Brownies

Here's the scene...Sunday morning, church, towards the end of mass. The kid has been pretty well-behaved, but is starting to talk a little loud. He's talking it up with the little girl sitting in the pew behind us. Yeah, mostly he's talking. Not her so much. Baby E is standing up next to him, gooey as always, grinning and batting those gorgeous eyelashes. The kid is chatting away. I'm not paying much attention to what he says, but keep reminding him to whisper. Hubby's oblivious. All of the sudden, the kid comes out with, "that's my baby brother". I think, "oh, he loves his baby brother. What cute thing is he going to say about him?". I'm still only half listening though. Then I hear, "my baby brother is brown. And I'm brown, too, not like you". The little  girl was very light complected, even paler than me. And then I hear - wait for it - "My brother's just a little brownie. We're just little brownies. Brownie boys". I quickly hushed him, not that ya coulda heard him say anything else anyway, over the laughter of the little girl's family and many of our neighbors (good hearted, I might add). I was, in turns, trying not to laugh, and feeling really embarrassed.

Then something else hit. A feeling that we've failed somewhere. Now, the kid hasn't mentioned his "brownness" in quite awhile, though he used to pretty frequently. So, honestly, it's just something I haven't really thought about. I'm guessing hubby also hasn't. And I feel like we've been remiss. We should have been talking about it, or at least providing open doors to allow him to talk about it, because it's obviously something that's been on his mind at least on occasion.

But, here's the thing, I don't know where to start. I don't know what to say. And I'm sure that's part of why we haven't. Not that it's been a conscious choice, mind you. I don't really know how to have the whole "race" discussion with him. I know I should ask him questions about what he's thinking, but I don't know what questions to even start with. We have a couple of books that talk about race, so maybe I'll pull those out in the next few days. We have read them before, but not lately.

Today's lesson - The art of whispering is one of those things that you should teach your kid at home, before the need to know how to do it arises, before he shows you he doesn't in fact know how to do it. And then proceeds to say something really loud at a quiet moment at church.

World Breastfeeding Week

The first week in August is celebrated as World Breastfeeding week. Breastfeeding *may* be an issue I get a little passionate about. I'm sure you haven't noticed. I am often rather subtle. So, in case you've missed it, here are a few of the other times I've talked about it.  See, hardly ever. Subtly is one of my strengths. Second only to sarcasm.

Okay, in all seriousness, I had an experience yesterday that fits right in with World Breastfeeding Week. So, here ya go.

I've talked before about HM4HB (previously known as Eats on Feets). In this post, I shared the story of getting milk from a family whose beautiful baby boy had passed away. Yesterday, baby E, the kid and I traveled about 40 minutes from home to pick up the milk of another beautiful baby boy who passed away.

This was a different experience than the other time, but still so much the same. Different families, different cities, different assortment of people present, different length of time since the baby had passed away, different reactions the parents had to baby E, different ways of showing their grief. But, the pain in their eyes was the same. The sadness was the same. The grief was there, the same. The desire that this milk, meant for their own baby boys, be used to nourish some other child, the same. The desire for something good to come out of their horrific loss, the same. The hope, which I so admire and am in awe of, the same.  The beauty of their spirits, the same. The humbleness, and awe, and sense of responsibility I felt upon driving away with a full cooler, the same.

Last time the milk came home with us and was pretty much used completely within a few weeks. This time, the milk went to M's house (our beautiful, generous, loving sitter/friend) and filled her deep freeze to the brim, ready for baby E when he returns there next week (after having been home with hubby this summer). Last time, I found myself feeling so sad when I looked at or thought about the milk. Immensely grateful, but still sad. This time, I could feel a peace settling in on me as we filled the deep freeze. A feeling of gratefulness. While, of course, I still wish we didn't have that milk, that that sweet baby boy was still here to use it, I appreciate the strength it must have taken that mama yesterday - and the one all those months ago - to hand it over to us, trusting that it would be used with love and appreciation. I'm sure it was yet another goodbye they had to say.

So, today, I say thank you to all the mommas who milk share, for whatever reason you choose to do so. I know for some it is excruciating, for others joyful. For us, it is wrought with a mix of emotions as well. Gratefulness is what always rises to the top. Appreciation that these mommas are able to do what I am not, able to feed my child with the food God intended, the food that helps him to be so very healthy and happy. Thank you, mommas.

Today's lesson - I am again reminded that grief takes many forms and to some extent we are able to choose what those forms will be. While we are not able to control the feelings we experience, we are able to choose how we deal with the grief, able to choose to make something good come of it. Sometimes the best of us rises up in the midst of the worst experiences. My momma would probably call that grace. I think I'd agree with her.

I may have mentioned this once or twice...

Friends, I am one tired momma. I haven't mentioned it in awhile, but baby E still isn't sleeping great. I mean, it's a little better, but still pretty sucky. Here's where we are right now. I nurse baby E around 8pm. He falls asleep. I put him in his crib. He sleeps about 3 hours or a little less. I nurse him again and just put him in bed with us. Why? Well, because, for some reason, he wakes up IMMEDIATELY screaming if I put him back in the crib. No, idk what's different about this time, as compared to the 8pm time, but there sure is something, at least in baby E's world. So, from then on he's in bed with us. And what that means is that he's in the crook of my elbow. All night, y'all.

Now, sometimes he'll sleep like a 5hr stretch at this point, which is awesome, I mean pure bliss. But sometimes, well, not so much. Sometimes, he's still awake every 3 hours. Now, generally when he wakes up, it's not like he's all the way awake or even wanting to nurse. He generally just needs settling back down. So, it's a matter if me flipping over from one side to the other, switching him from one arm to the other, re-inserting the paci (dude, I so hate that thing). It's not - at all - the most comfortable way to sleep. But sleep is sleep, people, and these days I take it however I can get it.

And, speaking of sleep, that's where I'm headed now. To curl up in a little ball. For the next hour or so until baby E claims my arm.

Today's lesson - Sometimes we take things for granted, even though we don't realize we're doing it. Like sleep. I remember how I used to sleep til noon. (sigh...) I remember when having to get up before 7am was cruel. Oh, 7am, how I miss you...

Expect the Unexpected...

To quote Big Brother (which, I totally love, btw - don't judge!), the theme of this summer seems to be"expect the unexpected". Yeah, that seems to be my life about now. This time, at least, it was a good thing.

We haven't heard from R in more than 2 months. I've kept in contact with R's mom, and she told me a month ago or so that R's cell phone service had been terminated, which was why we haven't heard from her. Well, that's not completely true. She did call a couple of days after MIL was killed. But we were in the middle of trying to buy clothes for ourselves and the boys for her funeral. It wasn't a good time to talk. I told her I'd call back in the next few days, but I didn't save the number she'd called on, and, because I had so many calls from different #s right in that time, I had no idea which # was hers. I felt bad about it, but, honestly, we've been dealing with a lot, and I didn't have the energy to try to call every unknown number I'd received a call from.

Then, out of the blue, R called today. I was super excited to hear from her. She sounded good and it was so fun to tell her about all the cool things baby E has been doing lately (oh yeah - have I mentioned that baby thinks he wants to walk?!! I've tried to explain that he's only 10 months old, and should continue to crawl for at least a couple more months. He doesn't seem concerned with my opinion. Go figure.). Back to R. OH!!  Here's the biggest part, remember how she'd moved out of state (a long way away)? Well, she's back!! And hopefully we'll see her next weekend (we have booked already this weekend). I can't wait for her to see this beautiful, happy, nearly walking little dude.

Today's lesson - Beware. Sometimes this baby gives kisses with tongue. You've been warned.

A Tribute

Saturday was MIL's birthday. I was afraid it was going to be a horrible and difficult day for everyone. Another day of grieving, the loss so recent, so fresh. It easily could have become that. So, to allow us all to be together, a birthday party was planned at my in-laws' house to both provide lots of support to FIL (and everyone else!) and to celebrate her life.


There were more than 50 people there. We ate (a lot), we reminisced, we laughed, we were sad. FIL and hubby visited her grave. The kids ran around, laughing and playing like kids do. They were a reminder of life. A reminder we all needed.

(Wish this would behave and be right side up!!!)

One of hubby's aunts (FIL has 11 siblings) had the awesome idea to release balloons, yellow ones, in her memory. The kiddos decorated them. The kid "wrote" that he loved her and signed his name. He also affixed a little red heart post-it note. We watched that post-it note float up to heaven.



I think it turned out to be a beautiful day. A beautiful way to celebrate her and her life. I think it turned out to be a day that allowed many of us to really start to heal, to move from just grief and missing her, to appreciating and remembering the wonderful person she was, and also remembering how she would want us to live. She would have loved having those who loved her celebrating her birthday with her. She would be mad that she missed it. But I know she was there with us. Sending us her love.


Today's lesson - Moments of peace come to us at unexpected times. What gifts they are.

Cry it Out

Okay, so I have several friends who have recently (say, in the last 6 months) had babies. And several of those have recently been talking about letting their babies "cry it out". And, to be honest, I've done my best not to let my head explode. I'm even doing my best to keep my mouth shut. And, seriously, this is one of those things about which I find it really difficult to keep my mouth shut. Uh, so I'm gonna vomit it all up here. Okay, so please know that if you did/do practice CIO with your kids, I don't think you're a terrible parent. But frankly, even if I did (and seriously, I don't), what does it matter what I think.

To start, I absolutely think there is a difference between letting a 1 year old fuss himself to sleep, and what I'm talking about here, which is letting your 4 month old (or less!) "cry it out" for 10 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour or more. The former I have no problem with. Though I do recognize there is sometimes a fine line between the two. There are always gray areas. But, some things, well, they're a little more black and white. At least to me they are.

I spent almost 8 years talking with new parents about the importance of that first year of life, that the parent's job, first and foremost, is to teach that child to trust them. This is achieved through feeding whenever baby is hungry. Changing diapers whenever baby needs to be changed. Playing, talking, rocking, walking, cuddling. Doing all of those things promptly, when a baby first cues that she needs it, teaches a baby that she can trust her parents. People talk about a baby being spoiled, but, in truth, a baby is incapable of the manipulation necessary to truly become spoiled. A baby is incapable of crying just to see what  she can get her parents to do. She cries because she needs something. And the need to be held, is as important as any other need. This includes the need to be held, even when going to sleep. Or in the middle of the night.

So, to me, it makes sense that in letting a baby cry it out, it does the opposite. It's teaching the baby that, no, actually you can't trust me to be there no matter what. Sometimes you just have to put on  your big girl diaper and deal with it yourself, you 3 month old, you. Suck it up, baby.

Now, I completely understand why parents do cry it out - they want their babies to sleep at night, and they want them to be able to put themselves to sleep, be self-reliant. Interestingly, this really is a Western culture value, this desire for our children (our babies!) to be self-reliant. If you look at many other cultures around the world, what you'll see is that babies cry much less frequently than they do in the US. In fact, only western cultures experience colic. I firmly believe their immediate responses to all of babies' needs is responsible for this. You probably think, sure, they get what they want immediately, of course they don't cry. You know what, though, those babies also learn to sleep through the night. And all without all those unnecessary nightly tears - by both parents and baby.

Does CIO it out work? Sure, with some babies it does. Do babies of parents who do cry it out grow up to be normal, functioning adults? Sure. Of course they do. Because kids are flexible and resilient. They put up with a lot of stupid things we do as parents and survive in spite of us. Do I do stupid things as a momma? Uh, yeah. For sure. But this isn't one of them. I'll make my mistakes elsewhere.

Today's lesson - if it doesn't feel right, don't do it. This is so the case in parenting. I don't care who says it, your bff, your momma, your pediatrician, someone you hardly know from facebook - if their advice leaves you with a knot in your stomach, or a little voice in the back of your head going "I can't do this", or in tears listening to your baby's own tears, don't do it. She will eventually sleep through the night, in her own bed. She will not go to college, or even Kindergarten needing you to put her to sleep at night, or sleeping in your bed. It will be fine. And it does not necessitate any more crying.

Summer Fun

 Here's how we kick it summer style at our house.

A little bit 'o baseball. The kid realized last summer that he might like it. We'd intended on getting him signed up for tee ball this year, but, uh, it just didn't happen. Thanks to the complete lack of follow through I seem to be experiencing since baby E came along. Thankfully the kid is very forgiving, and happy to just play in the backyard. (You know you love that he's doin' it in his cow boots. Well, I do at least.)

Baby E likes to watch his big brother play baseball. And eat leaves.

Pool time with friends rocks. Ring Around the Rosies in the water is even better.

Unless you're baby E, then a nap in the pool wins out. He's been to the "big pool" twice. Both times he's fallen asleep. Maybe he and I just need to hang out here at night...

He does, however, enjoy backyard pools. (Okay, seriously, please know that I was right there and didn't just let him float around the pool by himself. Hang up the phone. No need to call my friends at social services. Anyway, I know them all personally.)

Especially with all this goin' on, the pool isn't so safe just yet for baby E. I envision the day he's right in there with the big boys. (sigh...) I know it'll happen before I'm ready for it.

A boy, his bff, some ice cream, and a hammock swing. How much better can it get??!!

Love this little face, even all covered in yogurt (for the first time).

So, that about sums up summer. Well the good parts at least. I think we've already covered what's been crappy about our summer thus far. Though I could add mosquitoes to that short list to round it out.

Today's lesson - this lesson was reinforced to me thanks to my work friend Ms. M. While those little animal backpack/leash things may look like a good idea. I can't go along with it. I mean, truly, I get why people want to use them (have you not heard me talk about my kid?!), but I just can't get out of my head the whole treating your kid like a dog thing. So, just don't. Or, if you do, please know that while I'm honestly not judging you, I will be cringing just a little. Or a lot.

Kindergarten

I've mentioned before (like probably every other week or so) how busy the kid is. And if you've met him, you're probably thinking that's an understatement. He is, quite honestly, really active. Some people probably see him and think "ohhhh, that kid is sooooo ADHD". But, as a parent and a social worker/therapist, I really don't think he is. I do think he is an active and sometimes distractible 5 year old boy. But I also see the boy who can sit and attend to activities for 20 minutes, an hour, without problems... when he wants to. I also see the kid who is easily distracted at times because he is so in tune to 3, 4, or more conversations going on around him, able to keep up with them all at once, but not whatever his own assigned task is. I do see him being impulsive, but primarily when he's tired or there's something else askew in his life (lord knows that kid is impulsive right now).

I, who know him so well, do not believe he has ADHD. But that doesn't mean the public school system will agree with me. And that, my friends, is one of the main reasons why I am anxious beyond belief about my sweet boy starting Kindergarten in just a few short weeks.

The public school system (in which hubby is a teacher, and of which we both are a product) is notorious for labeling kids as ADHD and demanding they be medicated. Now, as a social worker/therapist, I certainly know kids who have benefited from medication to help them control their ADHD symptoms. However, I am firmly of the opinion that ADHD is way over diagnosed. I've seen it too often used as an excuse by parents and schools alike to not have to deal with kids who are busier or less compliant than the adults in their lives would like them to be. I am unwilling to allow my kid to be labeled and/or medicated just to make some adult's life easier. Of course, if it's a matter of his own life, that's a different matter entirely.

I'm struggling with how we should approach the kid's teacher (we don't yet know who this will be). Should we be completely up front about how busy he is, how nosey, how in need of frequent movement breaks? Should we keep our mouths shut and just take a "wait and see" kind of approach? If it's a good teacher, a heads up would allow her to make accommodations from the very beginning. However, if it isn't, it would just taint her picture of the kid and I'm afraid he won't get a fair chance (because the possibility certainly exists that he will excel in a regular classroom, even without modifications).

Aaaaaand I am again reminded of how much easier this whole parenting thing is when the worst thing you have to deal with is the lack of sleep (which, btw, has gotten better- baby E is finally up to a 4-5 hour stretch at night. Woohoo!!)

Today's lesson - sometimes when we search for something, we get something completely different. For example, like when someone searched for "cute pedicure chairs for kids" and ended up on my blog. And yet, sometimes those searches land us just where we're supposed to be. But sometimes, not so much. Like when someone ended up here by searching "nude beaches". Disappointment comes in all forms...

Humorous kid

My silly boy cracks me up on a regular basis. And it's not that he's trying to make us laugh (at least most of the time), it's just who he is. Fortunately, he's just as tickled as we are that he's cracking us up. I'm afraid that one of these days he's going to start to get self conscious about people laughing at him, and stop being so silly and funny. Or become fixated on getting people to laugh, and end up the class clown. I'm not sure how to help him develop this awesome sense of humor, without leaning too far to one side or the other. Neither extreme is my kid; it's just not who he is. So, how do we support the development of this awesome sense of humor, his super cool take on life, without pushing him too far, into thinking it's all-important?

It's an interesting thing, this parenting journey. Trying to pick out the characteristics that already exist in our kids, and support and encourage those we want them to cultivate, and dissuade the more, um, undesirable ones. I sure don't have an answer. So, at any rate, here are a few funny things he's come out with lately.

* "Baby E, you have such little armpits. Someday they're gonna grow big. So are mine. But they're not gonna be hairy like Poppa's. Man those are some serious kind of scruffy." He was just sitting with baby E in the corner of the living room, having his own little conversation. No idea where this came from. Funny boy.

* "Hey woman! You're my favorite garbanzo bean I've ever picked." As my aunt J pointed out, if he'd said "chick pea" instead of "garbanzo bean", this might make a little more sense. As is, however, I have no idea what he was talking about. Not that that's necessarily anything new.

* "Um, Poppa. Stop singing. You're only allowed to sing on Fathers' Day. And today ain't it. My momma sings like an angel. You, uh, not so much, mister". So, I must admit, I kinda love that he's already turning into a bit of a music snob. Poppa really is rather tone deaf, and I'm a with the kid on generally preferring to not hear him singing. Hubby has many talents, but the singing simply isn't one of them. I love, however, that the kid is willing to give him one day of reprieve to vent his vocal, uh, stylings.

* (singing) "I got some money in my pocket. I gotta get it to you. Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, doooo do". A fancy prize (or just a "way ta go") for whoever can name the song that line's from. And then tell me how in the world my kid knows the lyrics and can sing them on-key.

Today's lesson - It's interesting the lessons we learn - or re-learn - from unexpected places. For example, I never would have guessed that one of the lessons I'd re-learn would be from my MIL's death and is that I really do want to stay home with my kiddos. And, even more so, I now think it's where I belong. If only I could learn the lesson of how to make that feasible...

Apparently I'm an adult now

More than a year ago, I posted a status on facebook that was something along the lines of "I wonder when I'll feel like an adult...?". The responses, while varying a little, basically came down to the same thing, "uh, why would you want to feel like an adult???!!".

This confused me. See, to me, being an adult meant feeling confident. Knowing what I wanted. Being certain about who and what I wanted to be when I grew up. It meant being patient and nonjudgemental. Being "adult" was something I looked forward to being.

I kept expecting it to come as I hit different milestones and junctures in my life. When I graduated from college. When I got married. When I got a "real" job. When we bought a house. When we started trying to get pregnant. When we found out about the infertility and started treatments. When we stopped treatments and went through the whole adoption process. When I went to and graduated from graduate school. When I became a momma, twice over.

I kept waiting to feel like an adult. But it never came. I continued to feel uncertain. About a lot. And for sure didn't get any more patient.

The last week or so has given me a sense of clarity about what everyone was trying to tell me. And they're right. Feeling like an adult sucks.

Being an adult doesn't mean feeling certain. It's talking to your husband about the casket he has to pick out for his mother. And holding your father-in-law's shaking hand has he follows his wife's casket out of the church on the way to the cemetery. It's trying to explain to your 5 year old why his Oma can't come back from heaven.

Instead of making me feel more certain, these things make me even less so. I feel more at a loss and the only thing I feel more certain about is that I much prefer to go back to a time when I didn't feel like an adult.

I promise to return to more jovial posts soon. Or at least my more typical rants on random subjects. I just had to process some of this somewhere. And this seemed as good a spot as any.

Today's lesson is an oldie but a goodie (and obviously not one I coined) - be careful what you ask for as you just might get it.

Grief and Life Mingle

Grief is a funny thing. It comes and goes. Momentarily fading to the point where you forget, only to resurface just when you least it expect it. Like in the middle of the Kohls, when you remember that you're not just picking out cute clothes for the kids. You're picking out outfits for them to wear to their Oma's funeral.

Or when your kid says something seemingly innocuous like "what kind of music is on that CD?". But you realize it's a CD to prepare for the national social work licensure exam. That your husband and his father took out of your MIL's car to give to you. Because she's never going to listen to it again.

Or when you're watching the baby stand up all by himself for the first time and you think "you know who would really like to see this? Oma. She's going to be so excited when I tell her".  And it hits you that you can't tell her. And not only is she never going to see him stand, she is never going to see him walk, or his brother go to kindergarten. Or be there when they get married.

But their is humor, even in this.

Like when your kid asks you what his Oma is doing in Heaven...because surely she isn't hugging God, because God doesn't hug skeletons. But probably she is dancing with God. Because God is good at that, and doesn't mind dancing with skeletons. And Oma was good at dancing, too.

And probably Georgie showed her the way to get to Heaven.

But Oma wasn't happy about the dirt being thrown on her [casket], because Oma liked everything to be clean. She probably has at least 14 brooms in heaven to take care of all that dirt.

And so the living of life continues.

Today's lesson - my baby sleeps better on a cheap air mattress than he does the expensive mattress on our bed, or the adorable crib in his room. Go figure. Sometimes cheap and simple are way better than cute and expensive. What about that...

The kid is processing...

My poor kiddo is having a hard time. It's hard being 5 anyway, you know, what with everybody telling you what to do most of the time. You observe that bigger people get to make their own decisions, but you rarely do. Which, of course, isn't fair in the least. And then, throw on top of it, they tell you that your Oma has died and you don't really exactly understand what that means, AND the two people you love the most are not acting like themselves. They're cranky, and short-tempered, and crying, and kind of absent (physically and emotionally). It makes for one confused, scared, sad little dude. And, in my kid, that looks defiant and even more hyper than usual.

He actually yelled at me angrily yesterday "quit being so mean and bossy" and I realized he was right, I am being mean and bossy. I took a few deep breaths and apologized. That lasted about 4.5 minutes until he didn't comply with whatever I asked him to do next (like "quit dragging your brother across the room by his leg", or something insignificant like that). And then I yelled, and he got yet another time out. Poor kid has probably had more time outs in the last 4 days than he has in the last 4 months combined.

He's processing this loss out loud at random intervals. "Poppa why don't you want to drive Oma's car to the dentist?" "Because it makes me kind of sad, bug." "Because you miss your mommy since she's in Heaven and can't come back from there?"  I mean, he kinda gets it, but only sort of. And, honestly, I have no idea how to help him process this. Especially since I don't even know how to process it myself. And dealing with the death of a loved one is hard enough for an adult, much less a kid. The one person I know who would have some good ideas about how to help him (because she worked at Hospice), well she's the one who's gone. Ironic, huh?

Today's lesson - apparently a driver's license is for driving, not speeding. At least that's what hubby says. Go figure. I suppose that's a lesson better learned from one's husband, rather than the police, right?

Grieving...

Random thoughts, because I don't seem capable of formulating much else...

I am amazed by how quickly we switch to using past tense about people after they die. Everyone around us seems to be doing it, but I can't quite process it. I can't think of her as no longer here. As far as stages of grief go, I'm pretty sure I'm at denial. Hubby is bouncing all over the place, back and forth between them all. I'm stuck at denial. Or numbness. Or somewhere in between.

My heart is breaking...for baby E who will have no memories of his own of his Oma ... for the kid who is struggling to understand where his Oma has gone, and why she can't come back...for my 2 nieces who have now lost 3 grandparents in less than 18 months...for my mil's sister, who has relied on my mil to take care of her for most of her life...for all of my mil's many, many friends, who have lost a good listener, a staunch and empathetic friend...for the clients she served with compassion and dedication (she was also a social worker)...for my father-in-law who has lost the woman he has loved for 40 years...for my husband and his brother who have lost their mother, the woman who probably knew them both best and loved them always and unconditionally...

She was not perfect, by any means. We had a complicated relationship and she had a particular talent for driving me crazy (I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that probably went both ways). But no one of us is perfect. And she loved us all. She loved so many people. And she was such a caregiver of everyone around her. I was telling hubby earlier...I always have this need to be in control, know that everything is taken care of, make lists to assure everything's covered, telling people what to do, etc... But that wasn't the case around her. I knew she had everything under control. It was so refreshing, and freeing, to know that someone so capable was making sure everything was taken care of, checked off the list. I don't know who will make sure everything gets done now. It feels so overwhelming...

Me, hubby, baby E, MIL and FIL at baby E's baptism

Today's lesson - accept love where and when it is offered. It may not be perfect, but remember that both the giving and receiving of love in all its true forms is a gift to both the receiver and giver.

My mother-in-law

My mother-in-law was killed Saturday in a freak accident while traveling in Ireland. She was taking pictures on the beach and a huge truck backed up right over her, obviously not paying attention to where he was going. She died instantly, feeling no pain.

We are afloat in a sea of questions. Hubby seems to have a need to know all the details of "how?". The kid is asking, "when will my Oma be back from Heaven?". Hubby's brother is desperate to know, "what can I do to keep busy?". My FIL is, I'm sure, asking "what will I do without her?" though he isn't even back in the country yet. Yet all I'm left with is, "what.the.fuck?".

I don't know who we are as a family without her. We are afloat - though just barely - without our captain.

Today's lesson - Go hug your momma while you can. Tell her you love her. We never know when may be our last chance to do so.

Baby E's 1st Tooth

Do you know how difficult it is to get your 9 month old to stay still and let you take a picture of his most adorable 1st tooth?! Pretty, is the short answer. Which is funny, since up until that sweet little tooth erupted, he wanted nothing more than for my fingers to be in his mouth. But since, well, he clamps those beautiful little lips shut and will have nothing to do with it. He hasn't learned that that tooth is super cute and worthy of photographing. Apparently. In case you can't tell, and I can't imagine why that would be, what with my awesome photography skills and all, it's his bottom right tooth. The left one is just about to pop through, but not quite.

What, you want me to open my mouth? Okay, here ya go.

Oh, that wasn't open enough? Okay, Momma, I'll give it another shot for you. What do you mean move my tongue? You love my tongue!

Hi, Momma, I love you and I'm smiling, just like you asked me to do. And I'm even waving, another of my new cute tricks. I rock, right?! Bonus, just because you're an awesome momma.

Let me show you that awesome waving again. You didn't seem to get as excited as you should have last time. See, waving and smiling.

Okay, just smiling, no waving. I'm super excited about this one. I even helped you see up my nose. Now that is a cool body part. Did ya know my fingers actually fit up there?!

What?! You still didn't get it?! Geez woman. What if I smile and bat my eyelashes at you? Will that help? Now, why are you looking exasperated with me??! I'm being adorable here! This is some of my best work.

Okay, so how about I see how big I can get my mouth to open. Will that work???!!!! You know you're missing out on that cool up the nose shot in this one, right? That's sad...

How about if I give you one of my very best gooey smiles, and I wave? Can we just be done with this already, Momma?! Really, this modeling thing is exhausting! What, you think you finally got it?!! Shew. It's about time.







Today's lesson - Sometimes it really is exhausting being the baby. And they deserve to nap all day, because some days their crazy parents have a camera in their faces all the live long day. And you'd be exhausted, too, if that were the case.

Funny Things the Kid Has Said Today

Man, was the kid on a roll today with the funny stuff coming out of his mouth! Here are a few I was able to remember - enjoy :)

Dude, what goes better than meatballs with the man in the moon's dinner? Nothin' at all, that's what.

Momma, and now I begin the dance of bacon joy. It is a joyful dance of bacony goodness.

Baby E, thanks for all the goo, goo, gooey goo goo. I mean, let the goo times goo, man.

I think that ghost (an old Halloween decoration he happened to find somewhere) is givin' me the stink eye. And I don't stink you cranky ghost.

What the freak-idy freak was that freakin' noise for, baby E?

And now I go to bed, my people (lifting his scepter in the air). Thank you, thank you, my people.

Today's lesson - you have to be careful about what you say around your 5 year old. He has big ears, and an even bigger mouth. And though the word "freakin'" coming out of your adult mouth may seem innocuous, um, it's not quite so much coming out of his. And while it's cute when it's coming out of someone else's 5yo's mouth, when it's your 5yo's mouth, it may not be quite as cute. Just sayin'.

Our furbaby, Jonah

Last night I happened upon Marley and Me (the movie about this crazy dog and his family), and it, plus the snoring of our dog Jonah, made me think about the role Jonah has played in our family. I think a lot of people know the term "furbabies", you know, your animal(s) are like your kids. Well, at least for me, this was so the case with Jonah.

Jonah came into our lives about 2 months after we were married. He was actually born a week before we were married, which, honestly (especially these days), is the only reason I know exactly how old he is. And, btw, that means he will be 11 next week. Anywho, Jonah came as a result of my begging hubby for a dog, because I knew I'd be wanting a baby soon, and a dog seemed like a good way to ease us both into it. And, for hubby, the dog was a good way to put me off the whole baby thing for a couple of years. Jonah came from the local humane society and is a mutt through and through. While Jonah is a super fantastic dog now, as a puppy he was challenging. He first refused to sleep at night without me laying on the floor next to his crate. And then he refused to be house trained for a long time. And then there was the running off whenever he was not on a leash. And then the refusing to walk if you were holding  the leash. And then in order to take a walk, you had to not hold the leash, and have someone walk in front of him, because for some reason he liked to follow feet. He was exhausting and  I still think was harder to potty train than the kid.

But Jonah now is awesome, which happened around the 2-3 year mark. Which was good timing, because that's about when we started trying to get pregnant (hum, just realized there might be a correlation between those two things, lol). And, a couple of years later, when we realized that things were simply not going as planned, he was still there. Jonah seemed to know when I was feeling down and when I needed a soft head to pat, or just let me cry on. While he was probably just happy to get the attention, I like to think that he knew I needed him and was there for me. I remember the moment when I knew I couldn't continue the infertility treatments. I was laying on the couch sobbing, and Jonah was there, sitting right beside me. Really, he didn't leave my side much during that time. I am convinced that he just knew.

When the kid finally came along, Jonah, who had become accustomed to being the center of our world - our furbaby - got knocked down a notch or two in the familial hierarchy. He was depressed for nearly a year, sleeping in his room and rarely coming out. Not that I realized it at the time, being so busy adjusting to life with a baby, but looking back on it I know it was huge change for him, and one he took in stride after that initial adjustment. He tolerated the kid for a couple of years, and in the last year or so the relationship between the two of them has blossomed and they're the best of friends. Jonah decided he loved the kid (who had long loved Jonah) because the kid could finally play with him. Fortunately for all of us, the kid and Jonah started to entertain each other.

As I was watching Marley last night, I got to the part where he's gotten really old and is going to die and I had to turn it off. You see, I started thinking about Jonah. The poor dog is so very neglected now. And, fabulous dog that he is, he doesn't blame us for it and continues to be the gentle, loving, patient creature that he is. When baby E came along, poor Jonah fell another several notches. He rarely gets walks or attention anymore, though the kid does still love on and play with him quite a bit. But, he's accepted it - and us - as we are. He follows me around a lot, but doesn't demand anything. It's just like he wants to be near me, and that that is enough for him.

I'm ashamed to admit that several times I've though that if we didn't have him things would be easier (vacations, camping - he takes up a lot of room in the car). But I realized last night how devastating it will be when he's gone. And, really, that will probably be sooner rather than later. He's covered in tumors (non-cancerous), and his hips are bad. He's tired and inactive most days. He's old. But he really was my first baby. He was there when all I needed was something to love and take care of and when no one other than hubby knew what we were going through or the pain I was experiencing. And of course it's not the same as the boys. But I love him and he is such a loyal and loving part of our family.

Here's Jonah with the kid, a little over 3 years ago. He *may* be a bit heavier now...

So even though you can't read, thank you, Jonah, for being so awesome. I promise I'll take you for a walk tonight. If it doesn't rain, you know, since neither of us like to go out in the rain and all.

Today's lesson - just because you know all the tools to get your kid to behave, does not mean you will use them. You will sometimes use them. You sometimes will lose it and yell. You're normal.

The Year I Forgot Fathers' Day

And, ahem..., that would be this year. There are tons of reasons why I forgot Fathers' Day (hello - I haven't slept in nearly 9 months and sometimes even forget my own name), but those, really, aren't all that important. What is, is that I have a husband who is a father, and I forgot the 1 day a year dedicated to honoring that important role he plays in my life, and in the lives of our children.

Fathers' Day is for honoring the fact that he is doing the dishes right now, while entertaining one baby and wrangling one 5yo into staying in his seat while eating his yogurt.  It is for how he got up 2 times last night to help me fill up the SNS so I could feed the baby without waking up the 5 year old. It is for him loading up the car this morning - in the torrential thunderstorm - so we could just. get. home. It is for always knowing that when I need to run here or there without the boys that he will of course be with them. It is for knowing that he would never refer to himself as their babysitter, but always their father. It is for supporting me in breastfeeding the boys, and using donor milk with baby E, because he knew not only was it important to me, but it is what is best for the boys, regardless of what other people may have said (or not said). It is because he also sometimes fathers other children (while teaching). It is because he has learned to apologize (at least sometimes) to the kid when he makes a mistake or hurts his feelings. It is for how he rigged up the swimming pool in our backyard so it won't cause a torrential flood the backyard - another one - so the boys could have it to play in. It is for forgiving me for forgetting this important day because he knows how tired I always am. It is for being a parenting partner who balances my deficits and adds to my strengths. It is for loving our boys.

Fathers' Day is for being a father. And hubby is one who had to wait a really long time, and go through tests, and paperwork, and the writing of (HUGE) checks, and waiting, and more waiting, and tears, and fears of losing our child, and court dates. It's a big day for any father. But it is especially so for one who became so through adoption.

Happy Fathers' Day, hubby. I love you and I love the father you are and the one you are continuing to become every day.

You know how sometimes...?

Today I just need to get something out, and whine a little. But, for your patience, you get a cute pic of baby E. See? It's worth it!

You know how sometimes you just really want to vent something, to a specific person, about a specific person, heck, to the world, but it just isn't safe/appropriate/helpful? You know, there's something you want to get off your chest, but in doing so no good will come of it. You may get it out, but it probably would cause an even bigger issue. So, you can't. Because the unspoken rules of that relationship dictate that such things are not spoken or acknowledged, especially with that specific person. It would create a bigger rift than already exists. And sometimes it's just really not your place in the first place. Know what I'm talking about? Yeah. Maybe not. Well, it sucks. That's all.

And now on to cute baby E (in his cute Bummis cloth diaper, I might add)...

Today's lesson - relationships are complicated and messy. And, even as a social worker/therapist, they're sometimes often difficult to navigate. Now, if you'd like me to help you navigate yours, I'd be happy to do that (and I'm even pretty good at it!). But only if you do the same for me. Or pay me. One of the two.

Baby Signs

I can't remember if I've ever talked her about our use of sign language with the boys. Well, I'm gonna today.

We started using signs with the kid when he was 7-8 months old. We started with milk, all done, and more. I realized one day he was really interested in our dog, Jonah, so I started using the sign for dog (well, a modified one because the real one was too hard for a baby to do) whenever Jonah was around. Dog ended up being his first sign, which he did when he was about 10 months old (the dog's name, incidentally, ended up being his first spoken word shortly thereafter). We added in more signs as we noticed him being interested in things, and he eventually ended up using more than 20 signs. Here are some of the ones he used: milk, tree (again we noticed him staring intently at them out the window - he picked it up only the 2nd time I did it!), more, eat, drink, ball, hungry, music, book, play, bird, hi/bye (what? Your kid does those, too? See, your baby can do sign language!), bath, sleep, blanket, please, thank you, all done, want, now, and occasionally where.

He used th signs for about 6 months, until he was clearly talking in sentences (which, for the kid, was at about 14-16 months of age - yeah, he talked early. And hasn't stopped since then...). Some he used more often than others, with more, thank you, please, book, dog, and eat being most frequent. He actually also started using some of them together, forming early sentences, such as "more milk please", or "want book now please". Those are pretty big sentences for a 12 or 14 month old, if I do say so myself. He would also use them in conjunction with actual words - (sign) where (say) Poppa?

So, why did we do this? Well, there's an interesting, albeit small, body of research that suggests that there are many benefits of using sign language with infants/young, non-verbal children (which was certainly our experience). It says that children who are taught sign language actually talk SOONER than children who aren't. Additionally, they're less frustrated and have fewer tantrums. The research even suggests that it may increase children's IQs. (Here is a link to a synopsis of some of that research.)

Children are primed from birth to communicate with us but their mouths, tongues, and talking anatomy aren't ready until they're quite a bit older. However, they do have control over their hands much sooner than they do that talking anatomy. We see this in them learning to wave and point - that's communicating. You see it in the intense way they look at you and make specific noises - you just know they're trying to tell you something specific. So, why not harness that desire and skill they already have to really get an idea of what's going on in those little heads of theirs?!

So here's how you (or at least we) go about teaching babies signs - you use them. That's it. You decide what word/signs you're going to use and use them consistently with the spoken words. You chose which words will be most helpful, which is often the basic things they would need to tell you, like being hungry, or in need of a clean diaper, etc..., and things they would want (play, read, outside, etc...). We also throw in signs of the things we've noticed the boys being interested in. As I mentioned, with the kid we noticed him being interested in and subsequently taught him dog, tree, and bird.

With baby E it was music.  He first used milk, which we started using with him when he was 5-6 months old. But, as seems to happen with baby E, he did "milk" for 1-2 days and then quit doing it altogether. Now, the last couple of days, he's done music. I'd only done that sign with him a couple of times, focusing more on all done, diaper, and more, in addition to milk. So imagine my surprise when I was singing to him and he he did this little hand flutter thing at me. I got all excited and we did it about 10-15 more times. And, oh my did the lights go on for him! When he realized I got what he was trying to communicate, it was pure joy - from both of us!

I love the super intense look he gets on his face, when he locks eyes with me and does the sign for music. It's like he really wants me to know that he's doing it on purpose, and he wants to assure that I get what he's communicating. He grins all big and gummy when I say the word and repeat the sign back to him. It's amazing, to be conversing for real with my 8 month old.  And that, my friends, is what it's all about. That is why we chose to do sign language with our babies.

Today's lesson - baby humans are simply amazing creatures, capable of so much. And so obviously capable of communicating with us on a level we don't often encourage. Let them!!!

Red Dye is the Devil in Liquid Form (title by Hubby)

So, have I mentioned how much we, at my house, hate red dye ? Well, we do. Like a lot. In my professional role, I've recently started educating people about red dye, and the effects it can have on their kids. So, I thought I'd go more into detail here as well. I might even give you more than just my anecdotal experience.

People always ask about how we discovered the link between the kid's sometimes craziness and red dye. So here it is... the kid was 2ish and had a really bad stomach bug. Like so bad he was laying on the floor, not moving at all except to turn over and puke. For more than an hour. Now, if you know my kid, you know this lack of movement is highly unusual. Hubby went to the pharmacy and asked what was safe to give him. He came home with an anti nausea medication - a very red one (not that we paid any attention to it at the time), purportedly safe for young children. Hubby gave it to him. He was up - no joke -and running laps around oue house in less than 5 minutes. This child, who had been immobile for more than an hour, was up running laps around my house. He ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. Like for 45 minutes straight. No stopping. There was this look in his eyes, totally crazy, and kind of freaking out. He literally couldn't stop himself. It's not like he was being bad,  he simply couldn't control himself; it was not a choice. It became obvious that something was amiss.

I dismissed it because I had puke to clean up and a (sort of) sick kiddo to deal with. But it kept nagging at me, and I started thinking about the other times we'd seen the kid be so completely out of control. When he drank cranberry juice. When he had candy (which was/is unusual anyway), especially a candy cane. When he had an antibiotic. The common thread? All of these things had red dye in them. Red dye 40, to be specific.  

One time the kid was prescribed an antibiotic. I didn't think he needed it, but he'd been wheezing and coughing for weeks, so I was willing to give it a shot. It was pink. 1 day on the antibiotic = 1 crazy kid (and 2 crazy parents, and several crazy child care providers). So, we discontinued it and told the pediatrician if she wanted him to complete a round of antibiotics, she was going to have to find one that didn't have red dye in it. It took her, the nurse, and a pharmacist an hour to find the one and only antibiotic for kids without red dye in it. (And, no, I don't remember what it was - it's in his chart.) Only 1 antibiotic red dye-free, that's it. Isn't that crazy?! He took it and didn't get crazy (or better).

So, what happens when he does have it? Well, the actual behaviors themselves vary, but overall what we see is a general increase in his level of activity (hyperactivity) and a decrease in ability to self-regulate emotions or impulses. Here's a recent picture of what can happen. He had a purple snocone at school (apparently they forgot that whole kindergarten lesson that purple = blue + red). We knew he was "under the influence" so we sent him outside to run off some energy. Apparently we didn't supervise him quite as closely as we thought. We called him in for dinner and later found the following outside. He took an entire bag of potting soil that was sitting innocently on the deck, and scattered it all over the place. (We had swept it more into a pile before I took these pics.) We didn't discipline him for this, because, really, he isn't in control of himself and it's really just not his fault.

Right now we have good control over his diet, and make sure to not allow anything that even might have red dye in it. I worry about when he starts kindergarten at public school in the fall. I keep trying to remind myself that kids with all kinds of food allergies (not that that's what this is; I think it's more of a sensitivity) do just fine, but it's hard to not worry. That, however, is a post for another day.  The kid is actually (usually) really good about monitoring food to make sure there's no red dye in it, which is awesome. So, here is a good resource for some additional information about red dye, beyond just my experience and opinion. You know, in case you don't wanna just take my word for it.

Today's lesson: Red dye is, indeed, the devil. Or at least, is the liquid product thereof.

Camping 2011: And so it begins...

I've blogged before about how I both love and hate camping. Well, this year, that continues. Some pictures to illustrate.

So, one of the challenges is finding a way to keep baby E's milk frozen, This trip's experiment - a cooler specifically for milk. And because there was still room, we added in beer, too. Apparently, however, this does not an effective method make, as the milk was completely thawed within 36hrs. The beer stayed cold though (according to hubby).

Cold. Really, really cold. Baby E so not a fan. Me either. Hubby was a good sport.

The kid? Def a fan. This kid loves the water no matter the temperature. He played in it for 2 days, happy as a (chattering) clam.

Baby E seemed to love camping. He did not, however, seem to love sleeping while camping. Then again, he doesn't seem to like sleeping while at home either. So I suppose it really makes no difference whatsoever whether we're at home or camping. Frankly, compared to how I slept previous years camping, I actually think I slept better this trip. I'm guessing this has to do with my overall sleep deprivation, so the noise level didn't bother me in the least. He also got to have yogurt for the first time, which he totally loved.

Spending time together as a family, in a place where we're not so worried about all the stuff that needs to get done = a def plus of camping.

Seriously, how cute is this?! Some friends who come camping have 4 (stunningly beautiful) kiddos . Little B is the youngest, and baby E's 1st girlfriend. (Check out little B's mommy's blog) It was fun to watch the two babies interact and even have their own little conversations.

Come on, that's cute! Admit it.

I love watching baby E and my mom. I think she's been a bit slower to warm to him than she was the kid, which is understandable since she got to spend way more one-on-one time with the kid than she has baby E (totally our fault). So, for her to get that time, and to see the bond develop between the two of them = awesome.

Ah, this face. I adore this face. Well, maybe not this  particular face he's making since he looks kinda crazy, but his face in general .  I adore him when we're camping. See, he gets to run, and yell, and pick up sticks, and find rocks, and just be him. And he gets so worn out that he sleeps great at night, and even sometimes sleeps in (like 7:30 one morning - that's huge, people, like crazy late for him!). There's so much less of a need to be constantly telling him "stop", "no", "don't", etc... There's more "go", "run", "play", "get out your crazies". It's smiling and laughing, instead of fussing and frustration.

The kid posing, with his heart tattoo. It's an example of the things he gets to do when we're camping that we don't normally do. Like get temporary tattoos. And eat s'mores. And stay up past 8pm.

The jury's still out on nursing while camping. I mean, I do love nursing baby E. But, let's be honest here, when it's 90+ outside, having a baby snuggled up next to you 5 or 6 times a day (cause the other times are at night and it's kinda cold then) for 20 minutes, well, it's just not all that fun. It's not unfun enough that I won't do it, it's just not a super blissful experience, is all I'm sayin'.

So, overall, the trip was a success. We just have a few kinks to work out, such as who will sleep where(it seemed to work best for hubby and the kid to have 1 queen air mattress, and me to share the other with baby E, since he won't sleep in the pack-n-play and all), and how to keep the breastmilk frozen longer.

Today's lesson - Baths while camping have always been an interesting experience. The kid had baths in all kinds of places, and I suspect baby E will as well. This time, it was a plastic container we emptied out for this express purpose. It worked quite well. The lesson? When camping, improv is always necessary.

Today we are Official

It all came down to today. All this waiting (nearly 2 years for baby # 2, 8 months since he came, a half hour for the judge to finish in open court). In total more than 2 and a half years, came down to a less than 15 minute hearing in the judge's chambers. My mom was there as well as our dear friend M (also baby E's Godmother and fantastic babysitter) and her awesome kiddo Z (aka the kid's bff). We are so glad they were there to share and wittiness this huge event.

I was afraid we were going to be late because baby E decided he needed to eat just before we left, but we managed to get there just on time. We had to wait because the judge was still in the court room. The boys were pretty good waiting. Here's a couple of pics of what they were doing.

They both loved climbing up in the window to look at the skyline.

Not that they stayed still in that chair for long, but that's okay. Aren't they cute together?! Baby E was being patient and hanging out in the Moby while we waited and the boys ran around in their typical tornadic style. He was super tired, but stayed awake the whole time we were there.

We finally went into the judge's chambers and there were also a couple of other people there, whom I assure were clerks, in addition to us all, our attorney, the guardian ad litem, and the judge. We were sworn in and had to testify to the accuracy of the facts included in the adoption petition (i.e. our names, birth dates, how long baby E has been with us, etc...). The judge then asked us a few questions, I think just to get to know us a little better. He had me tell him about our typical week and seemed quite surprised that we actually eat dinner all together (not in front of the TV) every night. (Side note: thanks, mom, for making us do this growing up - I so now see the importance/benefits!) The judge then read that whole spiel about how baby E will now be afforded all the rights/privilege's of a "natural born" child (how I hate that term is a topic for another day). He said a bunch of other stuff, but, honestly, I was trying to convince myself to hold it together so I didn't go into the ugly cry. I was successful, btw. I didn't even have to wipe away any tears. I only got a bit glassy eyed.

As an added bonus, our attorney, who I know from my "social services" days, told the judge he isn't charging us his fee for the adoption! Hubby and I were quite surprised and touched. Come to think of it, we don't think he charged us for the kid's either (though that certainly doesn't mean we were looking for the same thing this time). Note to self, send him a gift card to somewhere cool as a thank you.

And then it was over. The judge let each of the 3 boys pick out a beenie baby to commemorate the day. The 2 big boys got bears with backpacks. The kid picked out a lobster for baby E. Don't ask me why. I'd put some pictures of this whole thing on here, but, well, we don't have any. Hopefully my mom and M got some good ones and will share. But here's one of us outside the court house. Finally, a legal forever family.



It's been an awesome day, y'all. I feel relieved and happy and tearful. I am sitting here nursing this crazy baby who refuses to sleep at night, and I am hit by the enormity of this day. And I am reminded, with his gooey, gummy grin, that he has no idea what happened. No idea that today is a big and important and absolutely momentous day in his life. A day that I have waited for for more than 2 and a half years. An awesome day. Because today we became official.

Today's lesson - we apparently need to work on government vs. church lessons for the kid. He asked, on the way to court today, "hey, Momma, are we going to tell the Pope that he can't ever give baby E to anybody else? Is that what today's all about?". "Sort of, kid, sort of."