So the universe always seems to function with a ironic sense of humor. Case in point: Hero Hottie takes more hours at work to earn some extra money since Baby Blueberry is on the way. He's not at home as much. The month of May is the busiest month out of my entire year. Bean and Abu have a dance recital every year and it's two week of living at the dance studio- or it almost feels like it.
The end of the school year happens in the month of May around here- field trips, events at school and special treats that need bought. On top of that we have birthdays to celebrate.
The yard and garden are begging for attention after being ignored for six long months of cold weather.
This month is even busier than Christmas time. It's a whirlwind of fun and very little down time.
And then I find out that my week long modified bed rest is going to last right into June. Perhaps July. Oh, boy. So it couldn't have happened during a quiet month. Or a month that Hero Hottie might be home. No. It has to be right smack during the busiest time of the year.
The month of May.
Yesterday I went to my ultrasound appointment to check on my placenta. Everything looks great. It appears to be healing, it is slowly, very slowly moving away from my cervix, and Baby Blueberry was in there kicking the entire time I was having the ultrasound. It's quite a- this momma wants to cry- moment to watch her little, tiny miraculous feet kick at the same time I'm feeling it. The nurse measured my uterus and it's growth is right where it's supposed to be- big and getting bigger. I'm definitely going to feel like a wobbly whale on feet by the end of summer.
And I had the chance to listen to the heartbeat. Which the tech had measured the heartbeat on the ultrasound but the nurse still took out the fetal doppler and let me listen to that wonderful sound. It's such a reassuring rhythm.
Then Dr. S came in to discuss the results of the ultrasound. I would have asked the tech, because she would know but they hate it when you put them on the spot for info that supposed to come from the doctor, so I patiently waited for my doctor to tell me.
"Things are great but the next four weeks are critical. I can't save your baby at this point should it decide to rip more and you go into labor. So it's modified bed rest for the next month, maybe two. No lifting, no housecleaning, no picking up small children, and limited driving and shopping. I want you taking it easy and resting."
I'm sitting on the edge of the exam table and she has taken a seat on her twirly chair in front of me, and she is actually looking up at me while she speaks. She's a bundle of energy in a tiny frame, and a reassuring smile never leaves her face as she tells me I have to rearrange my entire life for the next few months to protect my baby. She places her hands on my knees, a gesture I can tell she has purposely taken to doing to connect to her patients but one that doesn't seem too intrusive. I take a deep breath and ask her all the technical questions because that is the way my mind works. I want details. Logical, matter of fact details. And she tells them to me.
Okay, I can handle this. The outcome is looking great; I just have to rest. The doctor stands up to take one last look at my chart. When she turns her back, I suddenly feel overwhelmed and lost. Without the reassuring smile that speaks of hope; the tears start.
Needless to say, when she turns back around she is shocked to see my silent sobs and the tears pouring down my face. She rushes over to me, then abruptly turns around and grabs a handful of tissue. She shoves them into my hand, squeezing my hands in reassurance as she does. I wipe my eyes and wonder why I put mascara on, because it has now smeared.
"It's right under your eye." Dr. S says gently, like a Mom would, pointing to the area on her face. I wipe it clean, giving a small laugh as she has to point out another two areas with smeared mascara. Finally, I stop my tears and she looks me straight in the eyes and tells me it's going to be okay.
Deep breath. Breathe. Have faith. What a difficult concept right now.
I take measured steps to the car, now mindfully aware of taking my time to walk, to move my body, to protect my baby. I have to consciously slow down my usual, in a hurry self and feel my movements. It's not completely unwelcomed. I forgot how nice it is to just walk and take one's time to enjoy the process, rather than rushing, rushing, rushing.
I should probably enjoy it now, since when Baby Blueberry arrives I will unfortunately be back to a hectic mode of living. But it would be nice to slow that down too, especially since I didn't expect this baby and I would love to enjoy each stage, knowing just how fleeting and brief they are.
Because it won't be long and she will be trying to keep up with her older sisters and nieces. Perhaps she needs to savor her quiet time too, since she'll be busy as soon as she's born.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Baby Blueberry and Torn Placentas
It had been a normal day. -Right there that statement implies that my usual, normal Tuesday afternoon changed into something not so typical.-
I took CT to preschool and picked her up when it was over, spent the rest of the day taking care of Bug, kept the house tidy...
which how can a four year old and a one year old get out every single toy they have in only ten seconds...
and working on my current romantic short story.
Later that evening, when the little girls had went home, I took Bean to dance class. This gave Abu and I some much needed Mommy time together. We were going to stop by the library and then color in her dragon coloring book before we had to pick up Bean.
In one second- life was normal. Busy and unexpected. After all, in four and a half months we are going to have another baby, who has been given the nickname Blueberry until we know if they're a boy or girl. The name was given by the girls because when I found out I was pregnant the baby was just the tiny size of a blueberry. So tiny and precious and amazing. So hence the nickname- Blueberry.
I held open the library door for Abu, smiling as she skipped through the entrance, happy to have ALONE time with me.
I took another step following her and then felt like my period had started. -That was the next second in my life and it changed everything.-
I instantly told myself that wasn't the case and decided I just needed to use the bathroom. Baby must have jumped on my bladder. They had a funny way of doing that as they get bigger and their kicks get more powerful.
In the bathroom though, I quickly realized it was blood. Bright red and not supposed to be there.
I started cussing. Harsh words of anger and pleading. I didn't want to lose this baby. Not when they had started to warm my heart with their movements. Their presence.
Kicking and twirling inside me like a acrobat or a karate expert. This was a busy baby who we had started to play music for and they enjoyed it.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Abu asks from the next stall.
I heard her ask the question but I didn't answer right away. What was I supposed to say? That something bad and horrible might be happening. That the baby at only nineteen weeks was too young to survive if they were to be born. That this little life that we had all grown to love might...
"Mom?" She was quite worried.
I swallowed. "We have to go home. We have to go now."
I rush her out of the bathroom, trying not to cry. Trying not to lose it. Usually I take things so calmly, so matter of fact but this struck panic and fear right to the core of me and I just wanted to get home so I could call my doctor and figure out what to do.
"Mom, are you going to die?" Abu finally asks, since my answers were not clear. I was not focused, not explaining things to her the way I should have. My own fear was too strong.
But that question stopped me cold. She's only eight and so young and she only knows part of the details and doesn't know what's happening, except that her Mom is scared out of her wits.
I explain to her that I was bleeding and needed to get to the hospital but I was going to drop her off at home with Grandma first.
"Mom, just take me with you to the hospital. I don't have to go home." She pleads with me, worried about Blueberry. Worried about her Mommy.
I shook my head, giving her a quick glance in the rear view mirror while I drove home. The library was three minutes away from our house and the hospital only another four minutes. I wasn't having pain or cramping and the bleeding wasn't excessive just bright and intrusive.
I wanted to call my doctor, leave Abu with her Grandma and call Hero Hottie from work to take me to the hospital. I was too scared to go by myself.
The doctor told me to go to the hospital and Hero Hottie rushed home to take me as soon as I called him. Of course, it didn't help his panic level that I was crying when he got on the line.
The ER was the ER. I was so glad to see one of my friends there that works as a ER nurse. She kept checking on me and chatting with me as she had a moment. It helped keep me from totally losing it.
They checked for signs of a miscarriage. Completely negative. - Thank God.
The first nurse came in to check for the baby's heartbeat and even though I had just felt them move a few minutes before, I had to hear that rhythm. Had to have that reassurance that they were strong and alive.
She couldn't find it. I kept the panic down, simply because I had just felt them move and she was obviously not especially skilled at it.
My friend poked her head in to check on me and was instantly wrangled into trying to find the heartbeat. In one try she had the reassuring sound filling the room. It was steady and sturdy.
I almost starting crying with relief.
Then I had blood work drawn. I hate needles. Especially when the first vein fails and they have to give the other arm a matching poke. Ouch.
Urine samples- Do you know how hard it is to pee into a cup when you're trying to hold up a loose, way too large gown with the other hand? Can't they make hospital gowns in a few different sizes? One size does not fit all. And why do I always end up with the gowns with broken snaps and broken strings? I would like to have my bum covered as I walk down the busy hospital corridor to the bathroom please.
The pelvic exam was the worse one I had ever experienced. The room I was put in did not have stirrups. So what they offered me was a pelvic wedge. It looks like a wedge of cheese and is the size of a pillow. I had to balance my bum onto the top edge of it, while still sitting up, using my arms behind me to keep from falling off it.
The nurses explained that the wedge was much better than what they used to do.
Bedpans. They use to have female patients balance and perch so they could expose themselves for a pelvic exam for some strange doctor on the edge of a bedpan.
I suppose I will take the pelvic wedge.
The ER doctor did an ultrasound and the baby's heart was nice and strong.
They sent me home to rest, to come back if I started to have pain and told me to call my doctor in the morning.
I hate hospitals. Probably because six years ago I entered one, not sure if I was coming out alive. Now I was leaving one, and I wasn't sure the outcome.
I spent the next two days visiting my doctor and having two different ultrasounds. The diagnosis...a slightly torn placenta and some blood in the uterus.
Ouch. I still wasn't having any signs of a impending miscarriage but I did have problems with my placenta. I was still scared like crazy.
She put me on bed rest for the next week. No lifting, no traveling, no -and she looked at Hero Hottie while she says this- sex. He asked me later why she looked at him when she said this. Because you're a guy. I managed to not roll my eyes.
She has hopes that it will heal and every thing will be fine. In the next week or two we will know. In the mean time, I'm stuck on the couch, trying to keep myself from worrying. Or reading too many Google entries about placenta abruption.
I think I would have been better not looking up those words. A full placenta abruption is horrible and devastating. And heartbreaking.
A slightly torn one has a much better chance of healing and finishing out the pregnancy. At least that's what I have been able to find online. So right now baby Blueberry and I are doing fine. Bleeding has stopped and I still don't have any pain or cramping. It took a few days to write this blog, I was so afraid of jinxing myself if I wrote that we were doing okay.
I think the rest of this pregnancy might be a one day at a time kind of pregnancy. She's kicking wildly while I write and that makes me smile. I pray and then pray a whole lot more.
I have a wonderful family to help me. Bean and Abu actually spent the weekend doing chores I could never get them to do before without listening to minutes of complaining.
I have amazing friends...women that have offered to help with my chores, to let my children play across the street when they're out and playing, to make me meals, that have loaned me videos and books to keep from going insane.
Who have understood as mothers how scary and frightening this is and have been there for me. I am truly blessed by the people in my life. Blueberry is blessed already by the people who love her and we haven't even met her.
I will keep everyone posted as hopefully things move along without anymore scares. Plus I will have time to write as I have a feeling my days are going to be a lot quieter. And writing is a whole lot better than watching daytime television. :)
Oh, and in the meantime one of those ultrasounds I had told us what Baby Blueberry is...drum roll please....
she's a GIRL.
I think Hero Hottie is getting a Man Cave.
I took CT to preschool and picked her up when it was over, spent the rest of the day taking care of Bug, kept the house tidy...
which how can a four year old and a one year old get out every single toy they have in only ten seconds...
and working on my current romantic short story.
Later that evening, when the little girls had went home, I took Bean to dance class. This gave Abu and I some much needed Mommy time together. We were going to stop by the library and then color in her dragon coloring book before we had to pick up Bean.
In one second- life was normal. Busy and unexpected. After all, in four and a half months we are going to have another baby, who has been given the nickname Blueberry until we know if they're a boy or girl. The name was given by the girls because when I found out I was pregnant the baby was just the tiny size of a blueberry. So tiny and precious and amazing. So hence the nickname- Blueberry.
I held open the library door for Abu, smiling as she skipped through the entrance, happy to have ALONE time with me.
I took another step following her and then felt like my period had started. -That was the next second in my life and it changed everything.-
I instantly told myself that wasn't the case and decided I just needed to use the bathroom. Baby must have jumped on my bladder. They had a funny way of doing that as they get bigger and their kicks get more powerful.
In the bathroom though, I quickly realized it was blood. Bright red and not supposed to be there.
I started cussing. Harsh words of anger and pleading. I didn't want to lose this baby. Not when they had started to warm my heart with their movements. Their presence.
Kicking and twirling inside me like a acrobat or a karate expert. This was a busy baby who we had started to play music for and they enjoyed it.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Abu asks from the next stall.
I heard her ask the question but I didn't answer right away. What was I supposed to say? That something bad and horrible might be happening. That the baby at only nineteen weeks was too young to survive if they were to be born. That this little life that we had all grown to love might...
"Mom?" She was quite worried.
I swallowed. "We have to go home. We have to go now."
I rush her out of the bathroom, trying not to cry. Trying not to lose it. Usually I take things so calmly, so matter of fact but this struck panic and fear right to the core of me and I just wanted to get home so I could call my doctor and figure out what to do.
"Mom, are you going to die?" Abu finally asks, since my answers were not clear. I was not focused, not explaining things to her the way I should have. My own fear was too strong.
But that question stopped me cold. She's only eight and so young and she only knows part of the details and doesn't know what's happening, except that her Mom is scared out of her wits.
I explain to her that I was bleeding and needed to get to the hospital but I was going to drop her off at home with Grandma first.
"Mom, just take me with you to the hospital. I don't have to go home." She pleads with me, worried about Blueberry. Worried about her Mommy.
I shook my head, giving her a quick glance in the rear view mirror while I drove home. The library was three minutes away from our house and the hospital only another four minutes. I wasn't having pain or cramping and the bleeding wasn't excessive just bright and intrusive.
I wanted to call my doctor, leave Abu with her Grandma and call Hero Hottie from work to take me to the hospital. I was too scared to go by myself.
The doctor told me to go to the hospital and Hero Hottie rushed home to take me as soon as I called him. Of course, it didn't help his panic level that I was crying when he got on the line.
The ER was the ER. I was so glad to see one of my friends there that works as a ER nurse. She kept checking on me and chatting with me as she had a moment. It helped keep me from totally losing it.
They checked for signs of a miscarriage. Completely negative. - Thank God.
The first nurse came in to check for the baby's heartbeat and even though I had just felt them move a few minutes before, I had to hear that rhythm. Had to have that reassurance that they were strong and alive.
She couldn't find it. I kept the panic down, simply because I had just felt them move and she was obviously not especially skilled at it.
My friend poked her head in to check on me and was instantly wrangled into trying to find the heartbeat. In one try she had the reassuring sound filling the room. It was steady and sturdy.
I almost starting crying with relief.
Then I had blood work drawn. I hate needles. Especially when the first vein fails and they have to give the other arm a matching poke. Ouch.
Urine samples- Do you know how hard it is to pee into a cup when you're trying to hold up a loose, way too large gown with the other hand? Can't they make hospital gowns in a few different sizes? One size does not fit all. And why do I always end up with the gowns with broken snaps and broken strings? I would like to have my bum covered as I walk down the busy hospital corridor to the bathroom please.
The pelvic exam was the worse one I had ever experienced. The room I was put in did not have stirrups. So what they offered me was a pelvic wedge. It looks like a wedge of cheese and is the size of a pillow. I had to balance my bum onto the top edge of it, while still sitting up, using my arms behind me to keep from falling off it.
The nurses explained that the wedge was much better than what they used to do.
Bedpans. They use to have female patients balance and perch so they could expose themselves for a pelvic exam for some strange doctor on the edge of a bedpan.
I suppose I will take the pelvic wedge.
The ER doctor did an ultrasound and the baby's heart was nice and strong.
They sent me home to rest, to come back if I started to have pain and told me to call my doctor in the morning.
I hate hospitals. Probably because six years ago I entered one, not sure if I was coming out alive. Now I was leaving one, and I wasn't sure the outcome.
I spent the next two days visiting my doctor and having two different ultrasounds. The diagnosis...a slightly torn placenta and some blood in the uterus.
Ouch. I still wasn't having any signs of a impending miscarriage but I did have problems with my placenta. I was still scared like crazy.
She put me on bed rest for the next week. No lifting, no traveling, no -and she looked at Hero Hottie while she says this- sex. He asked me later why she looked at him when she said this. Because you're a guy. I managed to not roll my eyes.
She has hopes that it will heal and every thing will be fine. In the next week or two we will know. In the mean time, I'm stuck on the couch, trying to keep myself from worrying. Or reading too many Google entries about placenta abruption.
I think I would have been better not looking up those words. A full placenta abruption is horrible and devastating. And heartbreaking.
A slightly torn one has a much better chance of healing and finishing out the pregnancy. At least that's what I have been able to find online. So right now baby Blueberry and I are doing fine. Bleeding has stopped and I still don't have any pain or cramping. It took a few days to write this blog, I was so afraid of jinxing myself if I wrote that we were doing okay.
I think the rest of this pregnancy might be a one day at a time kind of pregnancy. She's kicking wildly while I write and that makes me smile. I pray and then pray a whole lot more.
I have a wonderful family to help me. Bean and Abu actually spent the weekend doing chores I could never get them to do before without listening to minutes of complaining.
I have amazing friends...women that have offered to help with my chores, to let my children play across the street when they're out and playing, to make me meals, that have loaned me videos and books to keep from going insane.
Who have understood as mothers how scary and frightening this is and have been there for me. I am truly blessed by the people in my life. Blueberry is blessed already by the people who love her and we haven't even met her.
I will keep everyone posted as hopefully things move along without anymore scares. Plus I will have time to write as I have a feeling my days are going to be a lot quieter. And writing is a whole lot better than watching daytime television. :)
Oh, and in the meantime one of those ultrasounds I had told us what Baby Blueberry is...drum roll please....
she's a GIRL.
I think Hero Hottie is getting a Man Cave.
Monday, April 9, 2012
A Houseful of Hormonal Females
"Mom, we had a talk at school today with our teacher." Bean said, an awkward mix of the little kid she still reminds me of sometimes and the young lady she was too quickly becoming. How could they grow up so fast? Wasn't it just yesterday that she was just a toddler and fixated on being 'Ella?
(Cinderella. It was her favorite princess. Her Halloween costume was 'Ella, her toys were all 'Ella and it was her most watched movie. It was cute and adorable. But I'm glad she has since learned to be way more independent than the Disney Cinderella character ever was. She's more like the Drew Barrymore's Cinderella character off of 'Ever After'. Sassy, independent, tries to do the right thing and doesn't let a boy give her flack.)
But back to our story...I could tell by the way she brought up the conversation that this wasn't a conversation on math problems or the upcoming testing. This was something else. Something that was making her giggly.
"What was the talk?" I sat down to listen to her.
She giggled. "She said that now we're fifth graders we have hormones developing. Hormones. Like we might be outside and playing and all a sudden start crying. Just start crying for no reason but then we might just start laughing like it's something funny."
"Oh, hormones. I know all about those." I hid a smile. I had tried to explain hormones to her. Pointing out her different mood swings as these hormones just seem to take over my normal kid, trying to help her understand her crazy, roller coasting body, but I usually was met with sullen silence or angry retorts. I was Mom, I didn't understand hormones.
"And boys. We might cry over boys. Because they don't like us. I'm not going to cry over a boy. I'll punch them first." Oh, if only you would never cry over a boy.
"Can you imagine, hiding behind the shed on the playground and just crying for no reason? And some of my friends are like that already. They cry all the time because some boy doesn't like them. We used to have fun on recess, not talk about boys the whole time."
"And you hate talking about boys and crushes." I smiled, because I knew she was starting to notice boys. Perhaps, and thankfully not as much, as the other girls. But boys used to have cooties and now they would make her giggle and blush.
"Mom, I don't have any crushes." But she's giggling because she would like one. I inwardly sigh, wondering if I could lock her in her room for the next seven or eight years. Would that be so wrong?
And then I start crying because she's growing up...and I'm pregnant...and I'm hormonal.
"Mom? Are you okay? You're crying again." She frowns, not sure what to do with this new Mom who seems to suddenly start crying all the time for no reason.
"Hormones." I say between sniffles, and watch her roll her eyes and then run outside to play, like a kid. She had obviously had enough talk about hormones and crying for no reason. Playing pretend with the younger kids seemed like a whole lot more fun than growing up right now.
Our poor household though. Not only was Bean hitting some preteen puberty stuff but I was pregnant and extremely hormonal. Do you know how emotionally chaotic it is around here lately with two females completely and totally crying at any moment for no reason?
That talk her teacher gave could have been for me.
Hormones:
1. You might start crying at any moment for no reason at all. Yes, that's me. I'm even crying over a Pampers diaper commercial. Seriously. It has newborn babies and newly made Moms on there and the softest, sweet music with sounds of heartbeats and it makes me bawl. For thirty seconds I'm tearing up watching a television commercial. What is wrong with me?
2. You might start laughing for no reason. I haven't started laughing for no reason but sometimes I'm in a wonderfully, silly mood for no reason at all. Yes, I'm always relieved when I can cross off things on my To Do list but really, I shouldn't be deliriously happy over it.
3. You might cry over boys. Yes, Hero Hottie has made me cry. Oh, not intentionally at all. But sometimes the wrong joke, something I would have laughed with him before, now has me in absolute tears. So I'm crying and he's bewildered, wondering why something he has said before is now met with huge tears.
Of course, he's been through two other pregnancies with me, he should know better than making jokes about how big I'm going to get. I can say something about how chubby I was when I was pregnant with Bean---he can't. Unfair I know, but I'm pregnant and I'm allowed.
So in our tiny house we have a tween and a pregnant woman. Some days we are clashing horribly and then both crying. And poor Hero Hottie, if it's not a pregnant wife being completely hormonal---it's Bean riding a roller coaster of mood swings. One second she reminds us of the little kid she was just a year ago and the next minute she's angry and crying.
He's surrounded by hormonal females and he doesn't even have a Man Cave to escape to. He's vastly outnumbered, the poor guy. I'm really hoping for a baby boy. Because between Bean and Abu and nieces, CT and Bug; we are surrounded by girls. A little boy would be awesome.
If not...that's okay too. She'll fit right in.
But we might just have to build Hero Hottie a Man Cave.
With a sign that says, "No girls allowed."
(Cinderella. It was her favorite princess. Her Halloween costume was 'Ella, her toys were all 'Ella and it was her most watched movie. It was cute and adorable. But I'm glad she has since learned to be way more independent than the Disney Cinderella character ever was. She's more like the Drew Barrymore's Cinderella character off of 'Ever After'. Sassy, independent, tries to do the right thing and doesn't let a boy give her flack.)
But back to our story...I could tell by the way she brought up the conversation that this wasn't a conversation on math problems or the upcoming testing. This was something else. Something that was making her giggly.
"What was the talk?" I sat down to listen to her.
She giggled. "She said that now we're fifth graders we have hormones developing. Hormones. Like we might be outside and playing and all a sudden start crying. Just start crying for no reason but then we might just start laughing like it's something funny."
"Oh, hormones. I know all about those." I hid a smile. I had tried to explain hormones to her. Pointing out her different mood swings as these hormones just seem to take over my normal kid, trying to help her understand her crazy, roller coasting body, but I usually was met with sullen silence or angry retorts. I was Mom, I didn't understand hormones.
"And boys. We might cry over boys. Because they don't like us. I'm not going to cry over a boy. I'll punch them first." Oh, if only you would never cry over a boy.
"Can you imagine, hiding behind the shed on the playground and just crying for no reason? And some of my friends are like that already. They cry all the time because some boy doesn't like them. We used to have fun on recess, not talk about boys the whole time."
"And you hate talking about boys and crushes." I smiled, because I knew she was starting to notice boys. Perhaps, and thankfully not as much, as the other girls. But boys used to have cooties and now they would make her giggle and blush.
"Mom, I don't have any crushes." But she's giggling because she would like one. I inwardly sigh, wondering if I could lock her in her room for the next seven or eight years. Would that be so wrong?
And then I start crying because she's growing up...and I'm pregnant...and I'm hormonal.
"Mom? Are you okay? You're crying again." She frowns, not sure what to do with this new Mom who seems to suddenly start crying all the time for no reason.
"Hormones." I say between sniffles, and watch her roll her eyes and then run outside to play, like a kid. She had obviously had enough talk about hormones and crying for no reason. Playing pretend with the younger kids seemed like a whole lot more fun than growing up right now.
Our poor household though. Not only was Bean hitting some preteen puberty stuff but I was pregnant and extremely hormonal. Do you know how emotionally chaotic it is around here lately with two females completely and totally crying at any moment for no reason?
That talk her teacher gave could have been for me.
Hormones:
1. You might start crying at any moment for no reason at all. Yes, that's me. I'm even crying over a Pampers diaper commercial. Seriously. It has newborn babies and newly made Moms on there and the softest, sweet music with sounds of heartbeats and it makes me bawl. For thirty seconds I'm tearing up watching a television commercial. What is wrong with me?
2. You might start laughing for no reason. I haven't started laughing for no reason but sometimes I'm in a wonderfully, silly mood for no reason at all. Yes, I'm always relieved when I can cross off things on my To Do list but really, I shouldn't be deliriously happy over it.
3. You might cry over boys. Yes, Hero Hottie has made me cry. Oh, not intentionally at all. But sometimes the wrong joke, something I would have laughed with him before, now has me in absolute tears. So I'm crying and he's bewildered, wondering why something he has said before is now met with huge tears.
Of course, he's been through two other pregnancies with me, he should know better than making jokes about how big I'm going to get. I can say something about how chubby I was when I was pregnant with Bean---he can't. Unfair I know, but I'm pregnant and I'm allowed.
So in our tiny house we have a tween and a pregnant woman. Some days we are clashing horribly and then both crying. And poor Hero Hottie, if it's not a pregnant wife being completely hormonal---it's Bean riding a roller coaster of mood swings. One second she reminds us of the little kid she was just a year ago and the next minute she's angry and crying.
He's surrounded by hormonal females and he doesn't even have a Man Cave to escape to. He's vastly outnumbered, the poor guy. I'm really hoping for a baby boy. Because between Bean and Abu and nieces, CT and Bug; we are surrounded by girls. A little boy would be awesome.
If not...that's okay too. She'll fit right in.
But we might just have to build Hero Hottie a Man Cave.
With a sign that says, "No girls allowed."
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Spying on my Kids
When I was a teenager I vowed to only spy on my kids if I felt there was a reason to. Well, I have a slight confession...Bean left her Doodle Journal- My Life in Scribbles; out on the kitchen table and so when she left for school...I stole a peek or two.
Hey, the only thing I have to say in my defense is that she's in fifth grade and very moody with developing hormones. She also left the book out.
I felt a bit guilty for peeking at it but it did offer me a glance inside her world right now and since that occurs less and less as she grows older I'm glad I did.
First of all and very unfortunately fifth grade hasn't changed since I was in school. One of the pages is titled, The Amazing Erase. It's a page where you can doodle things in life you wish you could erase.
Bean would erase; mean teachers, homework, the mean girl at school, stupid songs and stupid words that other people use to hurt you. Sounds like my list from fifth grade. :)
Now days, if I had a page like that I would erase; bills, bad hair days, shirts you thought looked good on you until someone posts a picture of you in it; and fights with Hero Hottie.
I wish I could fix Bean's page and make those mean people go away but the most I can do is help her realize that some people are just like that and we can't let them bring us down. That's a hard lesson to learn. And she had to learn that this year with her dealings with the Mean Girl. Stupid words hurt and sometimes for a long time. Luckily, the Principal's continued participation in this situation means that the Mean Girl has left her alone. Unfortunately, she hasn't left the other girls alone but she's quickly finding that more and more parents have banned her from their daughter's lives. Yet, she doesn't learn.
Her other page was quite revealing in the fact that it dealt with our relationship. That's the hazards of reading some one else's diary, they might be writing about you and it might not all be great. One time we had a neighbor that had a hearing device of some sort so she could hear what her children said from across the cul-de-sac. Her son and my brother were friends and only about nine or ten years old and apparently doing what a lot of kids do....they were complaining about their parents. OMG. How shocking.
She promptly stalked over to our house, pounding on the door and in a huff started complaining about what they had been saying. My Mom shrugged it off. The words weren't rude and vulgar, just normal kid complaining. The woman was highly upset that my Mom didn't share the same sense of outrage as she did. I think my Mom felt like if you spy on your kids than be prepare to hear things you might not want to. Aren't there sayings against listening at doors?
Anyway, the Doodle book wanted a doodle of your average day, your ideal day, and your most horrible day. The average day was our usual routine, nothing new there. The ideal day had extra recesses, and awesome meals and cool things happening. Hey, I would take a day like that any day.
The horrible day involved me...a few times. Her worse days start off with us arguing, and end with us arguing.
I felt sad. I know I feel equally upset by the mornings where I drop her off at school after we've been fighting. It's like the saying, "Don't let the sun set on your anger." Well, don't drop your kid off with anger either. It's not a great way to start the day because you know what Bean is thinking about all morning is not her schoolwork, or her friends or what she needs to accomplish. She's rehashing our argument and feeling awful.
Yet, sometimes it's difficult not to have a rough start to the day. If Bean is fighting getting ready for school, or complaining...again...about what is in her lunch...or being snippy because I didn't get her favorite shirt washed and I should have known she needed it today without her having to tell me...well, then we might have an argument of some sort.
Our worse arguments have been over homework. Like the sort of homework she doesn't remember she has until we're walking out the door to go to school. And then she doesn't understand why I won't let her finish it before I take her to school. Umm, because we'll be late? And homework needs to be done the night before, especially when I ask if you have any and you say no?
Fortunately, most mornings run with organized chaos and without a bunch of hurt feelings. But if I learned anything from spying on my kid, is that even though she's still being a moody preteen and acts like she's just a bundle of frowns, scowls, and difficult moments...she is still hurting from the other side of the argument. (Even if she's wrong, since most preteens are. ;)
It's a reminder that just like when she was a baby, I need to pick my arguments and let the others blow off. And really, I'm starting to realize that a preteen just likes to argues. It works better to calmly go about my business and let her deal with the consequences of her actions. Like don't complain too much about lunch; you might find the same, boring old sandwich in there every day instead. (She hasn't figured this one out yet. I'm just waiting.)
But I also learned from snooping that even though some times she acts like I'm the meanest Mom ever; she actually cares. So it's a great reminder that communication is still the key, just like any other relationship. I just have to use more patience than even the times she was a terrible two. --Ha! The terrible twos?? Try the terrible tens.---
In the meantime, I don't want to invade too much of her privacy so I won't be sneaking in her room to read her diary any time soon but just wait until she's on Facebook---I'll be her first friend. :)
Hey, the only thing I have to say in my defense is that she's in fifth grade and very moody with developing hormones. She also left the book out.
I felt a bit guilty for peeking at it but it did offer me a glance inside her world right now and since that occurs less and less as she grows older I'm glad I did.
First of all and very unfortunately fifth grade hasn't changed since I was in school. One of the pages is titled, The Amazing Erase. It's a page where you can doodle things in life you wish you could erase.
Bean would erase; mean teachers, homework, the mean girl at school, stupid songs and stupid words that other people use to hurt you. Sounds like my list from fifth grade. :)
Now days, if I had a page like that I would erase; bills, bad hair days, shirts you thought looked good on you until someone posts a picture of you in it; and fights with Hero Hottie.
I wish I could fix Bean's page and make those mean people go away but the most I can do is help her realize that some people are just like that and we can't let them bring us down. That's a hard lesson to learn. And she had to learn that this year with her dealings with the Mean Girl. Stupid words hurt and sometimes for a long time. Luckily, the Principal's continued participation in this situation means that the Mean Girl has left her alone. Unfortunately, she hasn't left the other girls alone but she's quickly finding that more and more parents have banned her from their daughter's lives. Yet, she doesn't learn.
Her other page was quite revealing in the fact that it dealt with our relationship. That's the hazards of reading some one else's diary, they might be writing about you and it might not all be great. One time we had a neighbor that had a hearing device of some sort so she could hear what her children said from across the cul-de-sac. Her son and my brother were friends and only about nine or ten years old and apparently doing what a lot of kids do....they were complaining about their parents. OMG. How shocking.
She promptly stalked over to our house, pounding on the door and in a huff started complaining about what they had been saying. My Mom shrugged it off. The words weren't rude and vulgar, just normal kid complaining. The woman was highly upset that my Mom didn't share the same sense of outrage as she did. I think my Mom felt like if you spy on your kids than be prepare to hear things you might not want to. Aren't there sayings against listening at doors?
Anyway, the Doodle book wanted a doodle of your average day, your ideal day, and your most horrible day. The average day was our usual routine, nothing new there. The ideal day had extra recesses, and awesome meals and cool things happening. Hey, I would take a day like that any day.
The horrible day involved me...a few times. Her worse days start off with us arguing, and end with us arguing.
I felt sad. I know I feel equally upset by the mornings where I drop her off at school after we've been fighting. It's like the saying, "Don't let the sun set on your anger." Well, don't drop your kid off with anger either. It's not a great way to start the day because you know what Bean is thinking about all morning is not her schoolwork, or her friends or what she needs to accomplish. She's rehashing our argument and feeling awful.
Yet, sometimes it's difficult not to have a rough start to the day. If Bean is fighting getting ready for school, or complaining...again...about what is in her lunch...or being snippy because I didn't get her favorite shirt washed and I should have known she needed it today without her having to tell me...well, then we might have an argument of some sort.
Our worse arguments have been over homework. Like the sort of homework she doesn't remember she has until we're walking out the door to go to school. And then she doesn't understand why I won't let her finish it before I take her to school. Umm, because we'll be late? And homework needs to be done the night before, especially when I ask if you have any and you say no?
Fortunately, most mornings run with organized chaos and without a bunch of hurt feelings. But if I learned anything from spying on my kid, is that even though she's still being a moody preteen and acts like she's just a bundle of frowns, scowls, and difficult moments...she is still hurting from the other side of the argument. (Even if she's wrong, since most preteens are. ;)
It's a reminder that just like when she was a baby, I need to pick my arguments and let the others blow off. And really, I'm starting to realize that a preteen just likes to argues. It works better to calmly go about my business and let her deal with the consequences of her actions. Like don't complain too much about lunch; you might find the same, boring old sandwich in there every day instead. (She hasn't figured this one out yet. I'm just waiting.)
But I also learned from snooping that even though some times she acts like I'm the meanest Mom ever; she actually cares. So it's a great reminder that communication is still the key, just like any other relationship. I just have to use more patience than even the times she was a terrible two. --Ha! The terrible twos?? Try the terrible tens.---
In the meantime, I don't want to invade too much of her privacy so I won't be sneaking in her room to read her diary any time soon but just wait until she's on Facebook---I'll be her first friend. :)
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