Some people would not link the words "spontaneous," "fun," and "Sam' Club" together. Oh, they are soooo wrong! I needed to go to Sam's today to pick up a prescription. The idea popped into my head, "Why not pick Emma up and take her with me?" And so I did (spontaneity). When she saw me come into her classroom, she jumped up and ran to give me a hug. I told her we were going to Sam's Club to get some lunch. Emma jumped and screamed for joy (fun). Since she had already eaten a good lunch at school beforehand, I got her a 97 cent cup of ice cream at the food counter (Sam's Club). Can anyone say 7th heaven 3 year old style (more fun)? I enjoyed spending some extra quality time with her while I ate. She is growing up to be such a bright and beautiful little girl. We're going to have some good times ahead. She even helped me pick out my pack of 342,343 sticks of deodorant. What could be more fun than that?
All you doubting Thomas' can all take a moment to rethink all the possible connections between "spontaneity," "fun," and "Sam's Club." It's a big, wild world out there. Don't box yourselves up in such a little cage.
*****************
So, to weaken the spontaneous aspect, I'm thinking of making this a weekly lunch date. Next Friday, the senior staff will be grilling hamburgers and hotdogs to raise money for St. Jude's Hospital. You know that Emma and I will be there with bells on.
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Emma is learning that part of having a good time is having that good time come to an end. She was so upset when I brought her back to school. She was such a good girl, though. She laid right down on her cot (it was naptime). I covered her up and loved her for a few minutes while she gently cried. This part wasn't so much fun for either of us, but it's part of our bond, isn't it?
Friday, September 08, 2006
Monday, September 04, 2006
Strange Day
Danny usually eats part his breakfast in the office. When he walked out this morning, I asked him if there was any news. Watching The Wiggles and Higgly Town Heroes doesn't keep you up on the world's happenings. He hadn't checked anything other than email. Danny went back into his office and our attention returned to Playhouse Disney. Not long afterwards, Danny came back out and said that something had happened. My thoughts immediately went to terrorism. I was shocked when Danny said that Steve Irwin was killed by a sting ray. After that, today felt much like the day Princess Diana died. Why? I'm not quite sure. He's a celebrity just like Diana and his death was an accident. Still, I didn't even like the guy when he first came on television. For a while, I was - jokingly - calling for his death every time he held a huge snack or entered a swamp. All those times he should have won a Darwin Award left him perhaps maimed, but always excited to be alive and teaching others about nature. In the one place he was pretty well safe, he lost his life. It's crazy how life works.
I think the fact that he leaves behind a wife and two young children that hits home to me. God bless Steve Irwin's soul. God bless the family that he left behind. May they find comfort in that he died doing what he loved doing most.
I think the fact that he leaves behind a wife and two young children that hits home to me. God bless Steve Irwin's soul. God bless the family that he left behind. May they find comfort in that he died doing what he loved doing most.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
E & A Updates
Emma:
1) She's getting very close to tying a bow. She can make the first loop and brings the other string around. It's pulling the string through to make the second loop that's getting in her way. When Danny had her show me her new talent, I was amazed!
2) She's getting much better at coloring in the lines. She's very proud of this and should be. I can't believe how she's growing up.
3) While watching "Rock Star: Supernova" last Wednesday night, she said something that would have made me pee myself if I hadn't fallen asleep on my hard wood floor while getting Allison to sleep. Supernova was playing one of their songs with one of the contestants. During the song, Emma said to Danny: "That there, that's not music." Now don't you know she's making her popa proud!
4) After struggling hard to watch a movie other than Wallace and Grommit or Lady and the Tramp, I finally convinced Emma to watch Mary Poppins with me. She absolutely loves the movie. It makes me happy to pass down my love for Julie Andrews to her. The Sound of Music hasn't caught her attention yet, but she did watch a good portion of it with me before she found a dead bug behind the futon more interesting.
5) We're trying to break Emma's habits of calling us a "meany" or telling us that "you're not my friend" or "you're not coming to my party" when she gets frustrated. I've been anticipating "I hate you" or "You're not my real mommy" for a long time. I think that I might handle those better. I have found out that it's not just me. Usually Emma will kick it in on our way to pick Allison up. Now, I just walk away from her. I'm trying to react to that as I would one of Ally's tantrums. A couple of other mothers have said to me that they were glad to see that Emma wasn't always perfect. There's that silver lining. No matter how she takes her frustrations out on Danny and me, she is a very polite, happy and warm little girl.
Allison:
1) When you've peeved Ally off, boy howdy do you hear about it now! Most of the time you can't understand the exact words she's using to call you on the carpet. You just know that you're being cussed out. Today she was telling me that Emma hit her with a horsey. Afterwards, she stepped back into the hallway and yelled in Emma's general direction, "Not nice, EEEEmmmmmaaa!" I could die laughing!
2) She is a natural form of birth control. If she ever catches her parents sitting too close, touching each other or - God forbid - hugging and kissing, she's right in our business. "Not nice, Daddy!" And I thought colic was a mood killer. The same holds true for me paying too much attention to Emma or another person. I got cussed at on Saturday (see #1) while visiting a friend who just had a new baby. Was I holding the baby? Nope. I was mearly admiring her from across the room - while Allison was on my lap no less. Silver lining - she loves me dearly and doesn't like to share me with anyone.
3) She's becoming a more colorful character all of the time. Let me tell you - that girl can goof around with the best of them. She's so animated and cute, too. I love to watch her when she gets into one of those moods. No other entertainment is required. Watching the Wiggles with her is such a blast! For those of you in the know, you'd die to see and hear her "do the tiger."
4) She's currently cutting three of her four 2nd year molars! She's been waking up crying off and on during the night for that past three or four nights. Danny wondered out loud this morning about teething. I hadn't given that a thought because Emma got hers pretty late into her second year. Ally let me check and both molars were erupting on the bottom and her upper right as well. Maybe we'll be done with teething before her birthday. What a gift for Mommy and Daddy!
5) Allison no longer tolerates my singing. Remember way back in the day when I marveled at her asking me to sing (sorry, it's too long ago and too late for me to make a link)? Well, the tides have turned. Within one line of one verse of any song that I attempt to sing I hear, "Stop it, Mommy!" I've heard that in one form or the other for the past 34 years. I usually keep singing. As I sing, the "Stop it, Mommy!" gets more forceful and high pitched. I'm cave long before she would.
6) Allison can count to 7. I knew that she had 1 - 4 pretty down pat. This weekend Emma counted to 4 for some reason. Ally chimed right in with 5, 6 and 7. I was pretty pleased with that. She also knows random portions of her ABCs in sets of three. QR and S seem to be her favorite grouping of three and G is a stand alone hit for her.
1) She's getting very close to tying a bow. She can make the first loop and brings the other string around. It's pulling the string through to make the second loop that's getting in her way. When Danny had her show me her new talent, I was amazed!
2) She's getting much better at coloring in the lines. She's very proud of this and should be. I can't believe how she's growing up.
3) While watching "Rock Star: Supernova" last Wednesday night, she said something that would have made me pee myself if I hadn't fallen asleep on my hard wood floor while getting Allison to sleep. Supernova was playing one of their songs with one of the contestants. During the song, Emma said to Danny: "That there, that's not music." Now don't you know she's making her popa proud!
4) After struggling hard to watch a movie other than Wallace and Grommit or Lady and the Tramp, I finally convinced Emma to watch Mary Poppins with me. She absolutely loves the movie. It makes me happy to pass down my love for Julie Andrews to her. The Sound of Music hasn't caught her attention yet, but she did watch a good portion of it with me before she found a dead bug behind the futon more interesting.
5) We're trying to break Emma's habits of calling us a "meany" or telling us that "you're not my friend" or "you're not coming to my party" when she gets frustrated. I've been anticipating "I hate you" or "You're not my real mommy" for a long time. I think that I might handle those better. I have found out that it's not just me. Usually Emma will kick it in on our way to pick Allison up. Now, I just walk away from her. I'm trying to react to that as I would one of Ally's tantrums. A couple of other mothers have said to me that they were glad to see that Emma wasn't always perfect. There's that silver lining. No matter how she takes her frustrations out on Danny and me, she is a very polite, happy and warm little girl.
Allison:
1) When you've peeved Ally off, boy howdy do you hear about it now! Most of the time you can't understand the exact words she's using to call you on the carpet. You just know that you're being cussed out. Today she was telling me that Emma hit her with a horsey. Afterwards, she stepped back into the hallway and yelled in Emma's general direction, "Not nice, EEEEmmmmmaaa!" I could die laughing!
2) She is a natural form of birth control. If she ever catches her parents sitting too close, touching each other or - God forbid - hugging and kissing, she's right in our business. "Not nice, Daddy!" And I thought colic was a mood killer. The same holds true for me paying too much attention to Emma or another person. I got cussed at on Saturday (see #1) while visiting a friend who just had a new baby. Was I holding the baby? Nope. I was mearly admiring her from across the room - while Allison was on my lap no less. Silver lining - she loves me dearly and doesn't like to share me with anyone.
3) She's becoming a more colorful character all of the time. Let me tell you - that girl can goof around with the best of them. She's so animated and cute, too. I love to watch her when she gets into one of those moods. No other entertainment is required. Watching the Wiggles with her is such a blast! For those of you in the know, you'd die to see and hear her "do the tiger."
4) She's currently cutting three of her four 2nd year molars! She's been waking up crying off and on during the night for that past three or four nights. Danny wondered out loud this morning about teething. I hadn't given that a thought because Emma got hers pretty late into her second year. Ally let me check and both molars were erupting on the bottom and her upper right as well. Maybe we'll be done with teething before her birthday. What a gift for Mommy and Daddy!
5) Allison no longer tolerates my singing. Remember way back in the day when I marveled at her asking me to sing (sorry, it's too long ago and too late for me to make a link)? Well, the tides have turned. Within one line of one verse of any song that I attempt to sing I hear, "Stop it, Mommy!" I've heard that in one form or the other for the past 34 years. I usually keep singing. As I sing, the "Stop it, Mommy!" gets more forceful and high pitched. I'm cave long before she would.
6) Allison can count to 7. I knew that she had 1 - 4 pretty down pat. This weekend Emma counted to 4 for some reason. Ally chimed right in with 5, 6 and 7. I was pretty pleased with that. She also knows random portions of her ABCs in sets of three. QR and S seem to be her favorite grouping of three and G is a stand alone hit for her.
It's Been a While
Blogging has not been my thing this month. I've had several drafts written in Word or in my head, but they never made their way here. I guess they just weren't that important. Mostly I thought better of them before I aired them to the public - probably for the best. A couple of wonderful mommy-blogger posts sent me flailing to a place that not one of my dear readers should ever have to go - boldly or otherwise.
I met with my therapist this past Wednesday. I toyed with the idea of canceling. I'm too [something] for being introspective - at least about those things that matter. I'm glad that I was too lazy to call 24 hours in advance. I sent an email on August 7th about a very interesting opportunity. Ever since I pressed Send, I've been compulsive about checking my email. My eating habits have gone straight to hell. I'm biting my finger nails down to the quick again. I haven't done that since Emma's first birthday. Intermingled, Danny has been sick for about two weeks now. The stress took an unfortunate toll on my GI track on Monday. In the midst of my session - out of no where - I mentioned that the prospect of this opportunity is so incredible. I said that I should be excited, not full of anxiety - but I don't feel comfortable being excited or euphoric. What? Did I say that? It is a truth about me. There are times when I get this (dare I say) orgasmic feeling in my chest and throughout my arms, hands and fingers when I am exceptionally happy. I don't know what to do with that feeling. I want them to go away. After some questions asked to nail down whether I'm manic (not), she asked me if this could in some way relate back to my upbringing or my Catholic faith. I honestly can't say for certain. It's just sad that I am fine with experiencing my feelings when I'm at rock bottom, I'm uncomfortable being on a high. I suppose I'd make a lousy drug addict. Isn't it nice that there's always an upside? Ha!
I'm sure this comes as no surprise to people who know that I can hardly take Christmas Eve, that I like to open my birthday presents as soon as the clock strikes midnight, that not knowing the sex of a child, neice or nephew or his or her potential names drives me crazy. Anticipation is a killer - which reminds me... I hate waiting on new releases from my favorite bands. Thank God for YouTube! So, in the future, I'd like to request that all y'all be kind to me. Don't do anything that would require me to live any longer than I need to in a state of anticipation. Find out if your baby is going to be a boy or girl. If said baby is stubborn (been there, done that), contact a radio guest psychic and/or get that 4D ultrasound at 29 weeks. Both ended up right in my case - the part the psychic said about seeing tattoos in her creamy cup of coffee is the only part that remains a mystery. Anyway, if that doesn't work, at least tell me what names you have picked out. You'll be saving my fingernails, saving my poor, poor tummy and saving me from those dreadful feelings of euphoria when the big event happens. You know who you are...
So I've been a tad more anxious lately than I care to be. That being said, I'm much more comfortable in that anxiety than I was before therapy and medication. What I really need to do is find ways to relax and let go. During my session I identified a few things I already know that have a soothing effect on me - I just never thought of using them like this. The Joshua Tree by U2 and jigsaw puzzles. They work well for me in tandem and alone. When a close friend died my junior year of high school, I spent all of my non-school time listening to that CD and working a jigsaw puzzle. Once the puzzle was completed, I felt better. There was once a time that I could virtually listen to that CD in my head. Just tuning the world out and "listening" to the opening of the CD version of Where the Streets Have No Name takes me to a much better place. I'd like to think that this is what I'll hear while I'm taking my last breath and starting my journey on the other side. Other things are taking walks by myself, scrapbooking (Last Sunday I finished my goal of getting Emma and Allison's scrapbooks complete from January 06 - through Easter. From here on out, I'm catching up to today,), snuggling with Emma or Allison, and talking with close friends do the trick as well. One suggestion that my therapist made was trying Yoga. I'm going to look in to that. Hopefully it's not too expensive. If you've tried it before, let me know what you think.
I am sending a follow up email about the opportunity that has triggered my anxiety tomorrow. I'm hoping for some kind or response to put me out of my misery. If not, I'll be spending a lot of quality time with Bono and perhaps that jigsaw puzzle that I've always been meaning to get started on...
I met with my therapist this past Wednesday. I toyed with the idea of canceling. I'm too [something] for being introspective - at least about those things that matter. I'm glad that I was too lazy to call 24 hours in advance. I sent an email on August 7th about a very interesting opportunity. Ever since I pressed Send, I've been compulsive about checking my email. My eating habits have gone straight to hell. I'm biting my finger nails down to the quick again. I haven't done that since Emma's first birthday. Intermingled, Danny has been sick for about two weeks now. The stress took an unfortunate toll on my GI track on Monday. In the midst of my session - out of no where - I mentioned that the prospect of this opportunity is so incredible. I said that I should be excited, not full of anxiety - but I don't feel comfortable being excited or euphoric. What? Did I say that? It is a truth about me. There are times when I get this (dare I say) orgasmic feeling in my chest and throughout my arms, hands and fingers when I am exceptionally happy. I don't know what to do with that feeling. I want them to go away. After some questions asked to nail down whether I'm manic (not), she asked me if this could in some way relate back to my upbringing or my Catholic faith. I honestly can't say for certain. It's just sad that I am fine with experiencing my feelings when I'm at rock bottom, I'm uncomfortable being on a high. I suppose I'd make a lousy drug addict. Isn't it nice that there's always an upside? Ha!
I'm sure this comes as no surprise to people who know that I can hardly take Christmas Eve, that I like to open my birthday presents as soon as the clock strikes midnight, that not knowing the sex of a child, neice or nephew or his or her potential names drives me crazy. Anticipation is a killer - which reminds me... I hate waiting on new releases from my favorite bands. Thank God for YouTube! So, in the future, I'd like to request that all y'all be kind to me. Don't do anything that would require me to live any longer than I need to in a state of anticipation. Find out if your baby is going to be a boy or girl. If said baby is stubborn (been there, done that), contact a radio guest psychic and/or get that 4D ultrasound at 29 weeks. Both ended up right in my case - the part the psychic said about seeing tattoos in her creamy cup of coffee is the only part that remains a mystery. Anyway, if that doesn't work, at least tell me what names you have picked out. You'll be saving my fingernails, saving my poor, poor tummy and saving me from those dreadful feelings of euphoria when the big event happens. You know who you are...
So I've been a tad more anxious lately than I care to be. That being said, I'm much more comfortable in that anxiety than I was before therapy and medication. What I really need to do is find ways to relax and let go. During my session I identified a few things I already know that have a soothing effect on me - I just never thought of using them like this. The Joshua Tree by U2 and jigsaw puzzles. They work well for me in tandem and alone. When a close friend died my junior year of high school, I spent all of my non-school time listening to that CD and working a jigsaw puzzle. Once the puzzle was completed, I felt better. There was once a time that I could virtually listen to that CD in my head. Just tuning the world out and "listening" to the opening of the CD version of Where the Streets Have No Name takes me to a much better place. I'd like to think that this is what I'll hear while I'm taking my last breath and starting my journey on the other side. Other things are taking walks by myself, scrapbooking (Last Sunday I finished my goal of getting Emma and Allison's scrapbooks complete from January 06 - through Easter. From here on out, I'm catching up to today,), snuggling with Emma or Allison, and talking with close friends do the trick as well. One suggestion that my therapist made was trying Yoga. I'm going to look in to that. Hopefully it's not too expensive. If you've tried it before, let me know what you think.
I am sending a follow up email about the opportunity that has triggered my anxiety tomorrow. I'm hoping for some kind or response to put me out of my misery. If not, I'll be spending a lot of quality time with Bono and perhaps that jigsaw puzzle that I've always been meaning to get started on...
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Let's Get to Know Each Other
Situation: I went to visit a friend in the hospital the day after she delivered her baby. During my visit, her doctor walked in the room. He was so attractive I could hardly believe my eyes. After he left, I told my friend that I couldn't believe how hot he was. She said that she didn't really think about it. I gave it some thought and I just don't think that I could see an OB/GYN that I would be attracted to if I saw him on the street. For me, an OB/GYN has to be ugly, an older man (even if he were attractive, he's old. Old negates attractive for me.) or a female. A woman has a distinct "relationship" with her OB/GYN. Being attracted to this caregiver would cross the boundary for me. It's best not to blur the line between seeing someone to keep my reproductive system healthy and ...
Question: How about you? Would you see an OB/GYN whom you found to be extremely or even marginally attractive? Why or why not?
Question: How about you? Would you see an OB/GYN whom you found to be extremely or even marginally attractive? Why or why not?
Friday, August 11, 2006
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Bedtime Success Update
Night 2 - not so pleasant as night 1. I lost sleep for sure, but I reasured myself that this was better than the alternative of getting no sleep while Allison screamed, wailed and convulsed.
Night 3 - the best night yet. Allison's new bedtime arrangements and routine really seem to suit her. She was up twice, but I was back in bed within 5 minutes both times. She doesn't want to have her pre-bedtime snack and water in the living room anymore. She wants "my bed." When I ask her if she has a big girl bed, she gets the sweetest smirk and says, "Yeah."
Allison is loving it. Mommy is having major - unexpected - withdrawls. I enjoyed rocking her to sleep and cuddling with her on and off during the night. If I didn't, I would have changed her sleeping arrangements long ago. Still, over the past few months, I've grown restless. I wanted my bedroom back. I wanted the master bathroom to be an oasis where I could relax and prepare for my day - not a place to change dirty diapers. I reclaimed both rooms by making this move. I jumped for joy all day Saturday until Ally went to sleep that night. It wasn't until then that I realized what I was giving up. Rocking her to sleep at night was a relaxing oasis from my day. Her warmth, her smile, her silly ways of winding down by poking her nose and ears with the satin edges of her blanket and, most of all, her smell are so comforting. For the past three nights I go to bed feeling like my day is not complete. It's not the early morning kicks in the eye that I remember now that life has changed. It's the sound of her sucking on her pacifier and the way she hovered over my head to wake me up that I'm missing.
I'm losing my baby and it's hard.
Night 3 - the best night yet. Allison's new bedtime arrangements and routine really seem to suit her. She was up twice, but I was back in bed within 5 minutes both times. She doesn't want to have her pre-bedtime snack and water in the living room anymore. She wants "my bed." When I ask her if she has a big girl bed, she gets the sweetest smirk and says, "Yeah."
Allison is loving it. Mommy is having major - unexpected - withdrawls. I enjoyed rocking her to sleep and cuddling with her on and off during the night. If I didn't, I would have changed her sleeping arrangements long ago. Still, over the past few months, I've grown restless. I wanted my bedroom back. I wanted the master bathroom to be an oasis where I could relax and prepare for my day - not a place to change dirty diapers. I reclaimed both rooms by making this move. I jumped for joy all day Saturday until Ally went to sleep that night. It wasn't until then that I realized what I was giving up. Rocking her to sleep at night was a relaxing oasis from my day. Her warmth, her smile, her silly ways of winding down by poking her nose and ears with the satin edges of her blanket and, most of all, her smell are so comforting. For the past three nights I go to bed feeling like my day is not complete. It's not the early morning kicks in the eye that I remember now that life has changed. It's the sound of her sucking on her pacifier and the way she hovered over my head to wake me up that I'm missing.
I'm losing my baby and it's hard.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Bedtime Success
I hope to not be speaking too soon, but we've had a bedtime success in our house over the weekend. Ally did not sleep for one second in my bed last night (although at 6:30 I went in there hoping that she would sleep with me...)
Our original plan was to put her crib downstairs in the guest room. I would sleep on the futon and "let her cry it out" until she slept by herself through the night. Danny had a wonderful brainstorm. His idea: put the mattress from Ally's crib in Emma's room and see what happens with that, first. We decided to give that a try. If it worked, it would be much less painful for me. If it didn't, nothing was lost.
I proved to be a stroke of genius! As soon as the mattress was set up Saturday morning, Ally was all over "her bed." She jumped on it, guarded over it and would go in the bedroom by herself and lay down on it. Several times she told one of us to "om on" to play with her on her bed. Her nap Saturday and Sunday was close to two hours - at least 45 minutes longer than in her crib. Last night she cried at 12am. I went in there and laid down next to her on the floor and she was out again - faster than if I had brought her into our bed. She woke up at 5:30 and was relatively quite. Because she went to bed much earlier than normal the night before (Emma was a terror and we put them down together), my attempts to lay down with her in the girls' room were futile. All said, she slept on her own the entire night! Ah! The power of wanting what your sister has.
Have a good night tonight. We are certainly planning to do so ourselves.
Our original plan was to put her crib downstairs in the guest room. I would sleep on the futon and "let her cry it out" until she slept by herself through the night. Danny had a wonderful brainstorm. His idea: put the mattress from Ally's crib in Emma's room and see what happens with that, first. We decided to give that a try. If it worked, it would be much less painful for me. If it didn't, nothing was lost.
I proved to be a stroke of genius! As soon as the mattress was set up Saturday morning, Ally was all over "her bed." She jumped on it, guarded over it and would go in the bedroom by herself and lay down on it. Several times she told one of us to "om on" to play with her on her bed. Her nap Saturday and Sunday was close to two hours - at least 45 minutes longer than in her crib. Last night she cried at 12am. I went in there and laid down next to her on the floor and she was out again - faster than if I had brought her into our bed. She woke up at 5:30 and was relatively quite. Because she went to bed much earlier than normal the night before (Emma was a terror and we put them down together), my attempts to lay down with her in the girls' room were futile. All said, she slept on her own the entire night! Ah! The power of wanting what your sister has.
Have a good night tonight. We are certainly planning to do so ourselves.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Wonderful News!
S. had her biopsies today and the doctor knew for certain that it was an abscess. He was able to drain it in his office. Now they just need to find out why this keeps happening to her.
Thank you so much for your prayers!
Thank you so much for your prayers!
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Blogger Did a Bad, Bad Thing...
Where is my sense of responsibility to my loyal readers? I’ve used my blog to celebrate the arrival of my two nephews and I know that one and all have rejoiced with me.
I did not even think about providing you with pictures. For this, I apologize!
Here are pictures of my two beautiful boys – Trent and Caden.
Trent and his adoring family (and isn't Mallory a doll, too?)
Peaceful CadenA special thank you to my sisters and brother for making me such a happy aunt!
Mom2Mom Success Story
Trista has recently started a feature on her blog called Mom2Mom Tips. Her first post was about rewarding your children inexpensively. One of her suggestions was to give high fives. I started using that with Emma this weekend and it has been great. On Sunday we were invited to go to the swimming club that our friends have joined. Emma and I get together with Charlie and his family as often as we can. There is a kiddie pool as well as an adult pool at this club. When we ventured into the adult pool with the kids, Becci and I kept moving closer and closer to the 5 foot area. Charlie normally wouldn’t go that far, but he didn’t complain with Emma around. As a joke, I asked Emma if she wanted to jump off the diving board. She said that she did. If I’d been able to stay in the deep end while others were diving, I believe that she would have done it. When she walked back along the edge of the pool back to where I was, I urged her to jump in to me. When she did – without acting afraid and without holding my hands first, I gave her a high five. She couldn’t get enough of jumping. Each time I moved further away and each time she got the biggest smile on her face as she jumped to me. When she got water in her mouth, I always gave her a high five afterwards. At one point, Emma and Charlie decided to jump to us at the same time. Charlie jumped first and Emma hesitated instead of just jumping. She fell into the pool before I could get to her and she went all the way under. I grabbed her up quickly, but I was anticipating a bad reaction. What did Emma do? She wiped her face off and asked to jump again. I gave her another high five. She was so proud of that.
This morning, I handed her a pair of socks when we arrived at daycare and asked her to put them on (if I put the girls’ socks and shoes on at home they would take them off anyway so I don’t bother anymore). Sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn’t. This morning she put them right on. I reached over to give her a high five and she missed. We laughed and laughed. I went back to putting Ally’s socks and shoes on and Emma asked to try the high five again. She didn’t want to miss out. This time I leaned over further and we got it right.
I never would have thought that something as simple as a high five could make Emma so happy. Right now it’s really working as a reward for her. Thanks for the suggestion, Trista!
This morning, I handed her a pair of socks when we arrived at daycare and asked her to put them on (if I put the girls’ socks and shoes on at home they would take them off anyway so I don’t bother anymore). Sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn’t. This morning she put them right on. I reached over to give her a high five and she missed. We laughed and laughed. I went back to putting Ally’s socks and shoes on and Emma asked to try the high five again. She didn’t want to miss out. This time I leaned over further and we got it right.
I never would have thought that something as simple as a high five could make Emma so happy. Right now it’s really working as a reward for her. Thanks for the suggestion, Trista!
Prayer Request
I have a friend who is quite in need of prayers. For the past two years or so, S has been very sick with one infection or the other. She’s had three surgeries during that time and the level of infection increases with each one. They have found that her lymph nodes are flooded with infection and she’s started to have a lot of inflammation over the past couple of weeks. Since then, a mass of inflammation has grown in her breast. She saw her gynecologist yesterday. The news is not great. She had an MRI yesterday and is scheduled for several needle biopsies on Thursday. The doctor wants to rule out inflammatory breast cancer. Her symptoms are consistent with this form of cancer. Given her history with abscesses and infection, it is possible that she has a large abscess in her breast. Although that is what we are all hoping for, this is not good, either. If her abscess were to burst, it’s very close to her heart and lungs. S is hoping that the doctor taking the biopsies will be able to make an educated guess based on the type of fluid he gets. Otherwise, she won’t know until some time next week.
Please add S to your prayers. She really needs them.
Please add S to your prayers. She really needs them.
Monday, July 24, 2006
How Did You Find Out?
While the entire family gathered at my parent’s house after Grandma’s party, we got to talking about having babies and finding out the sex prior to the baby’s birth. Being in a room with a newborn and a VERY pregnant woman, those topics are bound to come up. Both Rob and Erica and Meridith and Derek chose not to learn the sex of their babies until they were born. Meridith was curious to find out how special it was going to be. Although they were expecting their second child, they found out Mallory’s sex before she was born. Erica imagined that not knowing would give her the motivation she needed during the birthing process, but it didn’t work out as she expected. Rob said that he wished that they found out when Erica wasn’t so exhausted. Still, it was really neat for him to hear his wife tell him that they had a son.
Danny and I chose to find out whether Allison or Nolan/Reilly was on the way. Truth be told, I don’t have the patience to wait for anything exciting unless it can’t happen any other way. The day we found out was a wonderful day. It’s one of the happiest moments of my happy pregnancy. Because we were unable to tell during our scheduled ultrasound, we made an appointment at another hospital for a 4D ultrasound nine weeks later (yes, it killed me to have to wait that much longer). The hospital was about an hour away. We made it special by taking a vacation day. We dropped Emma off at daycare, went to our appointment and found out together that our beautiful daughter was on the way. Afterwards, we called everyone with the news and went to my favorite Blacksburg restaurant for lunch. We were riding on a high the entire day. Our dreams for the baby were taking more shape because she was a girl. I could rub my belly and call Allison by her name.
I’ve given what Rob said some thought. It was neat to hear him say that, but I was very happy with the way we handled my pregnancy with Allison. Emma was another situation entirely. We were told that she was a girl when we got “the call.” Then, it occurred to me. What Rob said struck a chord with me because I did have that same experience after all. I just hadn't thought about it that way.
The day that the agency called to tell us that we had been selected by a birthmother, I was attending a class at the local community college for work. The social worker attempted to call me. I wasn’t answering the phone so she called Danny. He got the news first. I had my cell phone with me, but I turned it off. It wasn’t because I was worried about interrupting the class. I turned it off because I kept checking to see if anyone had called us about our house (we'd just put it on the market). The temptation was just too great and I couldn't pay attention. Meanwhile, Danny was trying desperately to contact me. As a last ditch effort before driving to campus and yelling my name until he found me, he sent a text message. During a break, I turned on the phone and opened the text message. My assumption was that it was about the house. The message was very short. All is said was: “Baby!” I can’t fully describe how I felt as I read that message and it sunk in what he was saying. I ran to the bathroom and called him. It was then that he told me that we were selected and that our baby was a girl. We talked for a long time about meeting the birth family, we went over the details a few times. We were both so excited. Because I heard the great news from him and not the social worker, I was able to be myself. I didn’t have to censor my excitement or hear anyone say that I need to be prepared for it not going through. It was a wonderful phone call.
I joke around about Danny getting all of the “good” phone calls – Danny also got the phone call after Emma was born – but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Along with our ultrasound date in Radford, it was a glorious experience that we shared as a couple. Yes, it was so nice and special to hear from my husband that we were going to have a daughter.
Danny and I chose to find out whether Allison or Nolan/Reilly was on the way. Truth be told, I don’t have the patience to wait for anything exciting unless it can’t happen any other way. The day we found out was a wonderful day. It’s one of the happiest moments of my happy pregnancy. Because we were unable to tell during our scheduled ultrasound, we made an appointment at another hospital for a 4D ultrasound nine weeks later (yes, it killed me to have to wait that much longer). The hospital was about an hour away. We made it special by taking a vacation day. We dropped Emma off at daycare, went to our appointment and found out together that our beautiful daughter was on the way. Afterwards, we called everyone with the news and went to my favorite Blacksburg restaurant for lunch. We were riding on a high the entire day. Our dreams for the baby were taking more shape because she was a girl. I could rub my belly and call Allison by her name.
I’ve given what Rob said some thought. It was neat to hear him say that, but I was very happy with the way we handled my pregnancy with Allison. Emma was another situation entirely. We were told that she was a girl when we got “the call.” Then, it occurred to me. What Rob said struck a chord with me because I did have that same experience after all. I just hadn't thought about it that way.
The day that the agency called to tell us that we had been selected by a birthmother, I was attending a class at the local community college for work. The social worker attempted to call me. I wasn’t answering the phone so she called Danny. He got the news first. I had my cell phone with me, but I turned it off. It wasn’t because I was worried about interrupting the class. I turned it off because I kept checking to see if anyone had called us about our house (we'd just put it on the market). The temptation was just too great and I couldn't pay attention. Meanwhile, Danny was trying desperately to contact me. As a last ditch effort before driving to campus and yelling my name until he found me, he sent a text message. During a break, I turned on the phone and opened the text message. My assumption was that it was about the house. The message was very short. All is said was: “Baby!” I can’t fully describe how I felt as I read that message and it sunk in what he was saying. I ran to the bathroom and called him. It was then that he told me that we were selected and that our baby was a girl. We talked for a long time about meeting the birth family, we went over the details a few times. We were both so excited. Because I heard the great news from him and not the social worker, I was able to be myself. I didn’t have to censor my excitement or hear anyone say that I need to be prepared for it not going through. It was a wonderful phone call.
I joke around about Danny getting all of the “good” phone calls – Danny also got the phone call after Emma was born – but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Along with our ultrasound date in Radford, it was a glorious experience that we shared as a couple. Yes, it was so nice and special to hear from my husband that we were going to have a daughter.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
A Great Joy!
Trent James was born last night at just before midnight. He is the son of my sister, Meridith, and her husband Derek. He was 7 pounds even and 19 1/2 inches long. Our family is so very blessed. I am on cloud nine to have two nieces and now to have two nephews. Please join me in saying a prayer of thanksgiving for my beautiful nephew Trent.
Friday, July 21, 2006
A Truer Tale Has Never Been Told
Check out this post from a new blog I've found thanks to Danny. You won't regret it. I would kill for this woman's genius.
Today's Reflection on Motherhood
Today is the last day that Ms. A. will be working at the girls’ daycare. She was Emma’s teacher between the ages of 24 months and 32 months. She was wonderful and I looked forward to chitchatting with her everyday. She’s moving to Florida to live near her family. As much as I hate to see her go, I can very well understand the pull that being near home can have. During my lunch break I went to Wal-Mart and bought her some note cards and a bag of M&Ms (that’s lemmy lems to Emma and Allison) as a small going away gift. On the card I signed my name “Jennifer (Otherwise known as Emma and Allison’s mother).” In a daycare setting, that quickly becomes your name. When I drop off or pick up the girls, there is a chorus of kids yelling that in some variation from across the room. It happens to all of the parents. So, when I signed the card like that it was intended to be sarcastic and I knew that it would make her laugh. Our relationship has moved far beyond that of teacher and parent, especially after Emma moved to the next room.
When children address me as my kids’ mom, I think it’s cute. Their entire frame of reference is their peer group. That’s the way they fit parents in to their world. What is irritating to me is adults who introduce me to other adults that way. Sometimes I feel like I’m either “Danny’s wife”, “Emma’s mom” or “Allison’s mom.” The name Jennifer seems to have disappeared. There is no longer a name for me as an individual. I simply am dictated by my relationships. Some mothers I talk to happily refer to themselves as their kids’ mom. That first makes me want to vomit and second makes me judge myself for not gladly disposing of my own identity for the sake of my children.
Something about signing Ms. A’s card like that stuck with me. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. It occurred to me that all names are what you make of them. When someone calls me “Jenny” – especially if I don’t like them – I have the same reaction. The only difference being that the name “Jenny” doesn’t cause me to mourn the supposed loss of my identity. After the irritation passes, I let it go recognizing that the person who called me “Jenny” doesn’t know me very well. The same is true of adults who refer to me by the names of my children. They are not viciously attacking my personhood. I perceive it as such because it plays into a fear I don’t want to acknowledge. Am I a person outside of my roles as wife and mother? Of course I am. The way to erase that fear is to live out my life as Jennifer and realize that a part of Jennifer is Danny’s wife. A part of Jennifer is Emma’s mom. A part of Jennifer is Allison’s mom. When I figure out what I want the remaining parts of Jennifer to be, that fear will no longer exist.
There is certainly nothing wrong with the name Jenny or associating a woman with her children. Like I said: names are what you make of them. I’ve decided to embrace my role as Emma and Allison’s mother. Who else on this earth can claim that honor? The Queen of England can either rise up to her singular status in life or she can waste it fretting over the fact that she’s not allowed to just be Elizabeth. Aren’t we sick and tired of hearing reports of celebrities, royalty and the wealthy complaining about how their fame and fortune get in the way of their “real lives?” How is whining about the riches I have in my children any different?
From now on, feel free to address me as “Emma and Allison’s mother” or “Danny’s wife.” It will be received as the highest compliment.
Just don’t ever call me Jenny.
When children address me as my kids’ mom, I think it’s cute. Their entire frame of reference is their peer group. That’s the way they fit parents in to their world. What is irritating to me is adults who introduce me to other adults that way. Sometimes I feel like I’m either “Danny’s wife”, “Emma’s mom” or “Allison’s mom.” The name Jennifer seems to have disappeared. There is no longer a name for me as an individual. I simply am dictated by my relationships. Some mothers I talk to happily refer to themselves as their kids’ mom. That first makes me want to vomit and second makes me judge myself for not gladly disposing of my own identity for the sake of my children.
Something about signing Ms. A’s card like that stuck with me. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. It occurred to me that all names are what you make of them. When someone calls me “Jenny” – especially if I don’t like them – I have the same reaction. The only difference being that the name “Jenny” doesn’t cause me to mourn the supposed loss of my identity. After the irritation passes, I let it go recognizing that the person who called me “Jenny” doesn’t know me very well. The same is true of adults who refer to me by the names of my children. They are not viciously attacking my personhood. I perceive it as such because it plays into a fear I don’t want to acknowledge. Am I a person outside of my roles as wife and mother? Of course I am. The way to erase that fear is to live out my life as Jennifer and realize that a part of Jennifer is Danny’s wife. A part of Jennifer is Emma’s mom. A part of Jennifer is Allison’s mom. When I figure out what I want the remaining parts of Jennifer to be, that fear will no longer exist.
There is certainly nothing wrong with the name Jenny or associating a woman with her children. Like I said: names are what you make of them. I’ve decided to embrace my role as Emma and Allison’s mother. Who else on this earth can claim that honor? The Queen of England can either rise up to her singular status in life or she can waste it fretting over the fact that she’s not allowed to just be Elizabeth. Aren’t we sick and tired of hearing reports of celebrities, royalty and the wealthy complaining about how their fame and fortune get in the way of their “real lives?” How is whining about the riches I have in my children any different?
From now on, feel free to address me as “Emma and Allison’s mother” or “Danny’s wife.” It will be received as the highest compliment.
Just don’t ever call me Jenny.
Michigan Vacation 2006
It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. Last week we were in wonderful Grand Rapids, Michigan visiting a new nephew, family and friends. The kids traveled well and we had a great time.
I was treated to an entire afternoon of pampering. Trista generously split her day long gift to the spa with me. I will be forever in her debt. We had full body massages, pedicures, got our hair styled (after an amazing hair wash!) and our makeup done. I haven’t felt so good in a long time. The massage was my favorite part of the afternoon, but getting my hair washed was very nice. The stylist could have washed my hair for an hour and I would have enjoyed every minute. We both looked and felt fabulous.
Mallory and Sophia didn’t take long to warm up to Uncle Danny. One morning we went over to Meridith’s house and she just smiled and smiled at her Uncle Danny. When we met Donielle and Sophia for lunch, she almost lunged at him. He really seemed to enjoy playing with his nieces. He was also Mr. Entertainment for the kids. He installed our new, two screen, DVD player. He came up with a great idea to use a CD wallet to store the DVDs in so that we didn’t clutter up the car with DVD cases. Just as with music, Danny always comes up with just the right combination of movies and other videos. He knows what we like! He also keep Ethan and Abby in giggles. Ethan got a huge ball for his birthday. I don’t know how many times he bounced each of the kids on top of the ball.
Emma was such a little mother on this trip – especially with Caden. She was glued to the person holding him and played the role of baby hog when she was allowed. At one point while she was holding Caden she asked for me to take him. I asked her if she was tired of holding the baby. She said, “No. I have to cough.” She coughed and then went to wash her hands. She helped Mallory and Sophia walk around and thoroughly enjoyed her position as the big cousin. She is so loving and mature! Although we saw Trista, Abby and Ethan just a couple of months earlier, she interacted with them so much more during this trip. She’s always acted as Ethan’s mother, but she played so well with Abby, too. When I was wrapping Abby’s birthday gifts, Emma was excited to help and couldn’t wait to celebrate. She loved the afternoon we spent at Lake Michigan with Donielle and Sophia. She is going to be my little beach bum. I really wish that I had brought my swimming suit with me so I could have played with her more. As it was, I was soaked up to my ribcage and had to change my pants afterwards. She had her first taste of blue moon ice cream (my favorite when I was a little girl).
Allison, on the other hand, was very jealous of her cousins. When I held Caden for the first time, Danny had to take Ally out of the apartment because she was screaming and carrying on. If I called for Mallory or Sophia to come to me, Allison ran over as fast as she could to claim my lap for herself. If one of her cousins looked at her the wrong way – even from across the room, she grabbed her Pooh bear or blankie and yelled, “Mine!” The best incident occurred when I let one of my nieces play with my cell phone. Allison took it away and yelled, “MY mommy phone!” I got such a kick out of that. Two years really makes a difference at this age.
Still, Allison’s personality really blossomed while we were in Michigan. On Tuesday night, Emma and I went to Trista’s house for a scrapbooking get together. Instead of getting back to Grandma and Grandpa’s house late, we had a sleepover. Danny stayed at my parents with Ally. The next morning all I heard was about how much fun Ally was that night. He was expecting her to be upset that I was gone, but she kept the house entertained instead. He’s never had so much fun with Allison before. She started to say “Yes” for the first time, too. She also picked up the word meanie from Emma. If she didn’t like something, she called the responsible party meanie. It was especially funny when she called Mallory or Sophia meanie for doing nothing more than look at her Pooh bear. On Thursday Grandpa, Danny, Emma and I took a trip to New Buffalo, MI to meet Donielle and Sophia for lunch. While Ally stayed with Grandma, she did the most hilarious thing – she covered most of her face with the bowl she used to pick beans and shouted “Shut up!” over and over again. It took Grandma and Meridith a while to decide that she really was saying that. The next day at Mark and Trista’s house she picked up a toy microphone that adds an echoing effect to your voice. She walked around their living room and play area shouting “Shut up!” into the microphone over and over again. Where did that come from?
It was nice to get some time to spend with my sisters (Trista included). It’s been a while since we’ve been able to get much quality time in. Last year Meridith and Donielle had newborns to care for during our visit. The summer before that we seemed to have wedding after wedding. This year was so much nicer. I especially enjoyed being able to have a sleepover with Meridith and Trista. We went through her stamps, had Steak-n-Shake shakes and cheese fries (ahh… the advantages of having a sister as a Steak-n-Shake manager) and talked late into the night. The ten year gap in our ages is shrinking more each day. I helped her set up the new baby’s crib and did just about everything I could think of to bring on her labor. My powers of labor induction aren’t very strong. As I am writing this post, there is no baby in sight. The first night I slept over at Trista’s house we stayed up until almost 2am talking. Even though we mainly talked about our children, it felt like those first nights together at the Notre Dame retreat house.
The highlight and reason for our trip was to attend the 80th birthday party held for my maternal Grandma. With the exception of three of my cousins, all of her children, son and daughter-in-laws, grandchildren and great grandchildren were there. Many of her siblings and spouses came as well. It was a quite a group of people. It was held at my Great-Grandfather’s farm. I haven’t been there in at least 15 years. Walking around the yard and being in the house brought back a lot of memories. I sat in Grandpa’s chair and looked out the window just like he used to. I felt very close to him there. Despite the heat and humidity, it was such a blessing to be there to celebrate my wonderful, beautiful grandmother. We shared food, laughter, stories, music and more. I am honored to be a member of that family.
I was treated to an entire afternoon of pampering. Trista generously split her day long gift to the spa with me. I will be forever in her debt. We had full body massages, pedicures, got our hair styled (after an amazing hair wash!) and our makeup done. I haven’t felt so good in a long time. The massage was my favorite part of the afternoon, but getting my hair washed was very nice. The stylist could have washed my hair for an hour and I would have enjoyed every minute. We both looked and felt fabulous.
Mallory and Sophia didn’t take long to warm up to Uncle Danny. One morning we went over to Meridith’s house and she just smiled and smiled at her Uncle Danny. When we met Donielle and Sophia for lunch, she almost lunged at him. He really seemed to enjoy playing with his nieces. He was also Mr. Entertainment for the kids. He installed our new, two screen, DVD player. He came up with a great idea to use a CD wallet to store the DVDs in so that we didn’t clutter up the car with DVD cases. Just as with music, Danny always comes up with just the right combination of movies and other videos. He knows what we like! He also keep Ethan and Abby in giggles. Ethan got a huge ball for his birthday. I don’t know how many times he bounced each of the kids on top of the ball.
Emma was such a little mother on this trip – especially with Caden. She was glued to the person holding him and played the role of baby hog when she was allowed. At one point while she was holding Caden she asked for me to take him. I asked her if she was tired of holding the baby. She said, “No. I have to cough.” She coughed and then went to wash her hands. She helped Mallory and Sophia walk around and thoroughly enjoyed her position as the big cousin. She is so loving and mature! Although we saw Trista, Abby and Ethan just a couple of months earlier, she interacted with them so much more during this trip. She’s always acted as Ethan’s mother, but she played so well with Abby, too. When I was wrapping Abby’s birthday gifts, Emma was excited to help and couldn’t wait to celebrate. She loved the afternoon we spent at Lake Michigan with Donielle and Sophia. She is going to be my little beach bum. I really wish that I had brought my swimming suit with me so I could have played with her more. As it was, I was soaked up to my ribcage and had to change my pants afterwards. She had her first taste of blue moon ice cream (my favorite when I was a little girl).
Allison, on the other hand, was very jealous of her cousins. When I held Caden for the first time, Danny had to take Ally out of the apartment because she was screaming and carrying on. If I called for Mallory or Sophia to come to me, Allison ran over as fast as she could to claim my lap for herself. If one of her cousins looked at her the wrong way – even from across the room, she grabbed her Pooh bear or blankie and yelled, “Mine!” The best incident occurred when I let one of my nieces play with my cell phone. Allison took it away and yelled, “MY mommy phone!” I got such a kick out of that. Two years really makes a difference at this age.
Still, Allison’s personality really blossomed while we were in Michigan. On Tuesday night, Emma and I went to Trista’s house for a scrapbooking get together. Instead of getting back to Grandma and Grandpa’s house late, we had a sleepover. Danny stayed at my parents with Ally. The next morning all I heard was about how much fun Ally was that night. He was expecting her to be upset that I was gone, but she kept the house entertained instead. He’s never had so much fun with Allison before. She started to say “Yes” for the first time, too. She also picked up the word meanie from Emma. If she didn’t like something, she called the responsible party meanie. It was especially funny when she called Mallory or Sophia meanie for doing nothing more than look at her Pooh bear. On Thursday Grandpa, Danny, Emma and I took a trip to New Buffalo, MI to meet Donielle and Sophia for lunch. While Ally stayed with Grandma, she did the most hilarious thing – she covered most of her face with the bowl she used to pick beans and shouted “Shut up!” over and over again. It took Grandma and Meridith a while to decide that she really was saying that. The next day at Mark and Trista’s house she picked up a toy microphone that adds an echoing effect to your voice. She walked around their living room and play area shouting “Shut up!” into the microphone over and over again. Where did that come from?
It was nice to get some time to spend with my sisters (Trista included). It’s been a while since we’ve been able to get much quality time in. Last year Meridith and Donielle had newborns to care for during our visit. The summer before that we seemed to have wedding after wedding. This year was so much nicer. I especially enjoyed being able to have a sleepover with Meridith and Trista. We went through her stamps, had Steak-n-Shake shakes and cheese fries (ahh… the advantages of having a sister as a Steak-n-Shake manager) and talked late into the night. The ten year gap in our ages is shrinking more each day. I helped her set up the new baby’s crib and did just about everything I could think of to bring on her labor. My powers of labor induction aren’t very strong. As I am writing this post, there is no baby in sight. The first night I slept over at Trista’s house we stayed up until almost 2am talking. Even though we mainly talked about our children, it felt like those first nights together at the Notre Dame retreat house.
The highlight and reason for our trip was to attend the 80th birthday party held for my maternal Grandma. With the exception of three of my cousins, all of her children, son and daughter-in-laws, grandchildren and great grandchildren were there. Many of her siblings and spouses came as well. It was a quite a group of people. It was held at my Great-Grandfather’s farm. I haven’t been there in at least 15 years. Walking around the yard and being in the house brought back a lot of memories. I sat in Grandpa’s chair and looked out the window just like he used to. I felt very close to him there. Despite the heat and humidity, it was such a blessing to be there to celebrate my wonderful, beautiful grandmother. We shared food, laughter, stories, music and more. I am honored to be a member of that family.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
A Great Joy!
I am proud to announce that Caden Koinonia was born last night at quarter to 10pm. He is the son of my brother Rob and his beautiful wife, Erica. I cannot tell you how thrilled we are to have a new member of our family. It's a joy to have a nephew.
Please join me in saying a prayer of thanksgiving for Caden and Co. today.
It's a beautiful day!
Please join me in saying a prayer of thanksgiving for Caden and Co. today.
It's a beautiful day!
Friday, June 30, 2006
Jennifer's Construction Zone
Ever since colic and post-partum depression struck, I have – in true Dutch fashion – been busy plugging holes with my fingers (I’ve only got 10 that can’t span very far) instead of taking the time and energy to rebuild and refurbish the dam. Patching the smaller breaches as they pop up allows you keep yourself in denial. It allows you to overlook the fact that the ultimate source of those breaches, if not dealt with, will someday cause a violent rupture. It’s a rupture that could have been prevented by thoughtful and perhaps costly maintenance. Patching additionally affords you a sense of control. “My life isn’t crumbling down around me. See – I took care of that.” As long as you avoid honest introspection and keep your defenses up, all can be well in your world until that next breach starts leaking.
It’s been two months now since I’ve decided that instead of waiting anxiously to drown when my dam broke that I would prefer to take stock of what is good in my life, what requires a tune up and maintenance and what needs to be demolished. As I mentioned in April, a visit with new OB/GYN woke me up. Until that time I believed that my dark, wacked-out, compulsive thoughts and feelings weren’t dark, wacked-out and compulsive. They were God’s truth and valid. Her words were the slap across the face that I needed to start down the right path. I was in such a daze of depression that I lost some sense of what was real. Had I realized that at the time I would have been very afraid – or at least very afraid for the right reasons.
Dr. M prescribed me an anti-depressant and referred me to a therapist. I filled the prescription and made the appointment. Both are the best things I’ve done for myself in a long time. The medication helped to clear up the sludge in my brain so that I could do the heavy duty work in my heart and soul. S, my therapist, is just the person I needed in that role. She has a great sense of humor and uses it well to pin me to the wall and make me see things that I need to notice.
During our first meeting she listened to my story. There is a release in paying someone to listen to you. I could say what I wanted and needed to say without worrying about being a burden or being judged. She explained to me how depression contorts one’s perception of the outside world as well as one’s internal thoughts. After I explained how looking at Allison made me relive her birth and go around and around in my head about how if I had only done X or only done Y that things would have been different. In those times that I drifted away from my life, I imagined that I did every thing perfectly that day and as a result Allison was always born vaginally, without pain medication and my problems were solved. She reminded me that Dr. G told me at the time that Allison was born that I had done everything that I could have possibly done to have a natural childbirth. Dr. G said Allison would never have been born on her own. Contrary to what I had been telling myself, he wasn’t saying that to trick me into feel better. Although it’s not something I’d ever thought about, he hadn’t even been speaking to directly at the time. I was semi-coherent at the time. He had been talking to the others in the room. What happened was not my “fault.” She even questioned that fact that I used the word fault at all. She said, “So you’re blaming and beating yourself up day in and day out because you used your common sense and chose to trust your doctor to help where biology was lacking? You’re blaming and beating yourself up because you chose to have a healthy baby by surgery as opposed to delivering a dead baby the old fashioned way – if you were lucky to make it that far yourself?” Why couldn’t I have seen it that way myself? I should be proud that I chose a good doctor and made the best decisions I could for Allison all along. Instead, I beat myself up because I didn’t live up to standards I put in place for myself that weren’t really my own to begin with. That’s when I started to see that my thoughts were indeed dark, wacked-out and compulsive.
At the end of the meeting she gave me some ideas for ways of stopping the compulsive thoughts I was having about Allison and about her birth. She also told me to be kind to myself. I was able to put a good stop to the thoughts. I know when they are getting started and I can pretty easily move on. I haven’t looked at Allison and thought about the c-section for a long time now. It’s seems odd to me now that I ever did. However, being kind to myself is still problematic. What does that mean exactly? I know better than anyone else how much I don’t deserve being treated kindly. If anything, I feel as though I am already too kind to myself. If I only I was stricter I could be [fill in the blank]. I worry that if I let go of the restrictions, rules and laws that I have spent a lifetime constructing (but not living up to) in order to be kind to myself that all hell will break loose. Am I not underneath a raging, ugly beast just dying to break loose of my confines anyway? What would happen if there was nothing to keep me in check?
After about four weeks I could say that I was free or at least becoming free of the depression. I certainly am more aware of thoughts that were not rational. I’m also more aware of what an anxious person I am. During our first meeting S said that if she weren’t seeing me for depression she would be seeing me for anxiety. I had no idea what she was talking about. When the depression lifted, the anxiety began moving in. I can see what she meant. Getting help with the depression made it possible to see the underlying cause.
S has pointed out that I have issues with perfection. It made me cry when she said that. I guess because it struck a chord. I would never have thought of myself as a perfectionist because I’m not in the ways that I would typically think of a perfectionist. To me a perfectionist is someone who is organized and keeps things clean at all times. The difference is that those types of perfectionism are pointed at the outside world. I point mine internally. It’s an all or nothing, now or never viewpoint. If I’m not the ideal, I am the polar opposite. I’m either following Weight Watchers to the letter or I’m eating out of control. I either experience “the virgin birth” or I am a failure. No wonder I am anxious. The real kicker is that those ideals that I fall so far short of aren’t necessarily even my own. They are someone else’s – and more often – what I assume are someone else’s. I jump to the conclusion that things are done and said as a criticism of who I am, my work, you name it. Paranoia light with headaches, tight muscles and clenched jaw. When I’m in that mode, even dark movies can raise my anxiety so high that my stomach hurts, that I can’t sleep and once even made me throw up.
My second major piece of homework thus far is to decide what my standards are. To determine what is important to me. And guess what – because I want to or because it makes me feel good is reason enough. I don’t have to justify my thoughts, actions or decisions. It is okay for me to think, feel and act for myself. I can be my own advocate instead of my own worst nightmare. Just as with being kind to myself, this is difficult for me as well. How does one go about determining personal standards? How do I know whether something that makes me feel good is actually good or bad? I don’t really trust that I can make these decisions correctly.
There’s a lot of work ahead. There’ll be an “Under Construction” sign beside my dam for a long time to come. Still, it feels good to start making sound structural changes slowly instead of spackling cracks and hoping that they stick and are not noticed by others. I am on my way to living my own life instead of the life I assume others would want me to live. I am on my way to becoming my own architect.
It’s been two months now since I’ve decided that instead of waiting anxiously to drown when my dam broke that I would prefer to take stock of what is good in my life, what requires a tune up and maintenance and what needs to be demolished. As I mentioned in April, a visit with new OB/GYN woke me up. Until that time I believed that my dark, wacked-out, compulsive thoughts and feelings weren’t dark, wacked-out and compulsive. They were God’s truth and valid. Her words were the slap across the face that I needed to start down the right path. I was in such a daze of depression that I lost some sense of what was real. Had I realized that at the time I would have been very afraid – or at least very afraid for the right reasons.
Dr. M prescribed me an anti-depressant and referred me to a therapist. I filled the prescription and made the appointment. Both are the best things I’ve done for myself in a long time. The medication helped to clear up the sludge in my brain so that I could do the heavy duty work in my heart and soul. S, my therapist, is just the person I needed in that role. She has a great sense of humor and uses it well to pin me to the wall and make me see things that I need to notice.
During our first meeting she listened to my story. There is a release in paying someone to listen to you. I could say what I wanted and needed to say without worrying about being a burden or being judged. She explained to me how depression contorts one’s perception of the outside world as well as one’s internal thoughts. After I explained how looking at Allison made me relive her birth and go around and around in my head about how if I had only done X or only done Y that things would have been different. In those times that I drifted away from my life, I imagined that I did every thing perfectly that day and as a result Allison was always born vaginally, without pain medication and my problems were solved. She reminded me that Dr. G told me at the time that Allison was born that I had done everything that I could have possibly done to have a natural childbirth. Dr. G said Allison would never have been born on her own. Contrary to what I had been telling myself, he wasn’t saying that to trick me into feel better. Although it’s not something I’d ever thought about, he hadn’t even been speaking to directly at the time. I was semi-coherent at the time. He had been talking to the others in the room. What happened was not my “fault.” She even questioned that fact that I used the word fault at all. She said, “So you’re blaming and beating yourself up day in and day out because you used your common sense and chose to trust your doctor to help where biology was lacking? You’re blaming and beating yourself up because you chose to have a healthy baby by surgery as opposed to delivering a dead baby the old fashioned way – if you were lucky to make it that far yourself?” Why couldn’t I have seen it that way myself? I should be proud that I chose a good doctor and made the best decisions I could for Allison all along. Instead, I beat myself up because I didn’t live up to standards I put in place for myself that weren’t really my own to begin with. That’s when I started to see that my thoughts were indeed dark, wacked-out and compulsive.
At the end of the meeting she gave me some ideas for ways of stopping the compulsive thoughts I was having about Allison and about her birth. She also told me to be kind to myself. I was able to put a good stop to the thoughts. I know when they are getting started and I can pretty easily move on. I haven’t looked at Allison and thought about the c-section for a long time now. It’s seems odd to me now that I ever did. However, being kind to myself is still problematic. What does that mean exactly? I know better than anyone else how much I don’t deserve being treated kindly. If anything, I feel as though I am already too kind to myself. If I only I was stricter I could be [fill in the blank]. I worry that if I let go of the restrictions, rules and laws that I have spent a lifetime constructing (but not living up to) in order to be kind to myself that all hell will break loose. Am I not underneath a raging, ugly beast just dying to break loose of my confines anyway? What would happen if there was nothing to keep me in check?
After about four weeks I could say that I was free or at least becoming free of the depression. I certainly am more aware of thoughts that were not rational. I’m also more aware of what an anxious person I am. During our first meeting S said that if she weren’t seeing me for depression she would be seeing me for anxiety. I had no idea what she was talking about. When the depression lifted, the anxiety began moving in. I can see what she meant. Getting help with the depression made it possible to see the underlying cause.
S has pointed out that I have issues with perfection. It made me cry when she said that. I guess because it struck a chord. I would never have thought of myself as a perfectionist because I’m not in the ways that I would typically think of a perfectionist. To me a perfectionist is someone who is organized and keeps things clean at all times. The difference is that those types of perfectionism are pointed at the outside world. I point mine internally. It’s an all or nothing, now or never viewpoint. If I’m not the ideal, I am the polar opposite. I’m either following Weight Watchers to the letter or I’m eating out of control. I either experience “the virgin birth” or I am a failure. No wonder I am anxious. The real kicker is that those ideals that I fall so far short of aren’t necessarily even my own. They are someone else’s – and more often – what I assume are someone else’s. I jump to the conclusion that things are done and said as a criticism of who I am, my work, you name it. Paranoia light with headaches, tight muscles and clenched jaw. When I’m in that mode, even dark movies can raise my anxiety so high that my stomach hurts, that I can’t sleep and once even made me throw up.
My second major piece of homework thus far is to decide what my standards are. To determine what is important to me. And guess what – because I want to or because it makes me feel good is reason enough. I don’t have to justify my thoughts, actions or decisions. It is okay for me to think, feel and act for myself. I can be my own advocate instead of my own worst nightmare. Just as with being kind to myself, this is difficult for me as well. How does one go about determining personal standards? How do I know whether something that makes me feel good is actually good or bad? I don’t really trust that I can make these decisions correctly.
There’s a lot of work ahead. There’ll be an “Under Construction” sign beside my dam for a long time to come. Still, it feels good to start making sound structural changes slowly instead of spackling cracks and hoping that they stick and are not noticed by others. I am on my way to living my own life instead of the life I assume others would want me to live. I am on my way to becoming my own architect.
A Week of Firsts*
* Reprinted from various email messages
First #1) Allison came down with diarrhea. Although there have been occasional instances that could qualify as diarrhea in the past, our first case of multiple, consistent diarrhea started Saturday morning.
First #2) On Saturday afternoon while Allison went down for her nap, I told Emma that she could avoid taking a nap herself if she played quietly in her room. She complied as was very quiet. Then, about 35 minutes later, she came out of her room to get a paper towel. When I asked her what she wanted a paper towel for, she didn't answer. I followed her back to her bedroom. She received a makeup set from the bride and groom as a gift a few weeks earlier. That set contained two bottles of nail polish. I did not realize that it had been placed on the top shelf of her hutch. The nail polish had been spilled all over her (once) beautiful toy chest, on the carpet and all over her. Actually, what was on her was probably self-applied. You hear stories about parents who "see red" when their children do extremely naughty things. I was seeing a deep, pulsing red. I do think that I passed this test. I never once yelled. I didn't kill her. I didn't maim her. I quietly tried to clean up the mess as best as I could with that pulsing red light in front of my eyes. Emma knew that she was in trouble, too. I asked her to get on her bed and she did quickly and without question. She later asked me if I was mad. I said very and she kept quiet after that. When I left the room, I told her that she was to stay in her bed until I came to get her. She didn't even cry when I closed the door. I can't remember how long it took my blood pressure to return to normal, but it eventually did. When Danny got home, he talked with her and we agreed that her punishment was to be grounded from her bike for a week. In true kid fashion, she did find a way to displace some of the blame when she said to Danny, "You shouldn't have left my makeup in my room."
First #3) Our local scrapbooking store held a yard sale for its customers. Anyone with items to sell signed up for a code number and brought their items in before the sale on Saturday. The money earned at the sale could be spent on anything at the store. It was like turning things I didn't want or couldn't use into free stuff! On Sunday, the store called me and I found out that I sold $56.55 worth of stuff! I was so excited that I went to the store that afternoon. Danny watched the kids for me so I could shop by myself. Once I was there, I wandered around not quite sure what to pick. I got several rub on letter sets that were buy one get one free to maximize my money. I got a new pair of scissors and some embellishments for the page I'm going to make for Emma about her first bike (felt somewhat ironic to select that given her punishment from the day before). I also needed to pick up what wasn't sold. The lady couldn't find my items and I said that the only thing I really wanted back if it didn't sell was my green Creative Memories album. I'm glad that I said that. During the day the tag had fallen off. Someone wanted it, but without the tag, they didn't know how much to sell it for and who to give the credit to. So, my $56.55 actually went up to $71.55! I used my extra windfall to get some cute new papers and matching embellishments. Boy, was I excited!
First #4) My manager is on vacation this week and Danny's dad was scheduled to have his kidney stone removed surgically on Tuesday. Given those things happening at the same time, you know that Allison's diarrhea would continue. I dropped her off at daycare on Monday because she was acting like herself and had only had one incident on Sunday. I got a call around 3 to please pick her up. Her lunch went right through her and she was acting miserable. I picked both kids up and took some sick time. I planned on doing the same thing on Tuesday because she caught the virus there and she was, for the most part, acting like herself. She didn't have a fever and she wasn't vomiting.
First #5) She wasn't vomiting, that is, until 12:30 Tuesday morning. She was in our bed and I could sense her hovering over my head. She does this often and I lay very still so that she goes back to sleep. This time, I heard a strange noise and sat up. Good thing - not five seconds later my pillow was covered in vomit. Until 12:30 Tuesday morning, I'd never had a child vomit due to illness. The poor thing had it coming out both ends and was so upset. She went through two sets of pajamas before I bundled her up in just her blanket and diaper. I've worried about how I would handle it when one of my kids got sick. Just as with First #3, I did just fine. You don't know what you're capable of until you are tested. Danny and I tag teamed well. He rocked her while I cleaned everything up and started the laundry. As soon as I was finished, she wanted her mommy. As tired as I was by 3am, I was so happy to be there for her - and just thankful to have escaped the face full of puke. Had that happened, Danny probably would have been cleaning up after the both of us.
First #1) Allison came down with diarrhea. Although there have been occasional instances that could qualify as diarrhea in the past, our first case of multiple, consistent diarrhea started Saturday morning.
First #2) On Saturday afternoon while Allison went down for her nap, I told Emma that she could avoid taking a nap herself if she played quietly in her room. She complied as was very quiet. Then, about 35 minutes later, she came out of her room to get a paper towel. When I asked her what she wanted a paper towel for, she didn't answer. I followed her back to her bedroom. She received a makeup set from the bride and groom as a gift a few weeks earlier. That set contained two bottles of nail polish. I did not realize that it had been placed on the top shelf of her hutch. The nail polish had been spilled all over her (once) beautiful toy chest, on the carpet and all over her. Actually, what was on her was probably self-applied. You hear stories about parents who "see red" when their children do extremely naughty things. I was seeing a deep, pulsing red. I do think that I passed this test. I never once yelled. I didn't kill her. I didn't maim her. I quietly tried to clean up the mess as best as I could with that pulsing red light in front of my eyes. Emma knew that she was in trouble, too. I asked her to get on her bed and she did quickly and without question. She later asked me if I was mad. I said very and she kept quiet after that. When I left the room, I told her that she was to stay in her bed until I came to get her. She didn't even cry when I closed the door. I can't remember how long it took my blood pressure to return to normal, but it eventually did. When Danny got home, he talked with her and we agreed that her punishment was to be grounded from her bike for a week. In true kid fashion, she did find a way to displace some of the blame when she said to Danny, "You shouldn't have left my makeup in my room."
First #3) Our local scrapbooking store held a yard sale for its customers. Anyone with items to sell signed up for a code number and brought their items in before the sale on Saturday. The money earned at the sale could be spent on anything at the store. It was like turning things I didn't want or couldn't use into free stuff! On Sunday, the store called me and I found out that I sold $56.55 worth of stuff! I was so excited that I went to the store that afternoon. Danny watched the kids for me so I could shop by myself. Once I was there, I wandered around not quite sure what to pick. I got several rub on letter sets that were buy one get one free to maximize my money. I got a new pair of scissors and some embellishments for the page I'm going to make for Emma about her first bike (felt somewhat ironic to select that given her punishment from the day before). I also needed to pick up what wasn't sold. The lady couldn't find my items and I said that the only thing I really wanted back if it didn't sell was my green Creative Memories album. I'm glad that I said that. During the day the tag had fallen off. Someone wanted it, but without the tag, they didn't know how much to sell it for and who to give the credit to. So, my $56.55 actually went up to $71.55! I used my extra windfall to get some cute new papers and matching embellishments. Boy, was I excited!
First #4) My manager is on vacation this week and Danny's dad was scheduled to have his kidney stone removed surgically on Tuesday. Given those things happening at the same time, you know that Allison's diarrhea would continue. I dropped her off at daycare on Monday because she was acting like herself and had only had one incident on Sunday. I got a call around 3 to please pick her up. Her lunch went right through her and she was acting miserable. I picked both kids up and took some sick time. I planned on doing the same thing on Tuesday because she caught the virus there and she was, for the most part, acting like herself. She didn't have a fever and she wasn't vomiting.
First #5) She wasn't vomiting, that is, until 12:30 Tuesday morning. She was in our bed and I could sense her hovering over my head. She does this often and I lay very still so that she goes back to sleep. This time, I heard a strange noise and sat up. Good thing - not five seconds later my pillow was covered in vomit. Until 12:30 Tuesday morning, I'd never had a child vomit due to illness. The poor thing had it coming out both ends and was so upset. She went through two sets of pajamas before I bundled her up in just her blanket and diaper. I've worried about how I would handle it when one of my kids got sick. Just as with First #3, I did just fine. You don't know what you're capable of until you are tested. Danny and I tag teamed well. He rocked her while I cleaned everything up and started the laundry. As soon as I was finished, she wanted her mommy. As tired as I was by 3am, I was so happy to be there for her - and just thankful to have escaped the face full of puke. Had that happened, Danny probably would have been cleaning up after the both of us.
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