Hmmmm?

Something is missing around here. Oh yeah, it’s Emily. She and her classmates (as well as two teachers) are in Nevada right now on a hiking trip. I couldn’t be happier for her, but she’s way over there! (I am pointing at Nevada on our map right now.) Tomorrow they are traveling to Utah to do some backpacking. Wow!

This class (ten of them) is brimming with excitement! They have trained for three years in anticipation of this trip! Em called when they arrived at the site and I could just hear her smile over the phone. (I know you really can’t hear a smile, but you know what I mean.) I miss her terribly and of course I can’t bring myself to truly think about her sleeping outside and rock climbing and doing all of these crazy adventurous things because it gives me a stomach ache. What I chose to think about is the joy in her heart. I can’t wait to hear all about it!

Mommy Guilt

A friend of mine recently suggested that immediately after giving birth they secretly inject all new moms with a big dose of Mommy Guilt. I chuckled because I instantaneously visualized a colossal syringe being pierced into my arm as I (in a deep fog filled trance of relief) tenderly gazed into the beautiful eyes of my newborn baby, completely oblivious to any pain. If it were indeed true, that would explain the perplexing behaviors that moms (okay, me) sometimes exhibit.

After my shot of Mommy Guilt, the signs and symptoms immediately took effect. Nursing wasn’t going well and I felt like a complete failure. The nurses unknowingly scared me to death with conflicting advice, guidelines that made no sense to me and never ending pamphlets. Mix in well meaning friends and family, add a touch of raging hormones and sleep deprivation… it’s a wonder we made it through the first year alive.


I will never forget the first time I introduced our first son to our next door neighbor. Sweet Mrs. Z was a well meaning elderly woman with a big heart. She was thrilled to meet our new arrival! Peeking into the baby carriage she declared, “He is such a beautiful baby,” grinning from ear to ear I nodded as she continued, “You really need to watch him so nobody steals him, dear.” I can’t remember how I responded at that moment, but I recall being exceedingly suspicious of strangers for the next few days (okay years). I also wondered what she meant by “I need to watch him?” Was I not attentive enough? Am I neglecting my son? Does she think I am a bad mom? Luckily my very patient husband talked me through it and I finally let it go. Of course, my intense reaction was most likely due to the Mommy Guilt injection, right?

As the years went by, new worries surfaced and the guilt came along with it. Is the baby developing like they say in this book? Should I make my own baby food? Is this babysitter competent? Do I really need to wash this, or can I just spray it with Febreze? When was the last time I cleaned their ears? Is it safe to send him into the public restroom? How much TV is too much? Are my kids the only ones without a cell phone? Am I expecting too much from them? It’s dizzying!

Luckily, as time passes the side effects of Mommy Guilt subside a bit and you begin to realize that no parent is perfect. For example, when my first two children went to Bernazzani (they are in the eighth and ninth grade now) and forgot to pack their homework, I would frantically race to the school to drop it off immediately. Nowadays if one of the children forgets, I may bring it… at pick up time that is if I remember. Perhaps one of the side effects of the Mommy Guilt vaccination is memory loss? That would explain the occasional (okay often) forgotten permission slip, milk money, or over due media center books.

Children are blessed at birth with mothers overcome with such tremendous love that sometimes they just can’t help themselves. They want the very best for their precious off spring and when mistakes ultimately happen or unrealistic expectations erupt it can lead to insanity.

Adoptive parents (and of course dads) are no doubt filled with the same joyful madness. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. Thus when the perplexities of Mommy Guilt begin to get the best of me, I simply ask myself (just as I ask our five children if they feel inadequate), “Are you doing your very best? “ If the answer is yes, then there are absolutely no grounds for guilt…inoculation or not.

-------------------------------------------------------


Warnings: Do not watch the nightly news or crime themed programs on television for at least six weeks after injection.

Do not read more than one parenting book or magazine at a time for 12 months.

Pay no attention to well meaning comments regarding kidnappers, life insurance, and post partum weight loss.

---------------------------------------------------------

Side effects:

May cause an overwhelming awareness of how others see you as a parent

an inability to move away from the baby monitor

an intense urge to put your child in a bubble so no harm can come of them

Milestones

It was a beautiful Tuesday afternoon when I discovered a little cash in my pocket. Since our second grader (Zach) seemed a bit down in the dumps when we arrived home, I thought I would bring our three youngest children out for lunch. We seldom go out to eat these days and I figured it would make his day a little bit brighter. After walking for what seemed like days because our three year old is completely awestruck by nature, Zach’s whole demeanor changed for the better. His sweet face lit up even more when he noticed a few of his buddies were already there as we arrived. We ordered our food and then my excited boy turned to me and asked if he could sit at the table with his friends. Without skipping a beat, I softly handed him his lunch and off he went. While I may have looked composed on the outside, on the inside I thought, Does this have to happen so soon? Zachary is our third child, so I have been through this before and while I fully recognize the whole autonomy thing, it remains a tricky subject for me. (In fact I am positive that I would make a terrible mother bird. The thought of letting my little hatchlings fledge for themselves after only a few weeks is appalling. My nest would be freakishly enormous not to mention insanely loud and probably overloaded with an abundance of extra feathers and random worm particles.)

I decided it best to sit with my back to him. I knew that my role in this circumstance wasn’t to hover, so I pretended that I wasn’t paying attention as he ate with his pals. (Boy did I wish I had one of those Whisper 2000 thingamajigs.) All was going relatively well until his friends had to leave, and instead of rejoining us at our table, he finished his meal by himself. I didn’t see that one coming I thought as I attempted to swallow the enormous lump in my throat. It was a bittersweet moment. He felt self-confident enough to eat by himself, yet I really wanted him to return to our table. As we finished, Zach appeared beside me “You ready?” my bright eyed eight year old asked while loudly slurping the last of his drink. “We sure are Zach, are you?” I replied, trying to act unflustered. He responded by tenderly saying thanks, and my broken heart was instantly repaired.

Believe it or not, I am making progress in this area. We recently took the crib down after 14 years. Our youngest (Allyson) moved into her big girl bed and it only took me about a month before I eventually felt ready to dismantle it. That crib was such a poignant staple in our home, so this pronouncement wasn’t an easy one. Luckily my husband Neil was very understanding. (Either that or he just didn’t want to deal with a weeping wife.) On that day I blurted, “I am ready for you to take it down, but I don’t want to be here when you do it.” Neil simply smiled as if to say, “Finally!” So I went for a walk (alone) and thought about all of the amazing things I was truly grateful for and when I finally returned, the crib was in the attic and the world was okay.

It might be a good idea to embark on the future instead of on the past, especially since our oldest is heading off to high school in the fall. (Would it be inappropriate to ride the train in with him on the first day of school? Don’t answer that.) I am ready…I think. I am ready to accept that my hatchlings will eventually leave the nest and until that time it’s my job to help them all to learn how to fly. (As long as I don’t have to teach them how to parallel park we will be okay…I think.)

Grumpy Mom Strikes Again

Oh how I love summertime. At our house (and I imagine most of yours as well) most days are beautifully carefree...just the way I like it. We lounge in the mornings and chat about what we can do that day, and usually end up doing something fun(in between some sibling bickering) but all and all it really doesn't matter most days really. Unfortunately, last Friday didn't exactly turn out that way. (Okay it did, but there was a HUGE speed bump on the road to getting there...a grumpy mom!)

The morning started out very nicely. Me with a hot cup of coffee in one hand,our sweet little one Allyson in the other. She was doing her new thing...pointing at everything in sight then looking brightly up at me to ask,"Whasat?" Ryan and Zach were playing "something" in the playroom and Em and Linds were loudly munching on a bowl of cereal. All was well with the world.

I decided that I really needed to get out of the house, so I had made plans in my head to go to the library in the morning and the mall to pick up Allyson's pictures in the afternoon. But my plans were swiftly pushed to the side by the kids.

I came downstairs after putting Allyson in for her morning nap to find the remaining four kiddos breaking out a game of...Monopoly. (Monopoly?) I took a step back and observed as the older two children patiently explained the rules to the younger ones then handed out the money and enthusiastically began. (Wow, how sweet, but honestly, I had some serious doubts about this. Lately Ryan and Em begin arguing after "Good morning" and Lindsey and Zachary are lovingly referred to as Oil and Water at our house.)

Surprisingly, they were still happily buying properties and getting sent to jail after an hour and a half. But when lunchtime came, things began to get ugly. It was almost three hours into the game and Lindsey had quit (I don't know how she stayed in that long--she's four!) and it seemed like the road to Boardwalk was all down hill from there!

Conflict after conflict after conflict!!! We tried rock paper scissors, I attempted to let them duke it out (big mistake) I reasoned, mediated and listened to the unfairness of it all and then it happened. Without warning...after the eighteenth time they shouted "Mom!" I had had it! (This is where I felt like I was on the outside looking in.) I stomped into the dining room with a scowl, "Enough! Everybody-not you Lindsey (who was like a deer in headlights with peanut butter on her forehead?) go upstairs!" Everyone sat scared there for a moment...I am not sure why (okay because my response was out of nowhere!) "Now!"

I was quickly ambushed with questions like "Why?" "What did I do?" "Can't you just listen to my side?" I sternly piped up, "For your own safety,go up there and stay there!" (For there own safety? What was I planning on doing to do to them?) Luckily, I resisted flinging the game across the room and left it intact. Next,I quickly took a trash barrel up and put it in the hall announcing. "Please clean your rooms while you are up here!" And they did.

They instinctively knew that their mom had lost it, the poor loves. Meanwhile downstairs Lindsey kind of hung around close by waiting. Waiting to see what I would do next. It was kind of annoying actually because I didn't know what I was going to do next. Allyson began following me again asking, "Whasat?" (Somehow it wasn't cute that time?)

I quickly realized (after talking to myself for a few minutes) that I simply needed space and uninterrupted time. This happens to me every once and a while (please tell me it happens to you too!) Being home with the kids is something that I absolutely love! But sometimes a little "Metime" is in order.

Needless to say, the kids bedrooms look great, the Monopoly game continued until 4:00 without any major disagreements, and I swiftly went downstairs for a great workout shortly after Neil came home. And when I came back up to put Allyson to bed she pointed at my headband and said...

And it was back to being cute!

The Phlebotomist from H-E-Double Hockey Sticks

Yesterday was Allyson's one year well visit. Well...she is very well indeed. Our sweet girl didn't gain any weight but she did, however grow over two inches in three months. Yay Allyson!

Our beautiful one year old also got two vaccinations and handled them well. Me...not so much! It makes my heart ache when she looks at me with those big blue eyes wondering how I could let this strange lady do this to her? It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase... "This hurts me more than it hurts you."

At the conclusion of the visit, the doctor and I discussed Allyson's milk allergy. Since lots of times children outgrow this type of food allergy we both agreed that we would proceed to do a radioallergosorbent test...also called a RAST. Honestly, I really didn't want to put Ally through this. The mere thought of watching her get blood drawn sent shivers up my spine.

But, it has been a long couple of months trying to keep my angel safe. Do you know how many times I have actually "cried over spilled milk" since she started moving around on her own? Or how stressful it is because she is... oh so very talented at picking up tiny pieces of anything from the ground?

Do you know how many things have dairy in them? One time when Allyson was about five months old (many of you know this already) she mouthed a toy that our neighbor's baby had mouthed as well. She instantly got hives, her eyes and nose watered and her eyes got swollen as well. So needless to say, our family needs to know once and for all just how dangerous it currently is if she is exposed to dairy products. Plus being a completely dairy free nursing mom for a whole year...I really miss cheese! LOL!

So off we cautiously sauntered to the blood lab down the hallway. It is a separate office all together from our pediatrician and I was a bit apprehensive because of Allyson being so young. We signed in and waited and waited and waited... As we lingered Ally roamed the hallway charming everyone who came in and out of the building.

After what seemed to be a really long time of chasing Ally everywhere, the receptionist called our name and she came out from behind the desk. This woman was dressed in scrubs so I am assuming she was a nurse of some kind but I really didn't put much thought into it. "You can sit her on your lap in this chair," she kindly directed.

Ally and I were both very quiet. As I nervously sat down, wondering to myself how this was going to work, an extremely tall dark woman (the phlebotomist) dressed in all white sternly entered our cubical. The room got even more quiet and to break the tension I quickly blurt out,
"I am probably going to cry harder than the baby...just to warn you."
Neither of the two ladies responded at all, and the conversation quickly got ugly.

Phlebotomist..."What are you doing?"

Desk Lady..."I am helping."

Phlebotomist...shakes her head as she snaps her glove. "Well then you can take the blood then if you are going to have them sitting. I put babies on the table over there."

Me...Gulping, this isn't happening. Surely this is some kind of joke. Where is the camera. This isn't funny.

Phlebotomist..."You go right ahead Miss Comeoutfrombehindthedesk, take the blood."

Desk Lady..."I am concerned for the patient, I am trying to help. I don't feel comfortable." She then looks at me and says, "I am so sorry." Next,she says to the tall lady, "I can help hold the patient so that she doesn't get injured."

Me...gulp

Phlebotomist..."I will instruct the mother how to hold her."

At this point I am burning up. I don't want to be here to begin with and now this?!!! The desk lady walks away and the Phlebotomist huffs. She then turns to Allyson and I. Ally trustingly looks up at me and inside I am debating what I should do.

I am then instructed sternly to lay the baby down I continue debating with myself. She then gets the elastic thingy out to tie it onto Allyson's arm.

Meanwhile I am thinking...

A good mom would have taken the baby out of this place. Hail Mary full of grace... Please help me do the right thing.

The Phlebotomist searches for a vein and can't find one. She then goes to the second arm and does the same.

At this point I take a deep breath and pipe up, "If you can't find a vein, or you aren't comfortable doing this, please stop. I can take her to a pediatric place." (Frap that really didn't sound very intelligent did it?) "Please don't try anything if you aren't confident."

Now, if you know me, I am extra super polite most of the time, but holy macaroni...do not mess with my baby! And thank you Blessed Mother for helping me find the right words.

Immediately the Phlebotomist softens. She explains that she does babies all of the time and that she usually feels for the vein but not necessarily sees it. She then takes my hand and kindly shows me. Thank goodness I felt it plain as day.

Pinning Allyson as tightly as I could and listening to her yelp wasn't anything compared to feeling completely frightened that she was going to be hurt by this large woman in all white.

When it was over I held my sweet baby close and apologized to her tenderly. As we entered the waiting room on our way out,everyone shook their heads sympathetically. The desk lady apologized again and I nodded. I also vowed to myself (and Mary) that I would NEVER to go back there again!

One Year Ago Today

Here I am...one year ago just as I was leaving for the hospital. My water broke, and despite my inner voice telling me to stay home, I listened to the doctor's office and went into the hospital to give birth. I was full excitement and joy here even though I was absolutely humongous and really uncomfortable.

As well as the excitement,I was full of uncertainty. I just knew that my body wasn't ready. If only I had listened to that voice inside of my head. Although, trying to labor at home with four other children wasn't something that I would have been very good at.

In case I don't have time to finish...everything turned out okay. Allyson and I made it. Our sweet baby girl ended up being a shoulder dystocia baby and because of her very rough delivery...let's just say it was a scary moment in time shall we?

Gulp

Our sweet baby girl is into everything lately. By the time Neil comes home from work I am literally shaking some days because I have saved her life at least five times. In fact just the other afternoon she had a chocolate Easter egg in her mouth, tin wrapper and all! You know the ones that are the perfect size to completely block her throat!

She sweeps her hand underneath the furniture for things so I find myself pacing from room to room searching for possible dangers.

She is also an expert at climbing stairs! Luckily we have a door to the room where the steps are, but my sweet children are sometimes forgetful and leave it open. I made the mistake of sitting down to peel potatoes the other day and realized it was too quiet. Sure enough Allyson was on the second floor!

The play pen is good for about 15 minutes, baby gates are tough because Lindsey and the neighborhood children can't figure them out. We have one gate that is at the top of the steps.

Allyson is faster and faster every day. She swiped a strawberry from the table (Lindsey left it a little bit too close to the edge.) and took off running leaving a trail of juice that was dripping from her chin and her clenched hand the other day. God bless her. You could hear her belly laughing from down the block!

She also enjoys playing the drums on the toilet, eating the shmutz from Ryan's baseball cleats,and chewing on electrical cords and unattended Pokemon cards. Baby proofing was so much simpler when I had less children. LOL!

Needless to say, I have a ton of unfinished projects, a big pile of dirty laundry, but a huge smile on my face because...well, just look at her!

Enjoy the day!

Bed Times

When I invisioned myself as a mother a long (long) time ago, I imagined bed times as tender moments. Me rocking the baby to sleep while softly serenading a sweet lullaby. Or sharing a story while snuggling up underneath covers and after saying, "the end" my angel rolling over and quickly drifting off into dreamland. Lucky for me I am blessed to have moments (kind of) like these, however lately the endings aren't nearly as charming. It sometimes goes like this...

I am sharing a beautifully quiet moment before bedtime in our room with the baby at the end of the day. Nursing her uninterrupted is a gift that I try to give her at least once a day. She prefers it, and of course I cherish these moments because I know they will be gone before I know it. VRRRRoom VRRRRoom! I hear a noise and wonder what it is? Again VRRRRoom VRRRRoom it's right outside of the bedroom door. I quickly realize it's someone roller blading and I can't believe it! Are you serious?!!! I take a deep breath and try to ignore it, but after a few more minutes both Ally and I are now wondering what the heck is going on and why Neil (my husband) is alllowing it?! I swiftly make my way to the door, and peek out only to find Neil roller blading in the hallway. Annoyed I ask,"What are you doing?!" He replies without blinking, "Rollerblading." Shaking my head I mutter, "Stop it." "Sorry." he says staring blankly into my steaming eyeballs

Or then there is this one...

I read a cute little story to Lindsey. Sometimes I feel like Linds gets left out of things. The older kids have their friends over all of the time, and the baby is into everything lately, so it's nice to share one on one time with Lulu at the end of the day as well. After the book and brushing teeth I give her a ride on my back to bed. I put her down and she starts feeling the sheets with the palm of her hand. "Oh good it's dry," she announces as she pulls the covers up over her. "What do you mean honey?" I ask, not fully wanting the true answer because I just want my day to end at this point (selfish I know). She matter of factly states that she wet the bed last night, but good thing it's dry now huh?
I love that she makes her own bed now, I love that she has no clue as to why she can't sleep in those same sheets again, but I am not loving the fact that I need to change the bed right now.

Being a mom isn't quite what I imagined as a child, and it is certainly not what it's like on television! It's better...even with damp sheets and roller blading husbands.

Me and my Buddy Zachary

It's not the best picture...probably because I almost always avoid having my picture taken, but here we are.
If I could bottle up the love, energy, and talent that this sweet boy has inside of him, I would be a very rich woman. Although if you really think about it, I am already very rich... just not in dollars.

Can I Tell You a Secret?

No! I am not pregnant again! But it has a little something to do with pregnancy. A friend of mine had a beautiful baby boy last week and I was just looking at some pictures of her family. The love in their eyes was overpowering. What a blessing! (Here comes the secret part...) I would LOVE another baby. I thought that I was cured of the aching womb syndrome after Allyson's traumatic birth. But I guess not. Gulp.

Morning Madness

This was a little essay that I wrote for my children's school newsletter that I thought I would share. It just goes to show you that we are all human...





I can be a real grouch in the morning. Our two oldest children (as well as my poor husband) understand that I need a little time to perk up (coffee) before I can deal with the morning rush on school days. Our three youngest kids however, haven't figured this out yet. I shamefully proclaim this because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Now I sit here feeling terrible because I made Zachary (our kindergartner) feel badly. He even told me that I hurt his feelings! I gruffly apologized as he went out the door but that really doesn't count.


Since September I have established a nice routine. I feed the baby at the crack of dawn and put her back to sleep. Then I attempt to get a few more winks before I whack the snooze button a few times. That's when I carefully sneak down stairs to have a nice cup of coffee... ALONE. Making my way down the stairs undetected is sometimes a challenge. I need to literally tip toe so that our three year old Lindsey doesn't hear me. She will sleep through thunderstorms and the smoke alarm but one false move and her big blue eyes instantly pop open ready to start the day.



When I begin my descent down the stairs, I am mindful of certain steps because they creek. (Along with my toes and knees.) There is an art to going down quietly. I need to skip the third step, then move to the left on the fifth one, otherwise they creek. (On really cold mornings all bets are off...they all make noise so I just make a break for it!) The solitude is what helps me start my day off nicely. I don't even need to finish the entire mug to feel at peace with the world. I simply need a few sips while slapping lunches and snacks together before everyone comes running at me to fix their hair, find a shoe, sign a permission slip...


Obviously things didn't go according to my routine today. The baby woke up several times last night so Neil (my husband) got up first. Trying to be thoughtful, he shut off the alarm so I could sleep later. He mistakenly decided to wake me at the same time that the kids got up. Disoriented and exhausted, I made my way to the kitchen to turn the monitor on so I could listen for Allyson (the baby). Next, I lined up the lunch boxes and proceeded to sluggishly organize snacks. As I began to make the coffee, I heard Lindsey on the baby monitor loudly opening the door to our room where the baby was sleeping. Not wanting her to wake the baby, I raced up there like a crazed lunatic. But instead of stopping her, I scared the poor love and she began to cry. Neil, who was sternly eyeballing me as if I was the wicked witch of New England, quickly came to Lindsey's rescue.


Next, Zachary decided that his pants were too loose and the new sneakers that he loved so very much in the store felt too tight and he didn't want to wear either of them. At that point any alternative that I offered wasn't working and that's when I began my mini rampage. Ryan and Emmy (our two oldest children) just kept their distance and Yes Mommed me, but Zach and Lindsey were distraught. I had no patience for their complaints and no solutions to offer them either. It was My Way Or The Highway!. To be perfectly honest...I lost my cool.


I have already snuggled with Lindsey and let her know that I was sorry, but Zachary is at school and I can't talk to him until 2:00. I wish there was an "I am sorry that I am a Mean Mom" hotline at the school. If I could call, it would go something like this:


"Hi Mrs. Lynn, it's Zachary's mom calling again.


Yes I realize this is the second call I've made this week but the baby is getting teeth and well...


Anyway, could you give Zachary a message for me?


Could you tell him that I am sorry that I made him wear the pants that he doesn't like today?


Oh and would you let him know that I am not going to throw away any Pokemon cards that I
find around the house because he didn’t put them away?


Also, Mrs. Lynn, can you kindly inform him that I will buy the real Apple Cinnamon Cheerios next timeI go shopping.


One more thing...could you please tell him that I love him?


Thank you."


Since there isn't a hotline, I need to try harder to roll with the punches in the morning. I just wish 2:00 would come faster! Do you think Zach's teacher would mind if I snuck in at rest time to snuggle?

Rush rush rush

When Neil and I started our family we both decided to try and keep our lives as simple as possible. We have done fairly well so far, but lately it's been a bit tricky. Three of our children are in school now, I have a high maintenance three year old and a baby who loves her mama, so I have been working on my juggling act...and dropping the ball more than I had hoped.

Anyway... I needed to pick up the kids from school yesterday, and I was really hungry. (I am always hungry! Is it a nursing thing?) I quickly slapped a PB and J sandwich together and woofed it down while trying to find Lindsey's left shoe and a missing mitten. I triumphantly got the girls ready and set off in our nice warmed up car (I remembered to do that!) to get the kids.

Confidently I park, unbuckle Linds, wrestle the carriage out of the back and pop Allyson's car seat in, all the while thinking... I think I've got my groove back. We strut to the doors a bit early and wait. I chat with some moms about the weather and how the baby is growing up so fast...you know small talk. After a few minutes a good friend of mine approaches.
I smile, she smiles then bursts out laughing. "Kel, did you have peanut butter and jelly for lunch?" Gulp. Apparently I had a big old glob of it on my cheek! LOL! I had two choices in this situation...

A. Meekly wipe the smudge of sandwich off of my face while thanking my friend(feeling like an idiot).

B. Or burst into laughter while asking my friend if she would like some.

I chose B.

I do have my groove back! I'm just tweaking it a bit. ;)

How the time has passed

I can't believe that I have been an at home mom for 12 years. You'd think I would be better at this. LOL Some days it feels like I haven't really done much of anything at all, yet I honestly can't recall sitting down and relaxing either? I know I know... I am doing a very important job, a job that I absolutely love (most days). In fact, this is the job that I dreamed of having. Is that weird? I've always wanted to be a mom.

Yay me! ;)