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Today's Lesson: "That's how I roll" is apparently super out of date slang now.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.

Enough already

Fall is a difficult time behavior-wise for the kid. Has been for the last several years. I think it is heavily related to his allergies and (allergy-induced) asthma, though going from the highly unstructured summer time he has with his Poppa, to school, well, that absolutely makes it harder.

The asthma means he doesn't sleep well. And his behavior when he isn't sleeping well is, well, to be honest it's ridiculously frustrating. He doesn't listen. He's beyond wild and wound up. He's sneaky (though, really, he's not very good at that. Which I suppose is a good thing). He's tormenting his brother for no apparent reason. And that, in particular, is something that both is not at all normal for him and pisses me off in a super huge way.

This has been going on for 2 months.

And I. Have. Had. It.

Lately I have found myself resorting to threats and consequences and even yelling with the kid. Like, a lot. These are things I know don't work (with my kid in particular, and really aren't good parenting strategies in general with any kid). Or, at a minimum, should be used as a last resort. But, they've been my go-to of late, the first (albeit crappy) tricks I pull out of the bag.

Rationally, I know that praise works best on him. But, truthfully, I'm finding it hard to find things to praise. Like, really hard. And even when I can find something, I am so irritated by all the challenging behaviors, that I have a hard time praising him in an honest and sincere manner. (Read: not through gritted teeth.) Which, of course, means that even the praise is minimally effective.

We're stuck in this ugly, teeth-gnashing, loud, whiny cycle. And it's not only not working for me or the kid, it's not working for anyone else in my house. Baby E laughs when I start counting to three with him. As in, gleefully laughing while running away. Not even he wants to listen to me. And, hell, I don't want to listen to me either. Because my voice grates on even my own nerves. Nothing I've been doing lately would make me want to behave either.

So, I need to check myself in a major way and pull out those strategies that do work. I need to reign in my own attitude, because how can I expect my 6yo to do so if I, as an adult, can't manage it. I need to be genuine when I praise him. And I need to be praising him a lot more. We need to experiment with his asthma medication (increase it for the time being) until frost kills the damn ragweed to get his allergies better under control.  I also need to get some sleep myself, because I'm fairly certain that would improve matters as well.

Mostly, I need to take some deep breaths and remember that he is only a little boy. He is only 6. And he, just like everyone else, is entitled to some bad days, especially when he isn't feeling well.


Today's Lesson: Even when you know a lot of the "right" things to do. Even when you have the tools, the resources, the support to make the right choices. Even then, it can be hard to do. Even then, you can screw up big. Because that's part of being human. But, as a parent, it is my job to set the example. It is my job to teach my child that it is okay to admit that I've screwed up. It is my job to
teach my child that it is important to apologize when I've screwed up. Because otherwise, how can I expect them to know how.

World MilkSharing Week: Lauren's Story

Around May 2008 my husband and I decided to try and start a family.  Like so many others, we encountered problems.  We saw our regular doctor who referred us to a fertility specialist.  We tried month after month with assisted reproductive therapies to get pregnant but with no luck.  I have to say, those 18 months of trying to conceive were the hardest time emotionally and mentally that I (and our marriage) have ever endured.  I’d like to think I came out as a stronger person because of it, and our marriage is stronger too.  

Our October 2009 IVF proved to be successful, and our son, Liam, was born July 2010.  Breastfeeding at first was challenging.  I had to use a nipple shield to help him latch, he was tongue tied and had to have it clipped, and he had a bad case of jaundice which caused him to be lethargic and not want to eat (which is necessary to get rid of the jaundice).  We just thought we had a tan baby who rocked a laid back attitude – we couldn’t have been more naive!

I was instructed to pump around the clock in addition Liam nursing to help bring in my milk.  So I pumped, and I pumped, and I pumped.  Then my milk came in.  Whoa baby, did it come in!  It was like someone opened up the somewhat painful, flood gates!  I felt like a cow – literally!  When Liam wasn’t eating, it seemed that I was always pumping.  His jaundice subsided and we battled through reflux before breastfeeding finally started to go more smoothly.

I started storing all the milk Liam didn’t eat.  When I returned to work, I continued pumping to keep my supply up so I could nurse him until he weaned on his own.  After a few months, I ran out of freezer space.  I pumped enough to feed Liam fresh milk all the time.  I actually bought an upright deep freezer to accommodate all the frozen breast milk I didn’t know what to do with! 

People kept telling me I should donate it.  But to whom?  So after some research, I found Human Milk for Human Babies via Facebook; a place where people in need of breast milk can connect up with people willing to donate breast milk.  I posted that I had extra milk if anyone wanted it and waited for a response.

Becky sent me a message.  She told me about her blog which allowed me to “get to know” and understand her and her family.  We planned a meeting for her to pick up the milk.  Everything went great.  Looking back, she probably thought I was crazy because I was in a hurry and sort of raced in, dumped the milk, and raced off!  Plus, I already knew everything about her from her blog, right?! J  On some level, I felt good  helping her on her breastfeeding journey.  As time went on, I met Becky a few more times to give her milk.  Each time it felt like seeing an old friend.  It was almost comforting to know that I was personally making a difference in her and her family’s lives. 

Around October 2011, my husband and I decided to try and expand our family.  Liam was still breastfeeding so fertility medications were out of the question. We had overcome so many obstacles (overactive let-down, biting, and several nursing strikes in additional to all the early issues).  To me, weaning Liam would mean ruining this amazing bond we shared.  Not to mention that with fertility treatment, there is never a guarantee of pregnancy.  So I could potentially end up weaning Liam and still be left without a baby!

We forged ahead with an unmedicated IUI cycle, which our fertility specialist informed us would likely be unsuccessful.  I knew I had to at least try it because the only alternative was to wean Liam and proceed with medications.  This plan allowed Liam to wean himself when he was ready. Shock doesn’t describe how we felt on Halloween 2011 to find out we were pregnant! 

Liam and I continued on our breastfeeding journey but it gradually slowed down and eventually stopped around Easter 2012 because my milk dried up due to pregnancy.  I was devastated to end our breastfeeding journey. Liam was, too, and did not give up easily on nursing. He did eventually surrender to a bottle with cow’s milk. 

There’s something unexplainable, almost impossible to put into words, about the amazing bond a mother and baby share through breastfeeding.  I always tell people who ask that breastfeeding is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s also been the most rewarding.  

 

We now have a beautiful 3 month old little girl.  Our breastfeeding journey is just starting.  We haven’t had too many obstacles thus far (fingers crossed that we don’t).  But we have been lucky enough to be blessed with a plentiful supply of milk again which we have already started donating. 

There are a lot of things I do wrong as a parent, but one thing I’m good at is pumping, storing, and donating breast milk!  So I plan to continue.  To me, donating breast milk is sort of the affirmation that I was able to overcome obstacles for the benefit of my child(ren).  I’m elated to have the ability to help other parents overcome their own obstacles, even if only in a very small way.  Because we, as parents, can use all the help we can get!    

 

Lauren

Kinley and Liam – 9/14/2012

 

 

Today's Lesson: I think Lauren's last line says it all - We, as parents, can use all the help we can get! I so agree with her. And have yet to find the words to adequately explain to her how much we appreciate the thounds and thousands of ounces of help she has given us.

Happy 2nd Birthday E!!!!

Today is baby E's 2nd birthday. And while I'm not going to do a big long post today, I promise one sometime this week with lots of pics from his birthday. But I just couldn't let today pass without posting something.

This cheesy little creature has turned my life upside down. I was organized, and slept a lot more, and weighed 20lbs less, and watched a lot more TV before he was born. I also didn't know I was capable of so much love. Or how profoundly it would affect me seeing the kid love his little brother so much. Or how much joy this silly boy would bring.

Today I also have been thinking constantly about R and DJ. The choice they made, well, I know I'll never understand how hard it was. I wish they were with us today to celebrate the amazing little bay E is becoming.

A sneak peak from E's Brown Bear party Saturday

 

 

Today's Lesson: Sometimes what looks like excitement and joy, turns out to be part that, and big part overstimulation. You will learn this when your nearly 2yo takes more than 2hrs to go to sleep after his birthday party because he's twitching and babbling incessantly and incoherently in his bed. It'll be funny for a little while. But then, not so much. Apparently it's his way of processing the whole thing. Next time, give him the melatonin with his cake instead of juice. Some lessons we inevitably learn the hard way.



World Milksharing Week

Last year during World Milksharing Week I had a couple of guest posts from two of our fabulous breastmilk donors - Julie and Rachel, aka Weston's mama.

An update on Julie - she's pregnant with munchkin #2. She  isn't able to pump much these days (pregnancy hormones and all) but continues to nurse little L (who is so freaking cute it hurts). I think she's planning to tandem nurse and I KNOW she'll donate milk again if she's able (and that seems absolutely likely).

And Rachel? Well that beautiful family also has a new addition in their family. And their sweet new guy is also thriving on his mama's breastmilk.

I've got a new guest post lined up for later this week from another of our super donors, Lauren. Lauren and Julie together have provided probably 80% or more of the milk baby E has had. I'm amazed by them. So make sure to come back later this week to read about her experiences with donating.

I know for many milksharing continues to be a controversial topic, something not understood, and thus feared. However, for us, for my family and the amazing women who have donated their milk to us, milksharing is normal. It is healthy. It is why my child thrives. It has allowed me to provide for him something that infertility and my inadequate body made impossible. There will never be enough gratitude for the gift milksharing has given us all.

For now, I'll leave you with a link to a story of one of our donor experiences that I shared on the official World Milksharing website. Here is direct link to our story.

Happy Milksharing Week!


Today's Lesson: Just because you don't understand something, that doesn't make it weird or wrong. It makes you uneducated about it. Educate yourself. If you then decide it's not for you, then that's what it is. It still doesn't necessarily make it weird or wrong for someone else.

Happy Birthday, Grayson!!

If you don't know/read Elizabeth and Grayson at Snips, Snails, and Puppy Dog Tales, well, you should. Elizabeth is a fabulous blogger, and an even more wonderful mama. Grayson, who - lets be honest - is adorable, has been diagnosed with Mitochondrial disease. Mito is, in short, a genetic disease that occurs when "the mitochondria of the cell fails to produce enough energy for cell or organ function" (www.Mitoaction.org).

A few weeks ago, this family got the horrific news that Grayson has been given the fatal diagnosis of Leigh's Disease (a form of Mito). I don't know how Elizabeth is still standing. Her grace and faith are beautiful and inspiring. And G's smile never fails to bring one to my face as well.

Today we are celebrating baby E's 2nd birthday with a party with family and friends. And yet I know Grayson, his birthday and his family will be frequently on my mind. Please join me in wishing Grayson a Happy 2nd Birthday. And I know Elizabeth would also appreciate your prayers as she and her family figure out how to navigate through their new reality.

Happy Birthday, beautiful boy!!!

 

 

 

 

Today's Lesson: Sometimes we are touched by people who we have never met, people who we will likely never meet. Sometimes those people are regular, everyday people who are just living their lives. But they're doing it in such a way that they inspire others. They are a gift to us. And we can be a gift to them by letting them know what they have given us. 

The Cubicle Chronicles: Chapter Three

Read previous chapters of the Cubicle Chronicles here and here.

Naw, girl. I  got my candy stashed in my bible at home. That way I know nobody gonna be botherin' it. It's safe there, no doubt. (Now, that's just funny. Funny ironic, more than funny haha. But funny still. Also? I believe you.)

Yeah, whore. You get yo ass in here. 'Cause you know that's why you gotta have surgery done, 'cause you a whore. I mean, I didn't say that to her, but that's what I was athinkin'. All I did say to her was' quit bein' dirty then you wouldn't have to have this kinda surgery no more". (Holymotheryoudidnot saythattoapatient??!!!!!)

Hey! You all got many dead people over there? Can I come see 'em? I like the dead people. They can't be talkin' back to ya. I like it when things are quiet. (Yeah. Me, too.)

You know what my favorite position is? Any one where I can take my shoes off. (an interlude where I intentionally tuned out because I thought I was going to gouge my ears and cause permanent hearing loss. Then, I accidentally started listening again much MUCH too soon.) But sometimes, he wants to get in to one where I can't breathe. It's one where his belly rolls up and gets in the way. But he likes to look at me. I mean who don't?! (Me. I do not like to look at you. Or hear you. I am willing to bet, also, that I'm not the only one. And please refrain from talking about yourself being naked at work.)

If you ain't lookin' nappy at least some days, you ain't livin' life right. (I'm not even sure what this means.)

Why the hell is e'rebody here always trying to get in my bid-ness and make comments. (Um, well, I'm gonna hazard a guess that it's because you're talking about your "bid-ness" really damn loud. All.The.Damn.Time. But, like I said, that's just a silly little guess.)

And then he asked me if he needed to shave. I told him he could if he wanted to. He said he didn't want to shave if he didn't have to. And then I realized that he meant down there. I assured him we'd shave him down there if he needed it. He said he didn't want nobody down there with a razor. So I had to remind him that we were going to be down there with a scalpel. That shut him up quick. I don't think he'll shave though. (The conversations people have are sometimes simply unique to a medical setting. At least I hope they are.)



Today's Lesson is brought to you by the (original) author of most of this post: If you're in a relationship where you feel like you're ugly everyday and you just cry all the time, it ain't the right one for you. (So, some of the things that come out of her mouth do make sense/aren't offensive.)

For the Love of Teenage Girls

I'm sure I've told you how much my kid loves (LOVES) teenage girls. It started when he was a little dude, no bigger than baby E is now. We'd be just walking around the neighborhood and a gaggle of girls would wander down the other side of the road. This would cause the kid would literally stop in his tracks. He'd stand completely still, only following the girls with his head. Staring holes in them. Sometimes they'd look back, smile, say "hi". He'd grin his big face splitting smile and wave back. Or sometimes his eyes would just get really big and he'd continue to stare. Then he'd say, "them's my girls".

At one point he had 14 imaginary teenage sisters who all lived in our basement. Sometimes, when it's late and I have to go downstairs, I get creeped out thinking about all those imaginary sisters down there, mulling around. He hasn't mentioned them in quite a while, though, so maybe they've vacated the premises. I can only hope.

He desperately wanted a baby sister. I think part of that was because that meant she'd grow up to be a teenage girl.

He used to talk - all the time - about going on dates with different teenage girls (and women in their early 20's). He had a plan, y'all, about where they were going and what they were going to do. Though he tended to forget about the transportation issue.

We've joked about though he's little and cute right now, as he gets older, the behaviors/words he uses now in reference to teenage girls will move in to the realm of creepy, then even stalker-ish. We've hoped he'll outgrow it and learn more socially appropriate ways to, uh, appreciate the fairer sex. And really, overall, he's stopped talking about teenage girls quite so much in the last several months.

Until last week.

Hubby and the kid were in the car, headed home from running an errands. Something on the radio (probably some crappy country song) prompted hubby to ask the kid what he'd do if he had a million dollars. And the kid, well, just you guess what he said. My sweet, darling boy, he said that he would buy a whole bunch of teenage girls and keep them in his bedroom.

Hubby, when he could process speech again and had stopped laughing hysterically, asked the kid what he'd do with all those girls in there. The kid very quickly responded that it was a secret, something he wouldn't share. But, "make no mistake, the door will stay closed".

Ladies and gentleman, we have officially moved way past cute to creepy. And so very much earlier than I expected. Also, 14 imaginary creepy basement-dwelling sisters sound much better that 14 real adolescent girls held captive in my boy's room.


Today's Lesson: Sometimes there are things our kids do when they're little that seem cute and amusing. You know the things I'm talking about - the funny little tantrums, or the cuss words (oh, am I the only one who giggles when she hears profanity coming out of someone's toddler? My bad...), the teenage girl stalking. A word from the (now) wise, curb it when they're little. Those things are not nearly as cute when junior grows up. Or - apparently - is 6.

Brown Bear Lantern Animals

I've been making progress in getting ready for baby E's Brown Bear Brown Bear 2nd birthday party. The invites are made and sent. I saved one to take a picture and post for you. But, you know, I forgot. Hopefully we'll get a pic of it at his actual party (I really saved it to display at the party and then put in his scrapbook). My lovely friend JE helped me with those. Because she rocks.

So then I came across this cute raccoon on Pinterest.

http://mrs-dunn.blogspot.com/2012/05/birthday-season.html



 And then I thought, "I can do that! With all the Brown Bear animals!". Then I realized that *I* couldn't so much do it. I mean, not by myself. So I sent a text message to my dear friend, JE, asking (aka begging) for her to come help me create the animals. She's very kind and such a fabulous helper. Also, I was fairly certain that her creative-crafty side would find it hard to not come participate. I may have manipulated her a bit. But I love her. And seriously, they're so damn cute that it seems worth it. Also, I owe her. Big time. For reals.

So we set to work. I had bought 6 sets of Chinese lanterns (3 sizes of each color). So we could only do the animals of those colors. Because buying ALL those colors seemed like too much. And, after making these, totally would have taken FOR-EVAH!.

Here's the cute little duck. What you can't see is that he has a feather tail. Also, his legs are curly-q pipe cleaners (JE's idea). It's very cute.

 

I think the goldfish may be JE's favorite. He is adorable.

 

The frog kinda makes me giggle. He, too, has pipe cleaner feet. But my favorite part is his googly eyes (donated by the kid).

 

 

Before we look at this next picture, I am instructing you to 1. ignore the ridiculous mess that is my craft room. It's got all those summer activities stored in there, Christmas presents I've been buying, other crap, and the general sewing/crafting/scrapbooking clutter/chaos. I could lie to you and say it doesn't always look like that, but well, it pretty much always does.

 

Which leads us to 2. ignore how crazy I look. It had been a long day and I hadn't showered. I seriously looked in the mirror for the 1st time that day after JE left and was like, "holymother! How could no one have warned me??!". I could also lie to you and say I rarely look like that. But, well, that's probably how I look many weekend days, particularly if I'm not planning to leave the house. I do leave the house with piggy tails. Like, all the time. But I had at least brushed my teeth and washed my face. You're welcome, JE.

 

Pinky swear on no judgement? Okay. Now you may look at the rest of the adorable animals.

 

 

 

 

 

Today's Lesson: Look in the mirror before you invite someone over to your house. You can then decide that you either won't be photographed that day or that you just don't care that you look crazy. But at least it's informed crazy. Better to know that you look crazy than to be surprised by it. I think.

This is what we talk about at dinner

Here's the stimulating conversation at dinner at my house last night.

Bep-nin pee.
Yes, Zeplin (our friends' dog) pees.
Bep-nin pee ou-sigh.
Yes, Zeplin pees outside.
Pee staiw-s.
Oh, yes. Yesterday Zeplin peed outside on our stairs.
Nonah pee ou-sigh.
Yes, Jonah (our dog) pees outside.
No, no, no!! Nonah pee ou-sigh.
Ah, I see. Do you mean Jonah pees in the backyard outside?
Uh (yes). Nonah pee baaaaaaack.
Bepnin pee staiw-s.
Fortheloveofallthingsholy, please no more talk about dogs and pee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Poppa pee potty. Momma pee potty. [Kid] pee ou-sigh*. Baby pee bi-per (diaper).
(face plant)

Baby E, did you see my drawings?
Yeeeeessshhhhhh.
They're really awesome, right?
Riiiiiiight, kid.  Kid riiiiight.
That's how it works, baby E. I'm right 'cause I'm the big brother.

How was school today, kiddo?
Good.
Tell me something awesome that happened.
Well, I had music. And did you see the drawings I did?
In music?
No.
But what about music?
I'm talking about my drawings.
I'm asking you about music class.
(baby E) Poop!!!!!
(the kid) Hahahahahahaha!!!!
(hubby) Hahahahahaha!
(face plant)

I remember when complete and complex sentences - no, whole paragraphs! - were the norm at our dinner table. Urination and bowel movements were not. Sometimes I dream of meals not involving potty talk, or reminders to sit down. Reminders to use utensils. Reminders that throwing cups is not acceptable. Reminders that spitting is gross (not hilarious) and grounds for leaving the table.

But, then they make me laugh so hard I nearly spit my milk out. And I realize I wouldn't trade these days for anything. Conversations in the future will naturally become more "appropriate" and (surely!) there will be a day when there will be no rehashing the urination locations of everyone we've ever met. Surely. And if that's not the case, don't tell me. Let me live in my happy world.

*I have NO idea why baby E said the kid pees outside. He doesn't I swear! I mean, he does sometimes when we're camping. But he doesn't at home. I think. I hope. Sweetbabyjesus, please tell me my kid isn't peeing in our very visible suburban backyard.


Today's Lesson: Apparently a newly born grandchild takes precedence over following up with a parent in your child's class. This is seems totally reasonable. You know, while you're out of state with said grandchild. However, after you're back at work and have a couple of days to get caught up, perhaps you should call. Just sayin'. (And I'll be emailing her again tomorrow, since she never has called or emailed or anything. I'm sure she understandably just forgot with all that's been going on.)

The Mini Man Cave

Things have been a bit deep around here lately. Here's something to lighten it up a bit.

 

While the brand-spanking new washing machine and I are not particularly pleased with each other (to say the very least), the boys, on the other hand, are quite thrilled with its box. It amazes me how long a 5ft tall rectangle of cardboard can keep 2 boys busy and content.

 

 

I love the drawing the kid did in their "man cave". It's like a cross between Superman and a character from S.outh P.ark. I think the goatee is my favorite part. Although the enormous google eyes are quite fantastic. Cracks me up.

 

Love that boy.

 

 

Today's Lesson: Never underestimate the power of artistic expression to make you smile. Or the power of a box to occupy your children (in a non-what-the-hell-are-they-doing kind of way).

 

 

Hello Bites

Tonight at dinner I said something quite unexpected. I said, to baby E, "you have to eat something other than just vegetables!!!". And then I realized the oddity of what I'd just said and chuckled. My toddler was refusing to eat pasta or cheese in favor of vegetables. I smiled and let him go at it. He did eventually eat the pasta, too.

I am so grateful to have 2 kids who are awesome eaters. The kid certainly has a sweet tooth, and baby E would eat his weight in crackers some days, but, overall, they'll at least try anything. And generally will pretty much eat anything.

Though I believe that overall the boys' themselves are just built this way (to be great eaters), I do think we've had a small part in this. First, there's only one meal. It's what we're all having. So eat it or don't, but don't expect anything else. We (and by "we" I so mean hubby, because he cooks 90% of our meals) do make sure that every meal has something that everyone likes at least minimally well.

The boys are expected to take a "hello bite" of every food on their plates. If they don't like it, fine, they don't have to eat anymore. Generally, though, one bite leads to several more. Each of the boys certainly has a couple of things he isn't at all fond of. We continue to offer those foods, and they're expected to have one bite, but no more.

Now, if we were ever to stumble upon a food that made one of them vomit (i.e. me and canned beets - I feel nauseous just thinking about them), we wouldn't encourage them to continue to eat it. Also, this isn't a fight. Because it's an expectation that's been there from day one, there is no argument; they boys simply do it, sometimes with a single, gentle reminder.

We have exposed the boys to lots of different foods from an early age. I think this is a big part of why they're such adventurous eaters. Though the kid did have traditional baby food (as you know, we did Baby Led Weaning with E and he never had any store-bought or homemade baby food), we supplemented it with loads of table foods from early on. They've both had lots of tastes and textures from the beginning.

We also don't do the "clean plate club" in our house. But that's a post for another day.

I'm going to eat some pie now. Because it's yummy. And I had hello bites of everything tonight. Also, pleasebabyjesus, don't let my kids prove me wrong on all this tomorrow and refuse to eat anything but crackers and cookies for the rest of their lives.



Today's Lesson: Hello bites are a great tool to encourage all kinds of eaters to experiment with new foods. You never know what you might try and love!

1 in 3

One out of every three women*. That's what the research and statistics say. Look to the woman to your right, the woman to your left, yourself. One of the three of you will experience, first-hand, gender-based/power-based violence at some point in your life. And that is simply not okay.

It's no secret that I'm a social worker (I refer you to the blog title itself if you're somehow surprised by that news). But I don't think this is a topic I've ever addressed (here). But a well-meaning comment posted on FB has gotten me on a bit of a rant today.

The comment was in response to some statistic similar to the one I posted above. And a friend said something to the effect that we need to teach our daughters to be alert. And my gut twisted and I immediately felt ill at just that simple - and I know well meaning - point.

So, here's my response, for all of you.

While I understand her point and intention in expressing the need for parents to teach their daughters to not accept violence and to be aware of the warning signs/red flags, I felt sick reading it nonetheless. To me, when we make statements such as these, we further blame women and girls. We set the full - or at least the majority - responsibility of not being abused on their shoulders. We inadvertently join the victim-blaming ranks. 

In my opinion, these beliefs also set up an underlying assumption that men should not and/or can not be responsible for their abusive actions. To me, it sounds the same as "if she hadn't done_______, I wouldn't have had to do______ to her". It is not a victim's responsibility not to be abused. It is a perpetrator's responsibility not to be abusive.

Look at it this way. It's not a child's responsibility to not have the crap beaten out of him. It is the parent's responsibility to conduct herself in a safe and loving way so as to make sure the child is safe.

Who would ever say that my nearly 6yo "deserves" to be beaten simply because he continues to tell me "no" and refuses to do what I've asked him, even though he can clearly see it is frustrating me and he continues to do it? If I am getting frustrated, it is my responsibility to deal with my frustrations (be it with deep breathing, a time out for him or me, whatever). It is not his job to "behave himself" simply so I don't lose it. I am responsible for not losing it. I am responsible for my own behavior. Not him.

And yet, we blame women.

And, to be honest, as a mother of boys, I am beyond offended by this belief. For there to be an underlying assumption that my sons, simply because they have penises and Y chromosomes are incapable of controlling their own behaviors, well, that is simply ludicrous. And moreover, it is insulting to all males.

And it's not a belief I'm willing to tolerate.

Let us, instead, teach and show our children to be kind to one another. Let us set THAT expectation. I think in order to really end gender-based violence, we have to reframe the way we view the problem. It is not a women's problem. It is a societal problem. One in which our men - my sons!- need to be as much the solution, as much responsible, as do our women - your daughters.

Stepping off soapbox now.


*Note: Men, of course, are also victims of violence. Statistically, it's much harder to know the actual numbers. But I think it's safe to assume, it's at much lower rates that women. So, for the sake of this post, I will be generally referring to the victim/survivor as "she" and the perpetrator as "he". However, please know that I absolutely do not mean to discount the experiences or importance of men who have also experienced violence.


Today's Lesson: Is the whole big rant up there, in an effort to encourage us all to take a look at the role we play in gender/power-based personal violence. And the role we can and should take in ending it.