Yeah. Ya know the Johnson and Johnson commercials with a smiling, laughing mom sweetly massaging her beautiful smiling baby with baby lotion - in an all white bedroom, sun streaming through the spotless window? My lotion must be broken.
For some reason, when I attempt this, I am wearing sweats, my hair completely disheveled, and Greyson is either screaming, or spitting up Linda Blair style - in a nursery with a toxic smelling diaper genie and burp cloths on every surface. I demand a refund.
The truth is - as I have mentioned numerous times before - parenting is HARD. Rewarding beyond measure, but HARD. Its even harder when your child has issues that you don't understand and, quite frankly, scare you to death.
Take the latest development in Greyson's short little life: tracheomalacia. Google it. Basically my kiddo has a floppy trachea. I like to put it that way because it just sounds less serious than "a condition characterized by the flaccidity of the tracheal support cartilage which leads to tracheal collapse, especially when increased airflow is demanded". Wouldn't you agree? Poor little Grey was recently diagnosed with this condition after his persistent mother demanded someone explain why my child was experiencing all of these symptoms.
No one likes to be "that" mom. The one who calls the pediatrician all the time with concerns that their child is all but dying. I did that with MC. I was determined to be more laid back with numero dos. HOWEVER, when you know something isn't right, you just KNOW. Grey's breathing was growing increasingly concerning (high pitched gasping sounds, or low, deep congested rattling) and he was choking every time he tried to eat. Factor in constant spitting up because he is sucking in so much air when he's choking and you have the recipe for a crying mom scouring the Internet for answers.
I had mentioned these symptoms to his regular pediatrician, but, again, not wanting to be "that" mom, I tried not to make a big deal about them. When she didn't seem concerned and said it was probably just his reflux, I tried to put my worries aside. She was a doctor - she would tell me if I should be concerned. However, that little mommy voice just kept saying "something isn't right!". I listened and after stumbling upon tracheomalacia in my late night crying fit, I knew I was on to something. Greyson had every listed symptom and when I played a video of a baby with the condition, Adam (who was sitting next to me on the couch but unable to see the screen) asked if I had video taped Grey to show the doctor. I told him that wasn't Greyson and we were both amazed that this baby sounded so much like him.
The next day I called the pediatrician office on a day I knew our regular pediatrician was out and scheduled an appointment with a different doctor. After describing Greyson's symptoms and showing her videos of him when he was making odd breathing sounds, she said it sounds like tracheomalacia and referred us to a pediatric pulmonologist. She said that if it was just noisy breathing she probably wouldn't do anything, however since he is having such issues feeding we need to explore it further. She said the pulmonologist would probably want to do a swallow test where they will put dye in his formula and then do an x-ray to ensure he isn't aspirating liquid into his lungs. I am PRAYING his case isn't severe (most children simply outgrow the condition between 18 and 24 months once the trachea has a chance to harden appropriately) and we don't have to do any further testing or treatment.
With that being said, Greyson now has tracheomalacia, thrush, and acid reflux. Parenting is HARD. The Johnson's didn't succeed in turning my life into a happy, smiley commercial but maybe it will at least make the stink smell a little better ;)
Showing posts with label messy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label messy. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Under Pressure
Aside from being one of my favorite songs, "UnderPpressure" could be the soundtrack to my life lately. My husband says I get too personal and share entirely too much information on my blog, but my "facebook front" has to be shed and the question in my head must be asked...
Who has it flippin' together?
Allow me to clarify. I am one of those guilty parties who constantly compares myself to others. I question whether I measure up and, if I don't, how can change? Now, I personally think this can be a good thing at times. I think wanting to be a better person, mother, wife, etc. is important no matter where the motivation might come from. However, let's face it - constantly comparing yourself to other people is self depricating and destructive - you will NEVER measure up..... or do you and you just don't know it? Do I have it more together than I give myself credit for?
Since baby number two has come along, my life has been turned upside down. Again. Previously when I stayed home with Maggie Claire I really felt I had it "together". I had our routine, I had TIME to keep the house spotless and scrumptious meals ready when Adam walked in the door. I organized a playgroup, devoted time to spiritual growth, couponed, exercised, and budgeted our finances. I was the picture of "togetherness".
Then, I began working. Let's just say that arriving home at 6:30 every night put a big damper on my ability to do all of the previously mentioned things. However, I slowly got into a routine and things got a little better. I still struggled with keeping the house clean and preparing those delicious meals, but I was surviving. I had my head above water.
Currently, my "togetherness" is non existant. I can't seem to keep my head above water and do all of the things I think I should be doing. We have been dealing with a fairly fussy baby this last week or so, and all my day consists of is feeding, changing, and desperately trying to get him to sleep (he will sleep great in my arms but the moment I put him down he starts crying). I have no time to get anything accomplished and when Adam gets home I feel as though I have little, if anything, to show for my day at home.
When he and MC arrive I then struggle with getting everyone fed, giving MC quality time, completing chores that didn't get done during the day, and tending to little Grey. Granted, Adam helps with all of these things, but its still a struggle to get everything completed in a few short hours.
With this new experience in our lives I can't help but wonder how so many women do it. DO THEY REALLY HAVE IT ALL TOGETHER? I wonder so often if they are some sort of super woman with special powers or if its all a front. Do these working women with two kids REALLY have a spotless house all the time? Are their children REALLY that well behaved all the time? Do they REALLY have plenty of quality time with their spouse? If you are one of these "super women" please tell me its a front. Please tell me if I were to stop by your house at 7:00pm on a weekday I would find your child screaming, your spouse chasing them, dinner not served, beds unmade, baskets of laundry on the floor, the sink full of dishes, the pantry unstocked, and you standing in the middle of it all like a deer in headlights. Please. Tell me thats the case.
I want to believe I'm not the only one who struggles with keeping it all together. Then, I see friends who are expecting their third child. Or hear Adam talk about the guy at work who just had his FIFTH. Obviously they have it together. If they didn't, they wouldn't be adding another kiddo to the mix. I can't even FATHOM having another child - I am barely functioning with two. How is it these people get it all done. How do these women keep it together under such pressure?
If you are one of those moms who does it all, please share the wealth. Write a book. Heck, write a blog. A short instructional guide would be highly appreciated. If you DON'T have it all together, please share that as well. Tell me you are also a big 'ole facebook fronter. Pretty please?
Who has it flippin' together?
Allow me to clarify. I am one of those guilty parties who constantly compares myself to others. I question whether I measure up and, if I don't, how can change? Now, I personally think this can be a good thing at times. I think wanting to be a better person, mother, wife, etc. is important no matter where the motivation might come from. However, let's face it - constantly comparing yourself to other people is self depricating and destructive - you will NEVER measure up..... or do you and you just don't know it? Do I have it more together than I give myself credit for?
Since baby number two has come along, my life has been turned upside down. Again. Previously when I stayed home with Maggie Claire I really felt I had it "together". I had our routine, I had TIME to keep the house spotless and scrumptious meals ready when Adam walked in the door. I organized a playgroup, devoted time to spiritual growth, couponed, exercised, and budgeted our finances. I was the picture of "togetherness".
Then, I began working. Let's just say that arriving home at 6:30 every night put a big damper on my ability to do all of the previously mentioned things. However, I slowly got into a routine and things got a little better. I still struggled with keeping the house clean and preparing those delicious meals, but I was surviving. I had my head above water.
Currently, my "togetherness" is non existant. I can't seem to keep my head above water and do all of the things I think I should be doing. We have been dealing with a fairly fussy baby this last week or so, and all my day consists of is feeding, changing, and desperately trying to get him to sleep (he will sleep great in my arms but the moment I put him down he starts crying). I have no time to get anything accomplished and when Adam gets home I feel as though I have little, if anything, to show for my day at home.
When he and MC arrive I then struggle with getting everyone fed, giving MC quality time, completing chores that didn't get done during the day, and tending to little Grey. Granted, Adam helps with all of these things, but its still a struggle to get everything completed in a few short hours.
With this new experience in our lives I can't help but wonder how so many women do it. DO THEY REALLY HAVE IT ALL TOGETHER? I wonder so often if they are some sort of super woman with special powers or if its all a front. Do these working women with two kids REALLY have a spotless house all the time? Are their children REALLY that well behaved all the time? Do they REALLY have plenty of quality time with their spouse? If you are one of these "super women" please tell me its a front. Please tell me if I were to stop by your house at 7:00pm on a weekday I would find your child screaming, your spouse chasing them, dinner not served, beds unmade, baskets of laundry on the floor, the sink full of dishes, the pantry unstocked, and you standing in the middle of it all like a deer in headlights. Please. Tell me thats the case.
I want to believe I'm not the only one who struggles with keeping it all together. Then, I see friends who are expecting their third child. Or hear Adam talk about the guy at work who just had his FIFTH. Obviously they have it together. If they didn't, they wouldn't be adding another kiddo to the mix. I can't even FATHOM having another child - I am barely functioning with two. How is it these people get it all done. How do these women keep it together under such pressure?
If you are one of those moms who does it all, please share the wealth. Write a book. Heck, write a blog. A short instructional guide would be highly appreciated. If you DON'T have it all together, please share that as well. Tell me you are also a big 'ole facebook fronter. Pretty please?
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Guilt Trip
It seems as though no matter how determined you are to not "guilt" yourself when you have a child, it inevitably happens. As before mentioned, this was my intent when I stopped breastfeeding - yet, here I am, covered in big 'ole pile of guilt.
Its amazing how certain memories come flooding back to you AFTER your second child is born. While pregnant, I remembered joyful days of loving on my precious baby. I remembered the elation when she first smiled, took those first steps, and said her first word. Now that Greyson is here, the OTHER memories have come flooding back - more specificially, feeding issues.
When I stopped breastfeeding MC we had immediate issues. Projectile "waterfall" spitups as I called them, constasnt crying and gas, and inability to sleep due to being uncomfortable. She was later diagnosed with acid reflux and after switching formulas 3 times, trying every bottle on the market, and experiementing with 4 reflux medications, we finally got things under control. I felt guilty for not breastfeeding, thinking we wouldn't have had nearly the headaches had I stuck with it. Low and behond, here I am in the same situation again.
Greyson started out doing great on the formula. Then, the waterfall came. The first time it happened I immediately got a tense feeling in my stomach - scared that we were in for the same ordeal as we had with MC. However, the rest of the day went on without any further exorcist episodes so I thought it might have just been a one time occurrence. When it happened again the next day, I rummaged through boxes and got out the only bottles that worked for MC. After a few feedings things were fine... then BAM. Waterfall spit up again. This has been going on at least once a day for about a week....
We saw the pediatrician Monday and I couldn't have been more excited to inquire about Greyson's new talent of long distance vomiting. She asked if he seemed to be upset during feedings (listing all of the symptoms we dealt with with MC) and I said no. He would spit up an entire bottle and seem a little hungry after the fact, but was basically a happy baby. He was gaining weight like a champ so she said at this point to just think of it as a laundry issue. I felt SO much better and vowed to myself that I wouldn't get stressed anymore (HA!).
Cut to today. The day from hell. No joke. I have been holding a crying baby pretty much all day. Everytime he eats, he takes a few swigs and starts choking - in turn swallowing a ton of air (I can actually hear the huge gulps of air as he swallows) This completely stresses me out as I know with all that air a projectile spit up is in our future. Sure enough, he spit up what looked to be at least two bottles of milk all over me, the couch, the accent pillow, and himself. Then, as I put him in his lamb chair to clean it up, he did it again. After I got him changed and laid him in his crib to clean the lamb chair, he spit up again (not a waterfall but just enough to run down his neck and onto his freshly changed outfit)- all the while acting hungry and screaming bloody murder. I tried desperately to console him and get him to sleep (at this point he had been awake ALL MORNING - ie at least 3 or 4 hours) but he just made faces, curled up, arched his back, and continued crying. I tried gas drops but that didnt help either. All that was left was for ME to cry.... and feel guilty. The immediate thought that entered my mind again - "this wouldn't be happening if I had kept breastfeeding." I'm being cursed because I was a selfish mommmy.
Ok. Maybe I don't completely believe that last statement - but I still feel horrible and stressed. Yesterday I told the pediatrician things were fine and today it has been a complete 180. Of course I can't be that neurotic mom who calls the day after an appointment when my child was "fine", and now claims they are certain he has acid reflux. All I know to do is wait a few days and THEN be the neurotic mom. I can't stand seeing my baby boy uncomfortable and my mommy intuition knows something is up!
As I mentioned before, apprently along with the entire birthing process, God also includes the first month of baby's life into a mommy's "offspring amnesia". (I am convinced women have complete amnesia when it comes to having children - if we remembered everything from the first time around every family in America would only have one child.)
While Grey is now sleeping (for the first time today - and its 5:00), I am already dreading that next bottle. I have a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat. I just pray I can make it through the next few days without having a complete nervous breakdown! I plan on calling the pediatrician by Thursday if this continues - prayers are always welcome that I make it til then!
Its amazing how certain memories come flooding back to you AFTER your second child is born. While pregnant, I remembered joyful days of loving on my precious baby. I remembered the elation when she first smiled, took those first steps, and said her first word. Now that Greyson is here, the OTHER memories have come flooding back - more specificially, feeding issues.
When I stopped breastfeeding MC we had immediate issues. Projectile "waterfall" spitups as I called them, constasnt crying and gas, and inability to sleep due to being uncomfortable. She was later diagnosed with acid reflux and after switching formulas 3 times, trying every bottle on the market, and experiementing with 4 reflux medications, we finally got things under control. I felt guilty for not breastfeeding, thinking we wouldn't have had nearly the headaches had I stuck with it. Low and behond, here I am in the same situation again.
Greyson started out doing great on the formula. Then, the waterfall came. The first time it happened I immediately got a tense feeling in my stomach - scared that we were in for the same ordeal as we had with MC. However, the rest of the day went on without any further exorcist episodes so I thought it might have just been a one time occurrence. When it happened again the next day, I rummaged through boxes and got out the only bottles that worked for MC. After a few feedings things were fine... then BAM. Waterfall spit up again. This has been going on at least once a day for about a week....
We saw the pediatrician Monday and I couldn't have been more excited to inquire about Greyson's new talent of long distance vomiting. She asked if he seemed to be upset during feedings (listing all of the symptoms we dealt with with MC) and I said no. He would spit up an entire bottle and seem a little hungry after the fact, but was basically a happy baby. He was gaining weight like a champ so she said at this point to just think of it as a laundry issue. I felt SO much better and vowed to myself that I wouldn't get stressed anymore (HA!).
Cut to today. The day from hell. No joke. I have been holding a crying baby pretty much all day. Everytime he eats, he takes a few swigs and starts choking - in turn swallowing a ton of air (I can actually hear the huge gulps of air as he swallows) This completely stresses me out as I know with all that air a projectile spit up is in our future. Sure enough, he spit up what looked to be at least two bottles of milk all over me, the couch, the accent pillow, and himself. Then, as I put him in his lamb chair to clean it up, he did it again. After I got him changed and laid him in his crib to clean the lamb chair, he spit up again (not a waterfall but just enough to run down his neck and onto his freshly changed outfit)- all the while acting hungry and screaming bloody murder. I tried desperately to console him and get him to sleep (at this point he had been awake ALL MORNING - ie at least 3 or 4 hours) but he just made faces, curled up, arched his back, and continued crying. I tried gas drops but that didnt help either. All that was left was for ME to cry.... and feel guilty. The immediate thought that entered my mind again - "this wouldn't be happening if I had kept breastfeeding." I'm being cursed because I was a selfish mommmy.
Ok. Maybe I don't completely believe that last statement - but I still feel horrible and stressed. Yesterday I told the pediatrician things were fine and today it has been a complete 180. Of course I can't be that neurotic mom who calls the day after an appointment when my child was "fine", and now claims they are certain he has acid reflux. All I know to do is wait a few days and THEN be the neurotic mom. I can't stand seeing my baby boy uncomfortable and my mommy intuition knows something is up!
As I mentioned before, apprently along with the entire birthing process, God also includes the first month of baby's life into a mommy's "offspring amnesia". (I am convinced women have complete amnesia when it comes to having children - if we remembered everything from the first time around every family in America would only have one child.)
While Grey is now sleeping (for the first time today - and its 5:00), I am already dreading that next bottle. I have a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat. I just pray I can make it through the next few days without having a complete nervous breakdown! I plan on calling the pediatrician by Thursday if this continues - prayers are always welcome that I make it til then!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
The Birth, The Breast, and The Beyond
I can't believe my sweet baby boy is here. Greyson Carter Martin was born on Monday, January 7, 2013 at 6:52 pm - weighing in at 7lbs 14oz and 22 inches long. My soul was overflowing, but as we all know, there is always a story with the birth of a baby. Here's our birth story.... and a little beyond, if you feel up to reading ;)
After almost a week went by since our little "false alarm", I couldn't believe this child still hadn't come. I was sure that he would be early and here we were, 3 days from our due date, and NOTHING. I decided to give up my aspirations of having my water break in the middle of Target and schedule our induction. I hated to go through the process again, knowing exactly what I was in for as we induced with MC, but I was READY.
Monday morning at 5:30am the hospital called and said to be there at 7:00am. We got everything loaded up and took off, ready for the long day ahead. When we arrived I was still 3cm and 80%, and Dr.A stripped my membranes (again) and broke my water to try to get things going. I proceeded to make laps around the maternity floor like a mouse in a maze in hopes of making some progress without pitocin. After an hour they checked me again and we were at 4cm. Ok. At least that's something. We made some more laps and my contractions started getting much more intense. After an hour of walking this time we returned to find we had progressed to 7cm. Woo Hoo! At this point I was READY for that epidural and after, we decided to give just a touch of pitocin (since I couldn't walk anymore) to see if we could speed up those last 3 centimeters. Boy did it work. Within 30 minutes we were at 10 and ready to start pushing. Oh goodness - here we go....
I have to say that at this point I was ridiculously nervous. I had asked the nurse a few minutes earlier if I was supposed to be able to move my legs and she said yes - that's the sign of a good epidural. I was somehow under the impression that NOT feeling anything would a be a "good" epidural, but remembering the story of a woman in our birthing class having difficulty pushing because she couldn't feel anything, it did make sense. I was scared and in pain but let's face it - there was only one way this kid was coming out and I didn't really have a choice in the matter.
They rolled in the mirror (yes, I requested a mirror this go-around. A woman in our birthing class said it was encouraging to see the progress she was making as she pushed instead of relying on second hand opinions so I thought I'd give it a whirl. I have to say it WAS helpful. Knowing and seeing that I was actually accomplishing something with each push kept me going...) We began pushing and it.was.tough. However, I was proud of the composure I was able to muster during this ridiculously painful ordeal. The first time around I think all I did was scream "GET HER OUT!!!!" and then scream some more. This time I focused on pushing and less on scaring every other woman on the maternity floor....
About 45 minutes later my sweet Greyson was in my arms. I felt such joy and relief that this process was over and I could now enjoy my beautiful son and my amazing husband. We took photos and video and spent the rest of the next few minutes nursing and staring at this amazing little life God blessed us with.
As Adam told me our parents and MC were here, he asked if I wanted some makeup. Odd question coming from a man. As confused as I was, I said "sure" and he blotted me down with powder foundation and blush. We let them all meet baby Grey and after they left I got up for the all important "bathroom test". Ya know, the fun test where you have to pee-pee in the toilet in front of a nurse to make sure they don't need to do a catheter. You would think these people would realize that trying to do your business as someone stares is not the most reasonable way, but, hey, what do I know....
As I made my way to the bathroom, I stopped in front of the mirror - WHAT THE HELL WAS ON MY FACE!!! I looked at my reflection and I was covered in purple splotches. I looked like someone had taken a purple marker and drawn circles and odd shapes all over my cheeks and forehead. I immidiately freaked out and asked the nurse what the heck was going on. She was like "oh, I just assumed that had always been there... you don't have acne scars or anything?" Uh, NO. Pre-baby my face was just fine, and now I look like a zombie.
As you can imagine I immediately asked my doctor when I saw her nex,t and she assured me it was fine. I had busted cappillaries in my face and developed brusing during all the pushing and she promised it would return to normal in about a week. I prayed she was right as we all know that after having a baby we all want to look as if we DIDN'T just have a baby to make everyone on facebook jealous. Well, I had no hope there so I just opted for as few pictures as possible....
The next few days were fantastic and little man was nursing like a champ. We had a lot of issues getting MC to latch, but as Adam quickly pointed out - Greyson is a boob man. That brings us to the next chapter - "The Breast". (Yes, this post is going to continue for two more chapters and will probably be the longest blog post in history. Feel free to take a brief intermission or complete some chores and come back later)
If you are a woman you know the pressure our society puts on us to breastfeed. I have no issues with that - it is best. Its medically proven to be the best thing for your child. HOWEVER, its just not for everyone. After I had MC I nursed for about 2 weeks and just couldn't do it anymore. I had horrible post partum depression, my husband was leaving to return to Iraq, I was living with my parents... it was just too much. I gave it up and faced the scrutiny of many many people and therefore felt INTENSE guilt. I wanted so badly to give it everything I had the second time around.
We were off to such a fantastic start with Grey that I just knew it was going to work. He dropped a slight bit of weight during those first few days, but before I left the hospital my milk was already coming in. We nursed and nursed and nursed. This little man was an insane eater. I was nursing every 2 hours, with each session lasting about an hour. That meant I sat on the couch for 1 hour, and then, an hour later it was time to do it again. I had enough milk for a small country of babies, I was extremely uncomfortable and, quite honestly, tired of sitting. I missed MC and felt she was being completely neglected - not something I enjoyed. I tried to stick with it but I knew at that point quitting was probably on the horizon. Logically I knew everything was going well, but something in me just wasn't ENJOYING it. I didn't go all granola and describe it as a beautiful bonding experience....I had a kid sucking on my boob every other hour for 24 hours straight. That was not beautiful. That was painful. And exhausting. I knew I had a lactation appointment in just a few days so I hung in there in hopes they would be able to shed some light on the whole experience and reassure me that I just needed to keep with it.
As Monday approached and I got ready for my appointment I felt good. I had just put on a pair of pre-baby jeans, did my makeup and hair, and felt like my old self. I went to the lactation appointment ready to take on the boob pushers...
When I arrived I was shocked at how friendly the entire staff was. The lactation consultant took me to our room and proceeded to weigh Greyson. She was shocked when she saw that he weighed in at 8lbs 2oz and was a week old. He had surpassed his birthweight in 7 days which was fantastic since apparently most newborns loose a good deal of weight and it takes much longer to return to that birthweight. She said obviously he was eating well and I was producing plenty of milk. I stared at my Dolly Parton breasts and shook my head in agreement.
At this point you then feed the baby in front of the consultant so they can help with any latching issues or answer questions you might have. Then, after the feeding they weigh the baby again to see exactly how many ounces he/she consumed. As I began nursing I asked typical questions and she answered them all very sweetly and repeatedly commented on how amazing I looked and what a great latch and technique we had. She was full of positive comments and praise and I felt like a breastfeeding rockstar to be honest. Then, the head of the lactation department came into the room with an interesting proposition....
As I sat there with my boob in my child's mouth, she asked if I would be interested in being a part of new marketing materials for the lactation department. Ummmm, what? She said if I felt comfortable, there was a photographer there who was going to take some photos for them to use in pamplets, handouts, signs, etc. She said she knew it was a lot to ask and if I didn't want to do it that was perfectly fine. I thought about it for a while and decided "what the heck?". After two kids "modesty" is not even part of my vocabulary, so why not have my breasts put out there for all of Charlotte to see? I knew Adam was going to murder me....
The photographer came in and proceeded to take pictures of me breastfeeding Greyson, talking with the lactation consultant, and trying out the new "Second Skin" sling I had purchased a few days before (which I HIGHLY reccomend by the way!!). It was kind of scary that I wasn't the least bit uncomfortable and I was looking forward to having some free photos of Grey and I (as I mentioned before, I had avoided all post-birthing photos due to my purple dot disorder..) Everything that had occurred at the appointment couldn't have been better. I was praised for our progress and told I was "amazing" about 547 times. However, as I returned home, I was still unsure of whether I wanted to continue this masquarade.
The next day was a complete 180. Greyson didn't sleep well that night so in addition to being super exhausted, he also decided it would be fun to cry and fuss most of the day. After 1.5 hours between feedings he was ready to eat again and I had literally reached my breaking point. He wouldn't sleep at all - due to his hunger I assumed, and I didn't know what else to do but cry. I decided then and there I was done. The poster child for breastfeeding (literally) was turning to formula.
That was an exhilirating decision I have to say. I thought back to my experience with MC and remembered how I repeatedly beat myself up for having called it quits. I got even more depressed and was convinced I was a a horrible mother.
This time around it was different. I had 3 years of parenting under my belt and I knew I was not a horrible mother. My "formula fed" baby was one of the smartest three year olds I had ever met and had never had any serious sickness to speak of . I was no perfect parent, but I knew I tried every single day to be the best I could be and always put my child first in every decision I made.
I knew to be the best parent I could be I had to stop. I was making myself crazy. I was crying, depressed, stressed, and none of those make for a happy home environment. I LIKE taking care of my family and I felt I couldn't do that to the degree I held myself accountable to with a newborn attached to my boob. Selfish? Maybe. But I didn't care. I firmly believe in the saying that if momma isn't happy, no one is happy.
As I sit here typing, staring at the cabbage leaves peaking out of my milk drenched bra, I know I will be judged. Most people will think I am a quitter or weak or selfish. We had the ideal situation for breastfeeding and I still threw in the towel. If you are one of those people who want to judge, go ahead. It's not going to ruin the fact that I.am.happy. I feel exhilirated and prepared to take on being a mommy to two kiddos. I have moved to "The Beyond" chapter and can't wait to experience all the joy of mothering my sweet boy.
I hope any other mommies out there who might be reading this also feel empowered to make the decision thats best for YOU and not feel guilty about it. YOUR health and happiness dictates the mood of your entire household and you can't raise happy children in an unhappy home. Can I get an amen?
Happy Wednesday everyone and hopefully soon I'll have some downtime to post a few photos of baby boy!!!
After almost a week went by since our little "false alarm", I couldn't believe this child still hadn't come. I was sure that he would be early and here we were, 3 days from our due date, and NOTHING. I decided to give up my aspirations of having my water break in the middle of Target and schedule our induction. I hated to go through the process again, knowing exactly what I was in for as we induced with MC, but I was READY.
Monday morning at 5:30am the hospital called and said to be there at 7:00am. We got everything loaded up and took off, ready for the long day ahead. When we arrived I was still 3cm and 80%, and Dr.A stripped my membranes (again) and broke my water to try to get things going. I proceeded to make laps around the maternity floor like a mouse in a maze in hopes of making some progress without pitocin. After an hour they checked me again and we were at 4cm. Ok. At least that's something. We made some more laps and my contractions started getting much more intense. After an hour of walking this time we returned to find we had progressed to 7cm. Woo Hoo! At this point I was READY for that epidural and after, we decided to give just a touch of pitocin (since I couldn't walk anymore) to see if we could speed up those last 3 centimeters. Boy did it work. Within 30 minutes we were at 10 and ready to start pushing. Oh goodness - here we go....
I have to say that at this point I was ridiculously nervous. I had asked the nurse a few minutes earlier if I was supposed to be able to move my legs and she said yes - that's the sign of a good epidural. I was somehow under the impression that NOT feeling anything would a be a "good" epidural, but remembering the story of a woman in our birthing class having difficulty pushing because she couldn't feel anything, it did make sense. I was scared and in pain but let's face it - there was only one way this kid was coming out and I didn't really have a choice in the matter.
They rolled in the mirror (yes, I requested a mirror this go-around. A woman in our birthing class said it was encouraging to see the progress she was making as she pushed instead of relying on second hand opinions so I thought I'd give it a whirl. I have to say it WAS helpful. Knowing and seeing that I was actually accomplishing something with each push kept me going...) We began pushing and it.was.tough. However, I was proud of the composure I was able to muster during this ridiculously painful ordeal. The first time around I think all I did was scream "GET HER OUT!!!!" and then scream some more. This time I focused on pushing and less on scaring every other woman on the maternity floor....
About 45 minutes later my sweet Greyson was in my arms. I felt such joy and relief that this process was over and I could now enjoy my beautiful son and my amazing husband. We took photos and video and spent the rest of the next few minutes nursing and staring at this amazing little life God blessed us with.
As Adam told me our parents and MC were here, he asked if I wanted some makeup. Odd question coming from a man. As confused as I was, I said "sure" and he blotted me down with powder foundation and blush. We let them all meet baby Grey and after they left I got up for the all important "bathroom test". Ya know, the fun test where you have to pee-pee in the toilet in front of a nurse to make sure they don't need to do a catheter. You would think these people would realize that trying to do your business as someone stares is not the most reasonable way, but, hey, what do I know....
As I made my way to the bathroom, I stopped in front of the mirror - WHAT THE HELL WAS ON MY FACE!!! I looked at my reflection and I was covered in purple splotches. I looked like someone had taken a purple marker and drawn circles and odd shapes all over my cheeks and forehead. I immidiately freaked out and asked the nurse what the heck was going on. She was like "oh, I just assumed that had always been there... you don't have acne scars or anything?" Uh, NO. Pre-baby my face was just fine, and now I look like a zombie.
As you can imagine I immediately asked my doctor when I saw her nex,t and she assured me it was fine. I had busted cappillaries in my face and developed brusing during all the pushing and she promised it would return to normal in about a week. I prayed she was right as we all know that after having a baby we all want to look as if we DIDN'T just have a baby to make everyone on facebook jealous. Well, I had no hope there so I just opted for as few pictures as possible....
The next few days were fantastic and little man was nursing like a champ. We had a lot of issues getting MC to latch, but as Adam quickly pointed out - Greyson is a boob man. That brings us to the next chapter - "The Breast". (Yes, this post is going to continue for two more chapters and will probably be the longest blog post in history. Feel free to take a brief intermission or complete some chores and come back later)
If you are a woman you know the pressure our society puts on us to breastfeed. I have no issues with that - it is best. Its medically proven to be the best thing for your child. HOWEVER, its just not for everyone. After I had MC I nursed for about 2 weeks and just couldn't do it anymore. I had horrible post partum depression, my husband was leaving to return to Iraq, I was living with my parents... it was just too much. I gave it up and faced the scrutiny of many many people and therefore felt INTENSE guilt. I wanted so badly to give it everything I had the second time around.
We were off to such a fantastic start with Grey that I just knew it was going to work. He dropped a slight bit of weight during those first few days, but before I left the hospital my milk was already coming in. We nursed and nursed and nursed. This little man was an insane eater. I was nursing every 2 hours, with each session lasting about an hour. That meant I sat on the couch for 1 hour, and then, an hour later it was time to do it again. I had enough milk for a small country of babies, I was extremely uncomfortable and, quite honestly, tired of sitting. I missed MC and felt she was being completely neglected - not something I enjoyed. I tried to stick with it but I knew at that point quitting was probably on the horizon. Logically I knew everything was going well, but something in me just wasn't ENJOYING it. I didn't go all granola and describe it as a beautiful bonding experience....I had a kid sucking on my boob every other hour for 24 hours straight. That was not beautiful. That was painful. And exhausting. I knew I had a lactation appointment in just a few days so I hung in there in hopes they would be able to shed some light on the whole experience and reassure me that I just needed to keep with it.
As Monday approached and I got ready for my appointment I felt good. I had just put on a pair of pre-baby jeans, did my makeup and hair, and felt like my old self. I went to the lactation appointment ready to take on the boob pushers...
When I arrived I was shocked at how friendly the entire staff was. The lactation consultant took me to our room and proceeded to weigh Greyson. She was shocked when she saw that he weighed in at 8lbs 2oz and was a week old. He had surpassed his birthweight in 7 days which was fantastic since apparently most newborns loose a good deal of weight and it takes much longer to return to that birthweight. She said obviously he was eating well and I was producing plenty of milk. I stared at my Dolly Parton breasts and shook my head in agreement.
At this point you then feed the baby in front of the consultant so they can help with any latching issues or answer questions you might have. Then, after the feeding they weigh the baby again to see exactly how many ounces he/she consumed. As I began nursing I asked typical questions and she answered them all very sweetly and repeatedly commented on how amazing I looked and what a great latch and technique we had. She was full of positive comments and praise and I felt like a breastfeeding rockstar to be honest. Then, the head of the lactation department came into the room with an interesting proposition....
As I sat there with my boob in my child's mouth, she asked if I would be interested in being a part of new marketing materials for the lactation department. Ummmm, what? She said if I felt comfortable, there was a photographer there who was going to take some photos for them to use in pamplets, handouts, signs, etc. She said she knew it was a lot to ask and if I didn't want to do it that was perfectly fine. I thought about it for a while and decided "what the heck?". After two kids "modesty" is not even part of my vocabulary, so why not have my breasts put out there for all of Charlotte to see? I knew Adam was going to murder me....
The photographer came in and proceeded to take pictures of me breastfeeding Greyson, talking with the lactation consultant, and trying out the new "Second Skin" sling I had purchased a few days before (which I HIGHLY reccomend by the way!!). It was kind of scary that I wasn't the least bit uncomfortable and I was looking forward to having some free photos of Grey and I (as I mentioned before, I had avoided all post-birthing photos due to my purple dot disorder..) Everything that had occurred at the appointment couldn't have been better. I was praised for our progress and told I was "amazing" about 547 times. However, as I returned home, I was still unsure of whether I wanted to continue this masquarade.
The next day was a complete 180. Greyson didn't sleep well that night so in addition to being super exhausted, he also decided it would be fun to cry and fuss most of the day. After 1.5 hours between feedings he was ready to eat again and I had literally reached my breaking point. He wouldn't sleep at all - due to his hunger I assumed, and I didn't know what else to do but cry. I decided then and there I was done. The poster child for breastfeeding (literally) was turning to formula.
That was an exhilirating decision I have to say. I thought back to my experience with MC and remembered how I repeatedly beat myself up for having called it quits. I got even more depressed and was convinced I was a a horrible mother.
This time around it was different. I had 3 years of parenting under my belt and I knew I was not a horrible mother. My "formula fed" baby was one of the smartest three year olds I had ever met and had never had any serious sickness to speak of . I was no perfect parent, but I knew I tried every single day to be the best I could be and always put my child first in every decision I made.
I knew to be the best parent I could be I had to stop. I was making myself crazy. I was crying, depressed, stressed, and none of those make for a happy home environment. I LIKE taking care of my family and I felt I couldn't do that to the degree I held myself accountable to with a newborn attached to my boob. Selfish? Maybe. But I didn't care. I firmly believe in the saying that if momma isn't happy, no one is happy.
As I sit here typing, staring at the cabbage leaves peaking out of my milk drenched bra, I know I will be judged. Most people will think I am a quitter or weak or selfish. We had the ideal situation for breastfeeding and I still threw in the towel. If you are one of those people who want to judge, go ahead. It's not going to ruin the fact that I.am.happy. I feel exhilirated and prepared to take on being a mommy to two kiddos. I have moved to "The Beyond" chapter and can't wait to experience all the joy of mothering my sweet boy.
I hope any other mommies out there who might be reading this also feel empowered to make the decision thats best for YOU and not feel guilty about it. YOUR health and happiness dictates the mood of your entire household and you can't raise happy children in an unhappy home. Can I get an amen?
Happy Wednesday everyone and hopefully soon I'll have some downtime to post a few photos of baby boy!!!
Thursday, September 27, 2012
One Fine Day
So, as moms, we all have "those days". Those days where you feel like your body is literally going to collapse and your stress level is through the roof. Yesterday was my day. I knew we were in for it when MC spilled an entire cup of goldfish in the floor on our way out the door. I didn't even bother cleaning them up - it takes us approximately 9 hours to get ready and out the door and I wasn't letting this hold us up any longer. I had already waisted 45 minutes staring at her on the potty, waiting for her to do her business....
As I mentioned in my last post, I will be a working woman as of Monday. It is incredibly exciting to be a two-income family again. Part of beginning this new job is fingerprinting and a background check - to be completed uptown.
Previously I wouldn't have thought twice about this as our apartment was right uptown and I could walk pretty much anywhere I needed to go. Moving outside uptown (although we are still only 2 or 3 minutes from it) brings on a new set of challenges - one of which being parking.
I found the building I needed to complete said tasks in and looped the block two or three times looking for a place to park. I found one about 2 blocks away. As I got MC out of the car (because, yes, being a stay-at-home-mom means she accompanies me on all errands - no matter how inconvenient), I realized the stroller was not in the car. I knew right then we were in trouble...
We began our trek to the building and MC was doing well. She insisted on climbing various concrete steps along the way but that was fine. I made it to what I thought was the appropriate building only to find it wasn't. Of course. We had to walk down and across the street. We arrived at the new location and I was ready to get things underway.
When the clerk said "That will be $10", I immediately prayed they took debit or checks. No. Of course not. That would mean our day would be easy which we all know is not the case. She said there was an ATM on the next block.
The next walk to the ATM was not going well. Its was hot, MC was doddling and, about halfway there, she began crying that it's too hard to walk. My energizer bunny 2 year old is screaming its too hard to walk to her 6 month pregnant mother who is sweating her a$$ off. I had no sympathy. We somehow managed to make it to the building that housed the ATM - however, of course it was nowhere to be found. I asked the clerk and he said it was in the next lobby. Then, OF COURSE, MC has to go potty. We found a restroom and the only toilet is splattered with urine. I wasn't about to let MC sit on that but you can't exactly explain to a toddler that we "need to wait to find a more sanitary option". Oh no. When a 2 year old has to go, they have to go. I had no choice but to cradle-hold and hoover her about a foot above the seat. Not fun when pregnant. My 32 pound child felt like 70 pounds by the time she got over her stage fright from the new experience and began doing her business. After the potty and climbing on top of every.single.bench., we walked again.
We made our way down the street and BACK to the first building to complete the fingerprinting. All the while poor MC is screaming and walking about as fast as a 90 year old woman, and I (unsuccessfully) attempted to carry her in sporadic spurts just to speed things along.
Upon being called back for fingerprinting things didn't improve. Big electric scanner with fancy buttons doesn't mesh with a curious 2 year old. MC was immediately intrigued and I spent my time blocking chubby fingers from touching every button she could spot. There was also a pedal the woman was pushing with her foot which was especially interesting to MC so in addition to blocking fingers, I was also blocking brown lady bug shoes from stomping the important pedal. I think at some point I had used all my resources and desperately asked MC to just push her "magic pretend pedal" which was about 5 steps away from the machine. It worked until she saw the buttons on the printer and then went for those.
When the fingerprinting was completed, I thought we were in the clear. Nope. Before we made it out of the scanner area MC started screaming. I had NO IDEA what was wrong and after several attempts to get a response out of her she screamed "MY BOOTY ITCHES!!!" Now I have never seen someone in such distress over an itchy booty, but given our day it came as no surprise that this sensation would send her into hysterics. The workers looked on with confused expressions as I attempted to remove her from the office as quickly as possible so we could tend to the "situation". Dear Lord, help me....
After almost two hours uptown we had completed approximately one task. As we left the building headed to our next destination, I knew we were done. I had persuaded MC outside by saying she could play on my phone but given that the child isn't even coordinated enough to walk normally without falling or running into something, asking her to walk while playing an iphone wasn't the best choice. Her 90-year-old-woman walk had now transcended into the pace of a 90-year-old slug and we were making zero progress. I tried to pull her along but she was cranky and focused and after stopping for a screaming fit in front of a tv news reporter attempting to complete a recording segment, we made our way back to the car. The background check would have to wait.
Once we made it home I, again, thought we were out of the woods. (You would think by this point I had learned that that answer would be NOT QUITE!) I walked into the door greeted by the thousand goldfish that scattered our living room floor. Their smiling faces taunted me to the point of "accidentally" squishing one or two with my foot as we shuffled past. As I was cleaning goldfish and desperately trying to unload the dishwasher to make it appear to the hubs I had not been a lazy bum all day, I hear MC going upstairs. I was desperate to complete just one task uninterrupted so I figured she would be fine for a few minutes. I hear the pitter patter of little feet coming down the stairs and as I greet her at the bottom I am not greeted by Maggie Claire - I am greeted by I-have-black-eyeliner-all-over-my-face-because-I-need-whiskers-to-be-a-tiger Maggie. Lovely. My sweet daughter made her way upstairs, into my makeup bag, removed the eyeliner, and proceeded to cover her entire nose, forehead, and cheeks with "whiskers". I was to the point of a breakdown so being the good mommy that I am, I plopped that kiddo in front of a movie while she ate dinner. I sat on the couch and prayed. (Can I mention that I know the secret of why God made children so stinkin' cute? So you don't stinkin' kill them. I'm serious, its impossible to bring harm to something so adorable - He knew that.)
I completed the day by calling Adam and telling him to enjoy his drinks with the guys - I might have thrown in a huge side order of guilt considering I shared all of the elaborate details of my excursion. I was only partially bitter. The man DOES work hard and NEVER gets to hang out with friends. Its just that his "night out" would happen to fall on the day from hell.
But, that's how life goes. Its hard and its exhausting, but its our life. Its fantastic and I can only hope that maybe tomorrow God will take it easy on me :) Happy Thursday everyone!!
PS - I promise the camping post is coming soon!
As I mentioned in my last post, I will be a working woman as of Monday. It is incredibly exciting to be a two-income family again. Part of beginning this new job is fingerprinting and a background check - to be completed uptown.
Previously I wouldn't have thought twice about this as our apartment was right uptown and I could walk pretty much anywhere I needed to go. Moving outside uptown (although we are still only 2 or 3 minutes from it) brings on a new set of challenges - one of which being parking.
I found the building I needed to complete said tasks in and looped the block two or three times looking for a place to park. I found one about 2 blocks away. As I got MC out of the car (because, yes, being a stay-at-home-mom means she accompanies me on all errands - no matter how inconvenient), I realized the stroller was not in the car. I knew right then we were in trouble...
We began our trek to the building and MC was doing well. She insisted on climbing various concrete steps along the way but that was fine. I made it to what I thought was the appropriate building only to find it wasn't. Of course. We had to walk down and across the street. We arrived at the new location and I was ready to get things underway.
When the clerk said "That will be $10", I immediately prayed they took debit or checks. No. Of course not. That would mean our day would be easy which we all know is not the case. She said there was an ATM on the next block.
The next walk to the ATM was not going well. Its was hot, MC was doddling and, about halfway there, she began crying that it's too hard to walk. My energizer bunny 2 year old is screaming its too hard to walk to her 6 month pregnant mother who is sweating her a$$ off. I had no sympathy. We somehow managed to make it to the building that housed the ATM - however, of course it was nowhere to be found. I asked the clerk and he said it was in the next lobby. Then, OF COURSE, MC has to go potty. We found a restroom and the only toilet is splattered with urine. I wasn't about to let MC sit on that but you can't exactly explain to a toddler that we "need to wait to find a more sanitary option". Oh no. When a 2 year old has to go, they have to go. I had no choice but to cradle-hold and hoover her about a foot above the seat. Not fun when pregnant. My 32 pound child felt like 70 pounds by the time she got over her stage fright from the new experience and began doing her business. After the potty and climbing on top of every.single.bench., we walked again.
We made our way down the street and BACK to the first building to complete the fingerprinting. All the while poor MC is screaming and walking about as fast as a 90 year old woman, and I (unsuccessfully) attempted to carry her in sporadic spurts just to speed things along.
Upon being called back for fingerprinting things didn't improve. Big electric scanner with fancy buttons doesn't mesh with a curious 2 year old. MC was immediately intrigued and I spent my time blocking chubby fingers from touching every button she could spot. There was also a pedal the woman was pushing with her foot which was especially interesting to MC so in addition to blocking fingers, I was also blocking brown lady bug shoes from stomping the important pedal. I think at some point I had used all my resources and desperately asked MC to just push her "magic pretend pedal" which was about 5 steps away from the machine. It worked until she saw the buttons on the printer and then went for those.
When the fingerprinting was completed, I thought we were in the clear. Nope. Before we made it out of the scanner area MC started screaming. I had NO IDEA what was wrong and after several attempts to get a response out of her she screamed "MY BOOTY ITCHES!!!" Now I have never seen someone in such distress over an itchy booty, but given our day it came as no surprise that this sensation would send her into hysterics. The workers looked on with confused expressions as I attempted to remove her from the office as quickly as possible so we could tend to the "situation". Dear Lord, help me....
After almost two hours uptown we had completed approximately one task. As we left the building headed to our next destination, I knew we were done. I had persuaded MC outside by saying she could play on my phone but given that the child isn't even coordinated enough to walk normally without falling or running into something, asking her to walk while playing an iphone wasn't the best choice. Her 90-year-old-woman walk had now transcended into the pace of a 90-year-old slug and we were making zero progress. I tried to pull her along but she was cranky and focused and after stopping for a screaming fit in front of a tv news reporter attempting to complete a recording segment, we made our way back to the car. The background check would have to wait.
Once we made it home I, again, thought we were out of the woods. (You would think by this point I had learned that that answer would be NOT QUITE!) I walked into the door greeted by the thousand goldfish that scattered our living room floor. Their smiling faces taunted me to the point of "accidentally" squishing one or two with my foot as we shuffled past. As I was cleaning goldfish and desperately trying to unload the dishwasher to make it appear to the hubs I had not been a lazy bum all day, I hear MC going upstairs. I was desperate to complete just one task uninterrupted so I figured she would be fine for a few minutes. I hear the pitter patter of little feet coming down the stairs and as I greet her at the bottom I am not greeted by Maggie Claire - I am greeted by I-have-black-eyeliner-all-over-my-face-because-I-need-whiskers-to-be-a-tiger Maggie. Lovely. My sweet daughter made her way upstairs, into my makeup bag, removed the eyeliner, and proceeded to cover her entire nose, forehead, and cheeks with "whiskers". I was to the point of a breakdown so being the good mommy that I am, I plopped that kiddo in front of a movie while she ate dinner. I sat on the couch and prayed. (Can I mention that I know the secret of why God made children so stinkin' cute? So you don't stinkin' kill them. I'm serious, its impossible to bring harm to something so adorable - He knew that.)
I completed the day by calling Adam and telling him to enjoy his drinks with the guys - I might have thrown in a huge side order of guilt considering I shared all of the elaborate details of my excursion. I was only partially bitter. The man DOES work hard and NEVER gets to hang out with friends. Its just that his "night out" would happen to fall on the day from hell.
But, that's how life goes. Its hard and its exhausting, but its our life. Its fantastic and I can only hope that maybe tomorrow God will take it easy on me :) Happy Thursday everyone!!
PS - I promise the camping post is coming soon!
Friday, August 24, 2012
Little Girl, BIG Personality
Every parent thinks their child is the greatest thing since sliced bread. However, I think we also have to be realistic.
Maggie Claire is independent, strong willed, outgoing, and social. She loves interacting with other kids and has no concept of personal space. Bless her, she insists on being no more than 2 inches away from whoever she is speaking to or playing with. Quite overwhelming for mellow children who like their own area. She has more energy than the energizer bunny and literally NEVER STOPS. Again, quite overwhelming for mellow children. When I was a child, if a kid like her bombarded me I would look like a deer in headlights too (which is the response most children give her). With that being said, she is also one of the smartest, sweetest, most compassionate, and funny children I have ever known.
While her little personality is hers and I respect and adore her for it, it can cause... well... problems.
Growing up I always imagined I would have a little girl like me. Reserved, somewhat introverted, quiet, and one who appreciates "alone time". Instead, I got my husband reincarnated. We are complete opposites. He and MC are like two peas in a pod. She got every single aspect of his personality. A grown man with those characteristics I can deal with; a two year old - I am clueless.
All of my years in college, student teaching, and actually teaching have been of no use during the terrible two's. (I, like most parents, must convince ourselves that most occurrences are simply part of a stage and will not continue through the rest of their lives. Don't judge- its the only way we stay sane.)
The first issue we are having is with sharing. As mentioned in my "milestone" post, this has become a problem. Is it because she is an only child right now? Is it because she's not in daycare? And the big question on mine and every other mother's mind who deals with this issue - Am I doing something wrong???
Let's face it, even if you are a mom, you judge other mothers by their child's behavior. Its wrong and its mean, but its true. If you go to the park and see a kid running a muck and beating up every other child there, you probably think "Whoa. That woman needs some parenting advice ASAP. She obviously has no concept of discipline..." I'm pretty sure we've all done it at least once. However, when its OUR child who is doing something wrong, we pray the other mother's sympathize and understand we are doing everything we can but our kid is just crazy or going through a phase.
In addition to sharing, MC also has issues controlling her emotions. I like to think she is "passionate", but really its a nice way of saying she has frequent emotional meltdowns - ie tantrums. I know most moms have to deal with this but I never thought I would. When it began, I researched. Oh boy did I research. I have put into practice several ideas and even come up with one or two of my own that seem to help. However, nothing has completely rid us of them. Is it even possible to raise a child who is tantrum free or am I just dreaming the impossible dream?
Just in case one or two readers are dealing with tantrums, I'll share two things that seem to work for MC. One is completely ignoring the behavior by sending her somewhere else to calm down. When the screaming begins, I say "Maggie Claire, no one wants to hear you scream. Its not nice and I can't understand what you need. You need to go to your room and calm down and then I will be happy to talk to you and help you." She then runs to her room, crying hysterically, while I sit and compose my own emotions. She will throw herself on the ground and scream in her room, but when she comes out of her room, she's usually fine. While this works at home, its not ideal for public places.
The other thing that has worked well to keep a tantrum from occurring in the first place is the timer. When she is playing and I know she's going to have to stop what she's doing to do something else (ie bath, go to bed, leave the house, etc) I tell her that we are going to play until the dog barks (gotta love iphone ringers) and then we have to ______. She says ok and keeps playing. When she hears the dog bark, she stops what she's doing and says "Its time to ____!" She gets it and its worked wonders.
While these two techniques have helped, they haven't stopped it. I don't even know if its possible to "stop" them. This is where ideas are welcomed ;)
I said it before and I'll say it again, I adore my child. However, her behavior baffles me and I don't want to be "that mom" everyone talks about at the playground. What do I do with my little girl with the big personality??
Maggie Claire is independent, strong willed, outgoing, and social. She loves interacting with other kids and has no concept of personal space. Bless her, she insists on being no more than 2 inches away from whoever she is speaking to or playing with. Quite overwhelming for mellow children who like their own area. She has more energy than the energizer bunny and literally NEVER STOPS. Again, quite overwhelming for mellow children. When I was a child, if a kid like her bombarded me I would look like a deer in headlights too (which is the response most children give her). With that being said, she is also one of the smartest, sweetest, most compassionate, and funny children I have ever known.
While her little personality is hers and I respect and adore her for it, it can cause... well... problems.
Growing up I always imagined I would have a little girl like me. Reserved, somewhat introverted, quiet, and one who appreciates "alone time". Instead, I got my husband reincarnated. We are complete opposites. He and MC are like two peas in a pod. She got every single aspect of his personality. A grown man with those characteristics I can deal with; a two year old - I am clueless.
All of my years in college, student teaching, and actually teaching have been of no use during the terrible two's. (I, like most parents, must convince ourselves that most occurrences are simply part of a stage and will not continue through the rest of their lives. Don't judge- its the only way we stay sane.)
The first issue we are having is with sharing. As mentioned in my "milestone" post, this has become a problem. Is it because she is an only child right now? Is it because she's not in daycare? And the big question on mine and every other mother's mind who deals with this issue - Am I doing something wrong???
Let's face it, even if you are a mom, you judge other mothers by their child's behavior. Its wrong and its mean, but its true. If you go to the park and see a kid running a muck and beating up every other child there, you probably think "Whoa. That woman needs some parenting advice ASAP. She obviously has no concept of discipline..." I'm pretty sure we've all done it at least once. However, when its OUR child who is doing something wrong, we pray the other mother's sympathize and understand we are doing everything we can but our kid is just crazy or going through a phase.
In addition to sharing, MC also has issues controlling her emotions. I like to think she is "passionate", but really its a nice way of saying she has frequent emotional meltdowns - ie tantrums. I know most moms have to deal with this but I never thought I would. When it began, I researched. Oh boy did I research. I have put into practice several ideas and even come up with one or two of my own that seem to help. However, nothing has completely rid us of them. Is it even possible to raise a child who is tantrum free or am I just dreaming the impossible dream?
Just in case one or two readers are dealing with tantrums, I'll share two things that seem to work for MC. One is completely ignoring the behavior by sending her somewhere else to calm down. When the screaming begins, I say "Maggie Claire, no one wants to hear you scream. Its not nice and I can't understand what you need. You need to go to your room and calm down and then I will be happy to talk to you and help you." She then runs to her room, crying hysterically, while I sit and compose my own emotions. She will throw herself on the ground and scream in her room, but when she comes out of her room, she's usually fine. While this works at home, its not ideal for public places.
The other thing that has worked well to keep a tantrum from occurring in the first place is the timer. When she is playing and I know she's going to have to stop what she's doing to do something else (ie bath, go to bed, leave the house, etc) I tell her that we are going to play until the dog barks (gotta love iphone ringers) and then we have to ______. She says ok and keeps playing. When she hears the dog bark, she stops what she's doing and says "Its time to ____!" She gets it and its worked wonders.
While these two techniques have helped, they haven't stopped it. I don't even know if its possible to "stop" them. This is where ideas are welcomed ;)
I said it before and I'll say it again, I adore my child. However, her behavior baffles me and I don't want to be "that mom" everyone talks about at the playground. What do I do with my little girl with the big personality??
Friday, August 17, 2012
Milestone
I suppose there comes a time in every mom's life when you hit the milestone. You loose your child. Oh yes, it happens at least once - even if just for a moment - and yesterday was our day. Go us.
I've said it before and I'll say it again - mommyhood is messy. If anyone says it isn't, they are either in denial or lying. Or on something. Like 3/4 of the stay-at-home moms at the park and various museums in Charlotte. Whatever these gals are on, I want some. Each of them looks as if its Christmas Day and they're on cloud nine. Just once I would like to see someone look, well, like me.
Don't get me wrong. I ADORE spending time with my child and, as an ex-teacher, I am proud of the fact that I am very involved and interact with MC. However, I'm gonna put it out there. Sometimes the kid drives me nuts. There, I said it. If you are a mom and have never thought this - not even once- I would like to meet you and shake your hand and ask how in the H-E-double hockey sticks you do it. You deserve a friggin' medal.
Yesterday was one of those days where I may or may not have thought about dropping MC off at Adam's office and telling him to figure it out - I was going home. I didn't, but the thought did cross my mind.
We started off having a great time at the Nature Museum with a few moms from my playgroup. MC was having a BLAST and was getting out some much needed energy. Then, we made our way to the puppet/puzzle/dress up area and she found the pretend milk. The damn pretend milk. Her friend SB had the coveted piece of blue plastic and MC wanted it. Bad. SB was playing nicely and wasn't ready to give it up. Understandable. Its awesome. MC proceeded to throw one of the worst tantrums in her little 2.5 year lifespan. Yup, hurled herself on the floor right there in the middle of everyone screaming at the top of her lungs. Embarassed? You have no idea. I could feel the daggers shooting from the disapproving eyes of every Stepford mom in the museum.
I attempted to deal with it nonchalantly as if I had everything completely under control. I moved her to the corner and told her to sit and calm down. When she was ready to play nicely and apologize for her behavior she could come back. Didn't work. No sooner had I put that little tush on the ground than it was back up running to the middle of the room screaming again..... because we all know when you are in need of throwing a tantrum, privacy is not part of the deal. You NEED an audience.
After a few minutes of complete and utter mortification I decided it was time to go. I reached down to grab my hysterical child and drag her from the museum - but this was also not part of her plan. She took off faster than a fat kid at a Dunkin' Doughnuts grand opening. My pregnant self attempted to sprint after her, but after being bombarded by running children my path was blocked. I watched her turn the corner and that was it. She was gone.
I spent the next 3-4 minutes scouring the museum in complete hysterics. An employee must've noticed my distress and asked if I lost someone. YES! I've lost the spawn of Satan a sweet 2 year old in a purple shirt and pink bow!! She immediately radioed other employes with the special "some idiot mom lost her kid" code and they were off. About 3 minutes later I see a pink bow bouncing to the middle of the aisle where she spots me and puts both arms out and screams, "here I am mom!". Smiling. Like nothing had even happened.
I scooped her up and told her it was time to go. The hysteria began again. Yay.
As I exited the museum with my screaming toddler, I tried to remember that all moms have "those days". I tried to remember that even if in a state of utter denial through an overabundance of prescription meds and alcohol, EVERY mom has had a day where she felt completely humiliated due to her child's behavior.
I suppose for the moment I'll just take pride in achieving the "lost child" milestone and pray that for most its a one time occurrence.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
My Pinterest Self
Marriage is messy. Mommyhood is messy. Life is messy. I have never been one of those to pretend my life is perfect. I like to lay it all out there for people to see. I'm not the wife or mom who has it all together and I think that's fine. That's what this blog is all about really. Getting real.
Let's be honest. One of the reasons we enjoy reading complete stranger's blogs is to compare that person to ourselves. Are they cuter? Thinner? Happier? We all need that validation. Well, if validation is what you need then you have found the right blog. You should usually feel much better about yourself after reading my posts.
While my life is hectic and (especially since pregnant) I tend to have frequent emotional breakdowns, I do know there is one place where I can always be perfect. Pinterest.
Oh yes. Let me introduce you to my "Pinterest self" - affectionately referred to as my "PS"....
My PS wakes up at 5:00am to a beautifully decorated bedroom, complete with a tufted, do-it-yourself upholstered headboard, hand distressed antique wood dresser, and an overall air of being in the finest Parisian hotel.My PS then heads the perfectly organized closet to chose the appropriate workout wear for “30 days to a better ass” pin. After an intense workout, my PS would only proceed to the gorgeous glass steam shower for a soak complete with a honey/lemon juice/sea salt handmade exfoliant. Since sharing the “Zac Effron ab guide” pin with the hubs, I am soon accompanied by a gorgeous man sporting abs that would make a grown woman weep.
My PS wakes up at 5:00am to a beautifully decorated bedroom, complete with a tufted, do-it-yourself upholstered headboard, hand distressed antique wood dresser, and an overall air of being in the finest Parisian hotel.My PS then heads the perfectly organized closet to chose the appropriate workout wear for “30 days to a better ass” pin. After an intense workout, my PS would only proceed to the gorgeous glass steam shower for a soak complete with a honey/lemon juice/sea salt handmade exfoliant. Since sharing the “Zac Effron ab guide” pin with the hubs, I am soon accompanied by a gorgeous man sporting abs that would make a grown woman weep.
After an exhilarating shower, its back to the closet to
chose an outfit from designers I’ve never heard of, purchased for a price I
could never afford. Shoes are also diligently selected from the “lazy susan”
shoe rack via the newest pin to my “Cool gadgets” board.
I make my way down the hall (passing a perfectly displayed
photo frame collage) and greet my precious daughter who has just completed a
game from my most recent “Best toddler ipad apps” pin. She looks delightful in
her hand sewn pillowcase dress (which smells wonderful thanks to my homemade
laundry detergent), but to my dismay, she has spilled chocolate milk on the
carpet. Do I distress? Oh no. Not my PS – for every good PS knows that vinegar,
baking soda, and dawn will remove tough stains on any carpet ;)
After cooking a healthy, nutritious breakfast complete with
an edible beach scene for MC, I move on to tackling house cleaning – this is
perfectly scheduled on my pink laminated file folder and attached to various
cleaning bins according to the correct day of the week.
Once chores are completed, I can take a break to read one of
my purchases from the “Best books of 2012” pin, and prop my feet on the drift
wood coffee table built and completed by moi over the weekend.
After preparing a completely fat free but tasty meal in my
crockpot for dinner, I begin cutting and sorting meats and veggies (all
purchased on sale) for my “one month of freezer meals”. The cook off ends with baking 247 Elmo
cupcakes for my daughter’s bake sale at school because we all know I would
never dream of relinquishing my title as the school’s most amazingly with-it
and creative mother.
After my family enjoys a beautiful dinner atop Dollar Store
painted plates and a hand sewn burlap table runner, I relish how good life is. I
soon make my way to our “English Garden” inspired backyard and drink a glass of
white wine from a glass painted with chalkboard paint for easy labeling when
entertaining.
Its been another glorious day in the life of my PS, and
tomorrow will be yet another….How can I be sure? Well, because its written on
my scrapbook-paper-backed-photo-frame-turned-dry-erase-board silly.
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