When to say, "Enough."

The internet and television make parents think that their children are just going to up and die at any moment. Reckless people that give into pseudoscience bullshit stop vaccinating their kids, and suddenly we are all at risk again. Apparently, children also shouldn't go to sleepovers anymore because pedophiles. If your kids get too much screen time they will get too fat and too stupid to function in normal society. Yet, if your kids don't get enough screen time, they won't be able to function in society. Don't give them peanuts, eggs, milk, or honey until they are one or they could have a severe allergic reaction and possibly die.

The list of things you shouldn't let your children do is daunting, and at times it seems to outweigh the list of things you should let your children do. Even when you think something is okay, someone will tell you you're doing it wrong. When you think something is wrong, someone will tell you everything is okay.

We've got this kid, you see... a girl child. She is the oldest. We call her Sass, because she is all fire and sassy. She is also sweet, and smart as a whip; hilarious on accident, and loves to please. Sass gets sick a lot. She gets these wicked fevers, congestion, and coughs. Then, out of no where, she will throw up. This happens basically every month... I think the longest she has gone between sicknesses was 2 months. Sass started going to daycare when she was 1 1/2 or 2-years-old. She has done two years of preschool, and we are half way through Kindergarten... This month, February, she has been sick for three weeks. Two different fevers, the same congestion and cough, and one vomiting episode.

I am not trying to sensationalize her illnesses - honestly, for a long time, we really believed the saying "she is just building her immunities". Yet, this month was our breaking point - when do you say "Enough" and start asking questions? When is okay to start worrying that there is something wrong? I never wanted to be that mom, constantly calling the pediatrician and asking about a cough or a fever. The first time I took her to see her doctor, a different one than she sees now, the doctor told me it's completely normal for her to get sick around ten times a year as they transition into school age.

Fine. I waited. Two years later, and here we are.

Monday, I took her to the E.R., because of that fever. That damnable fever. The E.R. doctor is checking her over, looks up from his stethoscope, and asks, "She has a heart murmur?" I say, "Well, they told me when she was a littler girl that it was faint and would go away." He moves the stethoscope, listens again. Moves it again, listens. Leans her forward, listens again. Deep breath, listens again. Breath out, hold it, listens again.

I cannot even begin to express the way I felt during this. Obvious to me is the fact that this murmur is not faint - has not gone away as, basically, promised. Even before I hop on Google, I am an utter basket case. That's kind of my jam, being a basket case. I excel at it really. Every worse case scenario is running through my head as the logical side of my brain is trying desperately to rein the rest of me. I start doing that smile at the doctor... you know the one. That one where your face feels really tight, and your head starts to hurt, and it looks like maybe you have to poop?.... He discharged us with the instructions to see her primary care doctor as soon as we can so the diastolic murmur can be assessed.

Sass got to see her amazing, wonderful, spectacular pediatrician yesterday. He said he definitely wants to send her out to see cardiology and immunology. As far as E.R. doctors go, he said we kind of hit the jackpot - we got one that actually is good at assessing pediatric patients. He trusts his judgement. He said that he felt like he heard a systolic murmur, but that it is in an abnormal place. He said that just because the E.R. doctor hear a diastolic murmur and he is not hearing it now, does not mean it was a misdiagnosis. It means we need more information, and information from and by a specialist.

Systolic murmurs are usually innocent and really not that big of an issue. Diastolic murmurs are usually pathological and really not that good to have. Can you guess which one we are hoping for? There are also instants where hearts make extra sounds. One extra sound is considered innocent, and two is considered bad. Can you guess which one we are hoping for?

The scariest thing that has ever happened to me, in my entire life, is that I had kids. Seriously. I made three people in this body. Made. Them. My body literally housed, nourished, and birthed people. A large part of my soul walks around inside another person, and I have no control over it anymore. Sass is sick and gets sick too much for my peace of mind.

I am desperately trying to remain calm. To not freak the fuck out, like I want to. I want to rage, and shout at God "Why?!?!?!". But, I haven't. Not yet. We don't know anything yet. Not really. We know that someone else needs to look at her - two special people that know their fields and will tell us exactly what the issue is. We know that Sass has an amazing primary care doctor, and that he is smart enough to know she needs just a little bit more than he can offer. We know that she is still full of sassy fire, she is still smart as a whip, and she still is hilarious on accident.

What do I want to say to you? I want to say that being the squeaky wheel is okay, because someone will pay attention to you. I want to say that loving your children, the people you made, is a good thing. A very good thing. I want to say pray for me. Send me your good thoughts, your warm fuzzies, your hugs and kisses. I want to say that it is okay to say you've had enough.

Don't Turn Around

Somehow, middlest found an empty cup. I saw this, and did not think one thing about it... Just kind of "oh, that's odd.". I turned my back to talk to oldest, who is home sick... again, and when  I turned back, there was water in that empty cup.

From the dog bowl.

He looked at me after taking a BIG sip and said, "Mmmmm... Water."

Quinoa... for breakfast?

Have you heard of Buzz Feed? Of course you have, everyone has heard of Buzz Feed. A month or so ago, I stumbled upon this:24 Delicious Ways to Eat Quinoa for Breakfast

Did you look at them? Don't those look delightful?! I attempted a version of the quinoa that was like an oatmeal, and add apples cooked in cinnamon, vanilla, and brown sugar. We topped the whole concoction with almond milk.

This dish is not for this family. Oldest refused to eat more than two bites, husband and I ate it but felt kind of ripped off. Middle and Little ate it, but they don't count because they are like human garbage disposals.

Do you eat quinoa?

On Friends...

In middle and high school, I desperately wanted to be Popular. I would watch those kids walk by - smart, well dressed, and so cold. I didn't exist, and the more I didn't exist, the more desperate I grew.

People do crazy things to numb desperation. I was no different. After making a series of very bad choices, I met someone. There was a person in my life I was trying to move past. It was hard! This person had been a very, very large part of my life for over four years. In exasperation, I exclaimed to the girl sitting next to me in one of my college classes that this guy just wouldn't leave me alone. She looked at me and said, "You don't have to talk to him."

Umm. Duh. Right? Honestly, that thought hadn't occurred to me. Not once did I stop and realize there was no law staying I had to part on good terms with this guy. A lot of people I thought were my good friends, were not. Not really. We all had an unfortunate affinity for... stupid activities. Because of this one girl, I realized I could just burn those bridges and really give no shits about the fact. Sometimes, burned bridges are safe because those bridges probably should have been condemned years ago. 

I am still friends with that girl from class. I went to her wedding. She helped me organize my wedding. Her dad actually officiated at my wedding. She was there after my first baby was born. She hopped on a red eye flight, drove three hours through a state she didn't know, all to be with me when our second child was born at 33 weeks. She sends my kids Christmas gifts. We can pick up conversations like we never stopped having them. She is the very best friend I have ever had.

There is a part of me that thinks I don't deserve such a friend. I have the great privilege of knowing many wonderful women, and a few men, that I can't quite believe want to be my friend... that they like me. Now that I am a grown up, and do lots of grown up things, I am a little bit more able to just be grateful. So. If you like me, and are my friend, know that I am grateful for you... and that you are most likely a VERY bright spot in my hazy days of child rearing. 

Snow Daze

I used to LOVE snow days as a kid. No school? Parents at work? TV time!!!

Well, I do this stay at home gig, and my kids are driving me insane. No one napped - they are hardcore. I let the oldest and middlest skate aroun the dining room in their sock-feet and that was a win until middle wiped out and ended up with a goose egg. 

Packed The Three into the van, with all their coats, loveys, water, snacks, and the damned Rainbow Rocks Soundtrack. I drove all the way to Lowe's, unloaded everyone, got to the door and realize I left the m-fing money at home. Repack all the kids, went home, got the cash, decided I didn't want to go to Lowe's anymore, and we went to Walmart.

Oh, Walmart. I was definitely not the only stay at home parent with the desperate idea of Going Out.. I heard more than one parent exclaim at their child "Just shut your mouth for one minute. Please? Just quiet." We all nodded at each otherr with that sad, angry face you get when dealing with children nonsense ALL DAY LONG. 

My husband has to workout, so of course he will be late. He will come sailing in right at bedtime for the children. I am 100% sure he misses them all day long, and is maybe slightly more than happy to just kiss them good night. Maybe he should bring me more wine...?

Breastfeeding, Babywearing and Clothdiapers

I will admit that little baby was maybe, kind of-sort of, definitely the most wonderful accident. It was not our intention to become pregnant while middle child was 4/5 months old. The boys are a glorious, hellishly spaced, 13 months apart in age. When little baby was born, middle child literally started walking. As in, the day I went in to have him, my girlfriend sent me a text message asking, "How long has J been walking?"

Awesome.

Little baby was a boob man. The other two children, tried as I might, preferred the bottle. I'd like to say I handled that with grace, but the truth is, it stung badly that they didn't/couldn't nurse. Girl child basically refused me, and middle child took up too much grief in my heart that I just couldn't. Plus, he has a BIG dairy issue. Hello screamer. I liked that little baby was good at nursing. I hate nursing. Really. I mean, it was special, and something only I could do for him, and "breast is best" and blah, blah, blah. I don't care how people feed their babies, I care that they feed them. Babies should be fat.

Little baby very usually got stuck in the Ergo. This wasn't because we ascribed to the idea that baby wearing was THE thing to do. I've read the studies - babies that are strapped on to mom or dad cry less, they talk earlier, they walk earlier, they can solve the Pythagorean Theorem. Little baby got shoved into the Ergo, because I needed my hands. I needed them to wipe noses, to walk dogs, to cook dinner, to wipe butts...

So. I'm not sure if you did the math. Middle and Little are 13 months apart. Each child is in diapers. DIAPERS. So.Much.Poop. For serious, we were spending over $200 in diapers, wipes, and creams for these two a month. Per month. Do you even know how much wine, beer, and cheese that can buy?! Lots. Thus, the cloth diapers came into our household... and cloth wipes... and homemade butt paste. The upside of this is, we definitely have more wine, beer, and cheese in the house. The downside of this is, I have to clean shit out of a cloth diaper and wash them. The entire laundry room smells like piss when the diapers are going through the wash, and I haven't quite figured out the best way to get all the laundry done.

........

I shit you not, I was at Lowe's a couple weeks ago and the lady checking us out had me pegged. I was wearing little baby, both boys had their stupid, ineffectual baltic amber teething necklaces on, and she said "Oh. You cloth diaper.". Soooo.... Wait, what? All of a sudden I have become an easy to solve word problem in math - "If child one and two are wearing X article of clothing, and mother is wear one of two children, then obviously they must all Z."

I wonder if people look at me and think I have my shit together. I wonder if they are jealous. If the judge. If the hate. If they envy. If. If. If.

Hey. I don't. Have my shit together. Don't be jealous, don't judge, don't hate, don't envy me. Wanna know what? My belly is flabby. My dogs don't get walked nearly enough. I can't bake to save my life. I do my best cleaning ten minutes before company is scheduled to come over. I can't sleep with my husband if he is snoring, but I also canNOT sleep without him... and his damn snoring. I cried for almost six weeks straight while nursing Little, because he.would.not.leave.me.alone. I hate wearing him... he hates being strapped on... he tried to throw himself out of the Ergo. Seriously, he did.

People, don't let yourself be pigeon holed into a certain category. Fight.

Quiet Time

Quiet time does NOT happen very often in a house raising three kids and two dogs. And yes, you have to raise dogs almost the same way you raise a toddler. When you do stumble upon this glorious, precious, thing called Quiet what do you do?

Laundry.
Exercise.
Read.
Write.
Call a friend.
Bake or cook.
Facebook.

I sit. To be more precise, I go to the bathroom, I close the door, and I sit on the toilet. No. I may not be using the commode for it's intended purpose, but I am in there. There are no shouts of "Mommy!!??", no suddenly opening doors with queries of "What are you doing?", and no dogs digging holes. During the Quiet I imagine doing all the things on that list above, and let's face it - I definitely am on Facebook... Mostly, I am just so very, very happy to be left alone.

I have one child that naps still. He is the middle, my almost two-year-old, my hell on wheels, my super special 33-weeker. The oldest is a girl, and at almost six is definitely too old and probably too cool to take a nap. Little baby is almost one, and also seem to share the opinions of his sister and is too cool to nap. Girl dog is almost nine, and Boy dog is almost two... both find the UPS man and the mailman totally intolerable, and like making giant holes in the yard. Husband often comes home from being an Army Man to a house in chaos, and me lamenting that there isn't enough wine in the world to get through these years.

I love my children. I love my dogs. I love my husband. But sometimes, I REALLY just want to sit. Sit in the quiet bathroom and daydream about doing other things.

Also, it would be nice to poop in peace.