When I'm A Parent...

Remember being about twelve years old and stomping off to your bedroom, slamming the door and dramatically falling on the bed proclaiming that you will NEVER EVER do that (whatever sin your parents just committed) to your own children?  Usually it was a punishment of some sort?

We'll discuss discipline at a later point.  What's on today's agenda is looking at how you were parented.

Admittedly not everyone experienced idyllic childhoods.  In fact, many of us had a mix of bad experiences haunting our childhood memories.  Build on it, whatever "it" is.  Your parenting style will be strongly influenced by how you were parented - good and bad.  From horrific abuse to the dramatic proclamations of unfair treatment, we are going to use those benchmarks of what will never be allowed to happen to our own children. 

While soap in the mouth isn't even a point of consideration for most people, I am to this day scarred by seeing my youngest brother choking on a flow of bubbles spewing from his mouth.  No matter what bad word could possibly fall out of one of my children's mouths I can guarantee that soap was never in my response possibilities.  Ever.

It seems we all have a few items that supply the "I never" list.  Surprisingly you might find yourself setting that list to the side and pissing off your inner twelve year old when you ground your child for an entire week.  We do that sometimes.  Keep evaluating your list because as you get older you'll start to see the wisdom in some of your parent's choices - are you willing to break that promise to yourself?  Sometimes it may be the best option on the table.

But these are the negative aspects, building the "I never" list, but what about the positive points?  We spend so much time focusing on the negative we seem to act like there aren't any positives to be found.  The truth is there are more positive points to be acknowledged and we tend to unconsciously replicate a great majority of dear ol' mom and dad's parenting styles.  Put some conscious effort into listing those positive traits, what do you plan to incorporate into your own parenting?

Mom and dad aren't the only source of parenting tips from our pasts.  Is there a close aunt or uncle?  Maybe it's your grandparents or a long-time babysitter or your best friends parents?  What memories do they instill?  What did they do that you would want to recreate for your own children?  Maybe you were raised with a close knot of cousins providing an endless stream of playmates.  What if you don't have any siblings or your siblings live far away?  Clearly having other children around is important so you should keep that in mind when you buy a house and keep an eye for children of similar age to your little bundle of joy. 

Keeping that list running will make you more aware of yourself as a parent.

Parenting Plan - Religion

I left the details of a parenting plan rather open ended, as well it should be, but maybe I could explain it more in depth?  I figure I would dice it up a little more over time.

As a reminder, I said everyone should take time to define a parenting plan, hopefully before children arrive.  Don't worry, though, if you are getting a late start it's better than never.  Quite honestly, most people have a parenting plan bouncing around in their head, but never really put a label on it.

A parenting plan is the core of your parenting attitudes.  To define it outloud, especially with your partner, helps bring the both of you to the same page.  It's also helpful to have this defined before you're faced with discipline issues and major life decisions.  This way you're not parenting off the cuff and are equipped with some intentionally set guidelines.  It is very important to remember that your parenting plan is going to morph over the years.  You'll find what works, doesn't work and what needs to be amended.

So what about religion?

This is really a huge issue that requires some discussion with your partner.  Obviously if you two are from different religious backgrounds this will feel like the 500 pound gorilla standing in the room.  How do you meld your differences?  Which belief standard will dominate in child rearing?  Whose church, or whatever, will you attend?  Or at all?

Most people tend to match up with someone of similar religious and moral standards, but this still ought to be discussed.  Even if you met at church and are both very active in its activities you may be surprised that you still have some differing opinions concerning religion and how it should intertwine with your lives.

On top of the logistical issues of how to spend holy days and attending chapel, what about the religious standards of raising your child?  How are you going to dispense information concerning your beliefs?  How are you going to deal with other people's beliefs?

Even for people with agnostic views, religion is going to be an issue.  Other people's religious views are going to be shared with your little tyke.  Other people's religious views are going to surround and even question how you raise your child.  Knowing how you are going to face controversial and inflammatory statements and invasive questions will make it slightly easier when the time arises.

Remember to consider the physical aspects of your belief system (food, clothing, swearing, worship) as well as the spiritual contexts. 

Then you need to consider your families.  What are their beliefs?  How strong are they about their belief systems?  How with the various views impact your daily life?  How will you handle differences of opinions?  And if you dare oppose their views, how is that going to impact your relationships?

All of this is going to address some issues in your relationship with your partner, but it most definitely will impact your children.  Address it and define it early on and you could avert some really ugly confrontations.

All of us have religious beliefs in some form.  Defining those beliefs may even strengthen something that has been lying dormant for a long time.

Preparing The Nursery

Despite the bagillion different items offered in any baby store or baby section, you truly do not need a lot.  A newborn baby has very simple needs - eat, poop, sleep.  If you can cover each of those items you're fine. 

Unless you have severed contact with all of your family and friends, your first child will likely be provided for rather amply.  In other words, DON'T BUY ANYTHING!  Spend your time filling out gift registries and let us, your family, spoil your baby properly.

You are likely going to be the recipient of TONS of hand-me-downs.  Babies shoot through clothing and toys so quickly they get very little wear and it is simply criminal to throw away anything.  People don't know what to do with all of that stuff so they pile it up waiting for some sucker in their circle to pop out a baby.  TaDa!  Instant stuff!  Fortunately you can return the favor.

If I were to ever suggest loading up on anything it would be a few empty tubs to house the clothing and other stuff your child has not yet reached age-wise or to dump what your baby has outgrown to pass on to someone else.

Over-Protective Momma

I like to joke about first-timers and uber-over-protective parents.  So do a lot of other seasoned parents.  We really need to stop, it doesn't help anyone, does it?  Since my own son is going to be a first-time daddy and my daughter-in-law has all of the makings of being an over-protective momma, maybe it's time for me to simmer down.

First-timers tend to be overprotective because they're still learning the boundaries of baby's abilities.  When a second child comes along it's virtually impossible to focus our attention on two moving bodies in the same manner.  Three or more kids?  Forget it.  Soon we learn that eating worms, squishing dog poop through their fingers and staying up past 8pm is annoying, frequently gross, but in the end no one is hurt.  Not that I encourage any of those, but it happens.

My sister-in-law insists that talcum powder will not be used on her infant son's bottom.  She's read somewhere that there might be a link between dusting our baby's tushes and asthma.   While I resist the urge to giggle, I remind myself that SIL is abiding by what she feels is important.  I could argue with her standards and point out the century of babies with dusted asses that never developed asthma.  That even though I started my own developmental years in the smoggy environs of Los Angeles, my allergies didn't kick in until my 20's.  Somehow I doubt baby powder caused it.  Yet, she is doing her best to protect her child and I must respect that.

Remember a few days ago I suggested that we develop a parenting plan.  It means defining your standards and they must be YOUR standards, not mine nor anyone elses, YOURS.  And if that means following the advice of an article warning against baby powder or limiting fruit juice or restricting hot dogs, then so be it. 

This is your child and you must raise him or her as you see fit.  What you will learn, what us seasoned parents learned many years ago, is your standards will change and your parenting plan will morph.  As your baby grows and more children populate your home it may be unrealistic or too expensive to hold to the standards you set in the beginning.  But that is for you to learn and for me to sit quiet as you make that journey.  Ultimately children survive the parenting journey taken by the adults in their world.

As a soon-to-be grandma, I want parents to be over-protective.  I want them to pad every sharp corner in the house and to monitor sugar intake.  It shows you care.  I want my grandbaby to be healthy and strong so I must trust my son and daughter-in-law to raise their child in a safe environment and that will only happen if they are in fact, over-protective parents.

Dealing With Advice

The instant you announce your pregnancy you will be inundated with advice, most of it unsolicited.  I am guilty, I've done it myself, hell I'm doing it here.  Do yourself a favor - ignore ALL OF IT.  You will drive yourself absolutely insane giving any of that jabber a moment's thought.

It's okay to seek out advice, but even then, take it all with a grain of salt.  Pick and choose what you want out of the information and leave the rest behind - including what you read here.  It is simply impossible to process all of the data being thrown at you and to follow all of those different directions.  Much of what is offered doesn't even begin to apply to your situation or your personality or your belief system.

I remember being stunned by the amount of advice that flew in during my first pregnancy.  Something clicked in me and I almost got angry when people started in on their opinions and stories about pregnancy, delivery and infant care.  Once I released myself from following all of that different advice I suddenly felt lighter.  I would nod and thank people for their input and then plunder forward with a path agreed upon between me, my husband, and my medical team.

Worse yet, the same volume flooded in with my second and third pregnancies.  REALLY?  I think I've got it down now, you can move on.

Please give us a break - we can't help it.  We remember being lost, first-time parents.  It's hard and we made so many mistakes.  We are trying to help you and save you even a little bit of pain.  Ultimately, however, those mistakes are what made us good parents.  When you learned to ride a bicycle you had to wobble and fall, sometimes a lot, before you got a good handle on keeping your balance.  All of the verbal advice in the world cannot make you a good bicyclist - you have to figure it out on your own.

But advice does exist and it's here for your taking.  It's easiest to take it by bits and pieces - focus on your current situation and the next stage of development barreling down on you.  Find one or two sources you feel comfortable with and possibly a friend or family member you trust.  Rely on their information, but even they won't be perfect.  Follow what in your heart feels right. 

OH!  And you!  Even as an inexperienced first-timer you have a pretty strong base of experiences.  Once the mechanics of baby care are established - how to diaper and mix a bottle, you really can do this on your own without anyone else's input. 

Trust yourself.  You're going to be awesome at this.

Second Child

A friend is expecting her second child.  She asked me recently how to prepare her three year old daughter for the new arrival.

First, talking about a coming baby before you start showing is just too abstract for young children.  A growing belly is something they can touch and can relate with.  Allow them to talk to the belly and read stories or whatever they come up with for interaction.

Prepare yourself for questions, but make sure you listen to the question.  Yes, the sex question is coming, but usually they are not asking about the mechanics of getting the baby in there.  Sometimes something so simple as "mommy and daddy love each other very much" or "daddy gave mommy a seed" is sufficient although those open the door to some interesting interpretations.  I recall a story I read several years ago - the child asked his father about where he came from so the dad went into the big sex talk and discussion about anatomy.  The child took it all in and after dad was finished with his dissertation, the kid asked, "but what hospital did I come from?"

When the baby arrives encourage, but don't force, interaction.  I have two younger brothers.  When the first was born I was allowed to lead a parade of neighborhood friends into the room for show and tell.  My mom talks about how I was a mini mother to him, fetching bottles and diapers and involving myself in his care.  To this day I have a very maternal attitude toward him.

My second brother was very medically fragile.  Tweedle Dee an I were hands off.  No breathing on the baby, no poking sticks or toys into his playpen, and don't you dare pick him up.  Eh, how BORING!  We scampered off into the yard to throw rocks at each other leaving Tweedle Dum stranded in his crib with his scary machines and over-protective mother.  We were never allowed to bond.  The boys grew up with a strange rivalry, beating the everloving shit out of each other.  I grew up and moved away.  It's only as adults that I have any form of relationship with my youngest brother but honestly we don't have much to say to each other.  It's a shame because he's a great person with a funny personality and of course I'm fabulous, but we have never bonded as siblings.

When my older son was born there wasn't a chance of keeping my daughter out of the action.  She gleefully fetched diapers and reported on the baby's needs.  Eight years later when my younger son was born, he too was a medically fragile baby but nothing as severe as my brother.  Amanda and Keith were allowed into the NICU to see the baby and when he came home they got to hold him and help care for him.  All three of them have wonderful relationships and I am convinced it is based on allowing them to bond at the very beginning.

As the children get older it's important to allow them to have their relationship however they define it.  The more you meddle and interfere the less they'll bond properly.  Let them duke it out.  Now I'm not saying you should allow a bloodbath, I mean after all it took too much work to get their grumpy asses into this world you sure don't appreciate anyone taking one of them out.  So yes, stop fights when they escalate, but definitely let siblings squabble the little stuff through.  It's important.  Trust me.

I remember long evenings lasting into the wee hours of the morning sitting on my step-sister's bed.  I had snuck into her room after lights out and we talked about everything and solved all of the worlds problems.  We talked and talked and talked.  We certainly had a few fights along the way, but we formed our own unique sisterhood completely outside the bounds of our parents reach.


Not so long ago I discovered when Keith was little he would crawl into Amanda's bed on stormy nights.  AWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!  This happened under my roof when I was at home.  How did I not know?  I also found out they talk about ME.  How dare them!  Actually, YAY!  My kids have their own relationship and don't need me to play intermediary - as well it should be.

Parenting Plan

Do you have a parenting plan?

Most people really haven't put much thought into their parenting style and face each challenge as it comes - you know, how we live our lives?  How can anyone have a plan when life is crammed with so many different variables?  But here is the secret successful people would share with you - they DO have a plan, surprises are all met with the same game plan.  Successful parents do the same thing - they have a plan.

A parenting plan involves a statement of your parenting style - do you see yourself as strict, easy going, focused on formal education, wanting to give a broad base of experiences?  There is no correct answer to this question, it will be as individual and the people involved.  It has to do with you and your partner's personalities and personal experiences.  It will be based on reflections of your parents, both good and bad.  It will involve your views of politics, religion and society at large.

The second part of this equation is to describe what that parenting style looks like.  If you see yourself as "strict" what would that involve?  Does that mean rigid rules enforced with corporal punishment or does it mean you're going to have curfews for your teenagers? (uh, yeah, let's look forward to consider what our lives will be like with teenagers underfoot)  Some people think any rules at all is "strict" others think rules with wiggle room is "easy going".  So say it, define it. 

Some people can't define something so vague as a style or theory.  Instead, pluck out parenting situations you know people struggle through (catching stuff from TV is a decent source) and describe how you would handle it - either the same or differently.

People fail to discuss these matters with their partners and most never do so BEFORE the babies arrive.  If you're expecting your first baby, NOW is the time.  If you have no plan set for your parenting future, at least say out loud how you see your own parenting style.

Time To Start Up Again

I'm glad I didn't delete this blog as I have a new purpose for it!  I'm going to be a grandma!!!!!  Keith and his fiancee are expecting my first grandbaby in August.  I guess it's their first child, but since this is all about me it's my first grandbaby.  HOW EXCITING!

When they told me at Thanksgiving, I surprised myself by bursting into happy tears.  This did not surprise my daughter, she totally predicted my reaction.  I'm not so sure I like someone being able to predict my moves!

This is a new role for me even before the baby has arrived and I'm trying to keep from being an overbearing bitch while expressing my joy and concern equally.  This is not for wimps!  In the meantime a coworker is pregnant and complaining about her meddling mother-in-law.  These are tough relationships as we walk those fine lines between not enough involvement and too much.

A blog, THIS blog, would be a great place for me to work out those difficulties as I learn the tightrope of grandmother and mother-in-law.  It's also a place for me to rattle out all of that parenting advice I'm just bursting to share with my son.

I doubt I will post everyday, but I will try to do something at least once a week.

So I haven't posted in a while

Sorry I have neglected this site.  I'm not sure I want to continue.  When I started it was easy to keep up two different blogs, but as I've started following others I barely have time to read let alone write.  Sooooo....  I will eventually repost some of these entries over on my first blog, the one where I post nearly every day - A Walk Through My Little World.

Thank you for following me.  I hope you will follow on my other site, but if you don't I totally understand.  My writing is there is raw and fairly uncensored, the way I prefer to write.  That will be offensive to some, but I make no apologies.  This is who I am and it's how I am most comfortable.

Again, Thank You!

Eau De Teen Boy

Last week I was informed Axe was on his wishlist.  He even found samples of his preferred scent and shared them with me.  His sister described it perfectly - lemon pledge.  But she relented and made that his birthday gift - shampoo, deodorant, and body spray.

Oh lovely, the dreaded body spray, the death knell to noses everywhere.

I asked if she taught him how to use it.  Gratefully, yes.  Just two little squirts.  He is aware of other boys, classmates, who over-indulge.  Well, he's aware of other people's comments of boys who over-indulge in their stink products.  I'm convinced boys have under-developed noses.  I mean, how else could they sleep in that stench?  So it only makes sense they don't know how much cologne is enough or too much.  And like food, more is better.  Right?

But there is a larger issue looming.  WHY he wants to douse his body in lemon pledge instead of reveling in his own personal stink?  This can only mean the worst thing ever - girls.  My baby has finally discovered girls.

And being the social slut extrovert he is, I would imagine a whole harem following him around, giggling at his stupid jokes, batting their evil little over-mascara'd lashes at him, and scribbling hearts around his name on their notebooks.


I should know.  I met his father when we were fourteen and had the craziest crush on his stupid ass for years.  I know this road QUITE well. 

Dammit.

Big THIRTEEN!

Happy Birthday to my baby, the youngest of my brood, Ian. 

He's thirteen today.

A teenager

Today launches his teen years.  And despite the "teen angst" these next few years are truly the best years to come.

He's equipped with an easy humor

Able to make friends with everyone he meets

And adores his family

He's a great, wonderful person full of possibility and a wide open future.

Make the most of it honey.

The Birth Story - May 2, 1997

On Wednesday, April 30th, my coworkers threw a baby shower for me.  Since it had been eight years since I last had a baby, a shower was needed.  The only thing I had was a crib.  I was woefully unprepared for another child.  The shower was a good thing.  It was needed.  It was what we did for anyone having a baby, but little did they know how much I needed it.

When I came home from work on Thursday I was exhausted and not really feeling well.  I was having sporadic contractions but I really wanted to sleep.  We decided I would go to the hospital the first thing in the morning so my husband took the kids to his mom's house for the night.  I figured they would pump me with drugs to stop the contractions like we'd done in the past.  After all, my due date was another three weeks away.

Very early on Friday morning we went to the hospital and I was immediately taken to a room to get hooked up to monitors and sit around while they observed me.

My doctor was called in.

The baby was exhibiting signs of distress.

My doctor didn't mince words.  She said she wasn't going to mess around with a baby in distress combined with my cardiac history.  I needed a cesarean and I needed it immediately.

OH CRAP!

I didn't argue with her.  She was right.  I felt it in my bones.  But I was terrified.  I was literally shaking like I have never shook before.  My whole body was trembling.  How I managed to sign the papers is an absolute miracle.

Phone calls started flying out informing family and work of the impending birth.  When I called the school, I said that Mary won the office pool, that stinker for her smartass bid coming so early.

Suddenly I was prepped for surgery and people were flying all over.  I was rushed to the delivery room and had my arms and legs strapped down.  Of course I complied, but I REALLY did not like that.  The sheet went up to block my view.

My husband stayed there for the whole thing.  He had studied to be an EMT and really liked the blood and guts part of his training.  This was clinical curiosity on his part, getting to witness a real live surgery.  Oh and being a supportive spouse and all that.  Sure.  I had to ask him to remove his glasses - I could see activity in the reflection.  I'm not as curious.

My doctor talked about what she was doing as she proceeded, but I really didn't need to know.  Just get it over with and fortunately she was quick and efficient.  Evidently I have a lot of blood vessels requiring quite a bit of sautering.  Again, information I didn't care to hear.

I felt pressure on my rib cage, like the doctor was resting her arm there.  I found out afterwards that actually was my bladder or something vital that didn't belong there.  I never really thought about the need to move parts, like your organs, out of the way, like literally outside of the body cavity.

And there was the baby, completely entwined in the umbilical cord.  She carefully extracted him, continually commenting on the length of the cord - she had never seen anything like that before.  It was sent to the lab to be measured, however, I always forget to ask exactly how long it was.

Let's stop for a moment here - the baby had been completely wrapped by the cord.  There is absolutely NO WAY he could have been born vaginally.  ZERO.  We would have lost Ian and it was likely I wouldn't have survived either.  My doctor saved both of our lives.  I am eternally indebted to her.

As she started to pull him out I heard, "oooh your baby is so bad!  He just BIT ME!  I'm going to flip him over and spank him if he keeps that up!"  I had to laugh.

He was officially born at 10:44 am.

Ian was rushed over to the baby table and they proceeded to do take apgars and clean him up.  My husband left my side to monitor Ian's progress.  He was three weeks premature and they were going to get him into the NICU ("nick U" or neonatal intensive care unit) immediately.  Ian was transferred to an incubator and I remember catching only a glimpse of him as they took him out of the room.

I was cleaned up with all of my vital parts put back in place and my incision neatly stapled.  ICK!  I was taken to a private room, put on a morphine drip and slept for the rest of the day.  Everyone got to see my baby before me so as soon as I was able to get out of bed and into a wheelchair, I was taken down to the NICU to finally meet Ian.

It's more than a little disturbing to see such a tiny baby hooked up to all of those wires, but somehow it didn't freak me out.  I had already seen one of my newborns hooked up, not quite so much, but this wasn't foreign territory.  He was in good hands.  They were taking precautions.

Ian was diagnosed as Failure To Thrive, meaning he wasn't gaining weight properly.  He was put on a feeding tube and still wasn't improving.  By Sunday it was determined that he needed to see the big guns down at Children's Hospital.  My gut said he just needed to be held and nursed, but they were the experts and he needs tests to make sure nothing is wrong.  My OB had to give me a pep talk to get me on board with this plan.

Since this wasn't an emergency, the transport was arranged for midnight when there is less traffic.  They brought his incubator into my room so I could see him off, all packed with monitors and blankets and whatever else was necessary for the twenty minute ride.  I was very emotional and very alone.  When they took him out I immediately called the one person I knew had experienced this pain, my mother.  (and I'm tearing up as I type now)  I was able to explain what was going on and then just bawled my eyes out.  I can't imagine what I put my mother through, me crying and her unable to hold me on top of making her relive her own hellish memory of having a premature baby whisked out of her arms for an emergency.  I had three weeks of this crap.  She endured it for three years.  My mother knew my pain very well.

I was released from the hospital on Tuesday and I was driven straight to Children's Hospital with a blanket bundled up and held close to my abdomen to keep my guts from falling out - seriously, post cesarean feels EXACTLY like your intestines are going to spill out on the floor at any second.  I held them in place for nearly two weeks with that damn blanket.  Anyways, me and my blankie hobbled out of the car and into another wheelchair so I could visit my newborn.

The staff at Children's is AWESOME.  Clearly I wasn't the first mom to hobble into their institution.  They were frank about Ian's progress or lack thereof.  I looked around the NICU and saw all of the other babies, ones who had clearly been there for quite some time.  Many were VERY sick and some were actively dying.  It was a scary place to leave my baby.  He was in good hands, but it was scary.  And then I had to leave and go home to my other children.  Every day I came back to the hospital to hold and feed my baby.  At least I got to hold him.  It was difficult with all of his wires and tubes, but they got him into my arms.  Some moms in that room didn't get to hold their babies.  I got to hold mine.  He wasn't progressing like they wanted, but he was fine.  I knew it.

They ran an upper GI on him.  A month later I saw the bill for that little procedure, THANK GOD FOR INSURANCE because we didn't owe shit, but just for the consulting fees, not even the procedure, it was twenty THOUSAND dollars.  TWO HOURS of consulting fees was TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS.  Are they HIGH?

Finally it was determined that Ian was starting to thrive, just slowly and needed to be kept in the hospital for observation.  They wanted him at five pounds before they would discharge him.  Okay, does that have to happen at Childrens or can we move him back to his original hospital, just a couple of minutes away from my house?

HUH?

Yeah, why does he have to stay here?  Can't he be observed at the other NICU?  Doctors looked at each other, they scratched their heads and then they shrugged their shoulders - why not?  So after ten days at Children's my baby was bundled back up, loaded onto the ambulance and taken for another ride.  I spent all day, every day at the hospital until Amanda and Keith got home from school.  I held Ian and rocked him.  I knew from college psych the curative powers of direct human contact.  My mother had been a "cuddler" in that very hospital for just that reason.  Human contact.

I wished I had insisted on this earlier.  It was the right move and I felt it down to my very core.  I believe we call this "mother's intuition."  And I've got it.  Don't question it!

In a matter of days, Ian was up to his necessary five pounds and was discharged.  Just days before his due date, Ian was at home.

Pregnancy Number THREE

You can read about pregnancy number ONE here and you'll have to wait until June for the story of pregnancy TWO.

The summer of 1996 I had two children, seven and eight, and had given up the dream of having four kids.  We had long discussed permanent solutions to not spawning more children, but it was only recently that he had agreed to be the one to step forward for the procedure.  AGREED, he hadn't followed through yet.  Obviously.

In September I went with my two friends, Booty and Piranha, to Cancun to celebrate our 30th birthdays.  It was a grand time - four days of drinking, splashing in the ocean, getting sunburned and drinking and little more drinking.  On the last day I felt a little woozy but discounted it as something I ate.  I returned home still feeling woozy and bemoaning Montezuma's Revenge.

I couldn't shake the wooziness.  Days later a neighbor marveled at my glowing appearance and asked if I was pregnant.  NO!  She apologized profusely over and over and was horribly embarrassed.  The following weekend my husband left for a motorcycle rights meeting in Indianapolis and I started to notice little signs of pregnancy I remembered from the past.  My fingernails become incredibly shiny and every single joint in my body pops.  A lot.

Crap.

When he pulled in, I remember standing on the back porch.  He called to me asking if I loved him.  I responded, "do you love me???"  This went back and forth several times until he finally yelled that he won a trip to Alaska.  I replied, "I think I'm pregnant."

Crap.

I was at work when the doctor's office called with the test results.  I had to go to the school office to take the call and with little privacy had to process the emotions that swept over me.  Sitting in the nurse's office I bawled my eyes out and then called my husband to share the news.

I knew at the end of my second pregnancy that if I ever got pregnant again it would be high risk.  I had hung up any hopes for more children unless we adopted.  It explains a lot about my emotional reactions to the announcement - disappointment, fear, reserved excitement.

I left work for the rest of the day.  After a long discussion in the car, my husband and I picked up a few items from the store and hopped around to the grandparents to make the announcement, giving each a gift bag with a pacifier.

Our parents are slow.

Each one was baffled that we showed up in the middle of the work day.  They pulled out the pacifier and stared at it and we had to say the words that I was pregnant.  They took the news much better than we did.

Then we pulled Amanda and Keith out of school and told them the big news.  Honestly I don't remember their reactions.

I do remember my friends' reactions.  Booty and Piranha laughed their asses off.  What a dumbass I was, didn't I know how to prevent this?

Weeks later I received a garbled phone call from Piranha, crying.  She just found out she was pregnant.  Dumbass.  I grabbed a pair of baby booties someone had just given me and rushed over to her house.  Together we cried and laughed and plotted how to tell Booty.  Booty's daughter was 12.  She wanted more children but without a steady man in her life it just didn't seem likely.  We had recently celebrated that our five kids were finally old enough that we didn't have to tote diaper bags everywhere and wear spit-up on our shoulders.  Soon babysitters would be less necessary and we could pick up on our friend time unencumbered by children.

Not anymore.

Booty slipped into a deep depression.  She was not pleased that her two drinking buddies were both knocked out of commission.  She recovered just fine and our friendship is just as strong as ever, but there was a dynamic change in our friend world as she brought in new people to our circle.  This is a bigger story that I will write about at another time.

My wooziness continued and it was accompanied with full body aching.  Eventually I asked to change prenatal vitamins and felt a million times better.  This wasn't technically a difficult pregnancy, but it wasn't easy either.  This was the first time I didn't utilize a clinic and was able to see just one obstetrician.  And oh buddy she didn't like my pregnancy history at all.  I made her nervous.  So much so that several years later when I tried to schedule a tubal ligation and received a little grief from her office staff because I hadn't had a mammogram yet, I said tell the doctor WHO is wanting it.  Practically minutes later I received a call back with a little chuckling as her fervent breast health mission was sidestepped just to prevent ME from ever coming back to her with a fertilized ovum.

She sent me to a cardiologist who prescribed medication that was safer for my incubating baby than the other meds I was carrying.  Both doctors flipped out hearing that I had taken that other medication before knowing I was pregnant.  The child is a little off kilter these days, not in any alarming physical or mental way, but he's off - not sure if it's his weird parents, but it could be the combination of unrecommended medication and a four day drinking binge.  Hard to say.

More concerning were the bouts of rapid heartbeats I was experiencing.  The new medication worked very well for me - yay!  But I was also having quite a bit of premature labor.  Twice I rushed to the hospital for more drugs to keep my contractions at bay.

I don't remember a lot of being pregnant like I do with that first time.  I was working every day and had two kids with active lives.  I was busy being a mom.  We made way for a new little bundle in our world and excitement built as my belly grew.

I was working at the kids' elementary school so I was monitored by both staff and students.  Amazingly, I didn't have to do much explaining to the kids - they understood.  Most of them had younger siblings or had other pregnant family members.  And everyone had an opinion.  Seasoned in this realm I kept my snide responses to myself.  It was surprising to hear many of the annoying statements echoed by the students.

At the ultrasound I asked to know the sex.  As everyone prepared for a boy, I made sure if that if we had a surprise I was prepared.  I had heard horror stories of people having rooms painted blue only to bring home a beautiful baby girl.  Fortunately that wasn't necessary.

My coworkers threw a baby shower for me and the next day I went into labor.

Come back tomorrow for the rest of the story!

Edward Scissorhands

There are times your children will show you just how much you DON'T pay attention.  I thought I kept on top of their activities and whoa, buddy, was I wrong.

I came home from the grocery store and started to lug the bags in through the backdoor, our typical entrance for that particular house, and I spotted a few clippings of hair.  It was the familiar color of my daughter's blonde hair.  Alarm bells went off in my head and I rushed inside.  An immediate look at her three year old head did not show any glaring snips missing from her head, but as I got closer, yes, there it was.  She had cut her bangs with a very lopsided left-hand whack, but it was hidden as she did not clip all of her bangs, a good portion fell over and hid her handiwork.

Upon questioning, she totally fessed up.  What makes it worse, the deed was done the day before.  Yes, I had been looking at my child a full twenty-four hours and never saw that she had cut her hair.  The only give-away was the fleeting locks already hiding among the leaves and cutter on my back porch.

When had she found scissors?  When did she slip outside?  How long did it take her? - all questions that remain unanswered.

But I did find out WHY.  Edward Scissorhands.  We had watched the movie just two days prior.  She was inspired.  That damn, Johnny Depp, the man she would years later claim is "not too bad looking for an old dude," had influenced my child.  I think maybe he owes me an apology - not that I hold any responsibility for not properly supervising my own child or securing sharp objects from my preschooler?

A more observant person would immediately see the handiwork.   We needed to fix it.  A friend took up the cause but it was a hard cut to repair.  We ended up giving her a perm.  With her quick growing hair, the perm soon grew out and was long enough to repair properly.

Curly Sue

Sex Ed

WooHoo... school sent home a PARENT GUIDE for sex ed.

I get it.  I understand WHY they do crap like this, but really?  And it's great that they're discussing personal responsibility and maturity, but I don't want a BOOK of talking tips for my teen.  I've always resented discussion guides, can't explain it but I do. 

So we had a quick sex ed discussion.  It went like this - don't have sex.  And then I said not to touch anybody's boobies or their hoo hoos.  And then I realized maybe I should cover ALL aspects and quickly added to leave boys alone too.

He burst out laughing.

Like I was joking or something.  Dude, I'm serious.  No boobies, no hoo hoos.

CRAP!  I forgot to tell him about condoms.  Well, we should be okay since his dad and step mom hand them out in Christmas stockings.

Just A Few Gray Hairs

What are the things that scare you?

Me?  I can't stand watching my kids ride bikes.  I love riding.  It's been a few decades, but I've always enjoyed it.  But watching my own children???  OH HELL NO!

I was useless trying to teach them how to ride.  I was a paranoid mess and their dad had to step up and take over. 


All three are proficient riders despite my paranoia, not that I can really attest to it not having witnessed much riding.  As you can imagine, there aren't many pictures.  This one was taken as part of my nature walk a few days ago.  It abruptly ended when he started the no hands stuff.

Easter Wrestling Match

We had a splendid day, celebrating Easter this afternoon.  The kids dashed out the back door for an egg hunt then we settled down for grilled hot dogs, real holiday food, no?  Then a few Wii games of tennis and bowling - I suck by the way.  A few rounds of Scattergories - Garlic, unfortunately, does not qualify for seasonings that start with J. 

Keith, the usual wrestling instigator, had to leave for work, leaving Amanda and Ian to fill the void. 

He thought he could pick her up

Easter Is Still In The Works

It's turning out that holidays are multi-day events in my world.  Celebrate here on the day of, celebrate there yet another day... or actually the other way around.  Or something like that.

The kids have had their Easter with their dad and his family this weekend and I will be doing festivities next Sunday.  We could have pulled everyone together last night but they would have had to leave another celebration early, and really, I'm not doing anything big, so no reason to make everyone scramble, right?

In reality I've been seriously scarred by the logistical nightmare of five Christmases in 36 hours.  Several years in a row.  With very small children.  And all of the accompanying accoutrements necessary for any journey away from home over 30 minutes with very small children.  And then lugging home all of the crap adoring grandparents gift to the spoiled brats.

I just won't be part of that equation for my own children.  I want my time with them to be fun and light hearted and drama-free.  Nobody should feel forced to choke down another meal after feasting just hours before somewhere else.  Nor should they rush through this meal so they can flee to yet another.  How maddening!  How UNfun!  Where are the happy memories in all of that?

Some of my most stress-free holidays with my kids were Easter with my ex's mom.  With scheduling conflicts of two nurses in the family, trying to get all of the grandchildren together at the same time never happened ON Easter.  She wanted all of the kids, even the big ones, under the roof at one time.  She and the dearly departed "Bob-Bob" would get a ham, all of the side fixings, set up a beautiful buffet and open the house for the kids.  People were everywhere.  After we ate off plates perched on our laps we would gather in the yard and all of the kids under 18, including tag alongs not related to the bunch, were given a bag with their initials.

In the yard were a specific number of plastic eggs with coordinating initials.  Adults had to help the littlest kids find their booty and then we retired to the livingroom to open the eggs.  It was fun and easy and no demands, other than "show up."

Like I said, Easter never happened ON Easter.  One year it was celebrated in the front yard IN AUGUST!  Yes.  August.  An egg hunt.  And we totally ignored the passing cars, drivers staring at us.  Because it was fun.

Holidays should be fun.  And memorable.  They aren't about the day, but the togetherness.  And that, folks, is my focus.

Happy Easter

Up For The Hunt