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.

What's in a Bag?

 

 

Today's NHBPM prompt is to write about what's in my bag/purse every day. Love this prompt!

 



It's funny the things that sometimes signify a change in our lives. Before my boys, I carried as small a purse a possible. I needed my wallet (credit card, a bit of cash, and driver's license, that's it), my cell phone, ad.vil, keys, and chapstck. That's about it. Anything else I'd need - i.e. kleenex, hand sanitizer (I was doing home visits), my calendar, writing utensils, etc... - I kept in my car, at home, or in my office.

If you look at my purse now, though, well, it's a whole different story.

First of all, it's huge. As in, I could fit 4 of my old purses in it. Not that there's room for them, though, because of all the other crap, uh, necessities. Stuff that apparently is necessary and vital. Junk I can't live without. My shoulder protests, I tell ya. And yet, I still have it all.

Here's what in there now:

• My wallet is still in there. But now it's full of all kinds of crap (insurance cards, baby pictures, pennies for the mechanical pony @ the grocery). 
• Hand sanitizer because, seriously, you never know when you're gonna need that with 2 boys who like to touch any and everything. 
• An assortment of little toys. Dinos, cars, board books. They're all in there, ready to be pulled out whenever the need arises for them to be quiet or keep their hands still.
• Kleenex, because there are always noses running, or fingers with boogers on them.
• Snacks - those are also effective at keeping them momentarily quiet and in one place.
• Now, instead of a couple of ad.vil, there is a big bottle. Because I seem to get headaches more often.
• The last few dom.peridone because for some reason even though I stopped taking it more than 9mon ago, I can't seem to get rid of those last few pills.
• Paper and crayons because, again, it's all about keeping the kids busy. Also - total honesty - my memory is waaaaay worse than it used to be. So I need to be able to write myself notes. Now, if only there was a way to not lose those in the depths of the purse...
• Wet wipes are also a necessity. The boys get sticky hands all. the. time. And I don't know from where. It probably has something to do with that whole, touching everything thing.
• Garbage. Yes, there is garbage in my purse now. Snack wrappers, broken bits of unusable crayon, possibly used tissues (what?! They might just be crumpled up! You don't know!), etc...
• I don't know what the heck else. Honestly, I don't. Because, you see, it's so big! It's like the grand canyon. Or Alaska. You just don't know what lurking, or hiding in the recesses.

I think I'll go clean out my purse now. But tell me, what's in your purse?


Today's Lesson: It's so interesting  to see and make note of the unexpected things that reflect the changes that happen in our lives.

The Filppant Doctor

Today's NHBPM prompt is to write ab out a conversation with your doctor. I have the perfect one.

After learning that breastfeeding a child you were adopting was possible, I made what seemed to me to be the next reasonable step. I scheduled a doctor appointment to talk about inducing lactation options. Unfortunately, the midwife I had been seeing for several years was out on her own maternity leave. I asked to see another female provider in the practice.

It just so happened that the kid was born the day before my appointment. So, I left the hospital, after having nursed him several times with the SNS, to make the snowy trek over to the MD's office. I was all excited, thinking she'd have great ideas and be so supportive. Well, I was a bit wrong on that one.

While I explained to her what I wanted to do, she sat there, passive face, hard for me to read. Once I finished my spiel, she flippantly said, "I don't understand what the big deal with breastfeeding is. I mean, your baby will love you no matter what. And then you wouldn't have to go through all this. I mean, I don't understand why anyone thinks breastfeeding is such a big deal. I was a formula baby and I'm just fine. He'll survive just fine no matter what".

And my jaw dropped.

I mean, really?! This - very young/just out of med school - doctor was really telling me that breastfeeding wasn't important. That formula was really "the same thing" (honestly, those words came out of her mouth) as breastmilk. And that there were no benefits of breastfeeding my baby, to either of us.

She offered me a 2 week prescription of Reglan (which is typically used in the US to increase milk production, but has potentially awful side effects and really isn't particularly that effective). She refused to give it to me any longer, even if I came back in a week or 10 days to assure none of the side effects had manifested. "If it's gonna work it will. If it's not, then it's no big deal and just give him a bottle of formula."

That doctor never took the time to ask me why breastfeeding my son was important to me. She hadn't treated me through my infertility and treatments. But surely she should, at a minimum, have looked at my chart.

If she had, I could have explained that breastfeeding, even more so than actually being pregnant, was something I'd grieved. And that learning it was indeed possible, was helping me heal. I can only assume that (in addition to being completely ignorant about breastfeeding, breastmilk, and the inferiority of formula) that she was in some misguided way trying to let me know that it would be okay if I wasn't successful. However, that wasn't the kind of support I needed.

What I did need was someone to listen to me. Someone to validate my choice to try to induce and nurse my first child. Someone to offer non-judgemental support. Someone to encourage me in my efforts. Someone who was willing to believe that the decision I was making was well-thought out, educated, and loving.

Not a flippant dismissal.


Today's Lesson: Just because someone has earned the title of MD, it does not mean she knows everything. It also does not mean she knows anything about good patient care. That appears to be something quite lacking in medical school. As does good, accurate information about breastfeeding.

Some of My Favorite Blogs

Today's NHBPM prompt is to write about the weirdest thing about my health. But I couldn't really think of anything. So I decided to do one of the alternate prompts, which is about my favorite blogs. So, what you're getting today is a random, quick list of a few of my favorite blogs. Hope you'll take a minute to peruse enjoy them as much as I do!

• Family Rocks: The Life of Peg - Peg is amazingly brave, honest and thoughtful in her writing. I so appreciate her willingness to share her life via blogland.
• The Bloggess - She is hilarious. I mean, make me cry, tears running down my face, laughing so hard my face hurts kind of funny.
• So This is Love... - Jen is a fellow social worker. She is so insightful. Also, I love how intentional she is in her writing. I think that's how she is in her life, and it translates to her posts.

There it is. I'd love to know what some of your favorite blogs are? Really, please share!


Today's Lesson: When I write everyday, I have less to say in each individual post. Also, blogging about health everyday is hard. And even though today's only the 2nd day of the month, this is actually the 5th post I've written just today for this month. So I get to be a little done with the topic for today.

Why I blog about health issues

Today's NHBPM prompt is to write about why I blog about health. So, I wrote a similar post back in April. And if I was feeling super lazy, I'd just copy and paste that one here. Or, even better, direct you to that post. I'm not gonna lie, I considered that. But it seemed really lame, especially considering that this is the 1st day of the month and all.

Thus - today at least - I'm choosing not to be quite that lazy. Instead I'm going to give you a list of the reasons why I continue to blog about breastfeeding my toddler, and adoptive breastfeeding in particular.

• I didn't know it was possible to nurse a non-biological child until someone told me (outside of wet nursing, of course). I hope that I, too, can shine a light for someone. Or at least be an encouraging resource.
• Breastfeeding has a limitless # of benefits for mamas and babies. And, I think, even more so for the mama-baby dyad formed through adoption. I like sharing those benefits with others!
• Unless we talk about breastfeeding in general - and breastfeeding toddlers - breastfeeding will never resume being the societal norm.
• If we are embarrassed, or just not willing to open ourselves up to possible uninformed criticism by others, we don't provide the support and knowledge that other mamas need.
• Um, why not?

Today's Lesson: Sometimes, while a particular blog post may not be profound, we should all just be grateful that it does not focus on vomit. Be grateful for the little things, people.

National Health Blog Post Month

This past April, I participated in The Health Activist Writer's Month Challenge. I blogged every. single. day. And I really enjoyed it. There were some great prompts that pushed me to write in a way I wasn't used to. And some prompts that challenged me to discuss new things, or process them in a different way. When I received an invitation to participate in National Health Blog Post Month, I decided to give it a try.

So, that's what you have to look forward to (or dread, one of the two) for the month of November. A post every day (fingers crossed!) and often focusing on health issues. Many of the participants have one specific health issue they are passionate about. But you know me well enough to know that I can't focus on one thing for like an entire hour, much less a whole month. So, as usual, I'll hop between topics, with healthy doses of breastfeeding, infertility, childhood development/parenting issues, and adoption thrown in there. Also some completely random crap. 'Cause that's how I roll.

If you're interested in participating in NHBPM yourself, here's where you can go for more information.

Hope you'll visit and enjoy!

Today's Lesson: "That's how I roll" is apparently super out of date slang now. According to my 6yo. And I'm pretty sure he's cooler and more up-to-date on what's cool than I am. I'm just not sure when that happened.

And then, this happened.

Another short post. Because, well, that's just what I have today.

So, remember how yesterday I was all "the plague was fine and no one else vomited and we're all fine. No worries!". Dude, I mean really. It hadn't been 3 hours since I posted that when baby E vomited again! I'm pretty sure it's Murphy's Law. Or karma. Or some miserable crap like that. Honestly, there had been no vomit at all since that solo incident last week. But this one was just as prolific. I avoided it this time. But the carpet didn't. So we now have two, yes two, vomit-smelling places in our living room. Sigh.

Jessica, I'm trying out your vomit-smell-reducing recipe tomorrow. Will report on its effectiveness. Please, please let it work. Because, seriously, my house smelling like vomit does little to encourage the new sitter to agree to stay for the next month! (more on her another day. Because today, clearly, I should only discuss vomit. Because 2 posts in a row about it are obviously not enough.)


Today's Lesson: Don't tempt fate and say stupid things like "oh, that plague wasn't too bad" or "we're all fine and no one else got sick!" or"there wasn't that much vomit!". Because the plague and sicky gods will show you who's really boss. In a gooey, stinky way. Ugh.

Post Plague

Hey all! This is just a quick post to let you all know that none of us permanently succumbed to last week's plague. It actually was rather short-lived. Also, it did not spread. As in, neither hubby or I contracted any part of the plague. And there was no more puking.  ThankyousweetbabyJesus. Mama hates puking. A lot.

My poor (most favorite seat in the world) chair still smells like vomit though. That makes me sad. However, it seems to be the only causality, and I'll take. Overall, I'd say it was a plague of the tolerable kind.

Things have been super busy around these parts. But, I promise to be back soon (in a day or two) with more posts.


Today's Lesson: Vomit smell is hard to get out of upholstery. You should just avoid introducing the two. It will make your life much easier. And less smelly. For reals.

A Plague of Yuckiness

So, last week the snot started freely flowing around here. Except for hubby. He is somehow immune to, like, everything. Apparently teaching in public elementary schools for 13yrs will do that to you.

Anyway, yesterday the kid came home with a letter from school saying pink eye is going around. And, of freaking course, his eyes - BOTH - are guess what color. So we called the pediatrician who was lovely enough to just call in a script.

Then, today, as the day went on, baby E got clingier and needier. And his eyes got pinker (will call the pediatrician tomorrow morning for a script for him. Wonder if she'll be so kind as to call one in for me. You know, since hubby's immune to everything and all. But it seems inevitable that it'll hit me).

And the snot continued to flow. Big time. And the whining was almost at an all time high. I'm not gonna say specifically who all was whining. But it seems fair to say there were certainly a few participants. As in more than 2.  And probably fewer than 4. And at least one of them was female.

So it was determined that both boys would be going to bed early tonight. For everyone's sanity. Which resulted in a borderline meltdown for the big one. And a definite meltdown for the little one. Mostly because said early bedtime was clearly not early enough.

Finally all was calm. The kid was reading books with his Poppa. And baby E was nursing. But then the coughing started. And didn't stop until the entirety of everything E's eaten since afternoon snack were covering me, him, and the living room chair where we nurse.

So then, that's when the screaming started. Baby E was (understandably) traumatized as I believe this may be his first ever vomiting experience. If it isn't I've blocked out the previous instances. And he apparently has, too. At any rate, he was crying/screaming.

The kid came running. Hubby - who hates vomit, then again, who doesn't? - screamed at the kid to go back to his bed. The kid had a meltdown of epic proportions. A sobbing, screaming puddle of exhaustion. With red, itchy eyes. And snot.

And there I was, holding a hysterical toddler, covered in vomit, and unable to move. You know, lest the vomit get more on the chair or on the floor. Or the toddler start to vomit more.

Everyone is finally cleaned up and the boys are in bed. Hubby is at school getting lesson plans ready for a sub tomorrow.

And I feel rather nauseous. And have itchy eyes.


Today's Lesson: Don't complain about pink eye. About how nasty it is. Because then you'll get the vomit plague. You know, to remind you that pink eye isn't really all that bad. That it could be worse. Much, much worse. also/ Apparently vomit is traumatizing for everyone.

Glimpses

Sometimes we get glimpses into the most intimate parts of people's lives. And I'm totally not talking about the bedroom kind of intimate. I'm talking about the moments when something happens that profoundly changes who a person is, or their life path. But not the retelling of those moments. Being there, when they are actually happening.

Sometimes these moments are beautiful, inspirational, hopeful. Like seeing a baby come into the world. Or being present when a child is placed in his mother's arms, and a mother is born. The wedding of a couple much in love.

Sometimes they are unbearably sad. Like when a child dies. Or a loved one has become so fuzzy she is no longer able to recognize us. A definitive diagnosis of infertility.

In my personal life, I have been present for a few of these moments. But, as a social worker, I've witnessed many of them. And unfortunately, the majority have been the sad ones.

Recently I was wittiness to parents having to make the decision of whether or not to donate their young daughter's organs. Medically she had been determined to have experienced brain death, which, in our state, means she was legally dead. Their decision was between organ donation (which would mean she was "alive" for an additional 24-36hrs while the necessary testing, etc... was done prior to donation) and not (which would mean the staff would disconnect her from the life support machines relatively quickly).

You all, I don't know how you make this decision as a parent. I'd like to think that I would be able to make something "good" come from my child's death in this way. But I just don't know that I could. Logically and spiritually it makes sense me. Right now. But I'm pretty sure that neither of those would be what would be guiding me in that awful moment. I'm pretty sure that my emotional being would be fully in control. Or out of control. How could I agree to lose another part(s) of my child?

The parents ultimately decided for their own reasons not to donate her organs. Many of the staff were bothered by this. A couple of times someone said something along the line that the parents would regret this decision in the future, their opportunity to help save someone else's life.

But I don't blame them. All they wanted was the life of their daughter to be saved. And, though it was not possible, that doesn't mean that they were emotionally in a place to make this kind of decision.

This day was likely the worst day professionally I've ever had. I don't want to experience one like it ever again. But I know my day pales in comparison to the day those parents had. The days they have had since that day. I desperately hope it is a day that none of us as parents ever has to experience.



Today's Lesson: Sometimes I wonder when I will feel like an "adult", I want to feel like an adult. And then I am witness to a moment such as this, and I do indeed feel like an adult. And then I no longer want to feel like an adult. There are some decisions none of us should ever be forced to make. Adult or not.

Fairy House

One of the kid's school projects this year is to make a fairy house. Now, I also have no idea what the learning objectives are with regards to this. I mean, I know they'll be doing some creative writing exercises with it and that there is a book called "Fairy Houses" that they read in class, but that's all I've got. This time I'm okay with it.

So, the first version the kid made with hubby was really cute. Upon first glance, I was impressed. Until I noticed the hot glue and duct tape, that is. Because the directions stated that they were to use  natural materials.  And, you know, hot glue and duct tape and glitter aren't generally naturally occurring substances.

So, momma, the killjoy, had to break the news to the boys that a new fairy house had to be constructed. I'm not sure who was more upset about that - the kid or his Poppa. Actually, I am quite sure. It was the Poppa. Hands down. So the task was delegated to me, as hubby was completely and totally over it by that point.

The kid decided to use the pumpkin he got on his field trip a couple weeks ago as the base for the fairy house. We decided (as our one non-naturally occurring material - what?! It's fine that wasn't in the directions. I'm a girl who only likes to follow rules most of the time) to have a cardboard bottom, on which to sit everything.

We built a stick arbor and covered it with leaves, attaching everything with what are apparently milkweed vines (I've been lax in pulling them up this year in the yard so only just discovered that's what they are). The kid cut the milkweed pods in half and placed them in the pumpkin as little fairy beds. The pumpkin has windows and optional skylights. He's plugged them up at the moment, "in case it rains...the fairies can take them out when they're in the mood for fresh air". 

There's also a rock garden (on the left side of the pic) with other pods with berries (aka the fairies' food dishes). On the inside of the pumpkin and across the whole bottom of the box are lambs' ear leaves, so the fairies have soft carpet. I believe he's thought of everything. Well, except a rain barrel. I mean, he thought of that, but we couldn't come up with a way to do it. Or, to be more accurate, after 3 hours, I was over it and no longer had the mental energy necessary to continue to help him. And then he was over it, too.

 

 

 

Today's Lesson: Fairies need us to build them homes. Perhaps with this home, the tooth fairy will be more reliable in her visits at our home. Maybe.

The Cubicle Chronicles: Chapter Four

Read previous chapters of the Cubicle Chronicles here, here, and here. I keep thinking, surely the fodder for these must come to an end at some point. I have yet to find that point though. So we continue...


(Conversation in process regarding how everyone @ this location always seems to be passing around awful sinus gunk.) Lady 1: I keep expecting to walk in here one morning and see mushrooms sprouting out of the carpet. Lady 2: Oh no, sister. We are the mushrooms. They keep us in the dark and dump shit on us all the time. They cultivate us. We are the mushrooms. (That seems like possibly a valid point.)

Ma'am, do you have any STD's? (pause) Well, yes, ma'am, I did ask if you have any STD's. (pause) Yes, ma'am, I do realize that you're 94 years old. (pause) Is that right, ma'am, you got married when you were 14? (pause) No, ma'am. Pregnancy is not considered an STD. (pause) Yes, even if it happened 18 times. (Um, 18 times?! As much as I'd love to be pregnant, I might be with the old lady on this one.)

Lady 1: Apparently the patient was making passes at the staff at his previous nursing home. Lady 2: Isn't he here for a UTI? Lady 1: Yes. Lady 2 (sarcastically): I've heard UTI's can make you do that. Lady 1: So, they're refusing to take him back there. Lady - loose use of that word - 3 (yells across the room): What room is that man in? I'm a-goin' up there now to get me some action! Then I might just take 'em home with me!  (So, really? I mean, I can't actually think of a response to this. Apparently neither could anyone else as the whole office sat in dead silence for several minutes. Total awkwardness.)

Lady: My kid apparently joined the academic team. I mean, I know my kid. I know all of my kids and it's safe to assume that none of my kids is going to make an academic team based on smarts. They must of just needed bodies in them seats. That and the team must just suck. Bad. Really, I do love my kids, but, and I'm just bein' honest here, they're pretty stupid. (So, do you think that was nature or nurture responsible for that one? Just asking because your use of poor grammar doesn't help me answer that question really.)

(Thanks to speaker phone technology, I was blessed enough to hear both sides of this delightful convo) Lady 1: Amanda, why did you skip school??! A: I didn't! L: I know you did! Why are you lying to me? A: Because I can. L1: Who else is in my house? I don't want nobody in my house! A: Eff you, mother! L1: You think you're so effing bad@ss, but you don't know anything. A: (hang up) (there were 3 more similar rants, then the most fun part started.) L1: Won't nobody help me with her? Lady 2: Have you called the police, or the court? L1: No, I can't do that to my baby. L2: What about one of them psychiatrists? L1: She went 2 times and it didn't do no good! L2: Well, then you gotta call the po-po. L1: But then she'll be mad at me. (several minutes later) L1: It's almost Amanda's birthday. What do you think I should get her? I was thinking an iPhone 5. She has the 4 but says she wants the new one. Also, she lost her iPad. I mean, I think she sold it for drug money. Though she could have gotten that money from doing who knows what with those boys who are always around. But at any rate it's gone so now she needs a new one. (There was so much that is wrong in this convo that I don't know where to start. So let me try to hit the highlights - call the police. Don't buy your kid any new stuff. Drug test her. That seems like a good place to start.)


Today's Lesson: Let's see, here are a few. Pregnancy doesn't officially count as an STD. Don't hit on patients. Don't call your kids stupid. Don't buy your drug-abusing child expensive toys for her to sell for drugs. Oh, and sometimes we apparently are the mushrooms.

Newborn Days

As I've mentioned before, our friends who recently had the new baby join their family also happen to be baby E's sitter. As soon as she told me about the baby, she hastened to say that of course baby E would continue to come as always. And though that certainly would make my life easier, I'm not willing to do it. I know how much she (they all) love baby E, but sometimes your own family needs to come first.

When my boys were born, I continued to work some. It was mostly at home, though sometimes going in to the office with baby in tow. And while this worked for me (for the most part), it was a limited amount of time. Keeping E is a full time deal (well, 4 days/week). And he is a toddler who requires full time attention.

But, mostly, this isn't about me, or even baby E. Mostly what I want for my dear friend is to have her time with her baby. I want her to be able to snuggle him on the couch all day (if that's what they want). I want her to be able to nap when he does (if she can). I want her to be able to sit still while she's feeding him and marvel at his beautiful eyes (or catch up on FB, whichever). I want him to be her only focus. I want for her to have the time and space to fall in love with him completely, forge that strong bond. I want for her to get into a groove of knowing her baby and him knowing her. I want for her to have the same time that other mothers have.

If she had given birth to this baby, there would be no question about us needing to find at least temporary other care for E. It would be assumed. And while of course she doesn't have the physical recovery part of this whole new baby thing, she does have the rest of it.

And, so, we're the in the market for a short term childcare solution for baby E. A month or two (hopefully). But, if they need longer than that, I'm perfectly happy to give it. My hope is that she will give herself permission to have this time with him, no guilt. Because they both deserve it.


Today's Lesson: Just because you don't give birth to your child doesn't mean you don't deserve, you don't need!!!!, that time in the early days to learn each other, to be with each other, to love each other. Regardless of how a child comes to join a family, time is needed to forge that bond. Congrats, dear friends. Take your time and love that baby boy!!!

No, you are not getting a baby sister

The other morning the kid noticed several of tubs of baby clothes and stuff sitting in the living room. He nearly screamed with excitement: "Are we going to have a new baby? Am I going to have my new baby sister today?" Now, nevermind that we haven't talked - at all - about adding a 3rd child to our family. I quickly responded that, no, there would be no baby joining our household anytime soon. He groaned in disappointment, then quickly asked why the clothes were out, seemingly not quite believing me.

I explained to him that our dear friends had been chosen by a mother to adopt a baby who was born the day before, that the kid's bff was (finally!) going to be a big brother. The kid grinned from ear to ear and jumped into the air, pumping his fist, "yes!!! He is going to LOVE being a big brother!!" He then, with a not so pleased look on his face, stopped his rejoicing abruptly and quickly asked if the baby was a girl. I told him it wasn't, and his grin and fists pumps returned.

I can't tell you how thrilled I am for my friends. They are some of the most loving, honest, faithful people I know. They have prayed for a child to be added to their family for so very long. I feel so joyful for them. Their son, the kid's bff, is about a year and half younger than the kid. And he has been praying so hard for a baby brother or sister. I can only imagine how giddy he is right now.


Today's Lesson: Apparently my kid still wants a baby sister. The birth of this baby has only brought this back up. And now he won't stop talking about it. Apparently, we better "get on this getting me a baby sister thing".

Secret Revealed

You all cracked me up about the secret! I mean, I feel like it might be a letdown to those of you who don't know me irl. Because, truly, it isn't about me or my family. I mean, we're happy about it and it affects us, but it's not our secret. And that really makes no sense, does it?

I feel like I want to string you along for awhile, just to tease you and make you empathize with me about the torture keeping this secret has been. But, lets be honest, I do hate keeping secrets. A lot. And I have wanted nothing more for the last week and a half than to blab it! So I will. Right now.

Our dear friends (also baby E's sitter, and his godparents) have a new son! He was born the beginning of last week, but didn't come home until this week. They didn't tell really anyone until a couple of days ago. I understand why they didn't want to let the proverbial cat out of the bag until baby boy was home. But it kind of complicated my life (oh my word. I sound beyond self-centered right now!).

First, you know, as I may have mentioned before, I suck at keeping secrets, particularly wonderful ones. And it has been killing me to not be able to share this joyous news with everyone (b/c I'm so happy for them) and especially the friends we have in common (b/c I knew how thrilled they would be for them as well). Of course it wasn't my news to share, so I had to zip it.

But also, as Ms M is E's sitter, I knew we needed to make new plans for him at least short-term. We have so many friends in common that I couldn't send out a fb request for childcare suggestions without at least making everyone question what was going on with them. And because baby's come-home date was a little uncertain for awhile, and because hubby was FREAKING OUT that we wouldn't figure something out, my stress level about it was - at moments - a bit out of control.

So, my excitement for them, the general worry that can come with adoption - especially in the very early days - and anxiety about our childcare plan all led to a general focus on only this in my head. You know, making it really difficult to blog about anything else! And, since I couldn't blog about this, an absence of blogging occurred.

So, that's the secret that I've been dying to spill. A new baby has been born. And he is beautiful. His first mother made the gut-wrenching, difficult decision for my friends to parent him. And he is an oh-so-hairy-and-adorable-and-tiny boy who is already loved by so many people.

And I'm back to blogging. But that's not the exciting part ;)


Today's Lesson: It is a huge relief to share a secret.

Bananas

I'm sitting in the living room, on the phone. Baby E is in the kitchen. Doing heaven knows what. I can hear him and am physically less than 10ft away. I just can't actually see him.

I hear him drag a kitchen chair across the floor, from the table towards the kitchen counters. Lord knows what's up there. I can't get up and go in there because I need the computer for the convo I'm having and the stupid thing won't work unless plugged in continuously. I can't tell you what that convo was about. You know, because of whole SECRET thing.

Anyway, I hear him giggling and chattering away to himself. There's no telling what he's found. I hear his bare feet hit the wood floor. At least he's no longer in danger of falling 4ft from the top of the counter to the hard floor. Of course I assumed he had climbed on top of the counters. You know. Because that's what he does when left unattended.

The chair scrapes back across the floor to the table. Slap, slap, slap go his bare feet. Screeeeeeech goes the chair. I see him climb up into the chair and sit down nicely with his hands in his lap. He's put a banana on the table. Apparently he was hungry. I'm thrilled that's all he got off the counter. Well, I hope that's all he got off the counter.

He bows his head. Babbles a bunch. Then clearly says, "Aaaaaaaaamen". And eats his banana.

I feel all proud that my barely two year old was able to get his own snack and knew to take it to the table to eat. Really, that's better than the 6yo sometimes does. Also, I'm loving our sitter/dear friend for teaching him to say "amen" before eating. I'm reminded that he had to learn it there, because we've been horrible about praying before meals the last few months.

I finish up the phone call. Baby E has finished up his snack. Oh yes. He also wiped his hands and face with one of the cloth napkins on the table. Such a big boy.

I head in to the kitchen. He ate half the banana. I'm impressed he was able to peel it himself. But he sure did. I walk further in to the kitchen. And see a banana on the floor. And then another. I pick the first up. It has a bite mark. As in a piece of the peel is missing - and no where to be found. I sigh. Then pick up the other banana. It has 2 bites out of it.

I sit the bananas on the counter. There are 2 bananas there that also have bite marks. One is also half eaten. Apparently he did have a whole banana for his snack. That ought to hold him for quite a while.

E comes running in to the room, laughing hysterically about who knows what. He runs full force towards me with his arms flung wide open, his face holds the most joyous smile. I can do nothing but grin at him in return and open my arms to welcome him. He wriggles like a happy puppy. I call him puppy sometimes. It's like his body holds too much joy and just can't contain it all.

How I love this little creature. Banana smeared hands, hair, face and all.

And, this week, we shall have banana bread for breakfast. Lots of banana bread.


Today's Lesson: A toddler's digestive tract is not particularly equipped to digest banana peels. They'll look remarkably the same on the way out as they did on the way in. Apparently.

Secrets

You know how sometimes you have A. Lot. To. Say. But you can't say any of it because it involves someone else's secret. And, you know, you can't out them. But you can't discuss what's going on in your head because it makes no sense without the reference to the secret which cannot be named. And this secret, it's huge. HUGE. And awesome. Oh so damn awesome. And totally not yours to share. But you're afraid if you keep talking, you are totally going to spill the beans. Because you are horrible at keeping secrets. Horrible. Seriously. And then you wonder why anyone ever trusts you with them. Because, really.

So, yeah. That's where I am. And why I've been quiet. Also, things have been ridiculously crazy busy at work so I haven't had time to pee or eat, much less read or blog myself. Hoping this will change in the next couple of days. Pleasebabyjesus.


Today's Lesson: Sometimes you have so much to say that it's hard to say anything. Secrets complicate so much.

Spelling Test

Momma: Hey Bug, how was your spelling test.
Kid: It was fine.
M: Did you try your hardest?
K: Yes, I did. I did all the words.
M: Oh yeah? Were some of them kind of challenging, or was it super easy?
K: It was fine. I hope I got them all right.
M: Well, I'm proud of you for trying your best and studying them so hard the last couple of days.
K: Yeah, I just hope I didn't get an F. I mean, I don't know what an F is. But I still hope I don't get one.
M: I'm sure you won't get an F, kiddo.
K: Wait, does F mean fabulous?
M: Uh, no.
K: Oh. Okay then. No F for me.
M: Good plan, kid.

Today's Lesson: Oh wait - if F does mean fabulous, then that would explain the F's I got on my spelling tests in 6th grade. I'm certain that is what F means now. Why did I not think of that in 6th grade when I had to tell my mom about my F's. Oh, wait. Did I ever tell her about those? Mom, ignore this whole lesson.