Who has not heard that desperate times call for desperate measures? When one hears this saying they may think of dire circumstances. Or Desperate Housewives, the TV show I suppose. I'm learning that this saying is taking on a meaning in my own life.
What times are so desperate that I'm calling for desperate measures? The economic downturn has not affected us personally - thank you, God! I am feeling desperate when it comes to my son's sleeping and nutrition. OK, so the desperation regarding his sleeping isn't born so much out of my concern that his taking up to an hour and a half to fall asleep for naps or at nighttime is detrimental to his overall well being but out of a deep seated need for some alone time. Either time to do a puzzle or two while lounging in my bed or time to take a nap. Either way, it is restful and much needed, especially since I am great with child.
The real problem that is causing this feeling of desperation in me is related to his nutrition. Gavin isn't a small boy, he weighs 30 pounds which would put him in the 75th percentile for a 2 year old - he still has 2 months to go until he's 2. My boy is not wasting away, his cheeks are nice and chubby and super kissable. His eyes glisten, he runs around, he plays, he yells, he talks, he is even learning some letters from the fridge magnet set. But I still can't help but be concerned about what he is, or rather, is not eating.
Tops on his list to eat are yogurt (doke), milk (mick), juice (deuce), applesauce (bopple), peaches & nectarines (also, bopple), berries (of the blue, black and straw varieties - all called boo or bayee), cottage cheese (cheece). See any glaring omissions there? Say, vegetables? Non-dairy protein? He was eating a lot of peanut butter on whole wheat toast and apples with peanut butter but now peanut butter is off the list. He used to love black beans and rice with salsa. Now he will eat a few bites of rice but only if it has teriyaki sauce on it. Meat is off the list. He'll eat a piece of meat if it has enough of a sweet or tangy marinade but as soon as he chews all of the sauce off the meat gets spit out. Ryan and I don't really care if he's a big meat eater or not - heck it saves us money - we don't have to buy the hormone free, free range, raised by sweet fairies on the prairie meats. I've taken to adding ground flax seed to his yogurt and applesauce. With protein taken care of I need to turn my attention to vegetables.
In my desperation to get vegetables down his gullet I checked out Jessica Seinfeld's cookbook, Deceptively Delicious, from the library. He loved the pancakes with pureed beats especially with peanut butter and blackberries on top (yes, Ryan, you ate beats last week when I made pancakes for dinner), blueberry muffins with squash, banana bread with cauliflower but didn't like the turkey with pureed carrots and bell peppers. I tried the mozzarella sticks with cauliflower but they didn't exactly turn out - they melted into a pile of cheesy goo in the pan - AND the cauliflower was overpowering. Even I didn't like it and I like cauliflower.
Today I made him a grilled cheese sandwich with carrots - not a recipe from her cookbook but one from my own little noggin. I was in a hurry so I quickly chopped some baby carrots and nuked them for about a minute then threw them in the Magic Bullet (mini food processor that I'm really growing fond of now that I don't expect it to work like it does in the infomercials) then spread the carrots on top of the cheese. Gavin ate half of his sandwich - chock full of carrots! I felt victorious!
It was hard to not cackle an evil, evil laugh as he ate his dreaded enemy the vegetable. Even if the rest of the day is a total waste and I fail in many other areas as a mother I at least got some veggies into my son!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Great Day
Today was the second day I hired a babysitter to watch Gavin so I could clean the house. Two weeks ago I hired a sitter so I could clean mine and Ryan's room, although when Ryan got home he noticed my side of the room was spotless and his side was still disheveled. Eh, his stuff was mostly clothes. I added stuff to his dresser - stuff that was clearly his that somehow made its way to my dresser.
On today's to do list was the upstairs so I vacuumed the copious amounts of cat fur downstairs and hauled a boat load of toys down so the sitter and Gavin would have something to do. The upstairs is SO clean! The only thing I didn't dust were the light fixtures in the living room and that was because I realized I neglected them after I dusted the ceiling, crown molding, walls, door frames, mantle, window seats, outlets and baseboards and couldn't risk taking the fixtures apart and spreading dust on the newly clean surfaces. Yeah, I did it all. I even took the area rug outside to air out. I swept, vacuumed and mopped. Why sweep and vacuum? Because sweeping never picks up all of the little specks of dirt and dust. That and because I'm probably a little neurotic.
It feels so great to know that every surface has been cleaned. The kitchen is clean. The living room is clean and the dining room is now a disaster. Everything that needs some attention (lots of paperwork and stuff that needs to be boxed, given away, thrown away, etc.) is now on the dining room table.
That was part one of the great day.
Part two was nap time. Gavin fussed for maybe five minutes before crashing... for THREE hours! Holy cow! I put my pajamas on and hopped into bed and chatted with Ryan while he took a rest after working outside on staining the new cedar siding. Then I solved some puzzles, took a mini snooze and did some more puzzles.
Gavin woke up and Ryan arrived home bearing food from Chipotle. I ate dinner, fed Gavin, played with the dog, picked blackberries and got a call from a friend whom I haven't seen in over 2 months who invited me over.
Here is something newsworthy: I left the house after 8 pm to go visit this friend. I arrived at her house bearing ice cream and blackberries and she provided some yummy fresh baked brownies. She cuts her brownies pretty generously, too. Mmm mmm good.
We chatted for 3 hours and played Phase 10, which I had fun playing but still lost.
I came home, straightened up the living room and kitchen because it is scary how quickly the house moves back to disarray (its natural state) and now here I am telling you all about my super duper day. I never said it was exciting.
On my way home this evening I was thinking about how today was so great and it occurred to me that my definition of what makes a day great has changed since I became a mom but the longer I thought about the more I realized it hasn't.
Even as a kid I remember the times when my older brother would wake me and my younger brother up before my mom and we would clean the house for her as a surprise. Sometimes I wonder how clean the house really was after we were done with it. When I was older and was made to clean my room - which I hated to do but always appreciated it afterwards - I would call my mom and dad up to my room to take in the wonder of its new found clean state. I didn't want to leave; I would lay on my nicely made bed and listen to the radio or read a book or just look around at my sparkly clean room.
The fact that there is such a great difference in how I feel about the dirty room versus the clean room should shed some light on just how messy it gets before I tackle cleaning it. Of course I have the nesting monster to thank right now for my pressing desire for a clean house. It has to be clean before the baby gets here because I know it won't happen afterwards. If anything its going to spiral down, down, down to messy oblivion when #2 arrives.
Its also times like this when I get the cleaning but that I wish I had it all the time. My mom used to say to me that she didn't "get me" because she was so clean yet she had to constantly remind me to pick up after myself. My room was always a disaster and I never took care of my toys. My dad was a tidy person, too. My brothers both are super clean. That leaves me. If I didn't look just like my mom I would wonder if I was adopte because I'm the black sheep of the family when it comes to tidiness. Although, I will say that for being unkempt I am still clean - before cooking I make sure I was the countertops with a clean soapy sponge, I will dust around stuff and vacuum several times a week - everyday if I can manage.
I have high hopes we can maintain this clean. High, high hopes.
On today's to do list was the upstairs so I vacuumed the copious amounts of cat fur downstairs and hauled a boat load of toys down so the sitter and Gavin would have something to do. The upstairs is SO clean! The only thing I didn't dust were the light fixtures in the living room and that was because I realized I neglected them after I dusted the ceiling, crown molding, walls, door frames, mantle, window seats, outlets and baseboards and couldn't risk taking the fixtures apart and spreading dust on the newly clean surfaces. Yeah, I did it all. I even took the area rug outside to air out. I swept, vacuumed and mopped. Why sweep and vacuum? Because sweeping never picks up all of the little specks of dirt and dust. That and because I'm probably a little neurotic.
It feels so great to know that every surface has been cleaned. The kitchen is clean. The living room is clean and the dining room is now a disaster. Everything that needs some attention (lots of paperwork and stuff that needs to be boxed, given away, thrown away, etc.) is now on the dining room table.
That was part one of the great day.
Part two was nap time. Gavin fussed for maybe five minutes before crashing... for THREE hours! Holy cow! I put my pajamas on and hopped into bed and chatted with Ryan while he took a rest after working outside on staining the new cedar siding. Then I solved some puzzles, took a mini snooze and did some more puzzles.
Gavin woke up and Ryan arrived home bearing food from Chipotle. I ate dinner, fed Gavin, played with the dog, picked blackberries and got a call from a friend whom I haven't seen in over 2 months who invited me over.
Here is something newsworthy: I left the house after 8 pm to go visit this friend. I arrived at her house bearing ice cream and blackberries and she provided some yummy fresh baked brownies. She cuts her brownies pretty generously, too. Mmm mmm good.
We chatted for 3 hours and played Phase 10, which I had fun playing but still lost.
I came home, straightened up the living room and kitchen because it is scary how quickly the house moves back to disarray (its natural state) and now here I am telling you all about my super duper day. I never said it was exciting.
On my way home this evening I was thinking about how today was so great and it occurred to me that my definition of what makes a day great has changed since I became a mom but the longer I thought about the more I realized it hasn't.
Even as a kid I remember the times when my older brother would wake me and my younger brother up before my mom and we would clean the house for her as a surprise. Sometimes I wonder how clean the house really was after we were done with it. When I was older and was made to clean my room - which I hated to do but always appreciated it afterwards - I would call my mom and dad up to my room to take in the wonder of its new found clean state. I didn't want to leave; I would lay on my nicely made bed and listen to the radio or read a book or just look around at my sparkly clean room.
The fact that there is such a great difference in how I feel about the dirty room versus the clean room should shed some light on just how messy it gets before I tackle cleaning it. Of course I have the nesting monster to thank right now for my pressing desire for a clean house. It has to be clean before the baby gets here because I know it won't happen afterwards. If anything its going to spiral down, down, down to messy oblivion when #2 arrives.
Its also times like this when I get the cleaning but that I wish I had it all the time. My mom used to say to me that she didn't "get me" because she was so clean yet she had to constantly remind me to pick up after myself. My room was always a disaster and I never took care of my toys. My dad was a tidy person, too. My brothers both are super clean. That leaves me. If I didn't look just like my mom I would wonder if I was adopte because I'm the black sheep of the family when it comes to tidiness. Although, I will say that for being unkempt I am still clean - before cooking I make sure I was the countertops with a clean soapy sponge, I will dust around stuff and vacuum several times a week - everyday if I can manage.
I have high hopes we can maintain this clean. High, high hopes.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Sleep
It has been so long since sleep has been an issue in my house. Well, sleep as related Gavin that is. I haven't been sleeping well with this pregnancy but that's been ok because I would take a nap when Gavin takes a nap. His napping schedule was so consistent. Somewhere between noon and 1:00 he would go down for a nap and sleep about 2 hours; some days he would even sleep 3 hours.
Something has been happening over the last several weeks. I don't know what it is but I do know that I don't like it because it is interfering with Gavin's sleep which in turn interferes with my sleep. I'm not a nice person when I'm sleep deprived. Well, that's not entirely true. I can still put on a good show to outsiders but lemme tell ya - I'm not pleasant to be around. Ask Ryan.
Something has been happening over the last several weeks. I don't know what it is but I do know that I don't like it because it is interfering with Gavin's sleep which in turn interferes with my sleep. I'm not a nice person when I'm sleep deprived. Well, that's not entirely true. I can still put on a good show to outsiders but lemme tell ya - I'm not pleasant to be around. Ask Ryan.
I've tried to account for all of the different variables that have the potential to affect ones sleep.
- Heat. Not a factor. We have central a/c so the temperature is pretty constant.
- Light. Being summer it stays light well into the night. Also not a factor as he was sleeping just fine even when his bedroom was well lit from the natural light streaming in through the windows. His sleep has started to deteriorate even as it gets darker earlier and earlier.
- Fatigue. Is the little dude actually tired? Well, yes. He still has his time of delirium when everything is not just hilarious, its freakin' hilarious. This is our favorite time.
- Routine. Has the bedtime routine been followed? Yes.
- Teething. I don't think any teeth are coming in. He's not chewing on stuff (unless you count his attempts to bite me when I muffle his screaming in public places like the library, train or doctors office) and more telling - he's not drooling; nor is he more grumpy than usual.
After this week of him fighting his nap (the shortest period of time he fought was 45 minutes) and taking over an hour to fall asleep at night I'm beginning to think this is just how he's going to fall asleep for a while. I just need to make peace with it. In the beginning of the week he cried more but after realizing we weren't going to take him out of the crib (we would go in and comfort him) or put him right back after giving him a hug he's just taken to jabbering, calling the dog or meowing really, really loud.
At least once he falls asleep for his nap he will sleep for 3 hours. THREE HOURS!!! He's not falling asleep until 10 at night but is waking up at the same time so he makes up for it at nap time. That gives me plenty of time to take a nice nap myself and take a shower.
I hope he's still taking 3 hour naps when his brother arrives.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Trust
I have been writing in my head for several weeks now. When I can't sleep, which is often, my thoughts become even more introspective and I work through them by thinking about them even more and writing essays in my head. I think its time to commit some of my internal ramblings to ink... or typeface.
Part of me doesn't know where to begin with this subject because, while it is easy to pinpoint where it began, it permeates most aspects of my life. It is a subject that lends itself to many tangents.
My problem has grown worse over the years. At first it attacked only at night. It was frequent at first but eventually subsided. Then after certain life events it started knocking on my door again, as unwelcome as ever. At first the visits were few and far between but as time progressed the visits became more frequent and they felt more viscous.
These gruesome visitors of which I write are nightmares. They aren't your run of the mill menaces where you wake up running away from a bad guy or realize, no, you weren't just in public buck naked. I wish. No, these nightmares come and steal my family. My loved ones.
It all started in 1981. The year my dad died. He died a few months before my 5th birthday. He was 27 and had 3 children, 7, 4 1/2 and 18 months. He had a known heart condition for which he had seen a cardiologist. He was told he was going to need a pacemaker by age 40. They were off by 13 years. His heart went into some sort of fibrillation, he went into a coma and died in the early hours of the morning as he was watching the news in the living room.
I could tell you all about that morning. I didn't really know what was going on. The walls in my parents room was pulsating red and I think blue, from the paramedics parked out front. My mom must have taken me and my brothers and put us in her room while the paramedics were in the house. I stood at the head of the bed and peered over the headboard, looking at the still dark outside where the ambulance lit up our street with its lights.
Wanting to know what was going on I opened the bedroom door but mom was standing right there and she very quickly shut it. I lied and told her I had to go to the bathroom - my older brother joined the lie and mom ushered us the few feet from the bedroom to the bathroom, trying to shield us from seeing our dad but I managed to peer around her legs and just saw a figure with a cloth draped over it and really tall people milling about with clipboards.
I had no idea. I didn't cry until I was at my grandma's house. I sat on the couch while all of the adults sat at the dining room table, their tones were low and hushed; the coffee they sipped was hot as I heard some them trying to get just a few drops at a time without burning their lips. The most noise was made when they set their mugs on the table. My grandpa called my dad's mom and told her the news. It was a small house and the distance wasn't that great from where the phone was mounted on the wall to where I was sitting on the couch but I still heard my grandma scream on the other end of the line. When my mom came home from wherever she was, the coroner's office, maybe, I ran to her and asked, "Did he make it?" She said no - maybe everyone thought I knew or didn't know how to talk to me or they were all in shock themselves. I ran to the couch and cried. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I don't know how long I cried for, it felt like days.
Soon after that the nightmares started.
Of course I had fantasy dreams where my dad was with us on Christmas morning. I would wake up happy for a split second before I realized it was a dream. I would prefer those heart wrenching dreams any day over the nightmares. For a long time it was the same nightmare. My family was in a house that was a huge spool - the kind you would wrap industrial cable around - and it would catch fire and start rolling down a hill. I have no idea how long that nightmare went on for.
Fortunately, we talked about my dad a lot. There was no nonsense about ignoring what had happened and not talking about him to avoid sad feelings. If we wanted to talk about my dad we were given free reign. I think that helped my waking self but it did nothing for the nighttime.
Eventually the nightmares subsided. My nights were filled with peaceful sleep for many years. Then sometime in high school they slowly started again. Sometimes I had pleasant, if not bizarre dreams. I used to keep a journal of my dreams because they were so darn entertaining. One dream I remember vividly involved stealing milk from a fabric store (which was inside my grandparents motor home) and being chased by an animated superman turned into a red streak when he chased a mob of people after an earthquake - and the mob turned around and chased superman. Hilarious stuff.
I wish every night brought such great entertainment. When the nightmares came back they were few and far between but they involved one of my brothers, mom or step dad meeting an untimely end. After the first "showing" of the nightmare my mind would replay it over and over with alternate endings. I think I was trying to take away the bad ending but it would just change, always resulting in death.
The nightmares really ramped up when my older brother had his first daughter and my younger brother moved to Oklahoma. Ike and Joel were always dying - usually together. Then I think my niece was always in danger. I would wake up with my pillow drenched in tears. Even when I was awake I couldn't shake that awful feeling even though I knew everyone was ok. If I went back to sleep too soon the nightmare would continue. So I learned to pray and read my bible a bit before going back to sleep. That usually worked and brought me back from the edge.
As I got older the nightmares became more frequent. I think I woke Ryan up once or twice and asked him to pray for me.
All hell broke loose, or so I thought, when I was pregnant with Gavin. It seemed like most nights there was someone trying to kill me or steal my baby. Then Gavin was born. That's when hell came to visit me during the day. It's one thing to have Satan and his minions knocking at your door when you are unconscious, but to have him grab your heart in the middle of the day is another thing altogether. The daytime terror subsided as Gavin got older and I wasn't so concerned with always making sure he was breathing - which is, as I understand, not all that uncommon for a new parent.
It doesn't take anything now for me to have a nightmare. Hearing a story about a kid being kidnapped on the news. The toddler who woke up from his nap while his mom was also napping and got outside and drowned in the pool. Flipping through the tv channels and seeing a mangled stroller in the road on the news, staying in a high rise hotel with a balcony, visiting my in-laws whose back yard terminates into a canyon (it's fenced now but it doesn't keep my brain from conjuring up ways Gavin can get around the barriers).
The nightmares come in waves. I'll have a horrible couple of nights or weeks. Even worse is when a horrible though pops into my head when Gavin is not with me. I know Ryan is a good dad. He's very concerned about Gavin's safety but that doesn't stop me from freaking out. Ryan knows how devastating these nightmares are so he is very good about not taking offense when I grill him on safety issues. Every so often I check in to make sure he wouldn't leave Gavin in the tub unattended even if it was to go answer his phone, that he cuts grapes in half because they are a choking hazard, that he wouldn't leave him unattended on the balcony (like in the hotel where we stayed in Hawaii). Once I'm certain Gavin is safe and Ryan is acutely aware of the dangers that surround our son I can breath easier.
I know how to stop the nightmares once they start. Wake up, get out of bed, pray (which usually involves me just begging God to make it stop), watching TV, reading... anything to get my mind on something else. Then I can usually fall back asleep with no more attacks. Until the next night, at least.
What I would really like to do is to stop the nightmares from happening in the first place. There's the rub. I have been told to trust God. Well, sure. Trust the God who guarantees nothing other than his faithful, undying love. It's just I know what that pain feels like when a loved one dies. It is all consuming and it crushes you, eviscerates you. I don't ever want to feel that again. If that is how I felt when my dad died.... I can't even write it out.
If something were to happen to my family I know God would love me and see me through but that does nothing to stop the fear and nightmares. I trust God that if our home was taken away, if Ryan lost his job, that we would still have a good life. Food would be there, we would have some sort of shelter.
I'm not concerned about the day to day issues of life. I'm concerned about life. Period.
How can I trust that God will spare my family from death when he didn't spare my dad? It seems unfair and unrealistic to have God shelter me and my family while the rest of the world can fend for itself. I look at the life of the disciples - all of whom, except one, met an early horrible death.
That doesn't sit well with me. I know that God doesn't love anyone person more than another and that all of our good deeds aren't stored up in a cosmic safety bank where He he checks the account and says, "Well, April. You've read your bible and said your prayers and gave money to the poor so I will keep you and your family safe."
Over Lent my pastor was talking about giving up fear instead of chocolate or TV.
How?
I know that fear isn't keeping my family safe unless I think I would be less vigilant if I thought my children be given full, long lives.
I should probably see a shrink about this but how are they going to help me trust God who I know loves me but makes no guarantees. If only God told me to carve into tablets, not the 10 commandments, but the promise that my children will all live long, healthy productive lives all the while serving Him then Iwould have it in writing.
Christians often point to Job as an example of God's faithfulness. Sure, he gave Job lots of stuff and a bigger family but only after he allowed his first family to be wiped out. I don't want a new family - I want to keep the ones I have.
Many, many people balk when I answer "3-4" when they ask me how many kids I want. I hear all of the reasons why one or two is better than 3 or 4. Like I'm a bad person for wanting a big family. Or at least just crazy.
Now that I think about crazy may be one of the factors. I know 3 people who have had children die at a young age. One woman, Anne (was in her 90's when I met her at the adult care facility where I worked) lost her only daughter when she was returning home to visit while in college. Anne kept a framed photo of her beautiful daughter on her nightstand. It always made me so sad knowing Anne lived so long without her child. My high school band teacher lost his only daughter in a car accident on her way home from college - now he has one child, his son. My grandmother had 4 children. Dennis died when he was 2 from pneumonia and my dad died when was 27. Now she has two kids. What if she only had my dad and Dennis to begin with? She would be left with no children.
As I get further and further in this post I feel better and better. There is of course some time put into writing all of this which puts some distance between and the nightmare but I think writing it out also helps. I hope sharing it helps, too. Me and whoever reads it. I'm not putting this out there for people to feel sorry for me but I think we all grow when we can share in another person's anguish. I think Ryan would disagree with that, though. He hates it when I tell him sad stories (not my own - he's a good husband, he listens) because he doesn't like to feel such pain. He's a good guy, he wants everyone to be happy.
Too bad for him he married a melancholy woman who bleeds for everyone else around her.
Part of me doesn't know where to begin with this subject because, while it is easy to pinpoint where it began, it permeates most aspects of my life. It is a subject that lends itself to many tangents.
My problem has grown worse over the years. At first it attacked only at night. It was frequent at first but eventually subsided. Then after certain life events it started knocking on my door again, as unwelcome as ever. At first the visits were few and far between but as time progressed the visits became more frequent and they felt more viscous.
These gruesome visitors of which I write are nightmares. They aren't your run of the mill menaces where you wake up running away from a bad guy or realize, no, you weren't just in public buck naked. I wish. No, these nightmares come and steal my family. My loved ones.
It all started in 1981. The year my dad died. He died a few months before my 5th birthday. He was 27 and had 3 children, 7, 4 1/2 and 18 months. He had a known heart condition for which he had seen a cardiologist. He was told he was going to need a pacemaker by age 40. They were off by 13 years. His heart went into some sort of fibrillation, he went into a coma and died in the early hours of the morning as he was watching the news in the living room.
I could tell you all about that morning. I didn't really know what was going on. The walls in my parents room was pulsating red and I think blue, from the paramedics parked out front. My mom must have taken me and my brothers and put us in her room while the paramedics were in the house. I stood at the head of the bed and peered over the headboard, looking at the still dark outside where the ambulance lit up our street with its lights.
Wanting to know what was going on I opened the bedroom door but mom was standing right there and she very quickly shut it. I lied and told her I had to go to the bathroom - my older brother joined the lie and mom ushered us the few feet from the bedroom to the bathroom, trying to shield us from seeing our dad but I managed to peer around her legs and just saw a figure with a cloth draped over it and really tall people milling about with clipboards.
I had no idea. I didn't cry until I was at my grandma's house. I sat on the couch while all of the adults sat at the dining room table, their tones were low and hushed; the coffee they sipped was hot as I heard some them trying to get just a few drops at a time without burning their lips. The most noise was made when they set their mugs on the table. My grandpa called my dad's mom and told her the news. It was a small house and the distance wasn't that great from where the phone was mounted on the wall to where I was sitting on the couch but I still heard my grandma scream on the other end of the line. When my mom came home from wherever she was, the coroner's office, maybe, I ran to her and asked, "Did he make it?" She said no - maybe everyone thought I knew or didn't know how to talk to me or they were all in shock themselves. I ran to the couch and cried. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I don't know how long I cried for, it felt like days.
Soon after that the nightmares started.
Of course I had fantasy dreams where my dad was with us on Christmas morning. I would wake up happy for a split second before I realized it was a dream. I would prefer those heart wrenching dreams any day over the nightmares. For a long time it was the same nightmare. My family was in a house that was a huge spool - the kind you would wrap industrial cable around - and it would catch fire and start rolling down a hill. I have no idea how long that nightmare went on for.
Fortunately, we talked about my dad a lot. There was no nonsense about ignoring what had happened and not talking about him to avoid sad feelings. If we wanted to talk about my dad we were given free reign. I think that helped my waking self but it did nothing for the nighttime.
Eventually the nightmares subsided. My nights were filled with peaceful sleep for many years. Then sometime in high school they slowly started again. Sometimes I had pleasant, if not bizarre dreams. I used to keep a journal of my dreams because they were so darn entertaining. One dream I remember vividly involved stealing milk from a fabric store (which was inside my grandparents motor home) and being chased by an animated superman turned into a red streak when he chased a mob of people after an earthquake - and the mob turned around and chased superman. Hilarious stuff.
I wish every night brought such great entertainment. When the nightmares came back they were few and far between but they involved one of my brothers, mom or step dad meeting an untimely end. After the first "showing" of the nightmare my mind would replay it over and over with alternate endings. I think I was trying to take away the bad ending but it would just change, always resulting in death.
The nightmares really ramped up when my older brother had his first daughter and my younger brother moved to Oklahoma. Ike and Joel were always dying - usually together. Then I think my niece was always in danger. I would wake up with my pillow drenched in tears. Even when I was awake I couldn't shake that awful feeling even though I knew everyone was ok. If I went back to sleep too soon the nightmare would continue. So I learned to pray and read my bible a bit before going back to sleep. That usually worked and brought me back from the edge.
As I got older the nightmares became more frequent. I think I woke Ryan up once or twice and asked him to pray for me.
All hell broke loose, or so I thought, when I was pregnant with Gavin. It seemed like most nights there was someone trying to kill me or steal my baby. Then Gavin was born. That's when hell came to visit me during the day. It's one thing to have Satan and his minions knocking at your door when you are unconscious, but to have him grab your heart in the middle of the day is another thing altogether. The daytime terror subsided as Gavin got older and I wasn't so concerned with always making sure he was breathing - which is, as I understand, not all that uncommon for a new parent.
It doesn't take anything now for me to have a nightmare. Hearing a story about a kid being kidnapped on the news. The toddler who woke up from his nap while his mom was also napping and got outside and drowned in the pool. Flipping through the tv channels and seeing a mangled stroller in the road on the news, staying in a high rise hotel with a balcony, visiting my in-laws whose back yard terminates into a canyon (it's fenced now but it doesn't keep my brain from conjuring up ways Gavin can get around the barriers).
The nightmares come in waves. I'll have a horrible couple of nights or weeks. Even worse is when a horrible though pops into my head when Gavin is not with me. I know Ryan is a good dad. He's very concerned about Gavin's safety but that doesn't stop me from freaking out. Ryan knows how devastating these nightmares are so he is very good about not taking offense when I grill him on safety issues. Every so often I check in to make sure he wouldn't leave Gavin in the tub unattended even if it was to go answer his phone, that he cuts grapes in half because they are a choking hazard, that he wouldn't leave him unattended on the balcony (like in the hotel where we stayed in Hawaii). Once I'm certain Gavin is safe and Ryan is acutely aware of the dangers that surround our son I can breath easier.
I know how to stop the nightmares once they start. Wake up, get out of bed, pray (which usually involves me just begging God to make it stop), watching TV, reading... anything to get my mind on something else. Then I can usually fall back asleep with no more attacks. Until the next night, at least.
What I would really like to do is to stop the nightmares from happening in the first place. There's the rub. I have been told to trust God. Well, sure. Trust the God who guarantees nothing other than his faithful, undying love. It's just I know what that pain feels like when a loved one dies. It is all consuming and it crushes you, eviscerates you. I don't ever want to feel that again. If that is how I felt when my dad died.... I can't even write it out.
If something were to happen to my family I know God would love me and see me through but that does nothing to stop the fear and nightmares. I trust God that if our home was taken away, if Ryan lost his job, that we would still have a good life. Food would be there, we would have some sort of shelter.
I'm not concerned about the day to day issues of life. I'm concerned about life. Period.
How can I trust that God will spare my family from death when he didn't spare my dad? It seems unfair and unrealistic to have God shelter me and my family while the rest of the world can fend for itself. I look at the life of the disciples - all of whom, except one, met an early horrible death.
That doesn't sit well with me. I know that God doesn't love anyone person more than another and that all of our good deeds aren't stored up in a cosmic safety bank where He he checks the account and says, "Well, April. You've read your bible and said your prayers and gave money to the poor so I will keep you and your family safe."
Over Lent my pastor was talking about giving up fear instead of chocolate or TV.
How?
I know that fear isn't keeping my family safe unless I think I would be less vigilant if I thought my children be given full, long lives.
I should probably see a shrink about this but how are they going to help me trust God who I know loves me but makes no guarantees. If only God told me to carve into tablets, not the 10 commandments, but the promise that my children will all live long, healthy productive lives all the while serving Him then Iwould have it in writing.
Christians often point to Job as an example of God's faithfulness. Sure, he gave Job lots of stuff and a bigger family but only after he allowed his first family to be wiped out. I don't want a new family - I want to keep the ones I have.
Many, many people balk when I answer "3-4" when they ask me how many kids I want. I hear all of the reasons why one or two is better than 3 or 4. Like I'm a bad person for wanting a big family. Or at least just crazy.
Now that I think about crazy may be one of the factors. I know 3 people who have had children die at a young age. One woman, Anne (was in her 90's when I met her at the adult care facility where I worked) lost her only daughter when she was returning home to visit while in college. Anne kept a framed photo of her beautiful daughter on her nightstand. It always made me so sad knowing Anne lived so long without her child. My high school band teacher lost his only daughter in a car accident on her way home from college - now he has one child, his son. My grandmother had 4 children. Dennis died when he was 2 from pneumonia and my dad died when was 27. Now she has two kids. What if she only had my dad and Dennis to begin with? She would be left with no children.
As I get further and further in this post I feel better and better. There is of course some time put into writing all of this which puts some distance between and the nightmare but I think writing it out also helps. I hope sharing it helps, too. Me and whoever reads it. I'm not putting this out there for people to feel sorry for me but I think we all grow when we can share in another person's anguish. I think Ryan would disagree with that, though. He hates it when I tell him sad stories (not my own - he's a good husband, he listens) because he doesn't like to feel such pain. He's a good guy, he wants everyone to be happy.
Too bad for him he married a melancholy woman who bleeds for everyone else around her.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Mini Rant
I don't know what I did for pajamas when I was pregnant with Gavin. I think I slept in a lot of nothing when it was hot but as it got colder I wore non-maternity lounge pants and tank tops and t-shirts. Not so comfortable - or flattering. This time around I wanted more comfortable sleep attire especially since we replaced the windows in the entry way that one can actually see through and straight through our long skinny house.
With the old windows I kept the 'temporary' paper shades closed in front of the cloudy window that you couldn't see through anyway so it didn't matter what I was (or was not) wearing; but now with the new windows the curtains are always open because its such a pretty window with a view of some trees. No one out for a midnight stroll needs to see a half naked pregnant lady wandering around the house at night as she looks for Tums, a snack, drink of water, the laptop for some facebook time...
Today I decided it was past time to get some pajamas. The ideal time to buy new jammies would have been before our family vacation where every time I had to get up to use the bathroom I had to pause to pull on some shorts before waddling to the bathroom. I waited until Ryan came home from work before I left although I did offer to do a baby drop off at his office at quitting time on my way to the Gap downtown.
I was pretty excited to see what kind of cute maternity duds the Gap had in stock and I was pretty disappointed with their three measly racks of clothing in their stuffy basement. Oh well, Old Navy was across the street. I hauled myself up the slight incline to Old Navy and asked an employee where the maternity department was. Third floor. I was pretty disappointed with their three racks of clothing as well. Again, no jammies to be found. A clerk thought there might be a maternity store in Westlake Center. Do the Gap and Old Navy think pregnant women don't want pajamas?
On my way to Westlake Center I popped into Nordstrum. No maternity department but one employee told me she thought their maternity clothes were spread out between departments. She suggested I start on the second floor. Obviously this is a woman who has not experienced the joys of the third trimester as your hips and pelvis turn into jelly - walking is good exercise but who wants to walk their gelatinous self to death in Nordstrum in search of hippos sized pajamas? Not me.
One more block to Westlake Center and lo and behold I saw in print on the directory: Motherhood Maternity. The clouds parted and angels could be heard singing as they shone a light on the all things maternity store one level above.
Blessed store designated to outfitting the pregnant woman. Not only did they have pajamas - and cute ones - they had several styles to choose from. And robes! It was hard to not buy all of them but I reasoned a long pair of pants and a pair of shorts would be sufficient. I'm taking the cute pajamas with the super cute top with me to the hospital so I won't have to wear their hideous blue floral print robe with ruffled sleeves. Gag.
I think I'm going to go put on my super cute new pajamas now.
With the old windows I kept the 'temporary' paper shades closed in front of the cloudy window that you couldn't see through anyway so it didn't matter what I was (or was not) wearing; but now with the new windows the curtains are always open because its such a pretty window with a view of some trees. No one out for a midnight stroll needs to see a half naked pregnant lady wandering around the house at night as she looks for Tums, a snack, drink of water, the laptop for some facebook time...
Today I decided it was past time to get some pajamas. The ideal time to buy new jammies would have been before our family vacation where every time I had to get up to use the bathroom I had to pause to pull on some shorts before waddling to the bathroom. I waited until Ryan came home from work before I left although I did offer to do a baby drop off at his office at quitting time on my way to the Gap downtown.
I was pretty excited to see what kind of cute maternity duds the Gap had in stock and I was pretty disappointed with their three measly racks of clothing in their stuffy basement. Oh well, Old Navy was across the street. I hauled myself up the slight incline to Old Navy and asked an employee where the maternity department was. Third floor. I was pretty disappointed with their three racks of clothing as well. Again, no jammies to be found. A clerk thought there might be a maternity store in Westlake Center. Do the Gap and Old Navy think pregnant women don't want pajamas?
On my way to Westlake Center I popped into Nordstrum. No maternity department but one employee told me she thought their maternity clothes were spread out between departments. She suggested I start on the second floor. Obviously this is a woman who has not experienced the joys of the third trimester as your hips and pelvis turn into jelly - walking is good exercise but who wants to walk their gelatinous self to death in Nordstrum in search of hippos sized pajamas? Not me.
One more block to Westlake Center and lo and behold I saw in print on the directory: Motherhood Maternity. The clouds parted and angels could be heard singing as they shone a light on the all things maternity store one level above.
Blessed store designated to outfitting the pregnant woman. Not only did they have pajamas - and cute ones - they had several styles to choose from. And robes! It was hard to not buy all of them but I reasoned a long pair of pants and a pair of shorts would be sufficient. I'm taking the cute pajamas with the super cute top with me to the hospital so I won't have to wear their hideous blue floral print robe with ruffled sleeves. Gag.
I think I'm going to go put on my super cute new pajamas now.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Playing Tourist
I've wanted to to take Gavin to the Pike Place Market for a while but since I don't want to pay $20 for parking (or find free parking and hoof it for a mile uphill) and since I HATE taking a bus with a stroller (a must for a kid who wants to be held by his mama who is already carrying a baby) we've just not gone.
But then light rail opened... and now we have an easy way to get to the market - the Westlake Center stop is only 5 blocks from the market. Of course, we didn't go straight to the market. First we stopped to see Ryan in his new office in his new building. Click here to see some photos from our day.
Now I do like the light rail but I have to beefs with them and both are related to the bus tunnel (or as Ryan calls it the Transit Tunnel).
#1. Elevators. There are elevators. That's good. There are signs to point you to elevators which is also good but once you leave the bus tunnel and are on the street level there are no signs to point you back to the entrances with elevators. That is REALLY annoying.
#2. Elevators. There are elevators. That's good. There are too many elevators. Sort of. There are 3 levels that the elevators service - the platform where the buses and trains are, the mezzanine - where you can cross over the roadway the buses and trains use to go the other direction and access to some stores and the third level - the street at ground level. To get from the platform to the street you have find the nearest elevator and wait for the super duper slow elevator and go up one level. Then you get off the elevator and find the next elevator and repeat.
Long story less long: we made it to the market.
I took a few pictures, walked past my favorite cheese store and realized I walked past my favorite cheese store so I turned around, got in line and bought some cheese curds. YUM. Some may know them by another name, squeaky cheese (it kind of makes squeaky sounds when you chew it). Gavin ate a few bits but then spit the rest out. That's just what he does now. He'll try it and if he doesn't like it out it comes - or if he feels he's had enough he'll spit whatever is left in his mouth that he doesn't want to swallow.
After walking around for about 15 minutes he wanted out of his stroller. After about 2 minutes he decided he didn't want to hold my hand so he went back in his stroller. 10 more minutes in the stroller and he was d-o-n-e. Therefore we were done.
Our big day - no make that - our big hour - at the market. It was fun but I think the next time we go I may reconsider going during a peak tourist season even it is fun to see people from all over the world enjoying our city so much (even if they all stick to Pike Place just to see flying fish and the original Starbucks). To show a French couple how lovely Americans, especially Seattlites are, I offered to take a picture of both of them in front of the Pike Place Market sign as they were taking turns taking pictures of each other.
When we arrived at our home station there was a man walking up the street with his shirt halfway unbuttoned (and he's not a someone who should feel like taking those kinds of liberties - even on a warm day). Dude - if I'm 7 months pregnant and have to wear a shirt so should you. When we got home there was that same guy but this time he stopped to ask me if he could ask me a question.
I knew what his question was going to be but before he got around to asking the question he had a story to tell about being out of gas and his car being ticketed and ready to be towed. Of course he also had to assure me he tried getting help at the churches and yada yada yada. Could I spare some change?
Sorry, no. I'll buy something to eat for people hanging outside the grocery store but I don't like giving money to strangers, especially from someone asking me as I'm heading up the stairs to my house! He'll know where to come ask for more at a future date and I never know who to believe. Argh. I don't normally get upset about people asking me for money but it was in front of my house!
So I guess we had the full tourist experience although getting hit up for money happens everywhere - just more often in the city. Some days the suburbs don't look so bad.
But then light rail opened... and now we have an easy way to get to the market - the Westlake Center stop is only 5 blocks from the market. Of course, we didn't go straight to the market. First we stopped to see Ryan in his new office in his new building. Click here to see some photos from our day.
Now I do like the light rail but I have to beefs with them and both are related to the bus tunnel (or as Ryan calls it the Transit Tunnel).
#1. Elevators. There are elevators. That's good. There are signs to point you to elevators which is also good but once you leave the bus tunnel and are on the street level there are no signs to point you back to the entrances with elevators. That is REALLY annoying.
#2. Elevators. There are elevators. That's good. There are too many elevators. Sort of. There are 3 levels that the elevators service - the platform where the buses and trains are, the mezzanine - where you can cross over the roadway the buses and trains use to go the other direction and access to some stores and the third level - the street at ground level. To get from the platform to the street you have find the nearest elevator and wait for the super duper slow elevator and go up one level. Then you get off the elevator and find the next elevator and repeat.
Long story less long: we made it to the market.
I took a few pictures, walked past my favorite cheese store and realized I walked past my favorite cheese store so I turned around, got in line and bought some cheese curds. YUM. Some may know them by another name, squeaky cheese (it kind of makes squeaky sounds when you chew it). Gavin ate a few bits but then spit the rest out. That's just what he does now. He'll try it and if he doesn't like it out it comes - or if he feels he's had enough he'll spit whatever is left in his mouth that he doesn't want to swallow.
After walking around for about 15 minutes he wanted out of his stroller. After about 2 minutes he decided he didn't want to hold my hand so he went back in his stroller. 10 more minutes in the stroller and he was d-o-n-e. Therefore we were done.
Our big day - no make that - our big hour - at the market. It was fun but I think the next time we go I may reconsider going during a peak tourist season even it is fun to see people from all over the world enjoying our city so much (even if they all stick to Pike Place just to see flying fish and the original Starbucks). To show a French couple how lovely Americans, especially Seattlites are, I offered to take a picture of both of them in front of the Pike Place Market sign as they were taking turns taking pictures of each other.
When we arrived at our home station there was a man walking up the street with his shirt halfway unbuttoned (and he's not a someone who should feel like taking those kinds of liberties - even on a warm day). Dude - if I'm 7 months pregnant and have to wear a shirt so should you. When we got home there was that same guy but this time he stopped to ask me if he could ask me a question.
I knew what his question was going to be but before he got around to asking the question he had a story to tell about being out of gas and his car being ticketed and ready to be towed. Of course he also had to assure me he tried getting help at the churches and yada yada yada. Could I spare some change?
Sorry, no. I'll buy something to eat for people hanging outside the grocery store but I don't like giving money to strangers, especially from someone asking me as I'm heading up the stairs to my house! He'll know where to come ask for more at a future date and I never know who to believe. Argh. I don't normally get upset about people asking me for money but it was in front of my house!
So I guess we had the full tourist experience although getting hit up for money happens everywhere - just more often in the city. Some days the suburbs don't look so bad.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Noisy Toys
I used to be one of those people who said, "No toys that make noise when I have kids!"
Oh, what that silly girl didn't know. A toy that makes noise is less annoying than a toddler whining and clinging to your leg.
It was this morning when Gavin was getting a bit clingy while I was trying to prepare breakfast that I had a flash of brilliance. It was time to put in two new AA batteries into his Chicco barn toy. It died an annoying death the other day as the batteries sputtered (a noisy toy becomes unbearable when it has just enough juice to make half of its normal sound in a slow-mo kind of way). I put it and myself out our misery by taking the batteries out but was bummed when I didn't find replacement batteries.
While I was amused watching him try to play with his silent barn toy with a look on his face that kind of said, "I'm pushing buttons, why isn't making sound?" that game didn't keep him occupied for long. After I put the batteries in I drew his attention to the toy and he looked very disinterested until I flipped it on.
If you could only have seen his eyes light up. His, "whatever" look vanished and he made a bee-line to the toy where he remained parked for the next 15 mintues. So, instead of hearing, "me, me, me, bi, bi, bi" (translation: "feed me, bite (of food)) I heard a rooster crowing, sheep baaing and dogs barking. It was blissful.
Oh, what that silly girl didn't know. A toy that makes noise is less annoying than a toddler whining and clinging to your leg.
It was this morning when Gavin was getting a bit clingy while I was trying to prepare breakfast that I had a flash of brilliance. It was time to put in two new AA batteries into his Chicco barn toy. It died an annoying death the other day as the batteries sputtered (a noisy toy becomes unbearable when it has just enough juice to make half of its normal sound in a slow-mo kind of way). I put it and myself out our misery by taking the batteries out but was bummed when I didn't find replacement batteries.
While I was amused watching him try to play with his silent barn toy with a look on his face that kind of said, "I'm pushing buttons, why isn't making sound?" that game didn't keep him occupied for long. After I put the batteries in I drew his attention to the toy and he looked very disinterested until I flipped it on.
If you could only have seen his eyes light up. His, "whatever" look vanished and he made a bee-line to the toy where he remained parked for the next 15 mintues. So, instead of hearing, "me, me, me, bi, bi, bi" (translation: "feed me, bite (of food)) I heard a rooster crowing, sheep baaing and dogs barking. It was blissful.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Photos
As I was browsing through pictures to post I realized I'm going to have work hard to take just as many pictures of #2 as I do of Gavin. I think all second time parents say that.
OK, not a picture of Gavin but Ryan's cute, too.
If only you could hear him saying, "dow, dow, dow" as he descends.
Check out the little man's outfit. Hawaiian top and blue doggy pj bottoms. (I threw on the bottoms for his nap and Ryan scooped him up when he got home and took him outside).
A better view of the fashion nightmare I'm creating.
YUMMY, YUMMY CHEEKS!!!
It took 3 trips to local wading pools in one week before he felt comfortable walking in the ankle high water.
The mirror isn't that dirty (just a little) - it is old.
This is Gavin's favorite post bath activity - to see the naked baby in the mirror with his hooded towel on.
He tried playing on his tummy - there are some great tushy shots but I don't think Ryan would approve of me posting them.
Sleepsack still on, wandering around with a 'ba'
SO CUTE!!!
No, he doesn't have a measles; he's just enjoying some strawberries from the garden.
Ryan reads to Gavin before he puts him down at night. It totally screwed up my routine (diaper, jammies, teeth, let him turn on cd, point at sheep on wall and say "baa", say prayer and sing the doxology - DONE). Now I have to read at least three books or else hear "boo! boo! book-uh! book-uh!"
Incoming!
I think he was actually smiling for the camera.
He brought me his shoes so I started dressing him. He got up and ran off once his shoes were on.
Doggy & 'B' - two must haves for sleeping.
Waiting for our turn to see the vet (subsequent visits to the vet were not photo worthy - lots of screaming as he tried to get into cupboards with syringes and biohazardous waste).
His favorite hat. He'll bring it to me now for help putting it on.
"What's the big idea?"
He was shrieking with laughter as he climbed back and forth in this tube.
Just after he gave the "all done" hand sign. He likes the swing but only for a few minutes.
Feeding himself like a big boy.
Yep, I posted this one twice. It's just TOO cute!
Total time spent in wading pool: less than 10 minutes. Total time spent to get ready for pool & driving there: about 60 minutes.
OK, not a picture of Gavin but Ryan's cute, too.
If only you could hear him saying, "dow, dow, dow" as he descends.
Check out the little man's outfit. Hawaiian top and blue doggy pj bottoms. (I threw on the bottoms for his nap and Ryan scooped him up when he got home and took him outside). 
A better view of the fashion nightmare I'm creating.
YUMMY, YUMMY CHEEKS!!!
It took 3 trips to local wading pools in one week before he felt comfortable walking in the ankle high water.
The mirror isn't that dirty (just a little) - it is old.This is Gavin's favorite post bath activity - to see the naked baby in the mirror with his hooded towel on.
He tried playing on his tummy - there are some great tushy shots but I don't think Ryan would approve of me posting them.
Sleepsack still on, wandering around with a 'ba'
SO CUTE!!!
No, he doesn't have a measles; he's just enjoying some strawberries from the garden.
Ryan reads to Gavin before he puts him down at night. It totally screwed up my routine (diaper, jammies, teeth, let him turn on cd, point at sheep on wall and say "baa", say prayer and sing the doxology - DONE). Now I have to read at least three books or else hear "boo! boo! book-uh! book-uh!"
Incoming!
I think he was actually smiling for the camera.
He brought me his shoes so I started dressing him. He got up and ran off once his shoes were on.
Doggy & 'B' - two must haves for sleeping.
Waiting for our turn to see the vet (subsequent visits to the vet were not photo worthy - lots of screaming as he tried to get into cupboards with syringes and biohazardous waste).
His favorite hat. He'll bring it to me now for help putting it on.
"What's the big idea?"
He was shrieking with laughter as he climbed back and forth in this tube.
Just after he gave the "all done" hand sign. He likes the swing but only for a few minutes.
Feeding himself like a big boy.
Yep, I posted this one twice. It's just TOO cute!Thursday, July 02, 2009
Nesting Part Deux
Gavin and I stopped at Lowe's on the way home from the vet today. Well, does one ever just stop by a behemoth home improvement store? Rarely. I do not miss the hours spent in Lowe's and Home Depot watching the employees milling about the store ready to answer a question grow more and more scant and less and less helpful. Some days I feel like our home improvement days are over then realize that they are far from over.
Sure, I have an intact kitchen - a messy but functional kitchen. There is not a sawhorse to be seen, no extension cords to trip over, no drill bits, drills, chargers, hammers or saws on the dining room table yet the list of stuff to do feels daunting. Daunting because it is full of little projects.
Fix the front gate so both doors are even
Tile the basement landings
Paint the stairwell from the kitchen to the basement
Carpet the stairs
Nail the trim in the basement
Put in stairs in the back yard leading to the garage and alley
Paint the house (which involves picking out a color, a stain for the cedar on the converted porch and stone to replace the faux river rock)
Carpet the upstairs bedrooms and hallway (I got a nasty splinter in our bedroom when Gavin was an infant - it required a visit to the doctors office and a foot full of lidocaine)
Fix the 2 way switch for the living room lights
Get a new mail slot
Empty the guest room dresser so guests can use it since the closet is full of stuff
Make space in the guest room closet
Make room in ALL closets
Make repeated trips to Goodwill in an attempt to make breathing room
I'm starting to think nesting is kicking in. Hopefully I won't have many full blown crazy attacks this time round because I know a little better what to expect.
Although I'm already starting to obsess over the sleeping arrangements (even though Gavin was in our room until he was 8 months old) and where I'm going to put clothes for two little boys and what I'm going to do with more baby stuff since Gavin's room is just about right except for his closet. There is no more room to be had in his closet. There are shelves and cubbies and drawers and doors galore in that micro-mini closet of his.
Sure, I have an intact kitchen - a messy but functional kitchen. There is not a sawhorse to be seen, no extension cords to trip over, no drill bits, drills, chargers, hammers or saws on the dining room table yet the list of stuff to do feels daunting. Daunting because it is full of little projects.
Fix the front gate so both doors are even
Tile the basement landings
Paint the stairwell from the kitchen to the basement
Carpet the stairs
Nail the trim in the basement
Put in stairs in the back yard leading to the garage and alley
Paint the house (which involves picking out a color, a stain for the cedar on the converted porch and stone to replace the faux river rock)
Carpet the upstairs bedrooms and hallway (I got a nasty splinter in our bedroom when Gavin was an infant - it required a visit to the doctors office and a foot full of lidocaine)
Fix the 2 way switch for the living room lights
Get a new mail slot
Empty the guest room dresser so guests can use it since the closet is full of stuff
Make space in the guest room closet
Make room in ALL closets
Make repeated trips to Goodwill in an attempt to make breathing room
I'm starting to think nesting is kicking in. Hopefully I won't have many full blown crazy attacks this time round because I know a little better what to expect.
Although I'm already starting to obsess over the sleeping arrangements (even though Gavin was in our room until he was 8 months old) and where I'm going to put clothes for two little boys and what I'm going to do with more baby stuff since Gavin's room is just about right except for his closet. There is no more room to be had in his closet. There are shelves and cubbies and drawers and doors galore in that micro-mini closet of his.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Grumblings of a Pregnant Woman
The more I think about pregnancy the more I have a bone to pick with God. I understand that creating a new life is a miracle. Really, I do. Sometimes I look at Gavin and wonder how it is possible that I was party to making him; or that he was small enough to live inside me and then come out.
My beef isn't in the wonderment of knowing a new human being is made from two teeny tiny parts. No, the beef is with the actual process of pregnancy.
Parenting is a lot of work; its constant. Sure it is rewarding but it is exhausting. I hear the physical exhaustion gives way to emotional exhaustion at some point but I'm dealing with what I know right now.
Wouldn't it make sense to make pregnancy a relaxing experience knowing that the years that lie ahead are going to be full of running after toddlers in the store, keeping an eye out for constant dangers (like buttons and paperclips, poisonous houseplants, knives, scissors...), midnight feedings which turn into midnight consolations, tantrums, meal time chaos, interrupted phone calls.... blah, blah, blah. I feel like I need to put in a disclaimer here that I wouldn't give up Gavin for all of the personal time in the world. I love the little guy more than life itself.... but my point here is that the work is never ending so shouldn't pregnancy be a time of physical well being?
I don't buy into the lie that its just getting us ready for what lies ahead. Who gets ready for big meeting at work the next day by dealing with heart burn, insomnia and 3 trips to the potty? How is that helpful?
Of course I think this pregnancy is going better than Gavin's did. I think my body hurts less and is experiencing less swelling because I'm not strapped to a desk all day but am instead running after a toddler and changing his diapers all day. Getting a nap every day helps, too.
Even though this pregnancy isn't as disastrous (relatively speaking) as the first it would still be nice to function above the zombie level for the first couple of hours in the morning. Speaking of morning. The sun is starting to rise... well, it's getting lighter out - I see no yellow glow but the gray of the skies lightening up a bit. Time for me to get a little snack that won't exacerbate the heart burn and go back to bed for an hour before Gavin wakes up.
My beef isn't in the wonderment of knowing a new human being is made from two teeny tiny parts. No, the beef is with the actual process of pregnancy.
Parenting is a lot of work; its constant. Sure it is rewarding but it is exhausting. I hear the physical exhaustion gives way to emotional exhaustion at some point but I'm dealing with what I know right now.
Wouldn't it make sense to make pregnancy a relaxing experience knowing that the years that lie ahead are going to be full of running after toddlers in the store, keeping an eye out for constant dangers (like buttons and paperclips, poisonous houseplants, knives, scissors...), midnight feedings which turn into midnight consolations, tantrums, meal time chaos, interrupted phone calls.... blah, blah, blah. I feel like I need to put in a disclaimer here that I wouldn't give up Gavin for all of the personal time in the world. I love the little guy more than life itself.... but my point here is that the work is never ending so shouldn't pregnancy be a time of physical well being?
I don't buy into the lie that its just getting us ready for what lies ahead. Who gets ready for big meeting at work the next day by dealing with heart burn, insomnia and 3 trips to the potty? How is that helpful?
Of course I think this pregnancy is going better than Gavin's did. I think my body hurts less and is experiencing less swelling because I'm not strapped to a desk all day but am instead running after a toddler and changing his diapers all day. Getting a nap every day helps, too.
Even though this pregnancy isn't as disastrous (relatively speaking) as the first it would still be nice to function above the zombie level for the first couple of hours in the morning. Speaking of morning. The sun is starting to rise... well, it's getting lighter out - I see no yellow glow but the gray of the skies lightening up a bit. Time for me to get a little snack that won't exacerbate the heart burn and go back to bed for an hour before Gavin wakes up.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Grumblings of a Failed Fashionista
I don't think its much of a secret that I'm not a fashionista but then if you know me, or at least see me from time to time it pretty plain to see; it's not something one can fake. It may come as a surprise however, that somewhere inside me, not too deeply buried, is a girly girl who wishes she could be dressed to the nines or at least be super cute and put together while doing even the most mundane of chores.
There are several obstacles that hinder me in the channeling of my inner fashionista. I think the first and foremost obstacle is laziness. OK, to be honest I don't have a lot of time to put into my clothes, hair and make up. And to be completely honest I still struggled with getting put together when I was childless so I think that brings me back to being lazy; or not caring enough to make it happen. I guess wanting a certain end result with little to no effort put in is another way to define lazy. Darn. I can't get around that one.
Money is another obstacle. We can certainly afford nice clothes but I can't afford to constantly replace the clothes that I stain with mustard, chocolate, tomato sauce, coffee, ink... you name it, if it stains it will make a bee line for my clothes. Of course, the lighter in color and the newer the garment the quicker the stain finds it. So instead of money being the second obstacle it is more like sloppiness.
What the good Lord gave me also gets in the way of fashion. A staple in my wardrobe are ribbed tank tops. I don't wander around Seattle in jeans and the quaintly nicknamed wife-beater ribbed tank but I do have to wear it under most blouses, shirts and dresses. If I don't the general public gets an eyeful of my chest. I think seeing that much flesh makes people uncomfortable and it makes me uncomfortable when you can see a man's eyes fighting the gravitational pull to look at the cleavage. I used to have a boss, that no matter what I wore - it could have been a baggy black turtle neck - whose eyes always strayed and ended up fixed on my boobs. The glazed over look always creeped me out. After a while if I knew he was coming to my work station I would grab some papers and hold them up over my chest to combat his zombie stare. If I was caught off guard I would try squirming away and kind of lower my head so he could see my eyes. I always wanted shout, "Up here! I'm up here!"
All of that to say I don't really appreciate what I was given on top. I could have lived with a bit less. It's so difficult to buy clothes that fit around the bust and the shoulders. If it fits around the bust then my shoulders swim in the extra fabric but if it fits around my shoulders bystanders get the added bonus of the peak-a-boo view of my bra between the gaping buttons as the buttons try their best to keep the two sides of the shirt closed.
Then there is reason that brings me to the title of this post, Fighting Tears in Nordstrum: shoes. I was shoe shopping yesterday and looking for a shoe that would go with just about anything, was comfortable and would work in summer and in the fall. The shoe shopping was brought about by my pregnant feet. Yep. My uterus is great with child but it's my feet that feel pregnant. It doesn't help that I may have a touch of arthritis flaring up in my big toe and that I have some nerve damage from the foot surgery I had last year. Pregnancy + arthritis + nerve damage = persnickety feet which in turn = sneakers.
Gag. I do NOT like sneakers. They are fine for other people and they are fine if I'm going for a walk but I do not like to wear tennis shoes as my everyday shoes. I want to wear something cute. And my standard for cute is pretty granola - brown or red clogs, maybe something a little like a maryjane shoe by ecco, danskno or clarks. But lo, it is not to be.
I told the salesman at Nordrstrum my requirements for the shoes and tacked on, "Oh, and they can't be hideous - or tennis shoes." Without even pausing he said, "It sounds like you need a tennis shoe." I protested, "Nein! No tennis shoes for me! Nein!"
After having the poor man bring me enough shoes to fill a wheel barrow I sheepishly handed him a pair of shoes that one can not deny resemble tennis shoes. They aren't old school style tennis shoes but they are tennis shoes nonetheless.
I started to get really upset as I sat in their super comfy leather chair feeding Gavin goldfish crackers to stave of a meltdown because it was dawning on me that I may never again be able to wear shoes where the top stops short of where the tongue of a tennis shoe would end. The salesman asked me a question and I gave him a short answer and avoided eye contact. I think he understood I was having a moment so he went away. After taking a couple of deep breaths and blinking back tears I collected myself and put on a happy face and paid for my tennis shoes.
My stupid, comfortable tennis shoes.
There are several obstacles that hinder me in the channeling of my inner fashionista. I think the first and foremost obstacle is laziness. OK, to be honest I don't have a lot of time to put into my clothes, hair and make up. And to be completely honest I still struggled with getting put together when I was childless so I think that brings me back to being lazy; or not caring enough to make it happen. I guess wanting a certain end result with little to no effort put in is another way to define lazy. Darn. I can't get around that one.
Money is another obstacle. We can certainly afford nice clothes but I can't afford to constantly replace the clothes that I stain with mustard, chocolate, tomato sauce, coffee, ink... you name it, if it stains it will make a bee line for my clothes. Of course, the lighter in color and the newer the garment the quicker the stain finds it. So instead of money being the second obstacle it is more like sloppiness.
What the good Lord gave me also gets in the way of fashion. A staple in my wardrobe are ribbed tank tops. I don't wander around Seattle in jeans and the quaintly nicknamed wife-beater ribbed tank but I do have to wear it under most blouses, shirts and dresses. If I don't the general public gets an eyeful of my chest. I think seeing that much flesh makes people uncomfortable and it makes me uncomfortable when you can see a man's eyes fighting the gravitational pull to look at the cleavage. I used to have a boss, that no matter what I wore - it could have been a baggy black turtle neck - whose eyes always strayed and ended up fixed on my boobs. The glazed over look always creeped me out. After a while if I knew he was coming to my work station I would grab some papers and hold them up over my chest to combat his zombie stare. If I was caught off guard I would try squirming away and kind of lower my head so he could see my eyes. I always wanted shout, "Up here! I'm up here!"
All of that to say I don't really appreciate what I was given on top. I could have lived with a bit less. It's so difficult to buy clothes that fit around the bust and the shoulders. If it fits around the bust then my shoulders swim in the extra fabric but if it fits around my shoulders bystanders get the added bonus of the peak-a-boo view of my bra between the gaping buttons as the buttons try their best to keep the two sides of the shirt closed.
Then there is reason that brings me to the title of this post, Fighting Tears in Nordstrum: shoes. I was shoe shopping yesterday and looking for a shoe that would go with just about anything, was comfortable and would work in summer and in the fall. The shoe shopping was brought about by my pregnant feet. Yep. My uterus is great with child but it's my feet that feel pregnant. It doesn't help that I may have a touch of arthritis flaring up in my big toe and that I have some nerve damage from the foot surgery I had last year. Pregnancy + arthritis + nerve damage = persnickety feet which in turn = sneakers.
Gag. I do NOT like sneakers. They are fine for other people and they are fine if I'm going for a walk but I do not like to wear tennis shoes as my everyday shoes. I want to wear something cute. And my standard for cute is pretty granola - brown or red clogs, maybe something a little like a maryjane shoe by ecco, danskno or clarks. But lo, it is not to be.
I told the salesman at Nordrstrum my requirements for the shoes and tacked on, "Oh, and they can't be hideous - or tennis shoes." Without even pausing he said, "It sounds like you need a tennis shoe." I protested, "Nein! No tennis shoes for me! Nein!"
After having the poor man bring me enough shoes to fill a wheel barrow I sheepishly handed him a pair of shoes that one can not deny resemble tennis shoes. They aren't old school style tennis shoes but they are tennis shoes nonetheless.
I started to get really upset as I sat in their super comfy leather chair feeding Gavin goldfish crackers to stave of a meltdown because it was dawning on me that I may never again be able to wear shoes where the top stops short of where the tongue of a tennis shoe would end. The salesman asked me a question and I gave him a short answer and avoided eye contact. I think he understood I was having a moment so he went away. After taking a couple of deep breaths and blinking back tears I collected myself and put on a happy face and paid for my tennis shoes.
My stupid, comfortable tennis shoes.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Extra! Extra! Read All About It!
Check it out. Gavin and I made the front page of the Seattle Times this morning. No joke. Ryan got a phone call from Marc Ramirez, the reporter Times reporter telling him we were on the front page this morning so Ryan came into our room with Gavin saying, "Mommy and Gavin are on the front page of the Seattle Times," to wake me up. I heard him but thought, "How would he know if the article ran today, he hasn't even left the house. And what would we be doing on the front page?"
When I finally opened my eyes I asked him what all this nonsense about being on the front page was and how would he know, anyway?
I hopped out of bed and Gavin and I went to the store to buy the paper. Here is a link to the article (which has a link to the youtube video): http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/home/index.html
Just to be clear I told the reporter that Ryan had everything to do with the surveillance cameras and getting the video posted to youtube but he was only mentioned as my husband in the article. No name mention. Boo.
Other than that it was a great article. Check it out.
Oh, if you want to see the photo of me and Gavin you will have to buy a copy of the paper as it's not in the on-line article.
When I finally opened my eyes I asked him what all this nonsense about being on the front page was and how would he know, anyway?
I hopped out of bed and Gavin and I went to the store to buy the paper. Here is a link to the article (which has a link to the youtube video): http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/home/index.html
Just to be clear I told the reporter that Ryan had everything to do with the surveillance cameras and getting the video posted to youtube but he was only mentioned as my husband in the article. No name mention. Boo.
Other than that it was a great article. Check it out.
Oh, if you want to see the photo of me and Gavin you will have to buy a copy of the paper as it's not in the on-line article.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Getting Reacquainted
When there is no e-mail and Facebook has lost its appeal what's an insomniac to do? That's right. Watch TV.
But lo, TiVo doesn't know me anymore. I flipped on the boob tube to see what was playing live and there was Montel Williams selling his own juicer. I don't understand celebrities hawking wares with their names plastered all over them. Well, that's not entirely true. The George Foreman Grill did seem to be a stand alone product in its heydey. I don't recall there being a lot of similar products out there. But a juicer/blender? Really? The market seems to be flooded with expensive blenders that do everything for you short of grow the tomatoes and carrots for you. They make will everything from sorbet to hot soup. What does Motel Williams have that is so revolutionary and new that it warrants creating a whole new line?
I digress... there was nothing on the tube so I flipped over to TiVo to see what we had recorded. There was just some news and late night shows. No thanks. Then I went to TiVo suggestions where there is usually a treasure trove of crime shows. Law and Order (pick one: the original, Criminal Intent or SVU), CSI (only the original, thank you) and Without a Trace were the standard ones that TiVo recorded.
TiVo died while we were on vacation so Ryan had to put in a new hard drive. That means all of our preferences were gone. TiVo doesn't know us. We are a blank canvas to TiVo. There are no more home improvement shows in the suggestions, no more crime shows, no more Friends or Seinfeld.
What am I supposed to do when tossing and turning, playing Hearts on the Nintendo DS, e-mail and Facebook fail to put me back to sleep? There is so much time with so little to do. Well... there is a lot to do but I don't think Ryan and Gavin would appreciate me vacuuming, doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom or cleaning the kitchen at 5 am.
What's a girl to do?
I'll tell ya what this girl did. After reading the an e-mail from a man who has shown interest in buying our dining room table and chairs I was pretty worked up. The man offered an extra $20 for me to take the listing down right away as he was going to send me a cashier's check and have movers come to pick up the table and chairs.
Do any of you use craigslist? What is the one warning that is always in big red bold caps with every e-mail generated from craigslist? DO NOT ACCEPT CASHIERS CHECKS!!! IT'S A SCAM!!!
I told the jerk that I'm no fool and we are accepting cash only. Then I followed a link from craigslist to the FTC where I filed a complaint. Part of me thought I shouldn't file the complaint in the off chance the guy is legit but then I read his first e-mail that read, "Is your posted item still available?" And to make it even more fishy the text was greyed out at the bottom of the screen - almost like it was a signature.
Stupid jerk.
Well, looky here. My own writing is putting me back to sleep. But my adorable son is in his crib. All 3 stuffed animals and his blankie have been tossed out of the crib per his usual waking routine. That gives me just a minute to wrap this up before he starts getting vocal in his demand to be taken out. I swear he is waking up earlier and earlier every day.
But lo, TiVo doesn't know me anymore. I flipped on the boob tube to see what was playing live and there was Montel Williams selling his own juicer. I don't understand celebrities hawking wares with their names plastered all over them. Well, that's not entirely true. The George Foreman Grill did seem to be a stand alone product in its heydey. I don't recall there being a lot of similar products out there. But a juicer/blender? Really? The market seems to be flooded with expensive blenders that do everything for you short of grow the tomatoes and carrots for you. They make will everything from sorbet to hot soup. What does Motel Williams have that is so revolutionary and new that it warrants creating a whole new line?
I digress... there was nothing on the tube so I flipped over to TiVo to see what we had recorded. There was just some news and late night shows. No thanks. Then I went to TiVo suggestions where there is usually a treasure trove of crime shows. Law and Order (pick one: the original, Criminal Intent or SVU), CSI (only the original, thank you) and Without a Trace were the standard ones that TiVo recorded.
TiVo died while we were on vacation so Ryan had to put in a new hard drive. That means all of our preferences were gone. TiVo doesn't know us. We are a blank canvas to TiVo. There are no more home improvement shows in the suggestions, no more crime shows, no more Friends or Seinfeld.
What am I supposed to do when tossing and turning, playing Hearts on the Nintendo DS, e-mail and Facebook fail to put me back to sleep? There is so much time with so little to do. Well... there is a lot to do but I don't think Ryan and Gavin would appreciate me vacuuming, doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom or cleaning the kitchen at 5 am.
What's a girl to do?
I'll tell ya what this girl did. After reading the an e-mail from a man who has shown interest in buying our dining room table and chairs I was pretty worked up. The man offered an extra $20 for me to take the listing down right away as he was going to send me a cashier's check and have movers come to pick up the table and chairs.
Do any of you use craigslist? What is the one warning that is always in big red bold caps with every e-mail generated from craigslist? DO NOT ACCEPT CASHIERS CHECKS!!! IT'S A SCAM!!!
I told the jerk that I'm no fool and we are accepting cash only. Then I followed a link from craigslist to the FTC where I filed a complaint. Part of me thought I shouldn't file the complaint in the off chance the guy is legit but then I read his first e-mail that read, "Is your posted item still available?" And to make it even more fishy the text was greyed out at the bottom of the screen - almost like it was a signature.
Stupid jerk.
Well, looky here. My own writing is putting me back to sleep. But my adorable son is in his crib. All 3 stuffed animals and his blankie have been tossed out of the crib per his usual waking routine. That gives me just a minute to wrap this up before he starts getting vocal in his demand to be taken out. I swear he is waking up earlier and earlier every day.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Skunk Bay & Misc. Photos
Here are a few more pictures of Gavin. Some were taken last weekend at a cabin in Hansville where we spent some time with our friends Heather & Joe and their daughter Pearle.
Enjoy the cuteness!
Gavin loved walking up and down this bench.
My little guy with all sleeping necessities: sleepsack, doggy & B (blankie)
(he wanted his socks & shoes on but took off before I could finish dressing him)
Prediction: when he is able to use the dustpan he will no longer want to
His one nap that weekend - he fell asleep on the way back from Hansville to the cabin.
Pearle checking out the goods on the counter.
Heather grinding the beans for the morning brew.
Gavin's outfit was RIDICULOUS! Pearle's baby legs (the polka dot leg warmers on Gavin's arms, a yellow Li'l Kahuna t-shirt and blue doggy jammy bottoms). We took him to town dressed like this (minus the yellow sleepsack - I think we are going to have either a fashion challenged child or one who cares about fashion as much as his father and I do).
Pearle taking a taste test of her wooden top toy
Enjoy the cuteness!
Family photo
Gavin loved walking up and down this bench.
My little guy with all sleeping necessities: sleepsack, doggy & B (blankie)
(he wanted his socks & shoes on but took off before I could finish dressing him)
Prediction: when he is able to use the dustpan he will no longer want to
His one nap that weekend - he fell asleep on the way back from Hansville to the cabin.
Pearle checking out the goods on the counter.
Heather grinding the beans for the morning brew.
Gavin's outfit was RIDICULOUS! Pearle's baby legs (the polka dot leg warmers on Gavin's arms, a yellow Li'l Kahuna t-shirt and blue doggy jammy bottoms). We took him to town dressed like this (minus the yellow sleepsack - I think we are going to have either a fashion challenged child or one who cares about fashion as much as his father and I do). 
Pearle taking a taste test of her wooden top toyWednesday, June 10, 2009
Paper or Plastic (or Both)?
I was at Safeway yesterday for a little respite (yes, I went grocery shopping when Ryan got home from work so I could have a little alone time). The actual shopping was uneventful. It's just shopping after all.
At checkout as I was putting my groceries on the conveyor belt I told the checker that I wanted paper, please. It seems the checkers don't ask paper or plastic like the used to so I pipe up before they have a chance to shove everything in plastic.
I looked up from the credit card machine and noticed the checker was putting the groceries in paper bags but the paper bag was inside a plastic bag.
What a complete waste. Why on earth ask for paper if you know they are going to give you paper bags and plastic bags? Safeway's paper bags are thin flimsy things without handles so they need the plastic bag to keep the groceries from falling out of the bottom of the bag.
Stupid Safeway. Why can't they just provide decent paper bags?
At checkout as I was putting my groceries on the conveyor belt I told the checker that I wanted paper, please. It seems the checkers don't ask paper or plastic like the used to so I pipe up before they have a chance to shove everything in plastic.
I looked up from the credit card machine and noticed the checker was putting the groceries in paper bags but the paper bag was inside a plastic bag.
What a complete waste. Why on earth ask for paper if you know they are going to give you paper bags and plastic bags? Safeway's paper bags are thin flimsy things without handles so they need the plastic bag to keep the groceries from falling out of the bottom of the bag.
Stupid Safeway. Why can't they just provide decent paper bags?
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Love - Hate
How is it possible to love and hate something simultaneously? Love and hate are on such opposite ends of the spectrum that it seems impossible that they could co-exist. Right now I'm rediscovering a love - hate relationship: pregnancy.
I am 21 weeks and am entering into the part of the pregnancy that I hate, although it turns out I'm hating it for different reasons this time around.
With Gavin I felt drained all day, every day. Then of course there was the lack of ankles, feet that felt like they would splice open at any given moment from the swelling, fat sausage fingers that felt so taut that bending them could be a tad uncomfortable, the asthma and hip and back pain... plus the 3+ trips to the bathroom every night to pee two drops worth.
This pregnancy feels much more mild thus far; I guess there is still plenty of time for it go south. I believe this time last year I was already having difficulty breathing, my ankles were long gone and I was actually making more trips to the bathroom and the hip pain was much, much worse (probably because I sat in a chair for 8 hours a day).
So, if it is so much less awful this time why would I hate still hate it? I'll tell you why. It all revolves around sleep. For the past three weeks I have been waking up between 2:30 and 4:30 in the morning. I lay there like a good girl and try to fall back asleep. Then my brain slowly turns on and before you know it I have a hundred thoughts running through my head. I try so hard when I get up to go the bathroom to remain in a somewhat sleepy state. I only half open my eyes and repeat, "stay asleep" in my head over and over. Then when I crawl back in bed I lay there half expecting to fall back asleep. But no... my brain is fully engaged.
After about a half hour of just hoping I'll fall back asleep I give up and grab Ryan's Nintendo DS and play hearts. Sometimes I'll get bored enough to turn it off and close my eyes but sleep doesn't follow. After a half hour of stupid games I succumb to wakefulness and get out of bed. I check my e-mail and get on facebook to see who else is up and what happened since I went to bed -usually not much has happened.
About 6:00-6:30 I'm ready to climb back in bed for the deepest, most relaxing sleep of the 'night'. Between 7:00-7:30 Gavin wakes up. If Ryan is still home he'll get him out of his crib and bring him to me. I let him crawl over me in the bed for a few minutes before I drag myself out of bed. Then I throw my pillow on the floor in the living room and lay down. If I'm lucky Gavin wants to read books. He brings me a "boo" and I hold it over my face so he can't see my eyes closed and I recite the books from memory. If I'm unlucky - which I have been this week he puts his hand to his mouth and says, "me, me, me, me, me, me" - which means in Gavin speak "Feed me". Then I get to put the hungry toddler in his high chair as he begins to whine because his food does not magically appear on his tray as soon as its snapped in place.
Whining, especially in the morning when you are running on empty, is especially annoying. I have zero tolerance for whining. Zero.
After breakfast I try to do some form of cleaning - usually the kitchen from the night before but that doesn't last long because Gavin is soon clinging to my leg asking me to read him another "boo" or he is trying to climb on dining room chairs so he can climb onto the dining room table. Oy.
At some point I manage to get dressed and we can leave the house to do something, anything. Although it appears my days of shopping with Gavin are coming to an end. He is always trying to climb out of the cart or slip out of the stroller and he screams when I try to put him back.
I could handle the toddler behavior a little bit more if I wasn't so tired all of the time. We are down to our last four months of just the two of us (during the day) and I want to enjoy our summer time together before the new baby arrives this fall when the weather turns wet and gloomy. Its so hard to feel like a good mom when you are so tired you just want to lay on the floor and hope that your toddler is content climbing on you like a jungle gym. That certainly won't win me the most engaging mom of the year award.
And then there is today of course. After my midnight waking I managed to lull myself back to sleep (feet at the head of the bed and head at the foot) when I heard the dog howl. She had herself a little doggy dream. I find her little barks and such cute when I'm awake and watching her little paws twitch and her cheeks puff out as she sleep barks but not when it wakes me up.
I gave up and got out of bed. Just as I was ready to go back to bed Gavin woke up. I resettled him as it was about 5:30. About 6:00 he started chattering, by 6:30 he started crying. About 6:31 I started crying. Ryan was in the shower so I had to get up.
By time he got out of the shower Gavin was in his high chair eating his cut up whole grain toaster waffle and milk and I was sitting in the middle of the living room crying. I just sorted his alphabooks and put them back in the box - I was too tired to try and find the two missing letters. Ryan came over and patted my back. I cried even more, "I'm so tired," and threw the box of alphabooks in Gavins empty kiddy chair. Then I blubbered on about hating pregnancy sounding a bit like the Muppet Beaker.
Ryan told me to go back to bed and I said I would try for an hour. I slept solidly for about 40 minutes - I could have slept much longer but I didn't want Ryan to miss work on my account. When I got up he said I could go back to sleep but I told him what I got was able to get me past the crazy state.
I drove Ryan to work and took Gavin and myself to Westwood Village to get him some sandals that don't fall off and me some shoes that don't give me calluses. On the way home Gavin started to fall asleep. I panicked when I saw that so I started handing him goldfish and talking chipper to him. Of all days to take a nap in the car today was not an option. I managed to keep him awake but just barely. Today is a day when a nap for him is required because I need a nap. But its not going to happen. He's in his crib fighting it right now as I write this. I hope it I write long enough he'll just go to sleep. How can he not take a nap? He woke up so early and was so grumpy - he needs a nap and I need him to take a nap.
I'm going to go and try to resettle him. Wish me luck.
And sleep.
And sanity.
****
Settle he did not. He was hungry. He ate some banana, a few raisins and one bite of the same rice he devoured last night. An hour later I was able to lay him back down. I'm waiting for him to fall asleep before I try - if I fall asleep and he wakes up screaming after 15 minutes it will be much worse than not sleeping at all.
So, I guess I pretty well covered the hate part of pregnancy. In a nutshell, I hate that I am operating on such little sleep that I am not able to fully enjoy my time with Gavin. I don't want to be mentally absent, crabby and sluggish in our last bit of time alone. Plus feeling so negative about pregnancy makes me feel like I'm being negative towards the little baby in me - and that I'm an ingrate for being blessed with this little life in me. To be clear - I am thrilled to have this little person in me but I'm less than thrilled with the many other physical manifestations of pregnancy.
Of course I hate that I'm not one of those women who just love pregnancy and everything that it comes with. Of course, most women who just love pregnancy seem to have no ill side effects beyond first trimester morning sickness. No swelling, no stretch mark, no aches and pains. I see them look at me with quizzical eyes when they sense my maternal glow is from being so darn hot and not from warm fuzzies floating about me. It seems odd to hate the very thing that brings you such a wonderful little human. One that will make you love deeper than you thought possible. One that will make you wonder how you ever lived without seeing a baby chomp on his own toes. One that will break your heart when it cries in pain.
I am 21 weeks and am entering into the part of the pregnancy that I hate, although it turns out I'm hating it for different reasons this time around.
With Gavin I felt drained all day, every day. Then of course there was the lack of ankles, feet that felt like they would splice open at any given moment from the swelling, fat sausage fingers that felt so taut that bending them could be a tad uncomfortable, the asthma and hip and back pain... plus the 3+ trips to the bathroom every night to pee two drops worth.
This pregnancy feels much more mild thus far; I guess there is still plenty of time for it go south. I believe this time last year I was already having difficulty breathing, my ankles were long gone and I was actually making more trips to the bathroom and the hip pain was much, much worse (probably because I sat in a chair for 8 hours a day).
So, if it is so much less awful this time why would I hate still hate it? I'll tell you why. It all revolves around sleep. For the past three weeks I have been waking up between 2:30 and 4:30 in the morning. I lay there like a good girl and try to fall back asleep. Then my brain slowly turns on and before you know it I have a hundred thoughts running through my head. I try so hard when I get up to go the bathroom to remain in a somewhat sleepy state. I only half open my eyes and repeat, "stay asleep" in my head over and over. Then when I crawl back in bed I lay there half expecting to fall back asleep. But no... my brain is fully engaged.
After about a half hour of just hoping I'll fall back asleep I give up and grab Ryan's Nintendo DS and play hearts. Sometimes I'll get bored enough to turn it off and close my eyes but sleep doesn't follow. After a half hour of stupid games I succumb to wakefulness and get out of bed. I check my e-mail and get on facebook to see who else is up and what happened since I went to bed -usually not much has happened.
About 6:00-6:30 I'm ready to climb back in bed for the deepest, most relaxing sleep of the 'night'. Between 7:00-7:30 Gavin wakes up. If Ryan is still home he'll get him out of his crib and bring him to me. I let him crawl over me in the bed for a few minutes before I drag myself out of bed. Then I throw my pillow on the floor in the living room and lay down. If I'm lucky Gavin wants to read books. He brings me a "boo" and I hold it over my face so he can't see my eyes closed and I recite the books from memory. If I'm unlucky - which I have been this week he puts his hand to his mouth and says, "me, me, me, me, me, me" - which means in Gavin speak "Feed me". Then I get to put the hungry toddler in his high chair as he begins to whine because his food does not magically appear on his tray as soon as its snapped in place.
Whining, especially in the morning when you are running on empty, is especially annoying. I have zero tolerance for whining. Zero.
After breakfast I try to do some form of cleaning - usually the kitchen from the night before but that doesn't last long because Gavin is soon clinging to my leg asking me to read him another "boo" or he is trying to climb on dining room chairs so he can climb onto the dining room table. Oy.
At some point I manage to get dressed and we can leave the house to do something, anything. Although it appears my days of shopping with Gavin are coming to an end. He is always trying to climb out of the cart or slip out of the stroller and he screams when I try to put him back.
I could handle the toddler behavior a little bit more if I wasn't so tired all of the time. We are down to our last four months of just the two of us (during the day) and I want to enjoy our summer time together before the new baby arrives this fall when the weather turns wet and gloomy. Its so hard to feel like a good mom when you are so tired you just want to lay on the floor and hope that your toddler is content climbing on you like a jungle gym. That certainly won't win me the most engaging mom of the year award.
And then there is today of course. After my midnight waking I managed to lull myself back to sleep (feet at the head of the bed and head at the foot) when I heard the dog howl. She had herself a little doggy dream. I find her little barks and such cute when I'm awake and watching her little paws twitch and her cheeks puff out as she sleep barks but not when it wakes me up.
I gave up and got out of bed. Just as I was ready to go back to bed Gavin woke up. I resettled him as it was about 5:30. About 6:00 he started chattering, by 6:30 he started crying. About 6:31 I started crying. Ryan was in the shower so I had to get up.
By time he got out of the shower Gavin was in his high chair eating his cut up whole grain toaster waffle and milk and I was sitting in the middle of the living room crying. I just sorted his alphabooks and put them back in the box - I was too tired to try and find the two missing letters. Ryan came over and patted my back. I cried even more, "I'm so tired," and threw the box of alphabooks in Gavins empty kiddy chair. Then I blubbered on about hating pregnancy sounding a bit like the Muppet Beaker.
Ryan told me to go back to bed and I said I would try for an hour. I slept solidly for about 40 minutes - I could have slept much longer but I didn't want Ryan to miss work on my account. When I got up he said I could go back to sleep but I told him what I got was able to get me past the crazy state.
I drove Ryan to work and took Gavin and myself to Westwood Village to get him some sandals that don't fall off and me some shoes that don't give me calluses. On the way home Gavin started to fall asleep. I panicked when I saw that so I started handing him goldfish and talking chipper to him. Of all days to take a nap in the car today was not an option. I managed to keep him awake but just barely. Today is a day when a nap for him is required because I need a nap. But its not going to happen. He's in his crib fighting it right now as I write this. I hope it I write long enough he'll just go to sleep. How can he not take a nap? He woke up so early and was so grumpy - he needs a nap and I need him to take a nap.
I'm going to go and try to resettle him. Wish me luck.
And sleep.
And sanity.
****
Settle he did not. He was hungry. He ate some banana, a few raisins and one bite of the same rice he devoured last night. An hour later I was able to lay him back down. I'm waiting for him to fall asleep before I try - if I fall asleep and he wakes up screaming after 15 minutes it will be much worse than not sleeping at all.
So, I guess I pretty well covered the hate part of pregnancy. In a nutshell, I hate that I am operating on such little sleep that I am not able to fully enjoy my time with Gavin. I don't want to be mentally absent, crabby and sluggish in our last bit of time alone. Plus feeling so negative about pregnancy makes me feel like I'm being negative towards the little baby in me - and that I'm an ingrate for being blessed with this little life in me. To be clear - I am thrilled to have this little person in me but I'm less than thrilled with the many other physical manifestations of pregnancy.
Of course I hate that I'm not one of those women who just love pregnancy and everything that it comes with. Of course, most women who just love pregnancy seem to have no ill side effects beyond first trimester morning sickness. No swelling, no stretch mark, no aches and pains. I see them look at me with quizzical eyes when they sense my maternal glow is from being so darn hot and not from warm fuzzies floating about me. It seems odd to hate the very thing that brings you such a wonderful little human. One that will make you love deeper than you thought possible. One that will make you wonder how you ever lived without seeing a baby chomp on his own toes. One that will break your heart when it cries in pain.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
The Cost of 3 Stiches
A couple of months ago I gave myself a nice puncture wound via a blender blade. I ended up in the ER for about 6 hours. My time there was pretty uneventful; afterall I just received three stiches and a weak dose of lidocaine.
What does 6 hours in an ER, one shot of lidocaine and three stiches cost these days? $1,189.00
I've had cars that cost less than those three stiches. That was double the rent on my first apartment - it's more than the mortgage on our rental. I am very thankful that we have health insurance - even if it was lousy coverage (as compared to the insurance provided by Ryan's employers) - because we are only responsible for $276.19.
The amount we owe seems a little more reasonable for the entire charge. Was I billed for the actual time spent in the ER? Do they realize how little time I saw any one person for?
By the way, the ER trip was on February 8th and I received the bill today - June 2nd. Before Regence would pay the bill they had to ask me a bunch of questions in a form to make sure they couldn't sue someone else to make them pay for what happened.
I also received a bill today for an ultrasound I had recently. The radiology department billed my insurance company $996 for the ultrasound but they have some sort of deal with my insurance company (I imagine twisted arms are involved) and wa-lah the cost is magically reduced to $579.46. Does that mean if I was poor and couldn't afford insurance I would have to pay the full $996 for the ultrasound? I had a dentist in Vancouver (Dr. Lee on 164th Ave NE & NE 18th St - who is excellent, by the way) who gave me a 5% cash discount because I paid cash. I don't know if he normally did that for me or if he just felt bad because I was a working student - either way I was grateful for the discount.
Someone explained to me that healthcare providers can't give cash discounts because that is considered price fixing or insurance fraud - something pretty naughty. So they charge far more than the service actually costs knowing full well the insurance company will try to haggle them down to nothing for payment. I love having health insurance but it is such a pain knowing that you are paying a little over $700 a month (with it going up $100 every year) and you still have to haggle with payments. We could have bought a cheaper health plan but the cheaper ones don't cover pregnancy and if there is ever a time to have insurance it is when you are pregnant because even the routine care is spendy - let alone if you have complications.
The days of paying out of pocket for 100% of our health insurance is behind us for now. To have Gavin and myself insured through Ryan's employer is a little over $200 a month - so we are saving about $500. PLUS we have no more car payments!!! WOO-HOO!
What does 6 hours in an ER, one shot of lidocaine and three stiches cost these days? $1,189.00
I've had cars that cost less than those three stiches. That was double the rent on my first apartment - it's more than the mortgage on our rental. I am very thankful that we have health insurance - even if it was lousy coverage (as compared to the insurance provided by Ryan's employers) - because we are only responsible for $276.19.
The amount we owe seems a little more reasonable for the entire charge. Was I billed for the actual time spent in the ER? Do they realize how little time I saw any one person for?
By the way, the ER trip was on February 8th and I received the bill today - June 2nd. Before Regence would pay the bill they had to ask me a bunch of questions in a form to make sure they couldn't sue someone else to make them pay for what happened.
I also received a bill today for an ultrasound I had recently. The radiology department billed my insurance company $996 for the ultrasound but they have some sort of deal with my insurance company (I imagine twisted arms are involved) and wa-lah the cost is magically reduced to $579.46. Does that mean if I was poor and couldn't afford insurance I would have to pay the full $996 for the ultrasound? I had a dentist in Vancouver (Dr. Lee on 164th Ave NE & NE 18th St - who is excellent, by the way) who gave me a 5% cash discount because I paid cash. I don't know if he normally did that for me or if he just felt bad because I was a working student - either way I was grateful for the discount.
Someone explained to me that healthcare providers can't give cash discounts because that is considered price fixing or insurance fraud - something pretty naughty. So they charge far more than the service actually costs knowing full well the insurance company will try to haggle them down to nothing for payment. I love having health insurance but it is such a pain knowing that you are paying a little over $700 a month (with it going up $100 every year) and you still have to haggle with payments. We could have bought a cheaper health plan but the cheaper ones don't cover pregnancy and if there is ever a time to have insurance it is when you are pregnant because even the routine care is spendy - let alone if you have complications.
The days of paying out of pocket for 100% of our health insurance is behind us for now. To have Gavin and myself insured through Ryan's employer is a little over $200 a month - so we are saving about $500. PLUS we have no more car payments!!! WOO-HOO!
Baby Names
Don't get too excited about the post title because I'm on the fence about broadcasting the names we like this time around. I have been pretty open about names that I like and have had some pretty vehement opposition to a few names I really, really like. Of course the vehement opposition and foaming at the mouth make me want to use those particular names even more but Ryan does not feel the same way. I guess I mostly want to keep the few names we both like under wraps so as to keep Ryan from getting spooked because he does read this from time to time nowadays.
I will, however give you some names that I adore but are probably not going to happen because we can't get a consensus between the two of us or because other people's foaming at the mouth at the mention of the name turned part of the party off to it or because it just doesn't 'work'.
Desmond - to be called Dez. I don't care what anyone says - I really like this name. If Ryan changed his mind I would pick it. A lot of people just don't like it but I think our awesome little dude would become that Desmond that other people would say of, "I knew a Desmond, he was a really nice guy," and have a positive association with the name. Ryan's the one who first brought this name to the table.
Gabriel - to be called Gabe. If we named #2 something that start with a 'G' we would feel obligated to name #3 with a 'G' as well. We don't want to be "that" family. Plus it's Sylar's real name on Heroes.
Elijah - to be called Eli. I LOVE this name but Ryan thinks its too biblical (he just doesn't like it).
Ezra - a friend named her baby Ezra and Ryan doesn't like it for his son. If he's not keen on Elijah then Ezra does seem even more exotic.
Zachariah - to be called Zach. Heck, I just like the name Zach but Ryan is anti one-syllable names since our last name is so short and I would only go with Zachariah to get the nickname Zach.
Jack - put it together; it doesn't work unless you are a California surfer dude singing mellow tunes.
Luke - too short and there is NO way I would do Lucas (went to school with a kid we called Lucas Pucas - well, I didn't call him that but I thought it). I do think I did call one kid by his nickname, Yelly Kelly - I don't recall if his name was actually Kelly - I think he was just loud and really, what else goes with Yelly?
Charley - It's so darn cute but it seems like he would need a more grown up name for adult hood.
Henry - It just seems so cute for a little boy. Of course, this name also causes people to sputter and spew - that and it's too popular in Seattle. And Ryan doesn't like it.
Keaton - Ryan doesn't like that it's a last name.
Isaac - it's growing in popularity (a negative for me) plus I don't think Ryan is as on-board with it as he was the last time around. That and I don't want to give #2 a name we decided against the first time 'round. Would he feel like a runner up?
Ethan - Ryan really, really, really likes this name but it is insanely popular. Plus it is the name of a pseudo-villain from the first season of Lost. He's the creepy dude who tried to kill Charlie.
Colin - this one is all Ryan. I don't like the name because of a kid I grew up with named Colin - that and its too close to colon in my head. Everyone else likes the name, though.
Milo - yep, it's kind of old but I like it nonetheless
Miles - I like it but its off the table because it just doesn't seem right to have a transportation engineer name his child Miles.
Nathan - I don't like the full name but like the one-syllable nickname, Nate.
Sawyer - I liked the name last time but I like it even more this time. Most people dislike it. I think Ryan likes the name but not for his son. Of course, one of our favorite TV shows has a character named Sawyer so that doesn't help matters.
That's about it for names we are not using (unless Ryan has a change of heart for some reason).
Don't try to pressure me into giving you a list of names we like because that will only strengthen my resolve to not do it.
I will, however give you some names that I adore but are probably not going to happen because we can't get a consensus between the two of us or because other people's foaming at the mouth at the mention of the name turned part of the party off to it or because it just doesn't 'work'.
Desmond - to be called Dez. I don't care what anyone says - I really like this name. If Ryan changed his mind I would pick it. A lot of people just don't like it but I think our awesome little dude would become that Desmond that other people would say of, "I knew a Desmond, he was a really nice guy," and have a positive association with the name. Ryan's the one who first brought this name to the table.
Gabriel - to be called Gabe. If we named #2 something that start with a 'G' we would feel obligated to name #3 with a 'G' as well. We don't want to be "that" family. Plus it's Sylar's real name on Heroes.
Elijah - to be called Eli. I LOVE this name but Ryan thinks its too biblical (he just doesn't like it).
Ezra - a friend named her baby Ezra and Ryan doesn't like it for his son. If he's not keen on Elijah then Ezra does seem even more exotic.
Zachariah - to be called Zach. Heck, I just like the name Zach but Ryan is anti one-syllable names since our last name is so short and I would only go with Zachariah to get the nickname Zach.
Jack - put it together; it doesn't work unless you are a California surfer dude singing mellow tunes.
Luke - too short and there is NO way I would do Lucas (went to school with a kid we called Lucas Pucas - well, I didn't call him that but I thought it). I do think I did call one kid by his nickname, Yelly Kelly - I don't recall if his name was actually Kelly - I think he was just loud and really, what else goes with Yelly?
Charley - It's so darn cute but it seems like he would need a more grown up name for adult hood.
Henry - It just seems so cute for a little boy. Of course, this name also causes people to sputter and spew - that and it's too popular in Seattle. And Ryan doesn't like it.
Keaton - Ryan doesn't like that it's a last name.
Isaac - it's growing in popularity (a negative for me) plus I don't think Ryan is as on-board with it as he was the last time around. That and I don't want to give #2 a name we decided against the first time 'round. Would he feel like a runner up?
Ethan - Ryan really, really, really likes this name but it is insanely popular. Plus it is the name of a pseudo-villain from the first season of Lost. He's the creepy dude who tried to kill Charlie.
Colin - this one is all Ryan. I don't like the name because of a kid I grew up with named Colin - that and its too close to colon in my head. Everyone else likes the name, though.
Milo - yep, it's kind of old but I like it nonetheless
Miles - I like it but its off the table because it just doesn't seem right to have a transportation engineer name his child Miles.
Nathan - I don't like the full name but like the one-syllable nickname, Nate.
Sawyer - I liked the name last time but I like it even more this time. Most people dislike it. I think Ryan likes the name but not for his son. Of course, one of our favorite TV shows has a character named Sawyer so that doesn't help matters.
That's about it for names we are not using (unless Ryan has a change of heart for some reason).
Don't try to pressure me into giving you a list of names we like because that will only strengthen my resolve to not do it.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
10,000 - 25,000 - 25,001 - 30,000 - 100,000!!!
While in Westwood Village the other day I stopped at Barnes and Noble to look for a baby name book. While their selection did not look formidable at first, there were about ten books to choose from, reading the titles of the books nearly sent me over the edge.
When I made a search on-line and read through over 3,000 names I thought that was a bit much but a book with 10,000 names? That seems a bit much. But no! There was another book with 25,000 names. And don't forget the new, revised version of the same book with 25,000 names. Or to hopefully get an extra reader or two there was the book with 25,001 baby names. Does that one extra name make it more desirable than the book with a paltry 25,000 names?
Then there was a peculiar thing, the next book contained 30,000 names and after that it went straight to 100,000!
Really? 100,000 names? What's wrong with 50,000 or 75,000 names that they had to skip them altogether. It seems there is a market for some more baby name books. You know, for the person who isn't satisfied with 30,000 choices but is overwhelmed with the thought of reading 100,000.
There were some funky names in the 100,000 names book. Do I really want to name my child Kamalapurakalanucha after an Indian deity? (I totally made that up)... but really. Where are they getting this great multitude of names? And furthermore, who is buying it?
Barnes and Noble didn't get my business. Instead I went to Target where I knew their baby name book selection would be more manageable. And it was. I picked up Baby Name Wizard and nowhere on the cover does it say it has more names than you have time to read before your child arrives.
When I made a search on-line and read through over 3,000 names I thought that was a bit much but a book with 10,000 names? That seems a bit much. But no! There was another book with 25,000 names. And don't forget the new, revised version of the same book with 25,000 names. Or to hopefully get an extra reader or two there was the book with 25,001 baby names. Does that one extra name make it more desirable than the book with a paltry 25,000 names?
Then there was a peculiar thing, the next book contained 30,000 names and after that it went straight to 100,000!
Really? 100,000 names? What's wrong with 50,000 or 75,000 names that they had to skip them altogether. It seems there is a market for some more baby name books. You know, for the person who isn't satisfied with 30,000 choices but is overwhelmed with the thought of reading 100,000.
There were some funky names in the 100,000 names book. Do I really want to name my child Kamalapurakalanucha after an Indian deity? (I totally made that up)... but really. Where are they getting this great multitude of names? And furthermore, who is buying it?
Barnes and Noble didn't get my business. Instead I went to Target where I knew their baby name book selection would be more manageable. And it was. I picked up Baby Name Wizard and nowhere on the cover does it say it has more names than you have time to read before your child arrives.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
It's a boy & I'm FREAKING out!
In case you missed it, baby #2 is a boy!
We were kind of shocked to learn it was a boy because I think most parents expect a baby of the opposite gender with their second child. That and with all of the timing of everything as it just so happened it would seem to indicate a girl would most likely be the end product. When I told my sister-in-law this she freaked out since she wants her third child to be a girl like a pageant mom wants her daughter to be Miss America - and she does plan accordingly. All must be aligned; if she weren't Christian I'm sure sorcerers would be hired to make special potions and concoctions to draw all of the 'x' chromosomes.
Before we got preggo and before I did any math in my head I was fine with either gender. It would be nice to have a girl but at the same time I am having so much fun with Gavin and love him so much that another boy would be great, too.
Then I had to go and think it was a girl and I started to look at girl stuff - mostly clothes. Girl clothes are so cute. There are such cute dresses and tights and shoes and bows for the hair that I let myself get carried away.
Then my little dream of a little girl vanished. I just stared at the ultraound screen and his little boy part and fought back a few tears for the girl I wasn't going to have. I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want my voice to crack.
Almost as quickly as I thought, "It's not a girl," and realized I was sad about it I instantly felt like a horrible mother to my little boy. I don't want him to ever think that I would rather have a girl in place of him. I just had to adjust the reality of having a boy with the vision I had of having a girl.
If this little guy is half as cuddly as Gavin is then I'm going to be especially blessed.
Ryan was telling me in the ultrasound room how much fun Gavin and his brother are going to have playing together. Of course I was still in a bit of shock and instead of smiling at my husband trying to comfort me I snapped at him. I guess I take it personally when people tell me Gavin is so lucky to have a brother because I am the second child - my older sibling is a boy. Did that make my brother unlucky to have me as a sibling? Did we not have fun playing together? Would his childhood had been better if I had been a boy? I know they are just trying to be nice and helpful and show me how wonderful it is going to be. It really is unfortunate for Ryan that he isnt' a mind reader.
Of course I am excited now to have this little boy. I wouldn't trade him or his brother for a girl. How could I? My little G is the best thing to have ever happened to me. Even on days when I reach my breaking point and wish I could escape for a day or two and be in complete solitude after a couple of hours of being away (or if he is taking a really long nap) I miss the little turkey. Of course with #2 being a boy it makes it even more likely that there will be a #3.
I am 19 weeks and a half weeks right now - if #2 comes stays in as long as Gavin did then I'm past halfway but will officially be halfway as of Saturday. This pregnancy is going by so much faster than the first. Part of me is glad its going by fast because the blah parts of pregnancy are also going by fast but the other part of me wants time to slow down so I can soak up as much one-on-one time with Gavin as I can.
My biggest concern right now is how I'm going to share Gavin. It was only a couple of days ago that I realized the way I was framing the question, "How am I going to share Gavin?" was a little skewed. It is Gavin that is going to have to share me but in my head it is I who is sharing him. I don't know how I'm going to deal with not having so much time with my little G-man.
Am I going to end up being the world's grumpiest mom to Gavin? Is baby #2 going to be a horrible sleeper like Gavin was? Sure, Gavin was a mellow little dude as he didn't scream much but he also didn't sleep much. He woke up every 90 minutes - 2 hours for the first several months then went down to 2-3 hours then 3-4 hours until he finally started sleeping through the night when he was 14 months old!!!
Is my house going to fall into complete disarray and utter chaos? (Or even more disarray and greater chaos)? How am I going to do laundry and vacuum up all of the freakin' dog hair (she's ten times worse than the cats) and make Gavin lunch when I am running on zero sleep? How am I going to have the energy to play with my little G when I'm so tired that I cry when I see a tiny patch of dog hair that I missed with the vacuum and am too crazy to leave it alone and drag out the vacuum cleaner to vacuum up the stray dog hairs I missed on the first pass?
How?
Short of becoming rich and hiring a nanny - how am I going to do this and still be a decent mom to my little guys?
If, especially after reading that freak out, you think I'm crazy for wanting three kids. If you think two is plenty and I should be content with having two kids instead of three and have reasons enough to write a novel about the virtues of two children versus three, that is fine. Write the novel on why it is better to have two kids instead of three - just don't give me a copy of the book.
Oh, and don't get cute and say, "But, April, I thought you wanted four kids!" Four is still on the table. The above paragraph applies to comments about having four children as well. I know all of the reasons to not have more kids and I don't want to hear it anymore.
Ooh, look at me getting all grumpy. Maybe its time I try to go back to sleep.
We were kind of shocked to learn it was a boy because I think most parents expect a baby of the opposite gender with their second child. That and with all of the timing of everything as it just so happened it would seem to indicate a girl would most likely be the end product. When I told my sister-in-law this she freaked out since she wants her third child to be a girl like a pageant mom wants her daughter to be Miss America - and she does plan accordingly. All must be aligned; if she weren't Christian I'm sure sorcerers would be hired to make special potions and concoctions to draw all of the 'x' chromosomes.
Before we got preggo and before I did any math in my head I was fine with either gender. It would be nice to have a girl but at the same time I am having so much fun with Gavin and love him so much that another boy would be great, too.
Then I had to go and think it was a girl and I started to look at girl stuff - mostly clothes. Girl clothes are so cute. There are such cute dresses and tights and shoes and bows for the hair that I let myself get carried away.
Then my little dream of a little girl vanished. I just stared at the ultraound screen and his little boy part and fought back a few tears for the girl I wasn't going to have. I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want my voice to crack.
Almost as quickly as I thought, "It's not a girl," and realized I was sad about it I instantly felt like a horrible mother to my little boy. I don't want him to ever think that I would rather have a girl in place of him. I just had to adjust the reality of having a boy with the vision I had of having a girl.
If this little guy is half as cuddly as Gavin is then I'm going to be especially blessed.
Ryan was telling me in the ultrasound room how much fun Gavin and his brother are going to have playing together. Of course I was still in a bit of shock and instead of smiling at my husband trying to comfort me I snapped at him. I guess I take it personally when people tell me Gavin is so lucky to have a brother because I am the second child - my older sibling is a boy. Did that make my brother unlucky to have me as a sibling? Did we not have fun playing together? Would his childhood had been better if I had been a boy? I know they are just trying to be nice and helpful and show me how wonderful it is going to be. It really is unfortunate for Ryan that he isnt' a mind reader.
Of course I am excited now to have this little boy. I wouldn't trade him or his brother for a girl. How could I? My little G is the best thing to have ever happened to me. Even on days when I reach my breaking point and wish I could escape for a day or two and be in complete solitude after a couple of hours of being away (or if he is taking a really long nap) I miss the little turkey. Of course with #2 being a boy it makes it even more likely that there will be a #3.
I am 19 weeks and a half weeks right now - if #2 comes stays in as long as Gavin did then I'm past halfway but will officially be halfway as of Saturday. This pregnancy is going by so much faster than the first. Part of me is glad its going by fast because the blah parts of pregnancy are also going by fast but the other part of me wants time to slow down so I can soak up as much one-on-one time with Gavin as I can.
My biggest concern right now is how I'm going to share Gavin. It was only a couple of days ago that I realized the way I was framing the question, "How am I going to share Gavin?" was a little skewed. It is Gavin that is going to have to share me but in my head it is I who is sharing him. I don't know how I'm going to deal with not having so much time with my little G-man.
Am I going to end up being the world's grumpiest mom to Gavin? Is baby #2 going to be a horrible sleeper like Gavin was? Sure, Gavin was a mellow little dude as he didn't scream much but he also didn't sleep much. He woke up every 90 minutes - 2 hours for the first several months then went down to 2-3 hours then 3-4 hours until he finally started sleeping through the night when he was 14 months old!!!
Is my house going to fall into complete disarray and utter chaos? (Or even more disarray and greater chaos)? How am I going to do laundry and vacuum up all of the freakin' dog hair (she's ten times worse than the cats) and make Gavin lunch when I am running on zero sleep? How am I going to have the energy to play with my little G when I'm so tired that I cry when I see a tiny patch of dog hair that I missed with the vacuum and am too crazy to leave it alone and drag out the vacuum cleaner to vacuum up the stray dog hairs I missed on the first pass?
How?
Short of becoming rich and hiring a nanny - how am I going to do this and still be a decent mom to my little guys?
If, especially after reading that freak out, you think I'm crazy for wanting three kids. If you think two is plenty and I should be content with having two kids instead of three and have reasons enough to write a novel about the virtues of two children versus three, that is fine. Write the novel on why it is better to have two kids instead of three - just don't give me a copy of the book.
Oh, and don't get cute and say, "But, April, I thought you wanted four kids!" Four is still on the table. The above paragraph applies to comments about having four children as well. I know all of the reasons to not have more kids and I don't want to hear it anymore.
Ooh, look at me getting all grumpy. Maybe its time I try to go back to sleep.
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