where he came from, and he was just too friendly to be a wild barn cat.
Barb, my next door neighbour, and I both tried to find Orange Cat a home. I tried to pawn him off on my patients, particularly those that had expressed an interest in getting another cat. I even tried to give him to the lady that cleans our house. No luck.
Finally, when the weather started turning cold last week, Scott said "You better take Orange Cat to the vet and make sure that he is healthy before we bring him into the house with the other animals." And just like that (!), Orange Cat became ours.
The first night in our house, Orange Cat curled up on my lap and took an hour and a half nap: safe, warm and secure.
I have tried calling him different names ( I am really partial to Oliver), but both Caleb and Scott insist that his name is Orange Cat. So, Orange Cat it is... and it suits him.
Let me rephrase that.
I have a new used-to-be-a-male in my life
His name is Orange Cat, and he is wonderful.
We initially met one day while the entire family was out for a walk in the easement property, and there was this small, orange cat lying on the large pile of grass clippings that we had accumulated over the summer. I was initially very skittish and worried that he may be rabid or wild, but those fears were quickly assuaged after Callie went up for a smell and this little cat wrapped himself around her legs. The first words out of my mouth to Scott were "Looks like we have a new cat!" to which he replied "No, we don't."
Over the next three weeks, we (Scott and I, just to clarify) put out small bowls of food for our new friend. Caleb would wake up every morning and want to go outside to see Orange Cat. We often found Orange Cat sleeping outside in Chloe's stroller (which we leave on our porch for ease of use), and if we went for a walk in the neighbourhood, he would follow us along.
Then we found out he was cheating on us. Three other families in our area were also feeding Orange Cat - but he went by different names: Kit Kat, Tom, and Kitty. No one, however, seemed to know where he came from, and he was just too friendly to be a wild barn cat.
Barb, my next door neighbour, and I both tried to find Orange Cat a home. I tried to pawn him off on my patients, particularly those that had expressed an interest in getting another cat. I even tried to give him to the lady that cleans our house. No luck.
Finally, when the weather started turning cold last week, Scott said "You better take Orange Cat to the vet and make sure that he is healthy before we bring him into the house with the other animals." And just like that (!), Orange Cat became ours.
The first night in our house, Orange Cat curled up on my lap and took an hour and a half nap: safe, warm and secure.
I have tried calling him different names ( I am really partial to Oliver), but both Caleb and Scott insist that his name is Orange Cat. So, Orange Cat it is... and it suits him.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Back to the Land of the Living
We have had a household of sick people this last week - varying degrees of sickness, but sick nonetheless.
Chloe started it all with a stomach virus that she was kind enough to share with me.
Then Scott decided that he should get the worst migraine known to man and be hospitalized for three days while the doctors ruled out diagnosis after diagnosis, including my personal favourite: brain hemorrhage. Let me tell ya, there is nothing like getting a phone call at 9:45PM from your husband and him saying: "They just did a lumbar puncture and now they have to send me for an MRI because there was blood in it. They think I might be hemorrhaging from my brain. I love you."
I sat up most of the night waiting to hear from him, but the doctors had him too sedated trying to control his pain and nausea. Finally at 5:00AM I called the hospital and was relieved to find out that he had been admitted, that there was no hemorrhaging and that they were trying to rule out viral meningitis.
The whole experience has put a new meaning to the season of Thanksgiving.
The past few days I have been watching Scott with new eyes, and loving him with a renewed heart. I feel so blessed to have such a wonderful, caring, and compassionate man in my life. I've even stopped nagging him about the popsicle wrappers he leaves everywhere. ;)
We went out for lunch today, the first time we had done so as a family of four. Amazing that it took five and a half months.
Chloe started it all with a stomach virus that she was kind enough to share with me.
Then Scott decided that he should get the worst migraine known to man and be hospitalized for three days while the doctors ruled out diagnosis after diagnosis, including my personal favourite: brain hemorrhage. Let me tell ya, there is nothing like getting a phone call at 9:45PM from your husband and him saying: "They just did a lumbar puncture and now they have to send me for an MRI because there was blood in it. They think I might be hemorrhaging from my brain. I love you."
I sat up most of the night waiting to hear from him, but the doctors had him too sedated trying to control his pain and nausea. Finally at 5:00AM I called the hospital and was relieved to find out that he had been admitted, that there was no hemorrhaging and that they were trying to rule out viral meningitis.
The whole experience has put a new meaning to the season of Thanksgiving.
The past few days I have been watching Scott with new eyes, and loving him with a renewed heart. I feel so blessed to have such a wonderful, caring, and compassionate man in my life. I've even stopped nagging him about the popsicle wrappers he leaves everywhere. ;)
We went out for lunch today, the first time we had done so as a family of four. Amazing that it took five and a half months.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Kate Inglis's Meme
I've already mentioned my admiration for this author www.sweetsalty.com and NOW I have a chance to win a copy of her first book: http://www.dreadcrew.com/ through her "authoress" website http://www.kateinglis.com/blog/2009/10/13/the-dread-crew-meme-stories-that-stick.html?lastPage=true#comment6075904
I hope you find my answers entertaining - many of you yankees may be confused by some of my answers as I am pretty sure it is Canadian literature ;)
1) You are facing an epic journey. You may choose one companion, one tool and one vehicle from any book or film to accompany you. Or just one of the three. It's up to you. What do you choose?
Companion: Ramona Quimby
Vehicle: Cinderella's Pumpkin Coach
Tool: Harry Potter's Wand
2) You can escape to the insides of any book. Where do you go, and why?
Pfft.. easy. "The Neverending Story" because my imagination changes the landscape and everybody needs a luck dragon.
3) You can bring one literary character into your current life. Who do you choose, and why?
Atticus Finch. I need sound reasoning and a calming voice in my life right now.
4) The Princess Bride is my go-to book. I could read that book fifty-seven times in a row without a break for food or a pee and not be remotely bored. In fact I’ve already done that but it wasn’t fifty-seven times. It was sixty-four. And that was just during my first year of university.
5) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most enviable?
The Child-Like Empress. Something about looking 8 and ruling over another dimension....
6) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most frightening?
Jack Nicholson in the Shining. Why oh why would you let a group of 10 year olds watch that at a slumber party?? Since then, I've not been able to watch a scary movie.
7) Every time I read The Stone Angel, I see something in it that I haven’t seen before.
8) It is imperative that Don Cherry's Hockey Stories and Stuff be made into a movie. Now. I am already picketing Hollywood for this—but if they cast Julia Roberts as Rose Cherry, I will not be happy. I will, however, be appeased if they cast Rachel McAdams.
9) Where the Wild Things Are is a book that should never be made (or should have never been made) into a film. Seriously? How do you get a feature length film from a book that was 10 lines long? Second runner up: Flowers in the Attic. (Another sleep over mistake.)
10) After all these years, the interactive television scene in the book & movie Farenheit 451 still manages to give me the queebs.
11) After all these years, the "As you wish" scene in the book/movie "The Princess Bride" when he is the Dread Pirate Roberts still manages to give me a thrill.
12) If I could corner the author William Faulkner, here’s what I’d say to them one minute or less about their book, As I Lay Dying: I love your book, but why so many narrators? I had to keep flipping back to figure out who was family and how everyone was related. I hate making flow charts for books less than 500 pages long.
13) The coolest non-fiction book I’ve ever read is Gorillas in the Mist. Every time I flip through it, it makes me want to pack up my career as a physio and follow my dream of working with animals.
I hope you find my answers entertaining - many of you yankees may be confused by some of my answers as I am pretty sure it is Canadian literature ;)
1) You are facing an epic journey. You may choose one companion, one tool and one vehicle from any book or film to accompany you. Or just one of the three. It's up to you. What do you choose?
Companion: Ramona Quimby
Vehicle: Cinderella's Pumpkin Coach
Tool: Harry Potter's Wand
2) You can escape to the insides of any book. Where do you go, and why?
Pfft.. easy. "The Neverending Story" because my imagination changes the landscape and everybody needs a luck dragon.
3) You can bring one literary character into your current life. Who do you choose, and why?
Atticus Finch. I need sound reasoning and a calming voice in my life right now.
4) The Princess Bride is my go-to book. I could read that book fifty-seven times in a row without a break for food or a pee and not be remotely bored. In fact I’ve already done that but it wasn’t fifty-seven times. It was sixty-four. And that was just during my first year of university.
5) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most enviable?
The Child-Like Empress. Something about looking 8 and ruling over another dimension....
6) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most frightening?
Jack Nicholson in the Shining. Why oh why would you let a group of 10 year olds watch that at a slumber party?? Since then, I've not been able to watch a scary movie.
7) Every time I read The Stone Angel, I see something in it that I haven’t seen before.
8) It is imperative that Don Cherry's Hockey Stories and Stuff be made into a movie. Now. I am already picketing Hollywood for this—but if they cast Julia Roberts as Rose Cherry, I will not be happy. I will, however, be appeased if they cast Rachel McAdams.
9) Where the Wild Things Are is a book that should never be made (or should have never been made) into a film. Seriously? How do you get a feature length film from a book that was 10 lines long? Second runner up: Flowers in the Attic. (Another sleep over mistake.)
10) After all these years, the interactive television scene in the book & movie Farenheit 451 still manages to give me the queebs.
11) After all these years, the "As you wish" scene in the book/movie "The Princess Bride" when he is the Dread Pirate Roberts still manages to give me a thrill.
12) If I could corner the author William Faulkner, here’s what I’d say to them one minute or less about their book, As I Lay Dying: I love your book, but why so many narrators? I had to keep flipping back to figure out who was family and how everyone was related. I hate making flow charts for books less than 500 pages long.
13) The coolest non-fiction book I’ve ever read is Gorillas in the Mist. Every time I flip through it, it makes me want to pack up my career as a physio and follow my dream of working with animals.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
New Shoes
I took Caleb shopping with me today.
I should have known better.
The day started off innocently enough. I dropped Chloe off at daycare then Caleb and I headed to Sam's club to pick up "essentials" like, oh, formula and pull-ups. (If Target is the $100 Store, Sam's is the $200 Store. Why oh why do I always spend so much money there??)
I had an item that I had to pick up at Babies R Us, so I drug Caleb along with me. I usually love to browse around Babies R Us, but today I was going to be all business. Emphasis on the was.
As soon as we walked in the door I began regretting the Venti, 1/2 caff, non-fat latte that I had consumed, so we headed to the restroom. Judging by the droopiness of Caleb's pants, he had "relieved" himself earlier, so I brought in one of our newly acquired pull-ups to change him as well. I decided that my bladder took priority, so we headed into the handicapped stall (I mean, really, have you tried fitting yourself and your purse and your 2 year old in a regular sized stall?) I did what I had to do, then I decided it was time to change Caleb. No sooner had I started attaching the velcro tabs to fold the diaper and he started peeing. Everywhere.
Then I heard these words coming from me:
"Stop peeing. STOP PEEING! STOP PEEING!!!"
Like a fool, I held the already folded up diaper under him trying to catch the flow. This of course didn't work because the outside of the diaper is impermeable. Instead, I caused pee to splash everywhere! Finally I came to my senses and picked him up and plunked him on the toilet where he finished.
The aftermath was tragic: Pee all over the floor. Wet pants. Mortified Caleb.
As I was trying to clean up with the completely useless papertowels that they had in the restroom and I said to Caleb:
"Buddy, why didn't you tell me you had to pee?"
"cuz"
"It's okay honey, but when you've got to go potty, you have to tell Mommy, okay?"
"okay"
The primary purpose of the shopping trip had been to buy Caleb some new shoes. We hadn't made it to the shoe store yet, so I began weighing my options.
I should have known better.
The day started off innocently enough. I dropped Chloe off at daycare then Caleb and I headed to Sam's club to pick up "essentials" like, oh, formula and pull-ups. (If Target is the $100 Store, Sam's is the $200 Store. Why oh why do I always spend so much money there??)
I had an item that I had to pick up at Babies R Us, so I drug Caleb along with me. I usually love to browse around Babies R Us, but today I was going to be all business. Emphasis on the was.
As soon as we walked in the door I began regretting the Venti, 1/2 caff, non-fat latte that I had consumed, so we headed to the restroom. Judging by the droopiness of Caleb's pants, he had "relieved" himself earlier, so I brought in one of our newly acquired pull-ups to change him as well. I decided that my bladder took priority, so we headed into the handicapped stall (I mean, really, have you tried fitting yourself and your purse and your 2 year old in a regular sized stall?) I did what I had to do, then I decided it was time to change Caleb. No sooner had I started attaching the velcro tabs to fold the diaper and he started peeing. Everywhere.
Then I heard these words coming from me:
"Stop peeing. STOP PEEING! STOP PEEING!!!"
Like a fool, I held the already folded up diaper under him trying to catch the flow. This of course didn't work because the outside of the diaper is impermeable. Instead, I caused pee to splash everywhere! Finally I came to my senses and picked him up and plunked him on the toilet where he finished.
The aftermath was tragic: Pee all over the floor. Wet pants. Mortified Caleb.
As I was trying to clean up with the completely useless papertowels that they had in the restroom and I said to Caleb:
"Buddy, why didn't you tell me you had to pee?"
"cuz"
"It's okay honey, but when you've got to go potty, you have to tell Mommy, okay?"
"okay"
The primary purpose of the shopping trip had been to buy Caleb some new shoes. We hadn't made it to the shoe store yet, so I began weighing my options.
- We could go home and forget the new shoes.
- We could go home, change, then come back the 20 miles and get the new shoes.
- We could buy some new pants, then get the new shoes.
New pants it was! So, how hard could it be to find size 2T pants in a store that has a plethora of baby clothes?
A. Lot. Harder. Than. You. Would. Think.
As I am pushing Caleb around in the cart, trying to get him to stay seated so that as few people as possible would see his drenched pants. *growl* I come to the little boys section and realize the sign says "Layette: 0-9 Months". Are you kidding me??!? I began cursing Babies R Us under my breath.
After 5 more minutes of careful searching, we finally found A pair of pants that fit him. Paid for them, changed him in the car in the parking lot (I wasn't going back to the bathroom!) and headed off to successfully find a new pair of shoes.
Next time, Scott is taking him shoe shopping.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Definition
During Caleb's nap today, I was able to catch up on one of my favourite reads http://sweetsalty.com. I really enjoy this writer's voice, and I was really moved by her "one day in the life" entry.
She had come across an article written by a midwife with this quote: your birth is the most important event in shaping your life as a mother.
"Really?" I thought.
"Really??"
No, this can't be true.
I have many friends who have had many babies, many different ways. Some chose to give birth naturally. Some had natural births, but not by choice. Some planned natural births and were shocked when they heard themselves screaming for the epidural. Some, like myself, felt that drugs were going to be a good thing, and planned to have an epidural. Some were induced. Some had c-sections. Some had emergency c-sections. Some had babies at term. Some had babies early. Some had babies late. Some had babies too early. Some were shocked that they required interventions like forceps or vacuums. Some were just happy to get the baby out. And some didn't give birth at all, but they are nonetheless mothers.
I look at my friends and wide variety of ways that we have come into motherhood, but in no way do I feel that those that have non-medicated births are better than those who had c-sections. And I doubt that my friends who had epidurals are lesser parents than those who are step-moms. And my dear friends who have adopted - no crotch tearing involved - are still in the root of their being mothers.
How these children came to be in this world makes them no less loved, no less longed for, nor does it make them any less apt to drive us CRAZY. And it does not define us as mothers.
She had come across an article written by a midwife with this quote: your birth is the most important event in shaping your life as a mother.
"Really?" I thought.
"Really??"
No, this can't be true.
I have many friends who have had many babies, many different ways. Some chose to give birth naturally. Some had natural births, but not by choice. Some planned natural births and were shocked when they heard themselves screaming for the epidural. Some, like myself, felt that drugs were going to be a good thing, and planned to have an epidural. Some were induced. Some had c-sections. Some had emergency c-sections. Some had babies at term. Some had babies early. Some had babies late. Some had babies too early. Some were shocked that they required interventions like forceps or vacuums. Some were just happy to get the baby out. And some didn't give birth at all, but they are nonetheless mothers.
I look at my friends and wide variety of ways that we have come into motherhood, but in no way do I feel that those that have non-medicated births are better than those who had c-sections. And I doubt that my friends who had epidurals are lesser parents than those who are step-moms. And my dear friends who have adopted - no crotch tearing involved - are still in the root of their being mothers.
How these children came to be in this world makes them no less loved, no less longed for, nor does it make them any less apt to drive us CRAZY. And it does not define us as mothers.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Being the New Kid
I was really fortunate growing up: I lived in the same small town from kindergarten to high school. I even stayed in the same school Kindergarten through Grade 8! Being the new kid was never something I had I to experience.
When I went away to college, I was the new kid, but so was everybody else. There was this unspoken need to find kinsmanship with others and to make friends with people -- and quickly. You didn't want to be the person that was never invited to go eat dinner with others, or be that girl who spent every Friday night alone in her dorm room.
So, I made friends. Lots of friends. Circles upon circles of friends. Friends, whom I doubt that 13 years later, would remember my name, and some whose names I wouldn't remember. I had friends from the dorm, friends from work and friends from class. I had a hard time walking around campus without finding someone to talk to, or at least say hi to.
Even moving to, literally, another country to attend grad school, I had a built in group of friends. There were only 40 of us and we were going to spend half of our waking hours together: how could we not be friends?I think that is why this transition has been so hard for me.
I have never, as an adult, had to make friends. And quite frankly, I'm not very good at it. I feel almost as if I have had to start dating again. I put myself out there, give out my phone number, smile a sweet, and what I hope is outgoing, smile and then wait. Sometimes my prey ( and yes, I really do feel at this point that the people I am hunting to be friends with are prey) will return a smile, and even a phone number. Sometimes not. When they do, there becomes a whole new logistical arrangement of trying to meet up. Do I offer my house? Do we try to meet on neutral ground? What is neutral?
I have been choosy with my prey as of late. I am trying to find people who are in the same stage of life that my husband and I find ourselves in. Married, with two young children, and not into hanging out at the bar every weekend. Scott and I have been together for almost 8 years now, and we have pretty much been homebodies the entire time.
B.C. (Before Children) we would occasionally meet someone for drinks, or spend an early morning weekend at the gym. But usually, you would find us at home, doing some type of make work project in the house, in the yard, you name it. After our son was born, we became even more boring. I mean, who would want to do something at a smoky bar when you could watch your child drool? (I think you really have to be a parent in order to grasp the truth in that sentence.) Leaving the house for us now is a momentous occassion. I get excited about outings to Target. Really.
So here I am, living in a new town, without any friends. Don't get me wrong, the people I work with are great and I have met so many interesting people through my work, but no real friends. There is nobody here that I could call at 9:30 and say "Hey, want to come by for some muffins? I'm just pulling them out of the oven." (** Note: Re-reading that sentence reminds me that a) I am not that domesticated, and b) I would have to REALLY be on my game to have muffins made by 9:30AM, but I digress.)
But, truth be told, that is the companionship that I am longing for: someone who I could call to spend time with, or chat with, and not have to make plans with 2 weeks in advance. I haven't met anyone that I can vent to when my husband is doing stupid stuff, or when my kid is driving me crazy can talk me down from the butt whipping that I am planning in my head. Hopefuly, in the near future, I will find someone, that special someone (here we go, back to the dating analogy) that I can give a part of myself to, and they will do the same in return. Because isn't that what friendship is really all about?
When I went away to college, I was the new kid, but so was everybody else. There was this unspoken need to find kinsmanship with others and to make friends with people -- and quickly. You didn't want to be the person that was never invited to go eat dinner with others, or be that girl who spent every Friday night alone in her dorm room.
So, I made friends. Lots of friends. Circles upon circles of friends. Friends, whom I doubt that 13 years later, would remember my name, and some whose names I wouldn't remember. I had friends from the dorm, friends from work and friends from class. I had a hard time walking around campus without finding someone to talk to, or at least say hi to.
Even moving to, literally, another country to attend grad school, I had a built in group of friends. There were only 40 of us and we were going to spend half of our waking hours together: how could we not be friends?I think that is why this transition has been so hard for me.
I have never, as an adult, had to make friends. And quite frankly, I'm not very good at it. I feel almost as if I have had to start dating again. I put myself out there, give out my phone number, smile a sweet, and what I hope is outgoing, smile and then wait. Sometimes my prey ( and yes, I really do feel at this point that the people I am hunting to be friends with are prey) will return a smile, and even a phone number. Sometimes not. When they do, there becomes a whole new logistical arrangement of trying to meet up. Do I offer my house? Do we try to meet on neutral ground? What is neutral?
I have been choosy with my prey as of late. I am trying to find people who are in the same stage of life that my husband and I find ourselves in. Married, with two young children, and not into hanging out at the bar every weekend. Scott and I have been together for almost 8 years now, and we have pretty much been homebodies the entire time.
B.C. (Before Children) we would occasionally meet someone for drinks, or spend an early morning weekend at the gym. But usually, you would find us at home, doing some type of make work project in the house, in the yard, you name it. After our son was born, we became even more boring. I mean, who would want to do something at a smoky bar when you could watch your child drool? (I think you really have to be a parent in order to grasp the truth in that sentence.) Leaving the house for us now is a momentous occassion. I get excited about outings to Target. Really.
So here I am, living in a new town, without any friends. Don't get me wrong, the people I work with are great and I have met so many interesting people through my work, but no real friends. There is nobody here that I could call at 9:30 and say "Hey, want to come by for some muffins? I'm just pulling them out of the oven." (** Note: Re-reading that sentence reminds me that a) I am not that domesticated, and b) I would have to REALLY be on my game to have muffins made by 9:30AM, but I digress.)
But, truth be told, that is the companionship that I am longing for: someone who I could call to spend time with, or chat with, and not have to make plans with 2 weeks in advance. I haven't met anyone that I can vent to when my husband is doing stupid stuff, or when my kid is driving me crazy can talk me down from the butt whipping that I am planning in my head. Hopefuly, in the near future, I will find someone, that special someone (here we go, back to the dating analogy) that I can give a part of myself to, and they will do the same in return. Because isn't that what friendship is really all about?
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Aching
I start work again on Monday.
Today was the first time that I dreaded it.
Today was the first time that I allowed myself to cry over leaving my baby in someone else's care.
Today was the first time that I realized how much shorter our snuggle time together is going to be.
No one else can calm her like I can.
No one else instinctively knows what she needs like I do.
This morning, I was cleaning the bottles that I bought yesterday and it just hit me. And I ached. I physically ached inside. I wanted to curl up on the kitchen floor and have a good cry. But I couldn't, because how do you explain to your two year old that you feel like you are breaking inside?
And how do you justify to him that it is okay for Mommy to drop him off to school because Mommy doesn't come apart in the parking lot any more like she did the first week when he was only 10 weeks old and soooo tiny and vulnerable. Because now he is this big boy, who gives you a quick peck on the cheek and goes off to play with his friends. And how do you explain that you are so proud of him, but that you know that it is going to be a blink of an eye and his sister is going to be doing the same thing. And that you're not ready - not ready for him to be growing so fast, and not ready to lose the baby that she is. You're just not ready.
I'm just not ready.
Today was the first time that I dreaded it.
Today was the first time that I allowed myself to cry over leaving my baby in someone else's care.
Today was the first time that I realized how much shorter our snuggle time together is going to be.
No one else can calm her like I can.
No one else instinctively knows what she needs like I do.
This morning, I was cleaning the bottles that I bought yesterday and it just hit me. And I ached. I physically ached inside. I wanted to curl up on the kitchen floor and have a good cry. But I couldn't, because how do you explain to your two year old that you feel like you are breaking inside?
And how do you justify to him that it is okay for Mommy to drop him off to school because Mommy doesn't come apart in the parking lot any more like she did the first week when he was only 10 weeks old and soooo tiny and vulnerable. Because now he is this big boy, who gives you a quick peck on the cheek and goes off to play with his friends. And how do you explain that you are so proud of him, but that you know that it is going to be a blink of an eye and his sister is going to be doing the same thing. And that you're not ready - not ready for him to be growing so fast, and not ready to lose the baby that she is. You're just not ready.
I'm just not ready.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
How things have changed...
I admit that I haven't had an all out birthday "party" since I turned 17. It is not that I don't enjoy celebrating my birthday, or that I ignore it. My birthday falls during a precarious time: the beginning of the school year. When I was in college it was pretty easy to talk a few friends into "Ringing in the New Year", but now that we are older and supposedly wiser, it is a little more difficult.
This year I had glimpse of birthdays future: and they most certainly did not revolve around me! First of all, my morning started of at 3A.M. (thank you Chloe) and then again at 6A.M. Although she had been on a good schedule with sleeping and napping, this fell by the wayside during our recent drive up to Canada and having an upset tummy for, oh, two weeks. We are slowly getting back on schedule but it has been a difficult transition for all four members of the household.
I am tired and a little cranky, but I figure it is nothing that some coffee won't fix. As I was preparing my precious cup of caffeine, Caleb wakes up and he is loaded for bear. I don't think that there is anything closer on this earth to perpetual motion than a toddler. I promise you, he hits the ground running. And shouting. The concept of *inside voice* is completely lost on this child. Caleb knew that today was going to be his first day of swimming lessons and he was "super excited".
We managed to get through the morning until 10A.M. without major problems, but after I got the two kids and all of their gear loaded into the SUV, I realized that the GPS (which I need to get to the YMCA) is not in the vehicle. Scott has it. In his vehicle. Half an hour away. I ended up calling his office and spoke to the lady in customer service (who thankfully knows that I am not completely Looney Tunes) and she was able to mapquest directions for me. *sigh*
We got to the pool super early because (a) we had never been there, and (b) I had to drop Chloe off at their child watch center and didn't know the protocol. When we arrived, I attempted to confirm that we were enrolled in the class and the lady at the desk said "Well, if you signed up online, you must be in there." Warning bells should have gone off at this point. After a quick tour of where the change rooms were by our instructor, we made our way up to child watch and filled out all the appropriate forms.... or so we thought. I have to say, being that it was my first time leaving Chloe with someone who was not family, I did really, really well. I didn't even well up!
Caleb and I head to the change room, get changed and head out to the pool. He sees the water and immediately begins "Iwannagointhepool!!! Iwannagointhepool!!" about 3957 times in a row. I try to explain to him that it isn't safe for us to get in the water until the teacher says it is okay. Then I try distracting him. I am almost at the point of putting duct tape on his mouth when other mommies and their lovely non-verbal 12 month old babies start filing in. Now I am trying to keep him quiet, still and amused. Not so easy.
The instructor comes over and begins to tell us about the class and what the objective will be for us as parents and our kiddos. Then she does role call. We're not on the list. Thankfully, the aquatics supervisor is there and agrees to let us join the class, we just have to register by next week.
Finally it is time to go in the water. Caleb puts his big toe in and starts "I wanna go see Chloe!!" I basically drug him into the pool (it was a bit cold) and forced him to participate in the hokey-pokey. Mean mom, I know. I tried all of my old swim-teacher distraction techniques, but he was having none of it. We left the pool with him in tears and my nerves frayed.
I rushed upstairs to get Chloe, only to find out, child watch is for members only. "Oops. Sorry. It won't happen again." Double ugh.
As I am trying to get Caleb registered for lessons he is doing everything in his power to get my attention. When he started whipping a toy around Chloe's face he got a firm tap on the head and told "We don't hit our sisters."
I later felt horrible about physically disciplining my child in public. I mean, its not like I pulled down his pants and paddled him, but I hated that I had lost control of my temper and resorted to that. When he woke up from his nap later that afternoon, I said "Caleb, do you think I'm a mean mommy?" He looked at me with those big brown eyes and said "No, you Tarrah."
Scott made a delicious dinner of pasta, salad and red velvet cake - and I had a large enough glass of wine that my nerves weren't frayed anymore.
Not quite like my bar hopping days, but I wouldn't trade this stage of my life for anything.
This year I had glimpse of birthdays future: and they most certainly did not revolve around me! First of all, my morning started of at 3A.M. (thank you Chloe) and then again at 6A.M. Although she had been on a good schedule with sleeping and napping, this fell by the wayside during our recent drive up to Canada and having an upset tummy for, oh, two weeks. We are slowly getting back on schedule but it has been a difficult transition for all four members of the household.
I am tired and a little cranky, but I figure it is nothing that some coffee won't fix. As I was preparing my precious cup of caffeine, Caleb wakes up and he is loaded for bear. I don't think that there is anything closer on this earth to perpetual motion than a toddler. I promise you, he hits the ground running. And shouting. The concept of *inside voice* is completely lost on this child. Caleb knew that today was going to be his first day of swimming lessons and he was "super excited".
We managed to get through the morning until 10A.M. without major problems, but after I got the two kids and all of their gear loaded into the SUV, I realized that the GPS (which I need to get to the YMCA) is not in the vehicle. Scott has it. In his vehicle. Half an hour away. I ended up calling his office and spoke to the lady in customer service (who thankfully knows that I am not completely Looney Tunes) and she was able to mapquest directions for me. *sigh*
We got to the pool super early because (a) we had never been there, and (b) I had to drop Chloe off at their child watch center and didn't know the protocol. When we arrived, I attempted to confirm that we were enrolled in the class and the lady at the desk said "Well, if you signed up online, you must be in there." Warning bells should have gone off at this point. After a quick tour of where the change rooms were by our instructor, we made our way up to child watch and filled out all the appropriate forms.... or so we thought. I have to say, being that it was my first time leaving Chloe with someone who was not family, I did really, really well. I didn't even well up!
Caleb and I head to the change room, get changed and head out to the pool. He sees the water and immediately begins "Iwannagointhepool!!! Iwannagointhepool!!" about 3957 times in a row. I try to explain to him that it isn't safe for us to get in the water until the teacher says it is okay. Then I try distracting him. I am almost at the point of putting duct tape on his mouth when other mommies and their lovely non-verbal 12 month old babies start filing in. Now I am trying to keep him quiet, still and amused. Not so easy.
The instructor comes over and begins to tell us about the class and what the objective will be for us as parents and our kiddos. Then she does role call. We're not on the list. Thankfully, the aquatics supervisor is there and agrees to let us join the class, we just have to register by next week.
Finally it is time to go in the water. Caleb puts his big toe in and starts "I wanna go see Chloe!!" I basically drug him into the pool (it was a bit cold) and forced him to participate in the hokey-pokey. Mean mom, I know. I tried all of my old swim-teacher distraction techniques, but he was having none of it. We left the pool with him in tears and my nerves frayed.
I rushed upstairs to get Chloe, only to find out, child watch is for members only. "Oops. Sorry. It won't happen again." Double ugh.
As I am trying to get Caleb registered for lessons he is doing everything in his power to get my attention. When he started whipping a toy around Chloe's face he got a firm tap on the head and told "We don't hit our sisters."
I later felt horrible about physically disciplining my child in public. I mean, its not like I pulled down his pants and paddled him, but I hated that I had lost control of my temper and resorted to that. When he woke up from his nap later that afternoon, I said "Caleb, do you think I'm a mean mommy?" He looked at me with those big brown eyes and said "No, you Tarrah."
Scott made a delicious dinner of pasta, salad and red velvet cake - and I had a large enough glass of wine that my nerves weren't frayed anymore.
Not quite like my bar hopping days, but I wouldn't trade this stage of my life for anything.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Blast from the Past
We recently returned from a road-trip (i.e. one-way ticket to insanity) to Toronto to see my dad, step-mom and grandma. In case you were curious, driving 8.5 hours in a car with a 2.5 year old and a three month old is not a recipe for fun.
Long story short, my grandma got to meet her first great-granddaughter. I would love to be optimistic and say that she will be around to see many more great-grands, but I am the oldest grandchild by 8 years and none of my cousins are planning on starting or adding to their family any time soon. Plus, Grandma is turning 85 this year and no longer travels.... Anyways, it was a really special moment for everyone there - and Grandma felt strong enough to hold Chloe which I think warmed both of their hearts.
At my dad's house, Mary Ann told me that there was a section of boxes that I needed to go through at some point. I bravely trekked down to the dungeon and found boxes of old memorabilia that would make even the bravest of organizers on Clean House flinch. I had two Rubbermaid tubs filled with letters and cards. TWO. Some of the letters were notes from high school, others were from people that I had met during my travels and no longer kept in touch with (or remembered, I am ashamed to say...) but the flower among the thorns was the collection of letters that my mom and I wrote each other while I was in Switzerland. I haven't been brave enough to read them, and I think I will wait for a snowy winter evening and steaming cup of hot chocolate. I am curious to see how my 17 year old perspective on the world has changed in the past 15 years, and eager to "hear" my mom's voice again.
Aside from the Swiss letters (which I plan to keep for Chloe and Caleb), I am having a difficult time parting with the other notes - which is silly - no one else really cares about my 10th grade crush, or the random post-card I got from a guy in Austria. I feel emotionally attached them and even though I know that these "things" aren't the people in my life and won't take the place of my memories - I don't know how to get rid of them. Any suggestions?
Long story short, my grandma got to meet her first great-granddaughter. I would love to be optimistic and say that she will be around to see many more great-grands, but I am the oldest grandchild by 8 years and none of my cousins are planning on starting or adding to their family any time soon. Plus, Grandma is turning 85 this year and no longer travels.... Anyways, it was a really special moment for everyone there - and Grandma felt strong enough to hold Chloe which I think warmed both of their hearts.
At my dad's house, Mary Ann told me that there was a section of boxes that I needed to go through at some point. I bravely trekked down to the dungeon and found boxes of old memorabilia that would make even the bravest of organizers on Clean House flinch. I had two Rubbermaid tubs filled with letters and cards. TWO. Some of the letters were notes from high school, others were from people that I had met during my travels and no longer kept in touch with (or remembered, I am ashamed to say...) but the flower among the thorns was the collection of letters that my mom and I wrote each other while I was in Switzerland. I haven't been brave enough to read them, and I think I will wait for a snowy winter evening and steaming cup of hot chocolate. I am curious to see how my 17 year old perspective on the world has changed in the past 15 years, and eager to "hear" my mom's voice again.
Aside from the Swiss letters (which I plan to keep for Chloe and Caleb), I am having a difficult time parting with the other notes - which is silly - no one else really cares about my 10th grade crush, or the random post-card I got from a guy in Austria. I feel emotionally attached them and even though I know that these "things" aren't the people in my life and won't take the place of my memories - I don't know how to get rid of them. Any suggestions?
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