It's been 3.5 years since I came to this space. Somehow I ended up here today. And then, well, I had words. The truth is the blog been poking at my brain over the last several months, which is odd since it had probably been more than a year since I'd thought of it. Are blogs even a thing anymore? It seems like most folks have moved to other types of social media. Well, it's fine, because as always, this space is as much for my own brain and processing as for anything (one) else. 

So much has changed in the last several years. The boys are big, both physically and in other ways. The kid is almost 17 and halfway through his Junior year. We're talking about college and careers and getting close to considering taking his driving permit test. Maybe. Still not sure momma is ready for that. Mostly not sure that he is. We're strongly considering community college or at least a school that would allow him to live at home for a year or two. Kid is incredibly smart and academically capable, but those executive functioning skills need support and some additional time to develop. I recognize how far we've all come that he, too, is in agreement (most days) with this. 

E is 12 and in 6th grade though is often confused for a high schooler (the child is 5'9', y'all!). Middle school has been... an adjustment thus far as he starts to seek peer approval (as is to be developmentally expected). He has the most amazing leadership skills but is still navigating how to use those in ways that are good for him and others. I am so glad we decided to delay kindergarten years ago because I absolutely believe it helped to foster this leadership ability. But, if he could just use it not to incite a classroom of kids to yell out things about "balls", that would be great. Seriously, y'all, why are middle schoolers obsessed with "balls" (insert big sigh and eye roll here). 

Both boys are way taller than me. I call them "the bicker brothers" but the truth is they love each other and hang out a lot. I take their relationship as a parenting win. I'm grateful for it, for them. 

Adoption-wise, things are pretty quiet. We have only rare contact with the boys' first families and only via facebook. The boys rarely talk about them. I, as always, need to do a better job of intentionally bringing them up with the boys to assure they know it's a safe topic of conversation. I know in my professional-brain that by now both boys should know the entirety of their stories and histories (at least what I know of them). And, while the kid does, E doesn't really. I need to find the time and space to prioritize this. 

I've changed jobs a couple of times in the last 3yrs. Working in healthcare during Covid was hard, y'all. Hard. Also, because I apparently enjoy making my life more difficult than it needs to be, I also decided to get a doctorate. I started that in the summer of 2020 and will graduate this May. Finally. Most of this time I've also had a full-time job and a part-time job (though for a period I had 1 full-time and 2 part-time jobs). Thankfully, I'm currently down to only one full-time gig - as a therapist. I've taken a break from teaching, but hope to pick that back up in the fall once this doctorate is done. 

Idk what I want to do with this degree. When I started, I thought I'd teach full-time. I now know, because of the way academia works, it's unlikely I'll get a faculty position. Truthfully, Idk that I'd want it anyway. Lots of folks are like, "oh you'll be done with school forever!". But I'm not willing to concede that. I don't think that door is closed. I love school and I'm good at it. I'm not ruling out the possibility of going back for a Ph.D. in public health. Please, no one tell my family this lol. 

I think the doctorate has been meeting my need to process life through writing (sort of). But, as it starts to come to an end, I wonder if I may pick back up here some. It would be different, as I'm in a different place with thinking about what and how I share my and my kids' lives and stories.I do love writing. I will likely continue with some kind of academic writing. I'll probably pursue publishing in academic journals. I can see myself getting involved in writing textbooks or the like. I appreciate there being options. But I also feel a pull to less academic writing, something more personal. I suppose, as always, time will tell.

Today's lesson: I wonder if there is always a lesson to be learned. Maybe we try to come up with one because it helps us process the hard things, the confusing ones. Maybe, sometimes, things just are and we just have to accept them as is. Maybe not everything has to make sense. Also, maybe we don't always have to have a plan. Sometimes we can just let things be and see what comes of them. 

Letting go

My kid is 13 now. E is 8. We've long since passed the point of babyhood. We've also somehow passed the point of intentional decision making as to whether or not we would try to adopt for a 3rd time. There's never been a conversation that resulted in us saying, "ok, no more kids". It was more of occasional, random, comments about missing babies, or how challenging it would be to be outnumbered by children. Comments that never really turned into conversations, deciding anything one way or the other.

But, now, it doesn't seem possible that we could go back to that place. The kid will be in 8th grade this year. E in 3rd. I cannot imagine having a baby and a teenager in high school at the same time. And, truthfully, I cannot imagine the emotional (and physical!) labor involved in parenting another child, when I already feel like I'm doing the vast majority of the parenting of these two on my own.

Last week, a student I previously worked with posted on fb that she and her fiancee were about to be approved to be foster parents. She was asking for baby items. We have closets full (literally) of baby items. Clothes (newborn - 3t), cloth diapers, infant bath tub, crib, pack-n-play, toys, bed rails, books, crib sheets, burp cloths, bottles. All. The. Things. Why have I held on so tightly to these things, y'all?

Earlier this week, she came and got them. I kept a few things. The outfits they wore home from the hospital. Some of the books they each loved, or I loved reading to them. A few toys that I can see using for play therapy at some point. The cloth diapers, because those were expensive and I need to just sell those. A few blankets that were made by family members. But the rest - an entire SUV full (seriously, trunk, backseat, and front seat) - she took all of it.

I wish I could say there was relief as she drive away with it all. But that would be a lie. Mostly, I was anxious. I worried that I hadn't looked through the clothes thoroughly enough and might have missed keeping something important. Or that I gave away a book that I didn't have fond memories of, but the boys might. WHAT IF. "What if" what, I have no idea. Just, what if...

I realize this is grief parading as anxiety. Sadness about a more definitive "no" to more babies. I'm a much more confident - likely, competent - parent of babies than teenagers. I am refilled by rocking babies night after night, and exhausted by driving children to endless sporting events. Even though I assuredly get more sleep now than when my children were small, I am more emotionally exhausted on a daily basis. I love them, and I love parenting them. But parenting older children is just more challenging for me. Babies were easy. Yes, even when E was waking every 1-2 hours day and night for almost 2yrs.

This grief is reminiscent of the grief I felt when we decided to stop fertility treatments and pursue adoption. It was - is - the decision that I knew was - is - the right decision. But that doesn't mean there aren't feelings of sadness. It's taken me a long time to get to this point. And I know, in order to get through this grief, I need to sit with it, let it be, honor it, all before I can let it go.

Today's Lesson: Not making a decision, well, it's still making a decision. Sometimes that decision is just a stopgap until you're ready to make a more permanent one. And that's okay. Sit with the decision. Make the decision. Sit with the grief. Let it be. And then move through it. You don't have to do all of it all at once. Grief is a process. Not a finite thing.

Wandering and Wondering

Sometimes I miss this space and wander back over. That seems to happen during the summer, mostly. Things are generally slower at work, with no grad students (literally) staring over my shoulder. And evenings at home are generally less stressful, with no management of homework to be done by overtired children.

If I'm being honest, part of the reason I walked (mostly) away from here is because too many people I know irl were reading. There were (are) Things I wanted to talk about that I couldn't, because it felt (feels) too uncomfortable to do so with people I know face-to-face. I've always been real here. What you read is what you get. But, to not be able to talk about these Things, well, I don't know what to say. Some of me wonders, though, whether it might just be safe to process here again. Whether, the people I know irl have long since given up reading. I'm assuming everyone has, truly, as most of time even I don't remember this space exists.

Also, I wonder if I just don't need this space like I used to. The infertility is forgotten most days. No baby waiting happening, nor will it again. I'm finally able to start getting rid of some of the baby things I've been holding onto for so long. Someone I knew when she was an undergrad student is becoming a foster parent. She posted on fb asking for baby things. It finally feels right to let go of some of the things. It makes me sad. But it feels right, too.

The kids are older, and though I find parenting at this age much more difficult than I did when they were small, I don't know how to share and process that without infringing on their privacy. (Which, I admit, I definitely did when they were younger. But it doesn't feel as sensitive what I would share at this age, just simply because of normal development.) They're both overall doing well. They're smart, and sassy, and funny, and drive me batty, and give me morning goodbye kisses (well, except at school drop off, then they prefer I not even look at them). They both love to read. The kid is way into adult dot-to-dots right now. I don't get it, but isn't that often the case with parenting? E is obsessed with some little toy that I can't even remember the name of right now. I get it even less than the dot-to-dots. They're kind, loving humans. I couldn't ask for any more.

I've also unexpectedly found a group of girlfriends with whom I converse about many of the things I used to process here. These women are such an unexpected and amazing presence in my life. I've never had a group of friends quite like them. I am incredibly grateful for the light they bring to my life. We're going on a week long girls' trip this summer. I've never done this. I've never been away from my boys for more than 3 nights. That part makes me nervous, particularly as supervision when I'm not home is less than optimal. But. BUT, I need this. And I am so looking forward to this time with my friends.


Today's Lesson: It's funny how even when we change, we hold on to certain things. Things that we know we don't necessarily need right now. But we might need them later. Maybe. Baby things. Relationships. Blogs. As long as the holding of these things isn't harmful to us or others, then go for it. Grieve it until you're ready to move on. Because, really, holding on to things is often about grief.

Pictures

Christmas (my friend's daughter, also present). You can see how tall the kid is. Tho as this was almost 6 months ago, he's grown another several inches. He's in the weird phase where he still believes in Santa, but also hides LL Bean catalogs under his bed (well, yeah, I know that's weird, but they are the dirtiest pics coming into the house).

E with Luna during one of the kid's soccer games. She is quite confident in her role of "lap dog".

See lap dog reference above.

And more cute dog pictures because, well, she's cute. E put his baby blankets on her "because she's a baby and she's taking a nap and she needs to be snuggly warm." He even folded one up and made her a pillow. Gah, I love him.

The day we got her from the shelter. Which was an overcast December day, so I've no idea why the kid has on shorts and sunglasses. Middle school boys, man...

Today's Lesson: One shouldn't try to make sense of middle schoolers. It's an exercise in futility.

Here, where ever that may be

E is 7. He'll be in 2nd grade in the fall. He does so well in school. We held him back for an extra year of preschool because he'd of been 4 for the first month or so of kindergarten (and 17 starting college) and that just didn't seem like the best idea. It's given him the opportunity to be a leader. It makes me proud to see the confidence this has given him. He's spunky. And funny. So funny. And still cuddly, though I do see an end of these days. He loves to read. Loves it. He has tantrums sometimes. Mostly when he's hungry. This child is the definition of "hangry". He talks and talks and talks, especially when he's tired. It's funny that I once worried about a language delay. He gives the best side eye.

The kid is 12. He just finished his first year in middle school. It was a growing experience for us all. Honestly, it was mostly hard. I gave in and had him diagnosed with ADHD, then started medicine. I was wrong to wait to so long. I should have agreed years ago. It's allowed him to shine through again. It's allowed him to read books, or do legos, or watch a movie, or do homework without getting up to do who knows what. It's allowed him to feel somewhat more successful at school. The 504 plan that came with the diagnosis (well, that I fought for with the diagnosis) has also helped. The meds also confirmed for me that there's more than just ADHD going on, nothing "serious" per say, but things that also make attention and school more challenging for him that it is for his peers. He joined the chorus and has loved it. After being "one and done" in orchestra and band, I'm thrilled he's found a musical outlet he loves. He grew 8in in a year and is now officially taller than me. By an inch and counting. He points it out often enough to remind me, but not so often as to be irritating as hell. I adore the person he is. We still have our days.

We got a dog. Her name is Luna. She was from the shelter. And she's adorable. Somehow she conned me into letting her onto the furniture. "My" chair has now become hers and she gets irritated with me when I sit in it. Or sometimes she just lays her head on my shoulder and agrees to happily share with me. She's recognized that I'm the responsible, reliable one the in the house. I'm mostly the only one who remembers to feed her. She follows me around the house nudging  the back of my knees with her nose when she needs food or water. The boys adore her. E a little more than she'd like sometimes. We're all learning from her.

In the fall, my father was found unresponsive in his apartment a few states away, where he's lived for more than 20 years. No one's certain how long he'd been there when he was found by a concerned internet friend and the police. Somehow, he wasn't dead. The alcohol, I suppose, has preserved him over the years. My aunt/his sister moved him back here and has yet to talk with me about this. She's had many conversations with my mother and my husband. My mother told her, thankfully, that she would not pressure me to reach out to him. If he wants a relationship, he can make the effort. He hasn't. It's okay. And it isn't.

I'm in grad school again for yet another post-graduate certificate. Apparently I'm a glutton for punishment. This time in play therapy. I'm working on becoming an LCSW (Licensed Clinical Social Worker/therapist). I'm not certain that's what I actually want to do with my life, but it feels like moving forward. And I need some forward moving in my life. So, it's progress.

Today's Lesson: Sometimes, there are things that want to be said, but we've nowhere to say them. Sometimes, the saying of things out loud is too scary, too real. Sometimes, the writing of the things is safer. Sometimes, we have to find out where the safe places are. Sometimes, that is easier said than done.

Pictures

E's birthmom, R, moved back to her home state a couple of years ago. We got sporadic text messages from her, from a different #, every couple of months. And then, late this summer, we got a message from her that she was in town. But not just to visit. She's moved back.

Since then we've had several scheduled get togethers, only one has been successful. It was good. And painful. And beautiful. And hard. She said hardly anything. Just watched him. I can only imagine what was going through her mind. I tried to just sit there, hold space for her, and not get in the way of her loving him.

I offered random tidbits about E. What he likes. What he doesn't like. How he's really funny, in a little old man kind of way. How he loves music and dancing, but will only engage in either when he's in the mood; there's no cajoling him into it when he doesn't want to. How expressive he is when he talks, especially once those hands get going. How much he still loves to cuddle. How he can have quite the temper when he doesn't get what he wants. How much he adores and looks up to his brother. How he's rather introverted, particularly in big groups, or unknown situations. How hilarious he is when he gets going about something random, even when he isn't trying to be. And how mad he gets when we laugh at the times when he isn't being funny on purpose.

She smiled and responded a bit, but mostly just watched him play with his brother, with his (birth) sister.

I wondered which was more painful for her, seeing him then, or not having seen him for so long. I imagine both were horribly hard.

This weekend we're planning to have family pictures. And R and her daughter are coming, too. These pics are our Christmas gift to R. I had thought to set some up, but hadn't figured out who would do them, or when, or even asked R if she wanted to. And then she texted me asking, well, more saying she'd love some. I'm so glad she mentioned it.

This is a first for us. I'm hoping the photographer can do some family pics of me, hubby, and the boys before R arrives (she nearly always runs really late). Then some pics of us all, and some of her, her daughter, and E.

Confession? I want to be the adoptive mom who is all "oh, yeah, I'm 100% comfortable with this". But, I'm not. I think in my head I am. But, I can't really articulate why the rest of me is having all kinds of feels about it. And I can't even really identify the feels, just some kind of discomfort.

I'm pretty sure it's rooted in R's pain. For a long time, it was easy for me to essentially dismiss my boys' birthparents' pain, for a myriad of reasons, but mostly because adoption was a choice they all made. And while that's true, it doesn't mean it was an easy decision to make, and certainly not an easy one to live with. I, of course, didn't take these boys away from their biological families. However, that still doesn't negate their pain, or make it feel any better to me.  And it doesn't make it any easier, really, for any of us.

I really do hope the pictures this weekend go well. I hope R shows up (like I said, there have been some canceled at the last minute visits). I suppose if she doesn't it's just more time for pics of the 4 of us. I hope I can work through some of this discomfort before the pics, so I don't ruin it/them for everyone else. And, of course, I hope the pics turn out well.

Today's Lesson: Sometimes we think we've done the work to know what we're getting ourselves into. And perhaps we have, to some extent. But often, what we neglect to do, is the work to know what we're getting others into with our decisions. Particularly as it relates to children, who have no say so in any of it.

Early Memories

One of my earliest memories is a snippet of a moment. A single snapshot of random life. Held in my memory as just still frame. But seen from my perspective, and real enough that I know it wasn't a picture I later saw somewhere, but something seen with my own eyes.

I couldn't have been more than 3. I was standing, in the kitchen. I can almost feel the red and brown squares of the linoleum beneath my bare feet. The yellow-greenish color of the oven in front of me. Staring up at the brown cabinets. The skinny cabinet, just to the left of the oven was open. I remember, clearly, the jars of baby food lined up neatly on the bottom two shelves of the cabinet, so high above me. They were green and yellow, tiny jars. The round glass ones, with metal lids.

And that's it.

There's no sound or smell associated with it. No feelings at all, other than curiosity about the jars. I was just there, looking.

I wonder, though... what was it about that moment that embedded itself so strongly in my memory? Why is it 30-something years later I remember it so clearly? Why has my mind held on to that, when it's forgotten so many other (much more useful!) things?

And that leads me to wonder... what are the first memories my kids will have? Will it be something big and exciting? Will it be something frightening? Will it be a quiet, loving moment with me (oh, how I wish it to be this!)? Or will it be a random moment of the mundane?

Right now, E says he remembers when he was in heaven before he was born (a conclusion he came to all on his own; we've never told him that's where babies are before they're born). He says he remembers "just a'waitin'". It's an interesting thing. But I wonder if he will hold on to this, or something else will replace it.

The kid, well, he just starts to make up fanciful stories about his first memories when asked (i.e. after he heard what E said, he just expanded on that). So I'm not really sure what it truly is. Likely, neither is he.

But, seeing as how I never talked about this particular memory until a few years ago (and not for any particular reason, other than it never came up), it seems plausible that they may not even realize right now what their earliest memories are.

So I'm curious... what are your earliest memories? Also, do you think there's a reason why those particular things have stuck with you?


Today's Lesson: The mind, and memories, are tricky things. We never know exactly what they'll hold on to, or why. Sometimes the things we most want to remember (a particular look of a loved one... a fact for an important test... our babies' first words) seem to be lost. While the seemingly unimportant (where baby food was stored when we were toddlers) remains.

All I Want for Christmas...

I am of the the Cabbage patch doll era. As in, mass hysteria!! Must get my child that toy!!! I will steal it from another parent to get it for my child!!!! I will pay 50x what it's worth!!!!!

The year I got my first Cabbage Patch doll, I remember sneaking out of my bed in the middle of the night to see what Santa had brought. I tiptoed quietly down the hall, carefully avoiding the spots that creaked in the floor. I could see the glow of the tree around the corner, illuminating the room. And there it was. It was beautiful. I did little happy dance -very quietly - when I saw it sitting under the tree.  The glow of the lights reflecting off her perfect, plastic face. I wanted to grab her and take her to bed with me right then. I was overjoyed. I doubt I got back to sleep that Christmas Eve. 

It. was. magical.

My kids don't watch much tv. As in, rarely at all during the week, and, when they do, it's a 30min PBS Kids show. On the weekends, it's not much more than that, though there's often a cartoon that hubby has DVR'ed for himself and wants to watch, so the boys get to watch, too. But, since it's DVR'ed, they don't see the commercials.

Now, I'm sure I knew about Cabbage Patch dolls from commercials. And I'm sure I bugged the heck out of my mom because of it. But, my boys don't really ever see commercials (which has been intentional on our part). And they really rarely ask for specific toys (or foods, or anything for that matter). When they do ask for toys, it's not name-brand things (other than Legos, but, really, what else would you call those? It's not really like there's a market for generic ones, either, not that I've seen at least. Then again, I also don't watch commercials). 

When we ask they boys what they want for Christmas we don't get much response. A plane. A tractor. Some Legos. Art stuff. All of which they already have. So it makes me wonder, have we stolen some of the magic of Christmas from them? 

Now, I know Christmas isn't about presents and commercialism. I mean, we focus a lot on others (not just at Christmas, mind you) and make a daily concerted effort to avoid all manner of commercialism. But, the joy I felt, seeing that doll surrounded by glowing lights, that doll that I'd begged for forever (I mean, really, since the preceding summer at least), that doll that I actually still have because I've never been able to get rid of it, that doll that my children now play with. I feel a little twinge of sadness, of regret, that they don't have that.

Of course they're excited Christmas morning. And they're always thankful for whatever they get. But the experience doesn't seem as magical as it once did to me. Maybe that's because I'm a Grinch-y old adult now. I'm sure that's part of it. I just hope we've haven't inadvertently stolen one of the joys of childhood.


Today's Lesson: Unintended Consequences - (according to Wikipedia, because that's a totally legit source when blogging about random shit) outcomes that are not the ones intended by a purposeful action. So often the outcomes of our parenting are affected by these. For better or worse.

Interns Grow Up. Hopefully.

I realized that I never told you about baby E's birth. Well, that's a long story, but I do want to tell you about the MD who delivered baby E. Because yesterday I went to a new MD to establish care and that visit reminded me of his delivery.

For the majority of the time R was in labor, we only saw the nurses. I'm fairly certain this is common. Fortunately, the main nurse was also a CNM (certified nurse midwife). She was lovely. Very compassionate, not weird-acting at all. Our situation was (still is) uncommon and was, apparently, quite uncomfortable for many people, because lots of people acted super awkward throughout our stay. Not unkind, mind you, just awkward. They didn't know who to talk to, so often spoke only to one of us, ignoring the other. I certainly preferred that if they were only going to talk to one of us, that it be R, since, you know, she was the one having the baby and all. But it didn't always work that way.

Also, E was born, you may remember Sept 25th. August is when teaching hospitals get new batches of brand-spanking new residents. Typically, they're called interns their first year of residency. I don't know why. And, generally speaking, August and September have the highest mortality rates in teaching hospitals. I'll leave it to you to put two and two together on that one.

So, it was time for R to deliver this baby. She asked me to remain in the delivery room. Her mom was also there (on the phone with a friend of hers, who she put on speaker phone; this was super annoying to all of us in attendance). Hubby and the agency case worker are in the waiting room. In come a group of people. At the time, I had no idea who they were. I now, after working in this same hospital, realize they were the team of residents, sans their attending (as is typical).

The resident who apparently drew straws to delivery baby E looked like she was about 16 (she was probably about 26), and about to vomit. She stood in the middle of the room looking around like a little kid in a crowd who has just realized she's lost her mommy. The nurse said, "it's time". The resident then took on the look of a deer in the headlights. She was just that still, too. This was about the moment I started to get a little concerned. But I was then distracted by the yelling on the speaker phone of R's mom's friend ("push, baby girl, push"; never mind it wasn't time to push).

The nurse finally had to grab the resident by the arm and tell her to focus and get dressed (gown, gloves, etc...). I think the nurse had had enough of the resident's stupidity, because she then just about put the shoe cover things on the resident because she was (still) standing there about-to-pee-herself scared.

Essentially, the resident did nothing but stand at the end of the bed and catch E. (Though I suppose that's kind of the MD's job in an uncomplicated delivery) R did all the work, with a lot of direction from the nurse and a bit of support from me. I swear, I saw the resident shaking she was so freaked out.

I didn't see her again until 2 days later.

A girl I worked with at the time was in labor the room next to the one E was born in. I went over to see her. And in the room was the resident. She looked at me in shock. I smiled and explained that the mama-to-be, in this case, was my friend and I had no intentions of parenting her baby. I don't think she believed me. I think she thought I was soliciting for all the babies.

Cue yesterday, at my MD appointment. It was a new MD, because, well, the last one wasn't a pleasant experience. Now, I went to this particular practice when I was a kid, really, until about 8yrs ago, when I had bad experiences with the residents two visits in a row that completely turned me off of ever going back. But, this practice is now a 60sec walk from my office (one floor up and just down the hall), and I'd heard great things about Dr V. And I was definitely in the market for a new MD.

First, a medical student walks in. Now, I'd told them when I scheduled the appointment that I would not be seeing any residents or students. They said that wasn't a problem. So I wasn't thrilled to see him in the first place. Then he acted like I'd just kicked his puppy or his grandmother when I told him that I wouldn't be seeing him. He was all, "but normally I don't even tell people I'm a student because I don't want them to be able to refuse to see me". And I was all, "uh, I think you have to tell people you're a student in case they want to refuse to see you. And the fact that you're about 11yo makes it obvious, dude". And he was all, "look how charming I am? You know you want to talk to me". And I was all, "you're not charming. I don't want to see you". And he was all, "I'll make a pouty face and then you'll see me". And I was all, "Get the eff out".

So, finally, Dr V comes in. And we briefly talk about why I'm there ("What? Periods every 21 days? that sucks. Do you want a flu shot?" "Uh, yeah it sucks. I don't want your flu shot"). She asks how old the boys are. I tell her. She asks whether either of them were born at this hospital. I tell her E was. She asks when. I tell her. She tells me she remembers in her very first month on OB there was an adoptive mom who was going to breastfeed and that I look familiar and she's pretty sure she delivered E. facepalm She is the nervous resident who had absolutely no idea what she was doing.
1. This makes me fell very old.
2. This does not make me fell much better about my visit with her as she's only been done with residency for a year.
3. I remembered that shortly after E was born, I happened to overhear the nurses talking about what a clueless incompetent idiot they thought she was.
4. I have to remind myself that it would probably not endear me to her were I to tell her what a bumbling idiot I - and the nurses - thought she was. Also, it just wouldn't be nice.
5. Damn, it's a small world.


Today's Lesson: I don't have great luck with doctors. I just don't.

Sweet baby E

Well, E just turned 4. He had an art birthday that turned out really well. He and his friends had a great time and it wasn't nearly as stressful to plan and decorate as the Lorax birthday last year. 

E on a recent camping trip. He still doesn't sleep great, but it's gotten so much better. We upgraded to a popup camper this summer and that seems to have helped.

This time last year I was afraid E wasn't talking as much as he should so we had a Speech eval done (he was borderline low/average). This is amusing to me now because he - like his brother - never.stops.talking. Ever. And he is funny. I mean, funny. He delivers the funny so seriously, which makes it even funnier. He's still an introvert, but he is much more out of his shell than he used to be. Just don't (as a stranger) come bopping up to him and expect him to talk to you. He won't. And he may scowl.

I love this kid. 

E's in preschool full time this year and loves it.  (Last year was 3 days/week.) We love it, too, as long as he takes a nap there. The days he doesn't, it seems to throw him into a several day tailspin and it takes some serious doing to get him back to normal. We occasionally still have to use melatonin. We're undecided about whether he'll start kindergarten next year. Technically, he could as his birthday is just before the cutoff. But I'm just not sure whether it's the best thing for him. Fortunately, we have loads of time to decide.

What else... he's still doing gymnastics and (most days) liking it. He is really strong and has some guns that hubby is jealous of. He hasn't shown any particular interest in doing any other sport or activity, so I suppose we'll keep with gymnastics for now.

The cuteness. I just can't handle the cuteness. This kid, I mean, he is just really my heart. I am blessed beyond reason by him.

Today's Lesson: Sometimes we get what we ask for. Sometimes we get what we need. Sometimes we get both. This child is my both. How could I ask for more?

this and that

• I've been missing in this space because I got busy with life.
• work has been busy. Which I really appreciate. Most of the time. Except when it means I don't have time for blogging.
• thankfully, we've not been sick lately. which leads me to my next point...
• I need spring to come, like for real, not this teasing "Hello, it's Spring for two days and then it snows again" crap. We've had at least 2 more snow days since my post on snow days. It's ridiculous. and I'm certain this is related to why at least one of us has had some form of cold/upper respiratory gunk pretty continuously since November.
• we've been participating in a co-op called Bountiful Baskets the last couple of months. It's a great deal (6 each veggies and fruits, generally providing most of the produce we need for a week for just $15, or upgraded to an all organic basket for $25). They also offer different foods in bulk so we've been getting those (a bushel of apples for $25, 25lbs of brussel sprouts for $18, 22lbs of asparagus for $28) and then canning and/or freezing them. I kind of love canning and want to can AllTheThings. Hubby rolls his eyes at me. Until he eats the stuff. I love seeing all those colorful cans lined up in the pantry. and i need to convince hubby that we need a bigger deep freezer. 
• maybe one day I'll do a post about canning. once I know what I'm doing and feel confident that I'm not going to give anyone botulism.
• the kid's behavior has been stellar the last couple of weeks. Idk why, but I'll take it. We've been praising him all over the place and I know that is also making a difference but I'm not really sure what else is going on. Just hoping it's a trend that continues.
• we did manage to post hearts on the boys' door every day in February. I think it helped me focus on being more positive. Maybe. E didn't pay the slightest bit of attention to them. The kid barely did. I rate it as not worth doing again. Oh well. I should at least take pics of their doors before taking them down because they look cute. But, seeing as I'm sure it'll be like August before I get around to that, I'm sure I have plenty of time.
• e's favorite song is Beyonce's "All the Single Ladies" (or whatever the real name of that song is). He sings it. All. The. Time. and it is hilarious. I should get a video.
• so, turns out the self-absorbed midwife was right about my Vit D level. And I admit it was irritating that she was right. I am taking some outrageously high dosage of it once a week for the next couple of months. But, I've seen no change as it relates to any of my symptoms so there's that. And I am still on the search for a new provider. The phone call we had when she told me the results would be good fodder for another post. Because it was no better than my actual visit with her.
• I really miss nursing E. A lot. He still asks on occasion. it doesn't seem it's because he really wants to, but more because he's curious as to what my response will be. mostly I tell him that he's all done nursing and gets milk from a cup now. he then goes through a litany of the babies we know who still nurse/used to nurse and then moves on to other topics.
• last week I did the training to be carseat tech. I am a total geek and was very excited about it. 
• we continue to have school issues with the kid. I think I've come to the realization that public school is just not a place where he is going to thrive. and I'm not sure what we're going to do with that. it makes me feel sick every time I think about it.

Today's Lesson: When all the single ladies are calling your 3yo while he's at the dinner table, it is time to set some limits. Like no cell phones at the table. And you need to play a different genre of music more often.

Snow Days

We have had A. Lot. of snow days this year. And, with probably a month until the possibility of snow days subsides, dear lord, we are sick of snow days. Last year we had maybe 2 snow days. This year, we've had 10. Already. I may lose my mind of we have anymore. And *I* am not even the one who stays home with them on the snow days. But I have to deal with 3 stir crazy and/or cranky guys with every one.

Snow Day #1. I had 3 giddy boys. Everyone was excited to see the snow! Not how our patio wasn't even covered and you can still see grass. Yes, this constitutes a snow day here. At least at the beginning of the season.

Snow Day #2. Oh, it's fun to shovel!

Snow Day #3. Yum, snow cream!!

Snow Day #5 (apparently no picture of #4). This kid has way too much energy. Run, kid, run. Snow Day #6 was a repeat of this. Fwiw, he did about a 5k each day. Apparently, as long as he has a movie to watch on the portable DVD player, he'll just keep going and going. Also, this wasn't punishment. He likes to run. 

Snow Day #7. Must. Get. Out.Of. The. House. Go crazy, kid.

Snow Day #8. A proper snow day. Many of the others were for a pitiful amount of snow, or were actually because of the cold, which drives me crazy b/c it wasn't that cold. But that's a rant for another day. Anyway, we got like 4-5in of snow, which is a lot 'round these parts. Enough to make "Buster" here. Almost 2 weeks later, and the bottom tier of Buster is still hanging out in our front yard. Because it keeps snowing. And being really freaking cold.

Snow Day #9: No picture and by this point the children were just lucky to be survive the day.

Snow Day #10: Again, no pics, but somehow everyone was still smiling at the end of the day. And went to bed early. Probably because hubby was out driving all over town keeping them all busy. Which means one of two things. Either, (a) hubby was putting all of their lives in danger because the roads were soooooo dangerous that school was called off. Or (b) the roads were fine and school shouldn't have been called off. I'm honestly not sure which of those is the more irritating possibility. Hell, who am I kidding. B. B is clearly the more irritating option. And the more likely one.

I am so, completely over the snow. And the cold. And winter. Over. It.

Today's Lesson: There totally can be too much of a good thing.

PB&J

So, remember how we asked for experiences for the boys for Christmas, instead of more junk, er... toys. Well, many people came through splendidly. The boys were gifted time with some friends to paint their own ice cream bowls (the kid in particular is super excited about that!), a membership to a local children's garden from their Gram with plans to take them on lots of outings there, a family membership to a nationwide network of science centers, tickets to a Globetrotters game, tickets to a Children's Theater play, and I'm sure a couple of things I can't remember at the moment. 

Also, there were tickets to the local Philharmonic Orchestra's kids' series. It's a 30min concert with kids activities for another half hour. I was in orchestra and played the violin for something like 13 years. So I was particularly excited about this gift! We went this morning. This week's concert was presented by part of the University's drum line. It was so cool. And the boys very much enjoyed it. Perhaps the PB&J sandwiches and cookies as much as the music. But they were fascinated by the music as well.

The boys went and sat right in front, loving the music and the interaction with the musicians. At one point they had their arms wrapped around each other and it was one of the most adorable things I've ever seen. Of course it didn't last long enough for a picture. But, it happened. 

Then, afterwards, there was an instrument "petting zoo". E's favorite was the symbols. The kid was fascinated by the trombone. 

I must admit, my heart sung a little to see E also very interested in the violin. Which was the tiniest, most adorable little violin I've ever seen. With the most adorable violinist to accompany it.

All in all, a lovely morning. Even with the sugar high they left with.

Today's Lesson: Music may tame the wild beast. But I suspect it works better with less chocolate and sugar involved.

Kindness

So, remember how I told you about how creepy that Elf is what we were going to focus on instead? Well, I am super happy to report that it actually went really well! We did several things, most of which I'm having difficultly remembering at the moment (with everyone being sick, you know, for like a whole month, illness and lack of sleep has made me stupid and forgetful). However, the one I do remember, was making cookies from scratch and taking them to one of the local fire departments. And I probably only remember that because there is photographic evidence. Which I now present to you. Because it's cute.

The firemen were unbelievably kind to my children in return for the cookies we made them (which the kid helped me with, actually, now that I think about it, E helped some, too). They let the boys try on their coats. The coat, btw, was almost as heavy as E.

They let them climb all in and around the truck. Which the boys are still talking about more than a month later. (Lest you think me neglectful, it was about 60 degrees outside and we were headed to gymnastics after this visit, which is why E has on short and leg warmers.)

They also pulled the truck out of the garage, just for the boys, and let them take turns blowing the horn. E loved, I mean LOVED!!!!!!!! it. He insisted on the fireman getting out and letting him sit there himself. Then he closed the door, giving us a thumbs up that he was happy and we were welcome to just leave him there indefinitely. The firemen offered to allow him to stay as their mascot. Until I mentioned that he's still a crappy sleeper. Then they said he can visit.

I was so impressed with these men. I can't emphasize how kind they were to my children, and how much they seemed to enjoy our disruption of their day. 

After we left, we talked about the whole experience. We talked about what it feels like to do something kind for others. How the fireman had in turn done something kind for us. But we especially talked about how in doing kind things for others, we don't expect them to in turn do something kind for us, or even to thank us. We do kind things because it is the right thing to do, because it feels good to do so, and because it is what God expects of us. 

And I was overwhelmingly emotional to discover that my children get it.  They get in their almost 8yo and 3yo hearts that doing things for others blesses us, it blesses others, and it blesses our whole world. 

They also love the fire station and now both want to be firemen. And part of that is because they know firemen help other people. But a lot of it is because of the cool truck. And that's okay, too.

Today's Lesson: It's important to take a moment and be thankful for the little reminders about the things in parenting we do well. Particularly when those little things happen to be the ones are most important to us.

3 years, 1 month, and 3 weeks

Hey, so remember that? You know when I went on and on and got all weepy and snotty because E was done nursing? Oh, you probably couldn't see the weepy and snotty part. Lucky you. It wasn't pretty. At any rate. How about we say "just kidding" or "never mind" or "pretend that didn't happen". Because, well, it lasted about another day after I posted that.

He waltzed into the room at bed time and sweetly asked, "Momma, I have some mulp-mease?". And I said, "hell yeah!". And, yes, I actually said that. To my 3yo. Don't judge. And, actually, he screamed it at me and was tired and cranky. And it wasn't all that cute. But I so didn't care. Hubby was all, "are you really going to give in to him?". And I was all, "hell yeah!". Still in front of the 3yo. But he hasn't repeated that phrase yet, so I'm going with it was fine. And then I did give in to him. And I gave into me.

And I learned a few things.

First, neither E nor I are quite ready to give up nursing.

Second, I'm totally okay with that.

Third, holy moly, momma needs that daily (or at least every other day) shot of oxytocin. Seriously, y'all, it made a huge difference in my mood. When we are finally ready to wean, I'm going to be forced to find an alternate source of oxytocin. Or another baby. One of those two things.

Fourth, and last, there is nothing sweeter than your baby (even when he's three) climbing into your lap, gently patting your cheek, and settling in to nurse. It is a contentment like no other. For both of us.

My baby is 3 years, 1 month, and 3 weeks old. And he is still nursing. It may not be over just yet, but I know the time is coming soon. And I will treasure this time while I have it.


Today's Lesson: Decisions aren't permanent. Just because something is the right thing to do at a particular moment, that doesn't mean it will be the next moment. It's okay to make a different decision the next time 'round. Sometimes it's what we all need.

A Week

I've spent an inordinate amount of time recently thinking about nursing baby E. As I type this, E is 3 years, 3 weeks, and 2 days old. If you'd told me that long ago, that I'd be nursing him at this age, I'd have laughed at you. Or shuddered at the mere thought, because, really, nursing a preschooler wasn't in my plan. And - I admit now -  I thought it was kinda weird.

But, E looked no different on a Monday than he did on a Tuesday, than he did on a Saturday (or any other day). And one day led into the next. And then he turned one. And we kept nursing. And then he turned 2, and we kept nursing. And then, somehow, he was 3. And we kept nursing.

And I never felt a definitive moment when he should be done nursing. Never has there been a specific thing that made me - or him - think, "oh, we're done with this now". Never have I looked at him and thought, "you're too big/old/have too many teeth/talk too much/whatever for this".

Sure, there have been times when there were things I'd rather have been doing. Sure, there were times when I'd rather hubby put him to bed so I could snuggle with the kid. Sure, there were times when his latch got lazy and he teeth (momentarily) felt like sharp razors and I wanted to hide my breasts from him forever. Sure, there were times when I was touched out and just wanted my body for myself for an entire day.

But, truthfully, those moments have been rare. And, mostly, nursing E has been one of my favorite things.

But now it's been 7 days since E nursed. Double the longest time he'd ever before gone without nursing. At first, that was gently encouraged by me (because he has a cold and/or allergies and kept vomiting after nursing and a momma can only handle being vomited on so many times before she sets some limits). And though he initially was not happy with this, the last couple of days he hasn't even asked. He's climbed up into my lap for a couple of books and songs and snuggles before going to bed. While I love that time with him, too, it's just not the same as the nursing time. It's not.

I think, when it was over, I'd expected to feel nostalgic about our nursing time. Proud of myself for making my goal (just longer than the kid nursed). All warm and fuzzy about all the time that was just me and him, something no one else did for/with him. Strong for fighting through all we did - all *I* did - to be able to nurse at all. Accomplished for giving him what he needed and deserved for such a long time.

And I suppose I do feel all those things. Somewhere in the recesses of my head. But, mostly, what I feel is sadness. Mostly, I miss it.

One thousand, one hundred and eighteen days. Minus 7 days. That's how long baby E nursed. And, somehow, I can't believe it's over.


Today's Lesson: Sometimes, it's never enough of a good thing.

Lessons of Parenthood

Our kids teach us things. Lots of things. Some are things we had no idea would ever be important to us. Some are things we just never even knew existed. Some are things we thought applied to other people, not us.

I know a lot about little kids. A lot. I really didn't expect that my kids would teach me things til I they got older. I knew I had a lot to learn then, but not when they were little. Arrogant, I know.

The kid taught me about Red dye 40. Something that was no where near my radar before him. He taught me that I, too, could lose my shit and come dangerously close to shaking the baby. He taught me that perhaps the reason a baby is easily distracted, is because he will also be easily distracted as an older child. And, bigger than that, that the things that are sometimes considered strengths for us at one point in our lives, can be challenges for us at another (and visa versa). He also taught me that I really, truly, don't care what others think of how I parent.

Baby E has taught me lots of things, too. He taught me that nursing a 3yo is no different than nursing a 1yo. Other than the stopping to chat in the middle of it. And the really long legs. He taught me that no sleep for months and months on end = massive weight gain that Won't. Come. Off. He taught me that a tantrum is about the child, not about the parent. He taught me that reacting in anger to a tantrum is, well, just an adult-sized tantrum and serves no one well. Although it is a great way to encourage additional tantrums.

In some ways, what each of my children has taught me is that I am both a worse and a better parent than I thought I would be. And sometimes that happens in the span of a few minutes. They have also taught me that good parents give themselves as much grace as they give their children.


Today's Lesson: We all have so much to learn. The process is easier when we get out of our own ways.

Free, Not Two No Mores

(So I feel like this post should be predicated by some explanation about where I've been, why I haven't been posting. But, in all reality, there's no interesting story behind that. So, yeah. This is what you get.)

Baby E turned 3 last Wednesday. I feel like at some point I'll have to stop referring to him as "baby", but, well, it's not today. He woke up that morning singing, "Happy Birthday" to himself. It was cute. He then said, "Momma, I free, not two no mores". That night, however, he broke down with huge crocodile tears and heaving sobs when we told him he was 3 and tried to sing to him. That child does not like to be the center of attention.

Saturday, we celebrated his birthday with friends and family. It was Lorax themed. Here are some pics. I stole them from my mom's FB. Because, well, that's what I do.

These darn trees seemed like such a great idea. They seemed like they would be easy. They. Were. Not. I hate them. But I am very thankful to my dear friend, M, and my mama for helping me put them together. Otherwise, there may have been (even more) cussing. Or perhaps a mama-sized tantrum.

I needed a drink after we were done with those trees. The Suess juice (aka alcoholic) version.

 

 

 Here are the gift bags I made. Also, the chocolate moustaches my mama made. I remembered them about 4hrs before the party started and panicked. My mama to the rescue! They turned out great and the kids and adults loved them.

 The kid made some decorations, too. This is my favorite. He said he drew the fish with "big, awesome fros to match mine and baby E's".

My friend, JE, again made the most awesome cake. Girl has talent and I'm so, SO grateful that she shares it with us!

My silly boys and their moustache straws. Those were a big hit and made for some really cute pics.

After how E responded to us singing to him at home, I was afraid he'd freak out at his party. Fortunately, he just was shy and covered his face until we were done. He then blew out his candle, bowed, said, "fank you very much" and was done with being the center of attention for the rest of the party.

 

 

E was so cute opening his presents. He said, "fank you" to almost everyone. When he opened the cooking toys from K, he said, "Oh, I love it so much. Fank you, K!!!" and ran over, giving her the hugest hug. I love seeing him being grateful and gracious.

Kids being silly with the chocolate 'staches.

 

M seriously rockin' that 'stache.

 

Me, and one of the 5 trees. There has to be an easier way to attach them. I, however, will never discover it. Because I will never again torture myself by making big truffula trees. Ever. Again. They were really cute, though. Man, I wish I had a pic of the whole yard decorated with them. Perhaps I should start taking my own pictures...

 

 

Today's Lessons: Sometimes making the pictures in our heads into reality becomes more difficult than it needs to be. It seems like this is one of those problems that can both be caused and cured by alcohol.

 

We Continue, at Least for Now

This post is part of Mothering's "Blog about Breastfeeding" event to celebrate International Breastfeeding Week, Aug 1st-7th.


There has been little about my and baby E's nursing relationship that anyone would consider traditional. My journey to nurse him started nearly 2 years before he was born. No, it started even earlier than that, when I nursed my oldest son. But with baby E, I was determined to be more successful. There was reading, and research, and appointments with doctors, and meds, and pumping and more pumping), and the ever-present SNS. And all of that before I even knew of his existence. After birth, there was all of that in addition to driving all over the state to pick up breast milk from other mamas to feed my baby.

Nursing baby E has been a blessing and been healing in many ways. But it has also been a challenge. There was baby E's biological father finding out, and demanding that I stop (even though E's birth mama was happy I was nursing him). There have been many times I simply knew that weaning was just around the corner. Or the many times we were nearly out of milk. And then, thanks to the miraculous intervention of one (or more) of our amazing donors, we've been blessed to continue. There have been judgements (both blatantly expressed to me and not) by others about whether we should be nursing at all, or when we should stop. Not that I've ever been particularly interested in the judgements of others', mind you. And heaven knows there have been frustrations with my reliance on the SNS.

Today, I somehow find myself a mama of an almost 3yo nursling. I don't know how it happened, because, in truth, even 3 years ago I never imagined myself here. I never saw myself nursing a child who stops to talk to me between suckles at my breast. I never saw myself nursing a child who requests "mulp-mease" with a joyful - if sometimes demanding - dance before bedtime. All I wanted was to be able to nurture my baby at my breast for longer than what I'd been able to do with his brother. I never dreamed we would still be nursing just shy of his 3rd birthday.

I know we are in the twilight of our nursing relationship. And I find myself (not surprisingly) emotional about it. But I also find myself okay with it. Baby E has lead our nursing relationship the whole way through. I will continue to let him lead us through its end.

Regardless of what nursing baby E looks like from the outside, on the inside, between baby E and me, our nursing relationship is just what it is supposed to be. It's not what I expected. It's not what I saw in my head when I pictured it for all that time I was preparing. It may not be "normal". But its ours. And it is exactly what we each need it to be at this very moment.


Today's Lesson: In many ways I'm not a traditional kind of girl. So I've no idea why I thought nursing would be the thing that was. Life has a funny way of teaching us who we are. And a funny way of making us accept it.

Water, socks and bubbles, i.e. the Beginning of Summer

Remember how last year I made up all those activity packets? Hubby started off the summer strong and they did several initially, and then things kind of petered out. So, we still have a bunch (eh, really, a lot) left over for this summer. But, I felt the need to add some others as well. So, I spent quite a bit of time the last couple of weeks preparing new ones. Here are the first couple of them.

 

First, I'd thrown several empty plastic bottles into a bag and challenged hubby to built a water wall. And hubby loves any challenge related to building. And I'm all about encouraging him to build things that don't involve furniture (remind me to tell you about the bookshelf hubby built me early in our marriage).

 

So, hubby threw this together the other afternoon. And E, who is mesmerized by water, love, loved this one. And then, when the kid got home from camp (tennis and swim camp this week), he, too, loved it. It's def a win.

  I found these "sock bubbles" somewhere via Pin.terest. Hubby sent me these cute pics via text, just as I was opening the garage door, returning home from work. By the time I got inside, the kid was running in, sobbing. Apparently, he'd sucked in instead of blowing out, and the bubbles taste bad, y'all. Water and milk helped.

And then, about 2.5min after I got outside, baby E also sucked in. Only instead of crying, he just started puking. Repeatedly. For about 15min. 'Cause once that child starts with the vomit, it doesn't stop til his stomach is empty. Fun for all.

 

Thus does summer begin.

 

 

Today's Lesson: Water wall = big win. Sock bubbles = crying and vomit. Chose wisely, friends.