The Joys of Nursing a Toddler

Pre-kids, - heck, pre-baby E - I never saw myself nursing a toddler. As much as I knew nursing was a parenting tool I'd employ, nursing a 2yo was never something I imagined was for me. And, if I'm completely honest, it was something that I thought was kind of icky. You know, obviously breastfeeding is best for babies, but once they get teeth (ouch!), and once they're walking (walk to the table and get some food, kid!), and once they're talking (ask for some real food, kid!), etc... they no longer "need" it.

So, it's funny that that's where I find myself now. And particularly so, since I love nursing my talkative, runs and climbs all over the place, has a mouth full of teeth little boy.

Here are a couple of the reasons why...

(First, Baby E still calls nursing "mulp-mease", milk in a cup has become just "milk". Also, his pediatrician pretends they have birds in their ears to get them to hold still when she's checking their ears. It's amazingly effective.)
E: Mulp-mease all gone.
Me: Yup, it's all gone.
E: More mulp-mease?
M: It's all gone. We'll have more later.
E: [Where] mulp-mease go?
M: Is it in your belly?
E: No, mulp-mease no in belly!
M: Then where is it?
E: Mulp-mease in baby E's penis!!!!!!
M: Uh, maybe. Where else could it have gone?
E: Baby E's birds drink all 'uh mulp-mease!
And then he cracks up laughing for like 5 minutes, totally amused with the joke he's made. And how can I not laugh at that?!


The other morning, hubby let me sleep in (thank you, dear!). When I did get up, it was after 9am. As soon as I came out of my bedroom, baby E came running up to me, as I'm sure many of your kids do with you. He grabbed me around my legs, shouting with joy. After a minute of that, and then lots of hugging, baby E put his hands on either side of my face, looked me dead in the eyes and said, "mulp-mease pease, momma!". It was not a question. It was a statement, one made with excitement. Serious excitement.

I prepared the SNS, with him staying right by my side. When I told him it was ready, he said, "hold hand?" and we walked to the chair where we nurse 99% of the time. He waited patiently for me to get settled, climbed up into my lap, and sighed the most contented little sigh. He latched on and smiled up at me. Then he reached up and oh, so gently patted my cheek.

I understand that nursing a toddler isn't for everyone. But I am pleasantly surprised to find that it is for me. And I am beyond grateful for the experience.


Today's Lesson: I don't say this nearly often enough, but baby E's milk mommies, all 30+ of them, are the reason I was able to do this. They are amazing women and I so appreciate them one and all. Hum, that's not really a lesson though is it? Okay, so here's one. Sometimes the lesson, well, it's one you've just got to figure out for yourself.

Hats

The kid won't keep hats on. I love kids in hats. But he's just too antsy to leave one alone. Same goes for sunglasses, or gloves, or much of anything. Baby E, however, loves hats. In fact, he asks for them. And then keeps them on. Which is a totally new phenomenon for me.

 

I ordered him a few new ones recently. And he was super excited when they arrived. He demanded he wear one as soon as it came out of the box. Pre-tag removal even. And then he decided I should wear the other. I'm not sure what it says that we can wear the same hats. And that those hats are too small for my 6yo's big ole head. But anyway.

 

Here we are, being cute in his new moose and tiger hats. Because if there's anything he loves more than hats, it's having his picture taken while he's being cute.

 



 

 

 

And then he took off running across the room. He grabbed the kid's skull-n-crossbone rain boots and raced back over. He plopped down on the floor and pulled them on. Then he said, "I look goooooooooood, momma. Takea pit-ur". So I did. Because how could I not?!

 

I mean, honestly, look at that face! How can you not smile?

 

 

Today's Lesson: I clearly have a lot to learn about fashion. Maybe one day my children will teach me.



A Special Heart

Somehow I did manage to get Christmas cards out this year. Actually, I know how that got done - I had to work the day before and Thanksgiving days and had no patients either day. 16 hours where I watched several movies, read two books on the Kin.dle, and wrote and addressed my Christmas cards. But that's totally not the point of this post. Moving on.

I sent the cards out in a couple of batches because even though the cards were done, that doesn't mean we had any stamps in my house. And when I ask my husband to come home with 2 or 3 books of stamps, he usually comes home with one. I'm pretty sure that even if I asked him to come home with 83 books of stamps, he'd still come home with one. And, moving on. Again.

I sent one, among the others, to each of the boys' birth families. And the week before Christmas we got one back from the kid's birth family. This was a surprise, and a wonderful one. We haven't heard them in quite a while.

The kid apparently wasn't in the room when hubby and I opened it, smiling, and looked at their kid's pictures they sent along. My oh my, the three of them (the kid, and his 2 birth siblings) look so much alike!

So he wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later and picked up the card. He said, "this looks a lot like my birth brother, and this one like my birth sister". I said, "well, it is them".

He held the pictures for probably 30seconds, just staring at them, with a gentle smile on his face. "Wow, momma.  I love my birth sister. She is really pretty and a fun girl. And I sure love my birth brother. He has a really special heart".

So do you, my sweet boy. So do you.


Today's Lesson: Children's hearts know how to love.

Family Tree

 

So, the whole Family Tree project. It's finally done and turned in. Well, it was a few weeks ago. Funny enough, it was one of those things that, even though we've known about it for like 3 months, got done at the last moment. Because, well, my life is chaos. At any rate, after my initial, "holy hell it's due in 4 days" moment of epic panic, we got that thing done.

 

I randomly came up with the idea to use a Christmas tree. It was my favorite idea of how to go about this project, though I did offer the kid a few alternatives. This was the one he decided on. 

 

There were a couple of reasons I wanted to do it this way (though I - seriously - tried not to sway him one way or another). First, I thought it was appropriate since the project was due near Christmas time. Second, we're planning to pull it out as a cool Christmas decoration every year. Third, I love the idea that there are no branches, roots, etc... 

 

And lastly, to me, there was this idea of equating our family to ornaments. As in, the people in our lives - our family - make our lives more beautiful, just like ornaments make a Christmas tree beautiful. The ornaments are what makes a Christmas tree a Christmas tree. Without them, it's just a tree. A beautiful tree, self-sufficient in its own right, of course, but not a Christmas Tree. And, in my head at least, the people we consider family, well, they are who make our lives have meaning. They are what life is about. (Does that even make any freaking sense? It does in my head at least, ha!)

 

So, this is what we ended up with.  



 

 

 

The back was covered with pictures of different important people and times in the kid's life, including his birthday, his Adoption Day, visits with his birth family, etc... We also traced each of the four of our hands in our favorite colors, stacked them (hubby's on bottom, going up in size) and wrote our names and birthdates on them.

 

All in all, though I still think the project was stupid, and I still don't get the reason for doing it, I am satisfied with how it turned out. And the kid is happy with it. So I'm happy.

 

 

Today's Lesson: Some of the ornaments in our lives are broken, scratched, missing parts or pieces. Certainly none of them perfect. But when we look at the tree as a whole, it's beautiful, even in its state of imperfection. I am beyond grateful for my tree and ornaments. Merry Christmas, all!

Christmas Moments

Even though life really has been crazy and I didn't (of course) get half the stuff done at Christmas that I wanted, we have had a few fun holiday activities.

 

 

A friend of my mom's owns a local tree farm. We've been going there and cutting down our own tree for several years. We've been there in all kinds of weather (rain, snow, sleet on year - that was awful!). This year it was perfect weather, imo. Cool enough that it felt like Christmas was on its way, warm enough that the 30 minutes it took to find the tree didn't leave us with ice cube hands. E just wanted to be carried and kept saying, "ride in a Boba???". The kid, of course, was running around and didn't stay still long enough for me to take a picture of him.

 

The kid and I had our first "official" date. I bought tickets a few months ago for The Nutcracker. I was nervous about taking him as, well, he's not exactly known for sitting still for long periods of time. But, I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised! He was completely absorbed by the first act and hardly moved, much less spoke. Intermission, however, seems to have been his "done" point. He was squirmy and talkative the 2nd act. Although, to be honest, the 1st act is where most of the action and humor are. So, I guess I can see why the 2nd act didn't hold his attention quite as much. However, he told my mom a week later that he loved it and didn't even have words to describe it. So, sounds like a big win. I can't wait to take him to something else new!

 

 

Today's Lesson: They key to getting your 6yo boy to get excited about ballet, is to tell him that there will be "real teenage girls" dancing on that stage. He will be enthralled for at least 30 minutes.

Teaching Words

By the time the kid was 15 months, he was repeating - very clearly - absolutely everything we said. By the time he was 18 months, he was talking in not just sentences, but paragraphs. While I knew he was ahead of his development, language-wise, it's only in the last year, since baby E has hit and surpassed those ages, that this has been cemented for me.

Now, don't misunderstand, baby E is exactly where he should be language-wise. But that is, as I just described, way behind where the kid was. And, funny enough, I'm totally fine with that. Because, I mean, really, I can't imagine all the damn talking that would be going on otherwise. There would be no quiet around here ever.

Also, the kid was a tiny parrot, copying absolutely everything that came out of anyone's mouth (good, bad, and ugly). I had to curb my use of some of my favorite words (you know, the 4 letter ones), because he'd have copied those in a heartbeat, and then used them incessantly thereafter. For better or worse, I've been able to continue to use that potty mouth around baby E. And it's not been an issue in the least.

Until Thursday morning.

I was trying to clean up the craphole that is my house lately. And baby E disappeared and then I heard grunting (indicating he was starting to poop). I ran to him and used my fake excited voice, "come on, E, you're going to poop in the potty! Yay, like a big boy!!". And he was all, "NOOOOOOOOOO!" because that's his favorite word.

I sat him on the toilet and stepped out for less than 30 seconds to get rid of the wet diaper. When I walked back in, he was pulling a sopping wet washcloth out of the toilet. That had pee in it. Lots of pee. I grabbed him, and it. And then noticed a tooth brush in the toilet. And then a travel size tube of tooth paste. Both in the toilet. Covered in pee.

And then I said, not so under my breath, "son of a bitch".

And then he said, quite clearly, "NO son of a bitch, momma".

And I said, "I mean Merry Christmas".

And he said, "NO Merry Christmas. Son of a bitch, momma".

And, frankly, that about sums up where I am right now.

Also, if my toddler says "Son of a Bitch" to you, what he's really saying is "Merry Christmas".


Today's Lesson: We spend lots of time imagining and dreaming about all the awesome things our kids will say and do when they get older. And then sometimes, they surprise even us. Also, perhaps I should watch my potty mouth around my toddler.

Not just for me

I, like many of you, followed the news closely about the shooting in Newtown on the day it happened. I managed to be okay for the most part that day, following the developments closely, but not in tears.  Did I want to hug my kids close? Yes. But still I was okay, emotionally removed from the horror. Able to go about my day, knowing my babies were safe.

Until I read this post @ Adoption in the City

I've said before that one of the reasons open adoption is so important to us is because we want the boys' birth families to know that they're okay. More than that, we adamantly believe they have a right to that.

I can't imagine not knowing.  And not just when something like Newtown happens, but all the time. The walking down the street, not knowing if the little kid in front of you might be yours. Or reading about a kid in the paper who has won some kind of award and wondering. Seeing a child on the news died somehow and the punch to the gut, terrified that it's your child.  How painfully hard it must be to wonder. The strength it takes to do that. The strength it takes to live that every day.

It often hits me the different ways adoption is hard. But, this way, it's just not one I'd thought about. I hope the boys' birth families know that if something awful happened to either of them, we would let them know right away.

The night of the shooting, when I finally got home from work, I went into my sons' rooms, as I always do. Only this time when I pulled their covers up and kissed their sleeping heads, I did it not just for me, but for their birth families as well. I whispered that all of their parents love them, because it is what I know to be true.


Today's Lesson: The lessons we're presented with in life never stop. There are always more lessons to be learned.

Water, or balls, or some kind of analogy

I've been overwhelmed by life lately. Not the "I am going to lay down and die because I can't handle anything" kind of overwhelmed. More the, "I am holding my head above water - just barely - so fortheloveofbabyjesus please don't add another thing to my load" kind of overwhelmed. I've dropped many balls in order to accommodate the new ones. And some of those are really important balls.


Case and point, two weeks ago was my bff's birthday. I'm sure she thinks I've forgotten because I don't think I even managed to even send her a fb message to wish her a happy birthday, much less see her or even get her birthday present to her. Not that it's anything new - I have hardly seen her in the last several months. I wouldn't blame her in the least if she totally revoked the bff card. Honestly, as much as I've sucked as a friend lately, I think she should. (And hell, she may have but hasn't been able to see me to tell me!)


As much as I hate this - that I haven't seen her, or talked to her, or even sent her a freaking text message - I don't know what else to do. I don't know which other ball to drop. I'd actually planned to take the gift to her house on her birthday. But instead I ended up spending the day taking care of the kid and his now-glued together head. And then, as the days wore on, and crap kept getting in the way, I became embarrassed. Embarrassed that I hadn't talked to her, told her happy birthday, told frankly just her how much  I miss her. Because I know it's my fault.


It's an example of how chaotic things are right now. Heaven knows she's not the only one I've neglected, or let down in the last several months. Don't get me started on when my last actual conversation with hubby was. Or the last art project I did with the boys. Or the last time I called my mom to just see how her week has been. Or when I last made any attempts to talk with either of the boys' birth families. Much less spending time with any other friends. None of them have happened in ages.


I feel like I'm having to choose which really important things to slack on. Or, more accurately, I don't have time to really make a definitive decision, because the chaos is so complete, that I'm living in reactionary mode. 15 things come at me at once and I feel like all I can do are the things that are mandatory. Nothing else makes the cut. And that is not where I am most happy; it is not where I want to live. I can't even blame Christmas, because this was going on before the holidays even got close.

I feel stuck in a cycle. There's so much to do. There's just not time to do it all.


And so I bob up and down in the water. Hoping it will recede eventually, leaving me standing on my 2 feet once again.


P.S. Happy crazyass late birthday, dear friend. Please don't hate me. I love you!!

P.S. 2 - I have no idea why this whole post is highlighted white. Or why only this part isn't. Or how to fix it. Or really, energy to worry about it. Another thing for the "I don't have time to deal with this" list.




Today's Lesson: Finding balance is a great goal. It's also one of those things that goes on the "easier said than done" list. A list I don't have time to reference at the moment, I might add.

Senseless Violence, Daily

I don't know really how we talk to our kids about violence. All violence is in essence senseless. How do we explain such things to our children? Truly, I don't know. But what I do know is that these huge acts, they are rare, so, so very rare. And yet they have the ability to petrify us all.

Some days I think I'm jaded, desensitized. Not by violence in video games or on TV, because, honestly, I try to avoid those at all costs. But by the events that make the national news, such as Newtown. Or, perhaps, it's just that I just try to keep myself removed from them.

Because every day I see the effects of violence. I see the 2mon old in the PICU who was shaken and will likely never regain his vision or lose the seizures. I see the toddler with more broken bones than years. I see the child my son's age with an adult handprint across his face. I see the teenager, furious, whose experience has been that the world has allowed untold horrors to happen to her for years. I see them. Every day.

And these are the incidents of violence I have the hardest time explaining - to myself, much less to my children. The public (albeit so horrific) ones, those I can attribute to significant mental health issues of the assailant. Or guns that are too easily accessible. The ones I see daily though, for most of those, there is no explanation that allows me to feel any peace.

As many are questioning on FB "who kills kids?!!!", or "why would someone do this to innocent children??!!!", I keep thinking, lots of people. Every damn day. They may not take guns and kill 25 people in a public place, but people are beating and killing children every day in the US. Every. Fucking. Day.

And yes, I want you all to be upset and angry about the victims of Newtown. But I also want you to be upset and angry for daily victims of violence. Because it's happening. In the US. In your state. In your town. It's happening.

I don't say any of this to diminish the horror of Newtown, the deaths of the children, the grief of so many. I recognize the senselessness and awfulness of what happened. I can hardly imagine the pain of the parents, the other students, the first responders, the community. But I say it because the horror of being hurt is the daily reality of many children.

And so, as saddened as I am by this tragic, crazy shooting, worrying that something like this could happen to my children, or children I know, is not what will keep me awake at night. It is the faces of the children I see every day, they are the ones I worry about at night. They are the ones who I think about after they leave. They are the ones whose futures I fear for.

I don't know what you or I can do to stop things like Newtown from happening. But I do know there are a multitude of things I can do, you can do, to keep the children we see every day safe. And I guess... I think... I hope... that helping these children perhaps will help all of our hearts feel a little less helpless tonight.

And that is why I do the job I do. Because I have to do something. Because feeling helpless is simply not an option for me.


Today's Lesson: Don't accept that simply because someone is a child's parent she has the right to do with that child what she pleases. Look for signs of being overwhelmed in new (all!) parents. Do your damnedest to make sure your children and the children around you are only left in the care of competent, responsible, non-violent caretakers. Remember, children need a village. To raise them. To keep them safe. To love them. Our children - all of them - are the responsibility of all of us.

(Not at all) Fun Family Outing

There's this lights display around here, where you drive through this big park, and they have lights up all over the place. There are hundreds of cars, cruising along in line, going about 5mph, just enjoying the lights. Lots of people love it. As in, their Christmas simply isn't complete without their family trek to see the lights. It sounds quite lovely.

So, the year before last, we loaded up the SUV with me, hubby, the kid, baby E (who was about 3mon old at the time) and my mom. It was nearing bedtime, but we assumed the kid would be so enthralled, that he'd be content. Or fall asleep. One of the two. And that baby E, whom I'd nursed right before we left the house, would sleep. In hindsight (which is, of course, always 20/20), this was stupid because the kid needs to go to bed on time, or he gets all crazy, ramped up. And baby E, at the time, hated the car. But, what can I say, we were super sleep-deprived. And just plain hopeful.

So, we're driving along, everyone is fine. I'm not particularly impressed with the lights, but they're fine. Then, out of the blue, hubby slams on the breaks, throws out a quick, "I'm going to vomit" and jumps out of the car, running away. I'm all, "WTF just happened???!!!!". But, as we'd been told "Do.Not.Stop.The.Car.Under.Any.Circumstances!" when we entered the park, I jump out, run around to the driver's seat, and start driving. Wondering, of course, where the hell my husband had just gone.

Baby E, who realized at that moment that the vehicle had stopped, was reminded that he did, in fact, detest the car. So he started screaming. And the kid realized that he was both tired and also unimpressed with the lights. So he started whining.

And all I could do was drive.

Eventually I found a little parking lot to pull into. Even though we were not supposed to stop. At.All.

The kid was then saying he had to pee. And baby E was full out screeching. So, my mom took the kid to pee. The parking lot was conveniently in front of a bathroom. Yay! It was locked. Serious boo.  So they found a tree. Awkward.

I got E out and tried to nurse him in the front seat. But he was way too beyond pissed off to nurse at that point. So I called hubby, you know, to figure out where the hell he'd ended up in the 1200+acre park. He said he'd vomited a couple of times and was feeling much better. So he was walking along the road, headed our direction. People were giving him odd looks. I assured him they were just worried he was going to try to carjack him or something. You know, 'cause he looks so threatening. And that, fortheloveofallthingsholy he needed to get his ass to the car before momma losthershitforreal.

I finally got baby E latched about the time the kid came back from peeing on a a tree. We had to wait several more minutes for hubby to catch up to us.

And then I was faced with a quandary. I always have my kids in their carseats when the car is moving at all. But I could not stomach the thought of baby E screaming anymore. So, did I continue to nurse him while we're driving, or put him back in the carseat and listen to him. My ears - and sanity - won.

So, we're driving down the road, I'm nursing E in the front seat, the kid's bopping all around the back seat, because clearly he wasn't having any part of putting his seatbelt back on if E wasn't in the carseat. Hubby's face was still green and he kinda smelled like puke. My eyelid was twiching and I had a massive headache. Through gritted teeth,I said to him, "There is no way in hell we're ever going back there." Hubby: "No, absolutely no way in hell."

Guess where we're going this weekend? Sweetbabyjesus, pray for us.


Today's Lesson: Never say never.

White Christmas. Or was it gray?

I was driving to work today. It's been raining here, I swear, for like 40 days and nights. I mean, maybe it's just been 4 days and nights. But, seriously, it feels like 40. Particularly since it's December and all. I mean, it's not like we usually have snow in these parts this time of year. It's just that we don't generally have thunder storms. Or my crocuses and tulips popping up. Crazy confused flowers.

At any rate, I'm driving to work. I hear the tail end of the weather report on the radio and am reminded that last night, on the news, the weather dude said we could get flurries today. And, while I'm not crazy about snow, I am excited that it's not rain.

So, I'm sitting at a light, bopping along to the music now on the radio when I see them. Flurries! On my windshield. How exciting! Snow, just a little, enough to maybe be pretty. Enough get my boys all excited. Hum, not very much. Oh, wait, there's a few more!

The car in front of me starts to move. The light's changed to green. My windshield is assaulted by the driver's cigarette smoke, billowing out of the driver's window. And I smell it. Ew. I so detest that smell.

Then I notice more flurries. Just a couple. Just on the left side of the win shield. Again. Right where they others had hit. I look and there are no spots on any other part of the windshield. Or the other windows of my car.

And then I realize they're probably not so much flurries. They're probably cigarette ashes.

Bah Humbug.


Today's Lesson: Sometimes it really is more pleasant to keep your head in the sand, ostrich. Just let the ashes be snow. You'll be happier that way.

A Ghost Child

Mel over at Stirrup Queens wrote a beautiful post recently, about her ghost child. It's haunting, and perfectly describes something I've been trying to articulate for myself of late. Please go read it. Then come back.

For those of you who don't follow directions thus didn't go read the post, Mel talks about a recent family trip where she was followed by a ghost child. A child who is only a possibility. Or perhaps, a child who is no longer a possibility. She's reminded that because that child doesn't physically exist, this trip was possible for her family. But also that the carrying of this ghost child prevents her from fully participating in the experience with her family. (Or at least that's what I took from her words.)

I've been grappling with my own ghost child recently. She's reflected in the questions others have started asking about whether we're considering a 3rd child. She's waiting to be nursed as we move towards what feels like baby E starting to wean. She's there, watching, as I wonder what to do with all the things baby E is outgrowing. She's there in the night, when I am startled awake by a newborn's cries. I feel her weight on my chest when I see a friend carrying her newborn in the Moby wrap.

And she is always a she. The dresses. The hair bows. The girly-ness of her. It's painfully palpable at times. She is painfully palpable at times. A shadow. A possibility. A ghost. A question. A maybe.

She's there. Waiting. Waiting for us to decide whether or not she will be. Always there.


Today's Lesson: Sometimes others are better at giving words to our thoughts than we are ourselves.

Glued

And then, right after I declared us sick-y free...and nearly dared the fates to give us anything else, the kid fell at school (thanks to a kid who slung a swing at him, hitting him in the head and making him fall to the ground, landing on his head). And got a good sized laceration on his head. Fortunately we avoided the ED and the pediatrician was able to glue it together. 

 

After he stopped screaming. While I was holding him immobilized. Because he was TERRIFIED of the electric razor. So SCREAMED. And then TERRIFIED of the gauze.  So SCREAMED. And then TERRIFIED of the soap. So SCREAMED. And then TERRIFIED of the glue. So SCREAMED.

 

I'm not sure who was more traumatized - the kid or me. Or who was more irritated - the pediatrician or me. Needless to say, it was fun for us all.

 

And now the kid has a lovey bald spot on his curly head.

 



 

 

 

 

Today's Lesson: Holding down your child, forcing him to do something, even when you know it's something that has to be done, something that's in his best interest, well, it hurts a momma's heart like no other. 

Missing

I've no good reason for my absence from this blog (and yes, a week and a half is an absence, for me at least). I mean, I have several reasons, but nothing big so much.

We've had about 6 weeks of one or more of us being sick. Finally, I think we're all well And so help me if I just jinxed us. I mean, really. I will lose my shit if there is any more sick at our house in the next 2 months.

My work schedule continues to be difficult and irregular, meaning I'm working more nights that normal. Much of that has been self-imposed due to childcare issues. Hoping it will improve now that baby E is back with our regular (and much beloved) sitter/friend.

The kid's behavior has improved somewhat in the last week or so. Probably because he's finally not sick anymore. And we finally had a frost that killed the evil ragweed. Which means that his asthma is finally gone for this season. So he's sleeping at night and off the asthma meds.

I seem to have acquired a bit of the old Christmas spirit this year. Not sure where it came from, but I'll take it. And hope it sticks long enough to actually get me through Christmas. Which would be a Christmas miracle in and of itself.

Also, we did the kid's Family Tree project. It turned out not too bad. I promise to do a post soon including pictures of the results.

At any rate, this is all I've got right now. I'm in a place where I don't really have the energy to form full, coherent posts. Lots of one- or two-liners that are good starts to posts, but the things never seem to finish themselves up. Hopefully soon I'll get some inspiration. Or direction. Or energy. Or something.


Today's Lesson: Sometimes, even to those of us who talk a lot, words are not forthcoming. Even when we have stuff to say.

A Different Kind of Lesson

Lately I've been toying with the idea of having the kid take some kind of music lesson. There are several reasons for this. Though a few not to, of course.

To start, the kid loves music and has quite an affinity for it as well. He was singing (with excellent pitch, I might add) when he was younger than baby E is now. He has great rhythm. Also, music seems to - as it does with many of us - help him focus and be still for awhile. Which is a huge plus in my book.

Much research exists that extols the benefits of music for children and learning. There are links between music involvement/instrument playing and increased academic performance, testing scores and skills in science and math, also reading. While I could care less about test scores, the rest of that is good in my book.

And, to top out the list of pros, I played the violin for I don't remember how many years (13?) and loved my orchestra experience.

The negatives of involving him in something else boil down to this - I am struggling with deciding how to strike a good balance between scheduled activities and free time. I know, I know, this is a common problem. However, I feel very strongly that free time is so, so very important for kids of all ages. Play is the work of children (quick, who knows who that quote can be attributed to?) and when we schedule too much for them, we don't allow them to have the unstructured time they need to explore their world on their own terms.

Kids spend all day while they're at school being told what to do and when. It disallows them the opportunity to decide for themselves what to do and when (which is one of the reasons why I so love Montessori - because it offers greater freedom for children in this, but that's a post for another day). He's already involved in gymnastics (something I don't think we'll be stopping any time soon), so adding in one more thing may be too much for him. Heck, for us all.

So, what to do, what to do...

I *think* what we'll do is wait til after the holidays and try lessons then. If he seems overwhelmed by it, then we'll stop. No big deal.

I've discovered that my orchestra teacher from elementary and middle school is now teaching private lessons. I loved her way back in the day, so it seems like a good place to start. Oh, and I think we're going to go with cello. Because the kid got all excited when I played recordings of cello music. Also, if he happens to be good at it, college scholarships are more easily accessible with cello than many other instruments. What?? A momma can dream.


Today's Lesson: Music tames the wild beast. Or so the saying goes. I'm hoping the creation of music works even better to soothe said beast than simply the listening to it. Because that only works sometimes.

Itchy, itchy, Scratchy, Scratchy

So here's some irony for you. Monday I posted about how baby E had the funk and his first ever round of antibiotics. I'd written that post a few days before it actually ran. So, Sunday morning, when the kid woke up feeling miserable, I suspected we knew what was coming. I was right. Sort of.

He was complaining of his throat and mouth hurting. And a fever that ibuprofen didn't touch. And a most pitiful attitude. Also, a lack of moment, you know, stillness. So I knew something was bad wrong with him. I emailed the boys' pediatrician (who typically replies within a couple of hours), telling her I suspected strep, as I assume that's what baby E had less than 2 weeks ago. I was hoping she'd call in a script for an antibiotic (I know, the irony, right?!). Well, she didn't reply for about 10hrs and - responsibly - said we'd need to bring him in.

Well, by that time Sunday evening, he'd also developed a slight sandpaper-y rash on his face, neck, and trunk that was mildly itchy. Also, his face was WAY swollen and his cheeks were super rosy.

By Monday morning, well, the rash was crazy. His entire body - and I mean from top of his curly head to the tips of his funky toes - was covered in a fiery red and seriously itchy rash. In addition to the sore mouth and throat, fever, glazed eyes, and general miserableness.

So, back to the pediatrician I went. This time with both boys in tow. Baby E burst out in tears the moment we walked in the door. I have no idea why. He clung to me like a trembling little spider monkey the whole time. The kid saw some toys and slumped to the floor, playing halfheartedly with them. Also, did I mention he really wasn't talking? And I mean, that is not my kid.

I told the nurse the kid's symptoms and my guess at his diagnosis. He did a strep test. And whadaya know, it came back positive. My baby boy has strep. And our household got a 2nd prescription for Omn.icef in as many weeks. Oh the irony.

After I get home and, of course, posted on FB that my kiddo has strep with this horrible rash (what - isn't that what you all do, you know, before feeding them lunch or anything?!), a friend says "oh, poor kid, he's got Scarlet fever!". And then I of course consult Dr goo.gle and realize that the kid does, in fact, have Scarlet Fever.

And who the hell knew that anyone still gets Scarlet Fever (which apparently is a strain of strep - think strep + horrible, want-to-peel-your-own-skin-off-because-it-itches-so-bad rash)?! Well, that one friend did, but who else???!!!

And then we all had one of the worst nights ever. It was awesome. And I will be complaining, eh, blogging, about that soon.

The kid's doped up on so many medications now I had to make a list for hubby of what to give him when. Again, the irony could kill me on this one. But, he is feeling much better. And, thankyousweetbabyjesus he did sleep well last night.

Today's Lesson: Our childrens' job is to constantly remind us that it doesn't really matter what we think, we don't really know anything. Also, drugs are good. And also (because every once in awhile, we all need 3 lessons), some days irony wins.

Run, kid, run!

Today's NHBPM prompt is to write about a health moment I regret.

 

 

Last month, we participated for the 2nd time as a family in a 5k. This one was put on by the PTA of our school district. The kid and hubby ran it. It was the kid's 4th or 5th 5k. Hubby has run a couple of half marathons and a full one, so it was no big deal for him (and this was certainly not a good time for him, you know, because he was running with a 6yo and all). But that's a pretty good distance for a 1st grader.

 

I'm so proud of my boy. He finished in about 36 minutes, and 5th overall in his age group (50+ kids). Mostly, though, I'm proud of him for doing it. And for improving on his own personal best from the last couple of races. I think we may have a cross country runner on our hands.

 

(Also, his face in this picture really cracks me up. And I love the look his Poppa is giving him.)

 



And at this point, if you paid any attention to the prompt from the very beginning of this post, you're wondering where I'm going with this whole thing. Here's the tie in. You'll notice I mentioned hubby and the kid. I haven't mentioned myself (or baby E). Baby E and I walked the race. To be more accurate, I walked it, and wore baby E in our Boba carrier (truly, I need to do a toddler-wearing post one of these days).

 

I could use that to excuse my sad time (48min-ish, 2nd to last in my age group). I mean, I was carrying a 27ish lb toddler. And the only participant - of several hundred - to babywear, I might add. So, really, shouldn't take off at least several minutes?! (The correct answer here is yes.) However, the truth is, I've gotten fat and I've gotten slow. Not that I've ever been speedy mind you, but really, this was bad.  

 

I weigh more now than I have, well, ever. And I'm more out of shape than I've been, well, ever. I know I've bemoaned this several times here over the last year or so. And the truth is I've done nothing about it, outside of the bemoaning that is.

 

It really isn't about the weight, but it is about how I feel. Which is tired, and lethargic, and pudgy, and flat out uncomfortable in my own skin. Because there's too much of it, you know.

 

So, what's the health moment I regret? It's the one when I realized that even if I hadn't been wearing baby E (thus not able to run for safety reasons), there is no way my body would have been able to do it anyway. And that sucks.

 

I hope that one of these years, all 4 of us will be able to run a 5k together.

 

 

 

Today's Lesson: Until we make a decision to change, to move, we remain stagnant. Simply bemoaning things does us no good. It does nothing to activate the movement. Perhaps it even makes us more entrenched and less likely to move. Thus, we need to stop moaning and start moving. Then change can happen.

Red dye 40-free Antibiotics

Baby E battled some kind of funk the last 3 weeks. We had 5 - oh yes, 5 - vomiting episodes in that time frame, snot galore, a decreased appetite, intermittent low-grade fevers, coughing. Lots and lots of coughing. And did I mention the 5 episodes of vomiting? I did?

Suffice to say, baby boy was not feeling well. And clearly his immune system was not taking care of this particular bug. So off to the pediatrician we went.

You should know that we're not big proponents of antibiotics (meds in general). I completely believe that early and repeated antibiotic use causes all kinds of problems, both for individuals and society as a whole (increases in asthma, increases in drug-resistant bugs, etc...). Also, our state was recently rated as being at the top of the list (nation-wide) for overuse of antibiotics. As in, we use tons more than most other states. Yay for us.

In the past when we've gone to the pediatrician with sick boys, she's often tried to get us to give the boys antibiotics, usually because of ear infections. Research I've read suggests that 90+% of ear infections resolve on their own without antibiotics (i.e. it's viral not bacterial thus antibiotics are ineffective). So, we've always politely refused the antibiotic, come back 5-7 days later and shown her the miraculous results of our child being  ear infection free. And, since the 2nd time that happened, she's backed off on the whole pushing antibiotics thing.

After examining baby E, the pediatrician still wasn't sure what was wrong. It didn't appear that he had an ear infection. She threw out that she'd like to treat it like a sinus infection. Which meant antibiotics.

Poor baby E had been miserable for so long, and showed no signs at all of even starting to feel better. So, I decided fill the script and actually give it to him. On the condition that she prescribe one that doesn't have Red 40 in it. Because, you know, it makes the kid crazy. And I'm pretty confident that it's just not something I want in either of my boys' systems. Yes, Dr Pediatrician, even if it doesn't affect baby E in quite that way.

The pediatrician, again, acted like she didn't know which meds don't have Red 40 in them. So I had to tell her. And I'm not sure how I feel about having to tell the MD what to prescribe my child. A bit unnerved that she didn't know. A bit empowered that I did.

At any rate, baby E finished his 10 day course of antibiotics last night. And I am beyond thrilled to tell you that he's back to his happy-and-into-everything-literally-climbing-up-the-walls self. Sometimes, just sometimes, the antibiotics are the right thing.


Today's Lesson:
One of my posts that often gets found through Goo.gle searches is this one in which I talk about how we hate Red dye 40 at my house. Often, people seem to be searching specifically for antibiotics in relation to red dye (based on their search terms). My assumption is that you're looking, like we were, for an antibiotic that doesn't have red 40 in it. I may be totally wrong about that of course, but it's the assumption I'm going off.

There are apparently only 2 antibiotics on the market approved for children (to take orally) that don't have Red dye 40 in them.  They are Omni.cef and Aug.mentin. And, apparently, they can make your child's poop red. Am I the only one who sees the irony of that?

The Moments of Struggle

Today's NHBPM prompt is to write about my strengths and weaknesses. This is my take on it.


I never know when IF will hit me.

I continue to struggle with the kid's behavior. Yes, still. And I *know* it's still related to his asthma, which we still haven't gotten completely under control. So he's still not sleeping great. It's gotten a bit better. But still.

I also know some of it is related to school. As in public school in general and the crappy habits, attitudes, words he's picked up there (thankfully, not another teacher issue. At least I don't think it is). Some of it's probably developmental as well. He's being sneaky, and disrespectful, and I'm feeling very pissy about it all.

Also, hubby's not handling it well either; he's yelling a lot. Which just further sets off the kid. Tons of fun, I tell ya. It's all incredibly frustrating. (And have I mentioned that we're now on vomit incident #5 in the last 3 weeks? Yeah. We are. ThankyoubabyE.)

But none of that is really what this post is about.

It's interesting, but these struggles bring up some the the IF crap. Leaving me with feelings of guilt for sucking as a parent right now. And the "shoulds" take over.

I *should* be able to deal with the behavior. I *shouldn't* lose my patience, or my temper. I *should* be able to figure out how to help the kid's behavior improve. I *should* know how to talk to hubby to help him handle it better, too.

Clearly I'm not good enough. Those old feelings of doubt creeping back in. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a parent. Feelings of not being worthy to raise this child his birthparents entrusted to me.

Rationally, I *know* that's all crap. I *know* we all struggle sometimes. I *know* it's ridiculous to expect all of this from myself. I *know*.

And yet, I still feel it.

More often than not the rational wins out. Really, it does. But there are those moments, thankfully fleeting, but they're there. Moments when IF wins.


Today's Lesson: Guilt is a bitchy, mean thing. It has to power to override the rational. It insinuates itself deep down and pops out when you least expect it. And, apparently, it is bff's with IF. I hate them both.

Open Adoption Interview Project - Natalie from Old Georgia House

This is the post that was supposed to run on Wednesday, but it didn't. So you get it today.

 

Meet Natalie @ Old Georgia House. She and I were matched by Heather @ Production, Not Reproduction as part of her 2012 Adoption Blogger Interview Project. Natalie has the cutest kids (one whom she gave birth to, the other joined their family through open adoption. And she's so crafty and talented. And, oh, that house - it's amazing. Here are her answers to the questions I asked her. You can read my answers to her questions here.

 

 



 

 

 

* In what ways is blogging important to you? Do you use it as a way to keep in contact with family (including your son's biological family, and your family as a whole)? Or is it more of an online journal?

Blogging used to be SO important to me--I've been blogging in one way or another since the beginning of 2004, but since Moseby's birth, well, it's taken a back burner. And it's not because I don't have the time--I've always made time for it before--but because I don't know, I guess I value privacy--his privacy--so much more now. Also, I've never told his birth family about my blog--I don't hide it, but definitely don't scream it either, you know--and I value their privacy and I want them to trust that I would never say anything about them too revealing or too negative or anything. All that being said, I miss my blog and I hope I get over this "slump" soon. My blog has always been a virtual diary and I miss reading back through the tidbits of our days.

* How do you think your experience with infertility has shaped your parenting?

We experienced infertility before we got pregnant with Mary Margaret so I honestly don't know what it's like to parent with anything but a history of infertility. I think I treasure (aka SPOIL them rotten!) them more, but I don't have any way of comparing it to, say, fertile person parenting, you know?

 

* How has your experience of being adopted shaped your relationships with your son's birth family?

Everything I do in life is seen through "adoptee glasses", just like the way I parent is seen through "infertility survivor glasses", so it's hard to separate the two. I definitely think being adopted has a HUGE (gigantic, enormous!) impact on why I work so hard to have a relationship with my son's birth family. I want to give him everything I did not have growing up as part of a closed adoption. I will say that the time in the hospital we shared with him and his birth mom was very hard on me because all I could think about was J. (my birth mom) and the pain she described after she placed me. It was almost like my absolute joy was twinged with guilt because I knew Moseby's birth mom, M., was hurting and I felt like I was the cause of the pain. Oh, that adoptee guilt--I sure can rock it!

I have also tried to establish a relationship with Moseby's birth father. At first we didn't think he would want any contact, but have been pleasantly surprised that we've become Facebook friends and he'll email me pictures of himself as a little boy (and boy, those two guys sure favor!). While I have reunited with my birth mother, I don't know who my birth father is so I think it's wonderful that Moseby will know his. What a gift!

 

* What does adoption look like in your family? Do you have contact with your son's birth parents, or your own birth family? And how does that work?

Adoption is such a part of our family I cannot discern which parts don't have a trace of adoption in them. We talk about it often--I swear, sometimes I think we do daily!--and my three year old (biological) daughter's biggest question is why she doesn't have a "Mama _________" (we call my birth mom "Mama J." and Moseby's birth mom "Mama M.") and she can't figure out why she didn't get to grow in someone else's tummy. I think she's a tad jealous! HA

 

* How do you address those (inappropriate) adoption questions we tend to all get asked (i.e. why did his parents "give him up"?, where's he from?, etc...)?

I think it's easier that's he's a baby--he doesn't understand what I'm saying in response to people's questions, you know? Of course, I'm VERY aware of my daughter because she has very big ears and is always listening.

I think it all depends on the way a question is asked. I had someone I know ask, 'What is it?' when he was born. I answered, 'A baby', and walked off. They are lucky I didn't say more! Then there are those people that have a heart for adoption--three of my friends have actually started the adoption process since we adopted Moseby--and I will talk to them all day long about it. Now, if random people start asking nosy questions I will say, 'And I'm adopted too!'...and then it takes the focus off him and the won't ask me the same nosy questions about my adoption situation. I'm not sure why this is, but it works every time.

 

* What about adoption do you find most challenging?

The most challenging part? I want to raise Moseby proud of his two cultures/roots. As a white woman I'm "out of the loop" on how to raise an African American-Native American man who is proud and knowledgeable of his roots. Since before he arrived I've been reading books, going to multicultural events, expanding our friendship circles, etc. Our family is constantly evolving in this area and it's something we're constantly striving to do better--but it's certainly the most challenging.

 

* I'm always trying to find new easy recipes for my family, so what's your favorite, go-to meal for your family?

Favorite meal that all of will eat? Man, that's tricky! We have salmon, rice pilaf, and broccoli (Mary Margaret is going through an anti-broccoli phase right now though) at least once a week. We're also fans of homemade pizza and breakfast for dinner.

 

 

Today's Lesson: Adoption looks so many different ways. Also, I still don't eat fish but pizza is awesome.

Oh, so that's why they're doing that Family Tree Project

So, remember the whole Family Tree Project thing? I never did get an answer from her (email, note, phone call as promised - not a one). So I figured the old Parent-Teacher Conference would be a great opportunity to address that. Seems reasonable, right? I thought so. Well, let me just tell you I walked away with about the same amount of information/direction as I walked in with. Which was, well, pretty much nothing.

I repeatedly tried to get her to explain her reasons for doing this project. But she didn't seem to really want to talk about it. I admitted that I was having a difficult time knowing where to start and that we needed some direction. I pointed out the obvious (that the kid was adopted) and that this presented different dynamics in regards to this project. She said - wait for it - that she didn't want any secrets exposed through this project.

I seriously sat there staring at her for what had to of been 30seconds, trying to process what she'd just said and form an appropriate response.  I calmly (pat self on back) explained that we have an open adoption with the kid's birth family but that even if we didn't, there would certainly be no secrets.

She then said - oh, yes, it does get better - that she didn't want him to share "all that stuff". I calmly (again, pat self on back) told her that the kid would be deciding who he wanted to include on his family tree. We are perfectly happy with whatever he decides. Though, truthfully, we'd love him to include his birth family. But that is totally and completely up to him.

She then pulled out a previous student's project and showed it to us. It was the same one she'd shown at that first parents' meeting. She kept saying that student was from Japan, as if that was, like, the same thing as the kid having been adopted.

I'm pretty sure we were speaking different languages. Or something.

Know what I think? I think it's a project she's done for years. She likes it for whatever reason, and that's why she keeps doing it. I asked her a couple of different ways to explain her desired learning objectives/what she wants the kids to learn from it/what she's hoping to see. But I never got an answer. Hubby even tried asking her in his own way. Still there was never a concrete answer. Heck, there was never even a hint of an answer.

You know, I'd so been hoping that she would be able to offer a good explanation, but there was none.

So, here's what we're going to do. My idea is to make a big tree with lots of leaves. The kid can put whatever family members he wants on those leaves. And, to me, family is whoever he decides it is. If he wants to put Mr Frank, our cranky old neighbor who mows his yard at least 2x/week, on there, then that's fine with me. If he wants to only include himself, hubby, me and baby E, I'm also fine with that.

We are going to use it as an opportunity to talk about all the different ways families look. We are going to give him free license to be creative. And that's it.


Today's Lesson: Busy work starts early, when we're still little people. And it's equally as irritating as busy work is when we're big people.

Not what I was supposed to post today

Today's post was supposed to be the Open Adoption Blogger Interview Project post, but my partner and I both seem to have struggled with the dates and didn't get our interviews to each other on time. really, please come back later this week and I'll post it - promise!

Also, it should seem quite obvious that I've kind of given up on NHBPM, too. I wasn't overall crazy about the prompts and with everything else going on, I totally couldn't motivate myself to keep up.  I still have a few that I'm planning to do (in other words, that I've already written and scheduled to post), but otherwise, I may be slacking some. But that's pretty normal for me, at least of late.

I do, however, have a post for you today. I was so excited to be asked to do a guest post for HerKentucky yesterday in honor of National Adoption Month (they're running a series about adoption this month - check them all out). Now, it totally outs us all (names, where we live, etc...), so I'm not sure how long I'll leave the link up here. I've considered outing us anyway, but for the meantime, please avoid using our names, location, etc... here. Thanks! Anyway, here it is Her Kentucky Adoption Series Post.

Today's Lesson: I suck at keeping up with what day it is when my work schedule is all crazy. Like, seriously suck. Even when I have email and facebook reminders.

Explain it to me

Today's NHBPM prompt is to write about something taboo. I believe this fits the bill.


I am writing this with full knowledge that this is a highly sensitive and often polarizing topic for many parents (and people in general). I have no desire to offend anyone. But I, truly, do not understand.

Why is it okay to hit our children? Explain it to me.

Why are a a tap or a pop or quick slap on the bottom acceptable? Why are these locations okay, but no where else? Where is the line that differentiates between spanking and hitting? Or is it just semantics? Explain it to me.

Why is it okay to use your body (or an implement) to attempt to change a child's behavior? And where is the line between what's acceptable to use, and what crosses some imaginary line? Is, as the old law said, anything smaller in diameter than your thumb okay? So, then, is it alright for my husband to use something bigger than what I'm allowed to use, you know, because his hands are bigger? Explain it to me.

What is it about the relationship we have with our children that gives us permission to hit them? Is it okay to do so with a spouse? Is okay with your subordinate at work? Is it okay for a police officer? Is it okay with someone else's child? Explain it to me.

Where is the line between spanking and abuse? In my state, line between legal and illegal is leaving a mark. But what constitutes a mark? Is it a mark if it turns red for a moment but is gone a minute later...15 minutes later...2 hours later...a day later? Does it cross the line when the same exact action that causes a mark on your child, leaves no visible one on my brown-skinned boys? Explain it to me.

Does it really matter if you spank your child in anger or when you're calm? It is scarier for a child to be hit by a parent who loses her cool and does so out of anger, or by a perfectly calm and seemingly rational adult who knows exactly what she's doing? Explain it to me.

Why is it that you having been spanked growing up and now being a healthy, functioning adult justifies spanking? There are many things that happen to us as children (parental substance use, death of parents, molestation, etc...) that we don't say are "okay" just because we survived them. And we certainly would never say that it would be okay to perpetuate those patterns with our children. Why is spanking different? Explain it to me.

There are many things in life I don't understand. But our societal belief that it is acceptable, and at times expected that we hit our children is at the absolute top of my list. Explain it to me.


Today's Lesson: In my professional and personal experience and opinion, corporal punishment teaches children that it is permissible and acceptable for bigger people to exert control over smaller people, and that using our bodies in a violent way is an acceptable way to get others to do what we want them to do. Physical discipline does not help activate a child's internal locus of control. It instead teaches a child to be  behave only when the parent is watching. Spanking does not teach a child to respect his parents. It teaches her to fear them. And the two are not at all the same thing. One is necessary (respect). The other is not (fear).

The Cubicle Chronicles: Chapter Five

Read previous chapters of the Cubicle Chronicles here, here, here, and here. I keep thinking, any time now people will stop saying stupid things. But I must be wrong. So wrong. So we continue...

Also, today's NHBPM prompt is to write about something funny. This will, hopefully, suffice.

Nurse: What's your reason for coming in [to the Emergency Department] today? Patient: I have acne. Nurse: (waiting...) Um, okay, acne, and what else is going on? Patient: I have acne. Nurse: Okay, so what brought you in today? Patient: Did you hear me? I have acne. Nurse: So...oh. Okay then. Acne.

Lady: Hello, Rebecca? Me: Me? Becky. I mean, can I help you? Lady: Do you know how to french braid? Me: Um... yes? Lady: Great. My hair's kind of damp and I can go get it a little wetter. Can you try to braid my hair? Me: Um, huh? Lady: My son has a show tonight and I want my hair to have the nice wavy thing going on and I never learned how to french braid. So, do you care to do it? Me (looks at her and determines that she appears clean): Um. Ok... (And then I actually did it. Yup, I sure did. But hell, I didn't have anything else to do. Which she could clearly see. And, yes, it was a particular kind of awkward. Not a good call on my part. At all.)

Lady 1: What the hell is that??!!! Lady 2: Oh my...!! L1: Is that really happening??! L2: Apparently it is. L1: No, really? It can't be. L2: It is. Lady 3: Is that...??!!! L1: It is. L3: You're telling me that tow truck, just pulled that ambulance here. With a patient in it?? L2: Apparently yes. L3: So, the tow truck was pulling the ambulance that had a patient in the back. L1: Yeah. Patient care at its best. L3: Well, I'll be damned. (That echos my thoughts exactly. I mean, can you imagine. You're in an ambulance. Because, you know, you, like, need to be in an ambulance to get to the hospital. And then it breaks down. But, instead of, you know, calling a new one, they call a tow truck. And, that is how you get to the hospital. I wonder how insurance will read the bill on that one...)

Lady1: What you doin'? Lady 2: I was doin' nothin'. L1: Don't you lie to me! Was you tryin' to take my cigarettes? (switched to the creepiest, most threatening, yet baby-ish voice) Don't you steal my ciggies. I will kill you. I will cut you. Into tiny, little pieces. I will take you out. Don't you touch them. L2:Um, I didn't go near them. L2 (in a completely normal - for her - voice): Okay, will you go get me a drink from the cafeteria now?  (Dude, I can not adequately describe the creepiness of that voice. And then it went all sickly sweet. I am fairly certain she's crazy. Like, totally, off her rocker, effin' crazy. One of us needs meds - her to be less crazy, or me to continue to listen to her non-medicated crazy.)


Today's Lesson: Always look busy at work. Otherwise you could get stuck braiding a stranger's hair. Which is total awkwardness. And makes you feel the need to repeatedly wash your hands.

Dear Infertility...

Today's NHBPM prompt is to write a letter to your health. Here's what I came up with.

Dear Infertility,
My initial thought is to just tell you "you suck" and "I hate you" and leave it at that. Since, you know, those things are true. So, so very true. I mean, you suck in oh, so many ways. I could go into a whole "let me count the ways" kind of rant. And it would be long. But I'll abstain. Because, well, that would just piss me off further.

And, really, I do have something more important to say to you.

Infertility, I am daily reminded that without you, I wouldn't have my boys. I hate you a lot (and I do mean a lot), but I have my kid and my baby E because of you. You serve as a reminder to me to try to see the possibilities that arise from the heartache. You remind me that good things come from the bad. That there are always opportunities for healing.

Now, I will never go so far as to thank you for, well, being you, and well, attaching yourself to me. But I can acknowledge a gratefulness. Because you are a tangible reminder to me that out of the pain can come good, once we are in a place to see and accept it. And when we are able to make some sort of peace with the crap we're thrown, we make room for good to come in.

And, for that, Infertility, I have to give you a little bit less hate.

That's the best I can do. Today at least.

Sincerely,
The Infertile Social Worker come Momma


Today's Lesson: I believe we are presented with opportunities to learn lessons throughout our lives. Not to say that bad things happen to teach us a lesson, mind you. But that things happen, and things can be learned from those. God speaks in whispers, getting progressively louder, sometimes yelling at us to learn the damn lesson already.

Infertility, for me, was certainly a yelling. And, lord knows, it was a lesson it took me a long time to hear. But it's now a lesson I've learned. From the bad, the awful, the horrible things that happen to us, we can learn something. And, I don't know about you, but it gives me some peace. To know that something good can, will come of it all.

Changing a Vote

Today's NHBPM prompt is to write about how I stay mindful. Here's my take.

Yesterday, when we went to vote, hubby and I canceled out each other's votes. I find this irritating (big surprise), but it's not actually the point of this post. Nor is a discussion of politics specifically. I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to guess where my allegiances lie. But again, that's not the point today.

After we left the voting prescient yesterday, we were discussing the whole thing. The kid (unprompted) said, "Momma, don't worry. I changed Poppa's vote for that silly Romney guy to Barack Obama, when he wasn't looking". We all cracked up about this and then baby E started yelling out "Barack Obama, Barack Obama" over and over. I have smart boys, but again, not the point today.

So, I posted this exchange later on FB and a friend posted a comment that made me think, and inspired this post. Here's the FB conversation that ensued.

Friend - On a more serious, non-political note, it must be so cool for them (especially the kid) to see a black man in charge of the nation. Now we just need a women for all the little girls.

 

Me - You know, I don't think he's really connected to that as of yet. I await the day he does. And - for all of us "little girls" - a day when there's a women for us to look up to, too.

 

F - That's true; it's just his 'normal' since this is really the only President he's ever known. But having that sense of normal is really good.

 

M - I agree completely. 4 years ago I had that same thought and hope. As we were leaving today, Hubby said, "Kid, do you know that a long time ago only men were allowed to vote?". The kid looked at him like he was crazy. I pointed out that only people with skin color like mine and hubby's were also allowed to vote. He thought it preposterous. I love that a "brown" (as he says) president is also his normal.

In no way would I advocate for voting for (or against, of course) someone because of his or her race - or ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, etc... But, it means a great deal to me that for my black sons, having a president of their color will be normal to them.

Because here's the thing - politicians should resemble the people they represent. We should all have politicians who look like us as well as represent the beliefs we hold.

Why is that important? Well, for a plethora of reasons. But, right now, it's important to me because I want my children to know that anyone truly can become the president of the United States. I want my children to know that not only white men have the ability to "run" our country. I want them to have people who look like them to look up to, particularly in the most powerful position in our country.

Then again, the more cynical side of me thinks that our current politicians do, in fact, mirror the population of people they actually represent (white, upper class men). But I'm trying to not be so cynical, at least for today.

Also, I, too, await the day when the "little girl" in me has a women Commander in Chief to look up to.


Today's Lesson: Lots of people who are more eloquent than me have addressed this same issue. I appreciate living in a place where I can still say it. Even if it's unpopular. Even if I bumble over it and don't make a whole lot of sense.

A Super Lame Blog Post

This is the lamest blog post ever. I thought I had a post scheduled for today. I was wrong. And I just now (at 4:30pm) realized it. In my defense, I did have a productive day. Hubby, the boys and I voted, then we went for a good walk at the park, then I did some laundry, and now I'm at work. Which is why I can't write a related post, because my list of the prompts is at home. And I'm not.

The fact that I've had a fairly productive day makes me feel a little less lame. A little. And I realize that I could skip a day of this whole NHBPM thing. Um, but I can't. So you get this lame post instead. You're ever so welcome.

Hope you all voted, too!


Today's Lesson: Well, I was going to say that if you don't vote today, then you don't get to complain about the results. However, I then realized that the beauty of living in the US is that even if you don't exercise your right and responsibility to vote, you still have the right to complain. I mean, it does mean you're also not contributing to a solution (which means your complaints hold a little less weight, at least to my ears). But you do still have the right.

Faster than a Speeding Bumblebee

Today's NHBPM prompt is to get on your Health Activist Soapbox. But, well, I have too many of those. And frankly am on them often enough. So, instead, you get pics of my cute kids. Really, you're winning here.

 

 

I realize most people posted their Halloween pictures a few days ago. But I already had posts set for those days and - somehow - forgot that Halloween should be in there somewhere. Plus, I figure you saw so many cute kids in costumes that mine would be overlooked. This way they're the only ones you'll see. Thus allowing you to more fully appreciate their adorableness. Or something.

 

Anyway, presenting my bumblebee and Superman. 

 

Baby E's got a lot of stripes goin' on. The socks at least were covered up with the shoes on. Also, he has no idea what a bee says. But he's freaking cute all the same.

 

Remind me to tell you one of these days about how the kid was *almost* creepy Superman. Which would have been funny as hell right now. But not so much when he's 13.

 

 

This was about it for pics of the kid. He zoomed around, fast as Superman all night, collecting candy. This made pictures hard to get, you know, when you're faster than a speeding bullet and all.

E held tight to my hand all night. He was not at all sure about this whole going up to strangers' houses and talking to them gig. (Smart boy) However, when he saw this blow up pumpkin in a yard, he got really excited! He walked up to it cautiously, and then ran away, laughing hysterically. I've no idea what was so funny about it. But his running made me laugh.

 

And then, there was a Halloween rainbow. What, don't you get those every year? Yeah, well, neither do we. Which is why it had to be documented.

Home again. With a sucker. His first, well as far as I know. He was in heaven. Until it dropped on the bathroom floor and we threw it away. Then he was one pissed off bumble bee.

 

 

Today's Lesson: If your mom is with you, and she always has her camera, this motivates you even less to ever worry about downloading your own photos. So, it's not that you're taking advantage of her photography skills, it's that she's enabling you to continue slacking. I'm sure all that is true and not BS. Pretty sure at least.