aka: The little girl with the BIG hair
Looking good with that haircut
Nope, no idea what's going on with the hand
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
When You Thought I Wasn't Looking
My mom sent this poem to me today. I have been thinking a lot recently about the concept of leading by example, but I could never have put it so eloquently. Thanks Mom ♥
WHEN YOU THOUGHT I WASN'T LOOKING
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you hang my
first painting on the refrigerator, and I immediately
wanted to paint another one.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you feed a
stray cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind
to animals.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you make my
favorite cake for me, and I learned that the little
things can be the special things in life.
When you thought I wasn't looking I heard you say a
prayer, and I knew that there is a God I could always
talk to, and I learned to trust in Him.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you make a
meal and take it to a friend who was sick, and I
learned that we all have to help take care of each other.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you take care
of our house and everyone in it, and I learned we have
to take care of what we are given.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw how you
handled your responsibilities, even when you didn't
feel good, and I learned that I would have to be
responsible when I grow up.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw tears come
from your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things
hurt, but it's all right to cry.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw that you
cared, and I wanted to be everything that I could be.
When you thought I wasn't looking I learned most of
life's lessons that I need to know to be a good and
productive person when I grow up.
When you thought I wasn't looking I looked at you and
wanted to say,'Thanks for all the things I saw when
you thought I wasn't looking.
-Mary Rita Schilke Korzan (1980)
Monday, April 30, 2012
The Gift of Time and Attention
I am home all day, every day. As a result, my kids should never have to worry about getting enough of my time or attention. But recently I have realized that I don't do a very good job actually giving them my full attention. Sure they have my time; I am their caregiver and I am always here to provide safety, food, a kiss for a boo-boo and love. However, my direct attention is something they that I feel, they get too rarely. Yes, I listen when they talk and respond accordingly. I am always aware of where they are or what they are doing. But am I engaging them? Do I treat them with respect the way I would another adult?
At lunch today, I was sitting with Evan and Maggie at the table eating. But while they ate, I was thinking about, and working on projects for Teacher Appreciation Week next week. Much too often I use this valuable time with them to complete other tasks. I will empty the dishwasher, check email or blog, clean up around the room or do other things that I feel need to be done. I'm guessing in all reality, they really don't care that I'm pre-occupied while they eat, but I should care. I should set that time aside for them and focus my attention on their company. They may only be 5, 3 and a baby, but I'm going to lose this quality time with them all too quickly. So from now on, I'm going to try very hard to forget about the other things going on and sit with them even if I'm not eating at the same time. Maggie may not be able to converse yet, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind making faces at me while she eats. Braeden and Evan always have lots to say and it's time I started really listening.
I find myself caught up in this trap in almost every aspect of my daily life. I've always got a thousand things to do. But I don't think being in the same house with them counts the way sitting down on the floor and playing does. I need to stop worrying about getting the laundry changed over or typing up a flyer for school during the hours that should be theirs. Obviously there are always exceptions. I can't wait and do everything at night after they go to bed, but I will try to manage my time during the day so that I am either getting my stuff done or being the best mom possible. When it is their time, it needs to be only their time. I don't mean at all to sound like I neglect my kids; for sure I do not. I am hands-on a lot of the time and always willing to stop and play or do an activity at their request, but I feel like my focus is a little off kilter, and I'm out to create more of an even balance. After all, as the song says, ...they're only this way for a while.
At lunch today, I was sitting with Evan and Maggie at the table eating. But while they ate, I was thinking about, and working on projects for Teacher Appreciation Week next week. Much too often I use this valuable time with them to complete other tasks. I will empty the dishwasher, check email or blog, clean up around the room or do other things that I feel need to be done. I'm guessing in all reality, they really don't care that I'm pre-occupied while they eat, but I should care. I should set that time aside for them and focus my attention on their company. They may only be 5, 3 and a baby, but I'm going to lose this quality time with them all too quickly. So from now on, I'm going to try very hard to forget about the other things going on and sit with them even if I'm not eating at the same time. Maggie may not be able to converse yet, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind making faces at me while she eats. Braeden and Evan always have lots to say and it's time I started really listening.
I find myself caught up in this trap in almost every aspect of my daily life. I've always got a thousand things to do. But I don't think being in the same house with them counts the way sitting down on the floor and playing does. I need to stop worrying about getting the laundry changed over or typing up a flyer for school during the hours that should be theirs. Obviously there are always exceptions. I can't wait and do everything at night after they go to bed, but I will try to manage my time during the day so that I am either getting my stuff done or being the best mom possible. When it is their time, it needs to be only their time. I don't mean at all to sound like I neglect my kids; for sure I do not. I am hands-on a lot of the time and always willing to stop and play or do an activity at their request, but I feel like my focus is a little off kilter, and I'm out to create more of an even balance. After all, as the song says, ...they're only this way for a while.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Is It That Time Already??
Tomorrow marks a bittersweet day for me. The time has come to pass some of our baby essentials on to others who need them. While we can't give up everything just yet, we will be clearing our house of bouncy seats, our baby swing, and one of our two cribs. Bye-bye baby tub, bye-bye bassinet. I can clearly remember my baby showers when I received several of these items and I'm blown away that we are already through this stage of life.
I'm finding the reality of all of this difficult. I know in my mind that we are done having babies, but my heart cannot come to terms with that information. It is time to move forward and begin the next phase of life, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I will miss those newborn moments. I am having trouble adjusting to the idea of not seeing the baby swing sitting in our basement, even though it hasn't been used in months. To admit that I will never need to install a car seat base in the car again, or heave a 20lb car seat around with a baby secured snugly inside.
Tomorrow will come whether I'm ready or not, and it will be time to let this baby gear go. Hopefully some other family will get some quality use out of it. For our family, it is time to move on and have new experiences as our children continue to grow. I'm guessing that soon enough, I will be glad to have three kids who walk, talk, and have various levels of independence. But until then, I will likely shed a tear or two as we pass our things along to new homes.
Wow, it really is that time already.
Braeden - 2007
Evan - 2009
Oh my goodness, I almost forgot about the Boppy and the infant seat for the car. I'm pretty sure those two items alone make this a permanent decision.
Maggie - 2011
Tomorrow will come whether I'm ready or not, and it will be time to let this baby gear go. Hopefully some other family will get some quality use out of it. For our family, it is time to move on and have new experiences as our children continue to grow. I'm guessing that soon enough, I will be glad to have three kids who walk, talk, and have various levels of independence. But until then, I will likely shed a tear or two as we pass our things along to new homes.
Wow, it really is that time already.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Sleep Interrupted
I realize most moms, like me, have forgotten what uninterrupted sleep is. Remember being in college and sleeping from midnight until noon the next day? Or those blissful nights before you had children when you actually woke up feeling refreshed? How about waking up in the same bed you fell asleep in? That last one may only apply to me, but honestly sometimes I don't even know where I am until I open my eyes.
Oh sleep, how I miss you. What? You miss me too? No surprise really, we haven't spent much solid time together in the last five years.
My kids aren't even bad sleepers. It's just so difficult to get a good night's sleep for so many reasons. I hear every single noise everywhere around me. My boys tend to come in to our room in the middle of the night and ask me to go back to their beds with them. Then I move back to my bed (sometimes). I go to sleep way later than I should because I cherish the time I have without people pulling me or talking to me or whining to me.. Even when my all of my kids sleep over at my parents, which hasn't been since before Maggie was born, I can't sleep all night because it feels so strange to not have them in the house. I'm my own worst enemy in the sleep department.
I don't want to wish time away, but boy am I looking forward to about 20 years from now when I can go to sleep at anytime, sleep all night, and get up at my own leisure.
Maybe I should start drinking coffee. Or go to bed earlier. Or get a sleep apnea machine like Roman and hear nothing.
Or perhaps I should just continue being a mom and sleep later on in life. Yes, I think that's exactly what I'll do.
Oh sleep, how I miss you. What? You miss me too? No surprise really, we haven't spent much solid time together in the last five years.
My kids aren't even bad sleepers. It's just so difficult to get a good night's sleep for so many reasons. I hear every single noise everywhere around me. My boys tend to come in to our room in the middle of the night and ask me to go back to their beds with them. Then I move back to my bed (sometimes). I go to sleep way later than I should because I cherish the time I have without people pulling me or talking to me or whining to me.. Even when my all of my kids sleep over at my parents, which hasn't been since before Maggie was born, I can't sleep all night because it feels so strange to not have them in the house. I'm my own worst enemy in the sleep department.
I don't want to wish time away, but boy am I looking forward to about 20 years from now when I can go to sleep at anytime, sleep all night, and get up at my own leisure.
Maybe I should start drinking coffee. Or go to bed earlier. Or get a sleep apnea machine like Roman and hear nothing.
Or perhaps I should just continue being a mom and sleep later on in life. Yes, I think that's exactly what I'll do.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Wistful Thinking
Sometimes I go into Maggie's room and sit in her rocking chair to soak up the baby feeling in the room. Okay, honestly sometimes I do it because I need a break and it's about the only peaceful place in the house to sit down. From that corner in her room I can also see into the boy's room. I sit there and marvel at how much my life has changed. Only ten years ago I was starting life all over again. I had just moved to Connecticut and was in about the third month of a new job. I didn't know many people and had no idea at that time where my life would take me next. I knew that I wanted to get married and have a family, but it didn't seem like much of a reality at that point. Fast forward to now and I am a wife and a mother to three beautiful children. In ten short years, a whole period in my life has taken place. Roman and I met, fell in love and got married. A couple of years later Braeden arrived, followed by Evan and Maggie. Now we move on from that blissful time of dreaming about having babies, to raising them. How did that all happen so fast?
As I sit there, I look around and see the memories we have already accumulated in this house. I remember Braeden using the crib that is now in Maggie's room in the room that he now shares with Evan when it was a very serene, neutral nursery. I remember sitting in this same green rocking chair in that nursery rocking him every single night while I sang to him so that he would fall asleep. I remember how crazy it felt the day we took his crib apart to put him in his toddler bed. That lasted about a month and then he moved into a full bed because he simply would not sleep in a toddler bed. I remember the day before Thanksgiving when he ran straight into the door jam and put a hole in his head.
I think about the day that I got to paint a second nursery and chose a bright yellow color this time. Something about that pregnancy made me feel that the baby wouldn't be the serene nursery type of child. Boy was I right! I remember staring at that room wondering if it would be a nursery for a boy or a girl. I remember bringing Evan home and showing him his new room and wondering how I would be able to manage keeping Braeden's bedtime routine the same while tending to Evan's needs as well. I remember rocking Evan in the green rocking chair while he hugged his blanket tight and we listened to the same CD every single night. He would make it through about 5 songs and then be sound asleep. I think about how we decided to tell Evan that when he was 2 he would be able to move to the big boy room with Braeden so that he wouldn't feel like we were taking away his room for the baby. I vividly remember the week we decided to make the room change and both boys were on mattresses in Evan's room, and they both had the stomach bug. That was when our original nursery turned into a bright blue big boy room for two little boys who have already changed so much.
I stare at the walls and remember the day we found out that Maggie would be a girl and I knew that although the yellow nursery would work, I just had to paint it a girl color. I close my eyes and think about preparing a gender specific closet and decorating for a little girl. It wasn't long ago that we brought our last newborn into our home and became a family of 5. Yet she has already filled that room with so much love. The smell of baby and the incessant chatter that comes out of her crib when she wakes up and talks to herself until I go get her dances through my head as I sit and look at her name on the wall, the wall hanging my grandmother made for her, and the many monogrammed items she has already accumulated. I smile thinking about the way her curls are always so out of control when I peak over the edge of the crib at her smiling face. I remember the first night I put her in her own crib and had to fight back tears thinking about how this was my last transition from a baby sleeping next to me to their own room.
I remember so much as I sit in awe at how we went from that one neutral nursery to three amazing children. Then I'm brought back to the here and now by the escalating noise in the living room and I leave my rocking chair and the wistful thinking for another day.
As I sit there, I look around and see the memories we have already accumulated in this house. I remember Braeden using the crib that is now in Maggie's room in the room that he now shares with Evan when it was a very serene, neutral nursery. I remember sitting in this same green rocking chair in that nursery rocking him every single night while I sang to him so that he would fall asleep. I remember how crazy it felt the day we took his crib apart to put him in his toddler bed. That lasted about a month and then he moved into a full bed because he simply would not sleep in a toddler bed. I remember the day before Thanksgiving when he ran straight into the door jam and put a hole in his head.
I think about the day that I got to paint a second nursery and chose a bright yellow color this time. Something about that pregnancy made me feel that the baby wouldn't be the serene nursery type of child. Boy was I right! I remember staring at that room wondering if it would be a nursery for a boy or a girl. I remember bringing Evan home and showing him his new room and wondering how I would be able to manage keeping Braeden's bedtime routine the same while tending to Evan's needs as well. I remember rocking Evan in the green rocking chair while he hugged his blanket tight and we listened to the same CD every single night. He would make it through about 5 songs and then be sound asleep. I think about how we decided to tell Evan that when he was 2 he would be able to move to the big boy room with Braeden so that he wouldn't feel like we were taking away his room for the baby. I vividly remember the week we decided to make the room change and both boys were on mattresses in Evan's room, and they both had the stomach bug. That was when our original nursery turned into a bright blue big boy room for two little boys who have already changed so much.
I stare at the walls and remember the day we found out that Maggie would be a girl and I knew that although the yellow nursery would work, I just had to paint it a girl color. I close my eyes and think about preparing a gender specific closet and decorating for a little girl. It wasn't long ago that we brought our last newborn into our home and became a family of 5. Yet she has already filled that room with so much love. The smell of baby and the incessant chatter that comes out of her crib when she wakes up and talks to herself until I go get her dances through my head as I sit and look at her name on the wall, the wall hanging my grandmother made for her, and the many monogrammed items she has already accumulated. I smile thinking about the way her curls are always so out of control when I peak over the edge of the crib at her smiling face. I remember the first night I put her in her own crib and had to fight back tears thinking about how this was my last transition from a baby sleeping next to me to their own room.
I remember so much as I sit in awe at how we went from that one neutral nursery to three amazing children. Then I'm brought back to the here and now by the escalating noise in the living room and I leave my rocking chair and the wistful thinking for another day.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
The Little Moments
Motherhood can be overwhelming. There is so much to get done. So many things we are supposed to teach our kids, help them do, not let them do.. the list goes on and on. At times I lose my patience. I have moments when I would love to just go outside and scream as a form of release. I will openly admit that there are some days where I am constantly aggravated by one thing or another almost all day. However, no matter how bad a day may be going, or how tired, broken-down or defeated I may feel, there always seem to be little moments that refresh me, and remind me of why being a mom is the greatest gift I have ever been given.
When Maggie crawls right up to my face and starts bumping her nose against mine...
When Braeden asks me to cuddle with him at night. He wraps his arms around me and whispers to me the things that can't possibly wait until morning (to a five year old anyway)...
When I get to snuggle with Evan reading books before bed. I love how calm he is as he snuggles up with his blanket and laughs at a funny part when I think he's already asleep...
When I catch Braeden doing something for himself that makes him seem so grown up and I realize he's turning into a big kid...
When Evan gets so excited about something that he jumps up and down with his arms in the air yelling "I Win"...
When Maggie and I snuggle and she giggles and makes lots of funny sounds...
When I put Maggie in her crib for a nap or bedtime and she waves her arm wildly to say bye-bye or goodnight...
When I get to help Braeden practice his writing and he does a really great job and I can see the pride he has in doing it well...
When Evan drags his blanket around the house like Linus and I get to remember that no matter how much he tries to keep up with the older kids, he's still only 2...
When I hear any of my children laugh...
When they smile at me because I'm their mom...
When the boys are half asleep and mumble back to me, good night mommy, I love you...
Life is all about perspective. It can seem so hard sometimes, but my kids can make it all better in the blink of an eye. They are magical that way and I am so grateful for them and the many little moments that we share. I look forward to many more years of special mommy and child moments with all three of them.
When Maggie crawls right up to my face and starts bumping her nose against mine...
When Braeden asks me to cuddle with him at night. He wraps his arms around me and whispers to me the things that can't possibly wait until morning (to a five year old anyway)...
When I get to snuggle with Evan reading books before bed. I love how calm he is as he snuggles up with his blanket and laughs at a funny part when I think he's already asleep...
When I catch Braeden doing something for himself that makes him seem so grown up and I realize he's turning into a big kid...
When Evan gets so excited about something that he jumps up and down with his arms in the air yelling "I Win"...
When Maggie and I snuggle and she giggles and makes lots of funny sounds...
When I put Maggie in her crib for a nap or bedtime and she waves her arm wildly to say bye-bye or goodnight...
When I get to help Braeden practice his writing and he does a really great job and I can see the pride he has in doing it well...
When Evan drags his blanket around the house like Linus and I get to remember that no matter how much he tries to keep up with the older kids, he's still only 2...
When I hear any of my children laugh...
When they smile at me because I'm their mom...
When the boys are half asleep and mumble back to me, good night mommy, I love you...
Life is all about perspective. It can seem so hard sometimes, but my kids can make it all better in the blink of an eye. They are magical that way and I am so grateful for them and the many little moments that we share. I look forward to many more years of special mommy and child moments with all three of them.
Monday, March 12, 2012
The First Time Around
The first time around, I never saw it coming; at least not in the beginning. I had been worried about the pregnancy; it went great. I was told to expect Post Partum Depression; it didn't come. Or so I thought. I knew what to look for. The classic signs I had been told about were sadness, an inability to bond, fatigue, and crying for no reason. None of those were true in my situation. I loved being a mom. It came naturally, and I never questioned my abilities, or my love for my baby. It all seemed too good to be true.
Braeden was born in December. Since I didn't see any signs after the first few months, I let my guard down. There wasn't any reason to worry anymore. Nothing had come of the warnings. I was good to go. However, by October I was physically in pain. I couldn't explain the causes for my symptoms. I had frequent headaches on the crown of my head. I felt lumps and bumps in places they shouldn't be. I had serious heartburn issues that weren't able to be cured by medication. I went to the doctor several times for pain in the center of my chest. Not heart related, just like I had pulled a muscle that wouldn't heal. Nothing was wrong. I would stand in the shower and start to panic because I thought something must be seriously wrong and I couldn't imagine dying and leaving my baby behind. He deserved a mom. I couldn't sleep worrying about having cancer or something else that would leave Braeden without a mother. Christmas came, and though I didn't realize it at the time, I just didn't care. I love Christmas, but that year I didn't even really decorate. It didn't matter to me to get the house into the holiday spirit. I decorated the tree and took pictures of Braeden's first Christmas. I thought I was enjoying it. During the month of January, I was extremely anxious and restless. My body was constantly agitated and I felt out of control. I worried about taking Braeden anywhere because something bad could happen to us. I thought I was being protective. I still didn't think I had PPD because I didn't have the symptoms that I had heard about and it had been a year since he was born. So what was wrong with me???
By the beginning of February, I had lost 20 pounds because eating had become so painful due to the heartburn. At that point, a shooting occurred in a mall department store (not near me - I saw it on the news) and a switch flipped in my brain. I went from feeling anxious and jittery to completely out of control. I no longer felt like I could be in charge of my own actions. One night I was laying in bed with Braeden next to me (he was not a good sleeper in his own bed like my other two are), and thinking about how awful it would be if I got so out of control that I hurt him. That thought process was NOT OKAY with me. The next day, February 6, 2008, I made an appointment with the doctor to talk about depression. There was no way I was taking any chances with my life or Braeden's. Amazingly, they got me in that afternoon and the doctor was able to tell me how I felt without much input from me. I had no idea that anxiety and panic were classic signs of PPD. She prescribed Lexapro and then told me it would be fully effective in about a month. Come again?!?!!? I had to live like that for another month?? She recommended an out-patient, full day treatment program to take up my days for a while. I thought about it, but it wasn't a place for me. I had plenty of support from family to help me get through for 30 days. It was a relief to have finally figured out what was wrong and to be talking about it. My biggest fear at that point was, what if I never go back to the way I was? What if I have to spend the rest of my life on anti-depressants to be "normal"? I felt weak and defeated. During the months that followed, I learned just how strong I really am.
Braeden was born in December. Since I didn't see any signs after the first few months, I let my guard down. There wasn't any reason to worry anymore. Nothing had come of the warnings. I was good to go. However, by October I was physically in pain. I couldn't explain the causes for my symptoms. I had frequent headaches on the crown of my head. I felt lumps and bumps in places they shouldn't be. I had serious heartburn issues that weren't able to be cured by medication. I went to the doctor several times for pain in the center of my chest. Not heart related, just like I had pulled a muscle that wouldn't heal. Nothing was wrong. I would stand in the shower and start to panic because I thought something must be seriously wrong and I couldn't imagine dying and leaving my baby behind. He deserved a mom. I couldn't sleep worrying about having cancer or something else that would leave Braeden without a mother. Christmas came, and though I didn't realize it at the time, I just didn't care. I love Christmas, but that year I didn't even really decorate. It didn't matter to me to get the house into the holiday spirit. I decorated the tree and took pictures of Braeden's first Christmas. I thought I was enjoying it. During the month of January, I was extremely anxious and restless. My body was constantly agitated and I felt out of control. I worried about taking Braeden anywhere because something bad could happen to us. I thought I was being protective. I still didn't think I had PPD because I didn't have the symptoms that I had heard about and it had been a year since he was born. So what was wrong with me???
By the beginning of February, I had lost 20 pounds because eating had become so painful due to the heartburn. At that point, a shooting occurred in a mall department store (not near me - I saw it on the news) and a switch flipped in my brain. I went from feeling anxious and jittery to completely out of control. I no longer felt like I could be in charge of my own actions. One night I was laying in bed with Braeden next to me (he was not a good sleeper in his own bed like my other two are), and thinking about how awful it would be if I got so out of control that I hurt him. That thought process was NOT OKAY with me. The next day, February 6, 2008, I made an appointment with the doctor to talk about depression. There was no way I was taking any chances with my life or Braeden's. Amazingly, they got me in that afternoon and the doctor was able to tell me how I felt without much input from me. I had no idea that anxiety and panic were classic signs of PPD. She prescribed Lexapro and then told me it would be fully effective in about a month. Come again?!?!!? I had to live like that for another month?? She recommended an out-patient, full day treatment program to take up my days for a while. I thought about it, but it wasn't a place for me. I had plenty of support from family to help me get through for 30 days. It was a relief to have finally figured out what was wrong and to be talking about it. My biggest fear at that point was, what if I never go back to the way I was? What if I have to spend the rest of my life on anti-depressants to be "normal"? I felt weak and defeated. During the months that followed, I learned just how strong I really am.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Panic and Anxiety Before Post Partum Depression
In my early 20's I began noticing that certain situations would evoke an unnecessarily strong reaction. I first started having panic attacks when I lived in Boston and would get stuck in traffic. Knowing that I couldn't move until all the other cars did caused an immediate fight or flight reaction. I learned to try and keep myself calm, but I was never able to prevent them from happening. After that came 9/11, and the fear of something happening to me became so intense that I hated to be alone. I didn't drive alone if I didn't have to and I was constantly worried about the world ending. I was nervous all the time. I couldn't sleep. I was always waiting for the next bad thing to happen. After a month or so I was pretty much back to normal.
I had the biggest panic attack I've ever had on the plane to go to Ireland for our honeymoon. I couldn't breathe, I was sweating and my heart was beating so fast my husband almost took me off the plane. I really thought I might die. We went anyway. Not a good plan. I spent our entire honeymoon near panic, worried about having to fly home. Now I medicate to fly, and can actually enjoy the destination.
I was anxious about getting pregnant because there were so many things I wouldn't be able to control. What if the baby kept kicking and I got panicky because it wouldn't stop? What if I had a panic attack during labor and couldn't stop it?? I knew I could never have an epidural because it would limit my ability to move my legs or walk. I cannot lose control that way. Panic looms right around the corner waiting to pounce on situations like that. As it turned out, none of those things were a problem. I loved being pregnant. I felt great. I enjoyed feeling the baby move and looked forward to meeting him or her when it was time. It's not that I didn't fear labor.. no one looks forward to the pain, but I knew I could handle it. I would handle it. And I did. I had Braeden without any medical intervention. No drugs for this momma. (I ended up having all three babies this way). To say I was elated and proud of myself is an understatement. I thought maybe I'd finally beaten all of this terror living inside my brain.
I waited for the Post Partum Depression to come anyway. All the doctors and midwives said it was likely, due to my history with panic and anxiety. But it didn't. I couldn't believe it. I loved my baby immensely and wanted to be with him every second of the day. Motherhood was for me, without a doubt. I felt like a new person, with a new sense of confidence and an overall feeling of belonging in the life I was living. It was great, until things changed.
I had the biggest panic attack I've ever had on the plane to go to Ireland for our honeymoon. I couldn't breathe, I was sweating and my heart was beating so fast my husband almost took me off the plane. I really thought I might die. We went anyway. Not a good plan. I spent our entire honeymoon near panic, worried about having to fly home. Now I medicate to fly, and can actually enjoy the destination.
I was anxious about getting pregnant because there were so many things I wouldn't be able to control. What if the baby kept kicking and I got panicky because it wouldn't stop? What if I had a panic attack during labor and couldn't stop it?? I knew I could never have an epidural because it would limit my ability to move my legs or walk. I cannot lose control that way. Panic looms right around the corner waiting to pounce on situations like that. As it turned out, none of those things were a problem. I loved being pregnant. I felt great. I enjoyed feeling the baby move and looked forward to meeting him or her when it was time. It's not that I didn't fear labor.. no one looks forward to the pain, but I knew I could handle it. I would handle it. And I did. I had Braeden without any medical intervention. No drugs for this momma. (I ended up having all three babies this way). To say I was elated and proud of myself is an understatement. I thought maybe I'd finally beaten all of this terror living inside my brain.
I waited for the Post Partum Depression to come anyway. All the doctors and midwives said it was likely, due to my history with panic and anxiety. But it didn't. I couldn't believe it. I loved my baby immensely and wanted to be with him every second of the day. Motherhood was for me, without a doubt. I felt like a new person, with a new sense of confidence and an overall feeling of belonging in the life I was living. It was great, until things changed.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
What Would You Do?
I'm really hesitant to publish this post. It's been sitting on my computer for weeks in various forms. I've written it from different angles and rethought it a hundred times. But ultimately the situation weighs so heavily on my heart and mind so much of the time, that I feel like I need to post it.
In-laws. Does the word make everyone cringe? Or is it just me? I had wonderful, youthful fantasies about getting married and being welcomed into another family where I would have a mother-in-law who was helpful and kind and always there if we needed her. Sisters-laws and brothers-in-laws who would be great friends, and all of our kids would love growing up together as cousins and the best of friends. Fast forward to reality and I was rudely awakened by a family that not only didn't care so much for me, but for my American culture. Say whaatt?? Um, don't you folks live here too? I know lots of people have contentious relationships with their in-laws. The real question is, what do we do about a relationship between them and our children?
We've tried inviting them over, going to them, meeting them places.. but they still always act the same way. They treat Roman horribly, like he's beneath them and a child who can't possibly make his own decisions. They say they want to see the kids, but when they do, they watch them without interacting. Every now and then they will ask Braeden a question, but not be satisfied with his answer. Evan might as well not exist. However, now that we have Maggie, they want to visit more often because of "the girl". They have, on more than one occasion, brought gifts for Braeden and Maggie and not Evan. They will ask Roman on the phone how Maggie is, but not mention the boys. I'm not even sure our kids know exactly who they are to them. Braeden knows it's "daddy's mom" and "daddy's grandfather", but Roman's mother has always refused to tell the kids to call her Grandma. I really struggle as a mom to allow this behavior near my children. I don't want them exposed to people who treat others this way. What would you do?
In-laws. Does the word make everyone cringe? Or is it just me? I had wonderful, youthful fantasies about getting married and being welcomed into another family where I would have a mother-in-law who was helpful and kind and always there if we needed her. Sisters-laws and brothers-in-laws who would be great friends, and all of our kids would love growing up together as cousins and the best of friends. Fast forward to reality and I was rudely awakened by a family that not only didn't care so much for me, but for my American culture. Say whaatt?? Um, don't you folks live here too? I know lots of people have contentious relationships with their in-laws. The real question is, what do we do about a relationship between them and our children?
We've tried inviting them over, going to them, meeting them places.. but they still always act the same way. They treat Roman horribly, like he's beneath them and a child who can't possibly make his own decisions. They say they want to see the kids, but when they do, they watch them without interacting. Every now and then they will ask Braeden a question, but not be satisfied with his answer. Evan might as well not exist. However, now that we have Maggie, they want to visit more often because of "the girl". They have, on more than one occasion, brought gifts for Braeden and Maggie and not Evan. They will ask Roman on the phone how Maggie is, but not mention the boys. I'm not even sure our kids know exactly who they are to them. Braeden knows it's "daddy's mom" and "daddy's grandfather", but Roman's mother has always refused to tell the kids to call her Grandma. I really struggle as a mom to allow this behavior near my children. I don't want them exposed to people who treat others this way. What would you do?
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Keeping Up
I went through many phases of my life trying to keep up with those around me. In elementary school, it was all about having the cool sneakers. Early on, Kangaroos were the way to go. They had a pocket in the side and everything! Then it was on to the Reebok high tops with the double velcro at the top. They had to be all white. Remember those? You could get them in the J.C. Penney catalog. Surprisingly, I actually had both of those pairs of shoes. The shoe craze I was never allowed to participate in was jelly shoes. My mom was strongly opposed, and looking back, I can't really imagine that wearing jelly bracelets on your feet was all that comfortable. I don't know for sure; maybe it was like a foot massage all day long.
In high school, it was clothes and how much freedom your parents would give you. I did okay with pegged pants and ugly sweaters (think early 90's), but going to parties was something other people did. I could have been running sprints, but I was not going to be able to keep up in high school.
Skip ahead to adulthood and parenting.
Once you have children, the keeping up becomes more about women trying to keep up with other women. Why can't I manage my house the way she does? How does she possibly put a home-cooked, nutritious meal on the table every single night? Why aren't my children as well behaved as hers? Why am I tired ALL THE TIME and she looks like she could run a marathon? The comparisons are endless and quite frankly, exhausting.
I don't believe this is based on the need to compete with others or the need to outshine other women in any way. Well, I suppose it is for some people, but for most I think it's simply about our perception of how well everyone else is doing. I know I'm constantly excusing myself for the way my house looks if someone stops by unexpectedly. Or why there are dishes in the sink two hours after a meal was finished. I put so much pressure on myself to keep up. But who am I keeping up with? It seems that the more people I meet, the more I find they are most often, just like me.
We all struggle to meet expectations that we don't even know who set. Maybe our mothers or grandmothers. Or perhaps June Cleaver on TV. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to put a meal plan together, but either schedules or appetites throw it out the window. My kids eat about 5 different foods. It's pretty hard to mix that up. I end up with leftovers of leftovers because Roman and I only want to eat the same meal so many times in a row. I'm also always on top of my kids in public. In turn, I'm probably way too lax at home. Wouldn't it just be easier to live somewhere in the middle?
Do you find that you're willing to talk about this, but not let anyone actually see it? You can be dropping off at school, at a sports practice, or just about anyplace else you see your friends. You find yourself saying how "your house is always a disaster too" and "don't feel bad, my kids eat hot dogs at least 3 times a week". But yet, if you know that same person is coming over, you clean your house and try to make sure you have a balanced meal planned for that night. I know I can't be the only one caught up in this.
No, I'm not saying that my house is ridiculously dirty; it's not. We like to call it "lived-in". And I do try to feed my kids food with nutritional value. But I am no super mom for sure. I get tired. I get lazy. I get overwhelmed by everything that needs to get done. Why do I spend any of my precious energy worried about what other people can or cannot do?
In reality, everyone struggles with these same insecurities and worries. Keeping up with our own families is plenty of work and the people who matter most in our lives don't particularly care about the cleanliness and food options available at someone else's house. As long as I keep up with loving and caring for my husband, children and myself, I am a success.
We are all in this together, doing the best we can. And that should be enough.
In high school, it was clothes and how much freedom your parents would give you. I did okay with pegged pants and ugly sweaters (think early 90's), but going to parties was something other people did. I could have been running sprints, but I was not going to be able to keep up in high school.
Skip ahead to adulthood and parenting.
Once you have children, the keeping up becomes more about women trying to keep up with other women. Why can't I manage my house the way she does? How does she possibly put a home-cooked, nutritious meal on the table every single night? Why aren't my children as well behaved as hers? Why am I tired ALL THE TIME and she looks like she could run a marathon? The comparisons are endless and quite frankly, exhausting.
I don't believe this is based on the need to compete with others or the need to outshine other women in any way. Well, I suppose it is for some people, but for most I think it's simply about our perception of how well everyone else is doing. I know I'm constantly excusing myself for the way my house looks if someone stops by unexpectedly. Or why there are dishes in the sink two hours after a meal was finished. I put so much pressure on myself to keep up. But who am I keeping up with? It seems that the more people I meet, the more I find they are most often, just like me.
We all struggle to meet expectations that we don't even know who set. Maybe our mothers or grandmothers. Or perhaps June Cleaver on TV. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to put a meal plan together, but either schedules or appetites throw it out the window. My kids eat about 5 different foods. It's pretty hard to mix that up. I end up with leftovers of leftovers because Roman and I only want to eat the same meal so many times in a row. I'm also always on top of my kids in public. In turn, I'm probably way too lax at home. Wouldn't it just be easier to live somewhere in the middle?
Do you find that you're willing to talk about this, but not let anyone actually see it? You can be dropping off at school, at a sports practice, or just about anyplace else you see your friends. You find yourself saying how "your house is always a disaster too" and "don't feel bad, my kids eat hot dogs at least 3 times a week". But yet, if you know that same person is coming over, you clean your house and try to make sure you have a balanced meal planned for that night. I know I can't be the only one caught up in this.
No, I'm not saying that my house is ridiculously dirty; it's not. We like to call it "lived-in". And I do try to feed my kids food with nutritional value. But I am no super mom for sure. I get tired. I get lazy. I get overwhelmed by everything that needs to get done. Why do I spend any of my precious energy worried about what other people can or cannot do?
In reality, everyone struggles with these same insecurities and worries. Keeping up with our own families is plenty of work and the people who matter most in our lives don't particularly care about the cleanliness and food options available at someone else's house. As long as I keep up with loving and caring for my husband, children and myself, I am a success.
We are all in this together, doing the best we can. And that should be enough.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Big Week
Maggie Grace, you light up my life. I am so amazed every day at the little person that you are. Content, joyful and tolerant (thank goodness) of your big brothers, you very easily adapt to whatever is going on around you. You have had a very big week this week and I'm so happy to have a place to actually document these exciting moments as they are happening. You started waving bye-bye. You really enjoy waving at everyone you see.
Recently you have been making the ma ma ma ma sound to try it out, but on Tuesday you said it intentionally (in a rather demanding way I might add). Apparently I was not getting the food to your mouth fast enough. Speaking of food, you completely prefer to feed yourself which makes for some interesting meal times. You really need to get some teeth so you can have a more interesting variety of finger foods. By the looks and feel of it, that might be sooner than later. Your brothers didn't get teeth until 7 months either, so I'm not surprised it's taking so long.
I also saw you try to clap yesterday. You aren't quite there yet, but you enjoyed trying. I love watching you try new things. It's almost as if I can see your little brain putting the pieces together.
Recently you have been making the ma ma ma ma sound to try it out, but on Tuesday you said it intentionally (in a rather demanding way I might add). Apparently I was not getting the food to your mouth fast enough. Speaking of food, you completely prefer to feed yourself which makes for some interesting meal times. You really need to get some teeth so you can have a more interesting variety of finger foods. By the looks and feel of it, that might be sooner than later. Your brothers didn't get teeth until 7 months either, so I'm not surprised it's taking so long.
I also saw you try to clap yesterday. You aren't quite there yet, but you enjoyed trying. I love watching you try new things. It's almost as if I can see your little brain putting the pieces together.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Sunday
I wish I could say I was one of those people who look forward to Sunday. A day to go to church, worship with a community and get refreshed and ready for the week to come. Not so much around here. Sunday for me starts crazy and uses up most of my energy by 9:00am. I know other people with children probably feel the same way. Get the kids ready, keep them clean and then get them all to church looking like the Norman Rockwell family that we are not. Here is our big strike-out every single week:
Strike 1: Get there on-time. We do manage to do this most of the time. However, Sunday is the one day of the week that I usually have to wake the kids up. If you're a parent, you know that that is basically strikes 2 and 3 right there. No child is fully cooperative when you wake them up before they are ready. Then everyone needs to eat and get dressed. Not an easy task when we have to be there by 8:00.
Strike 2: Keep them quiet. Go ahead, laugh now. It's easier than facing the reality. My kids are 5, 2 and 7 months. Quiet is not an option. And to make this all that much harder, we not only don't have a nursery option, but we also don't even have a standard Catholic Crying Room. Our priest would rather the kids stay with the congregation. REALLY?!?!? So much for anyone hearing what he's saying. Today I actually gave Evan my phone to play a game on in desperate hope that he would play quietly. The upside is that he did stay in one place, but he also cheered for himself. Loudly.
Strike 3: Keep them still. Obviously if I can't keep them quiet, I certainly can't keep them still. As a result, it isn't all that unusual to have a bumped head or one child pinching the other with all their might. Which results in retaliation and inevitably someone crying. Loudly.
By the time it's all over I am anything but refreshed. I am simply thankful that it is all over. I'm sure God understands, but what about those people around us who would actually like to hear? I'm told that they wouldn't sit near us if it bothered them. I have a faint faith that that is true. I don't mean to imply that my kids are overly troublesome in life. They really aren't. They are just bored sitting in one spot and listening to lots of talking that doesn't make any sense to them. I would be too.
Maybe it should be more than a sip of wine at the end. Oh wait, our church doesn't do wine anymore either.
I think I just struck out looking.
Happy Sunday!
Strike 1: Get there on-time. We do manage to do this most of the time. However, Sunday is the one day of the week that I usually have to wake the kids up. If you're a parent, you know that that is basically strikes 2 and 3 right there. No child is fully cooperative when you wake them up before they are ready. Then everyone needs to eat and get dressed. Not an easy task when we have to be there by 8:00.
Strike 2: Keep them quiet. Go ahead, laugh now. It's easier than facing the reality. My kids are 5, 2 and 7 months. Quiet is not an option. And to make this all that much harder, we not only don't have a nursery option, but we also don't even have a standard Catholic Crying Room. Our priest would rather the kids stay with the congregation. REALLY?!?!? So much for anyone hearing what he's saying. Today I actually gave Evan my phone to play a game on in desperate hope that he would play quietly. The upside is that he did stay in one place, but he also cheered for himself. Loudly.
Strike 3: Keep them still. Obviously if I can't keep them quiet, I certainly can't keep them still. As a result, it isn't all that unusual to have a bumped head or one child pinching the other with all their might. Which results in retaliation and inevitably someone crying. Loudly.
By the time it's all over I am anything but refreshed. I am simply thankful that it is all over. I'm sure God understands, but what about those people around us who would actually like to hear? I'm told that they wouldn't sit near us if it bothered them. I have a faint faith that that is true. I don't mean to imply that my kids are overly troublesome in life. They really aren't. They are just bored sitting in one spot and listening to lots of talking that doesn't make any sense to them. I would be too.
Maybe it should be more than a sip of wine at the end. Oh wait, our church doesn't do wine anymore either.
I think I just struck out looking.
Happy Sunday!
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Feel Me Flow
Admit it, you know the song. Naughty By Nature circa 1995. I've actually seen them in concert, have you? And the best part? My friend Jill and I went with one of our teachers. Yes, because that is how we rolled in the 90's. My parents said we had to have a chaperone, and really, were we going to take one of them? Besides, Peg was as cool as us. After all, she was hanging out with two 17 year olds at a Hip Hop concert. Was it called Hip Hop then? Or was it still Rap? I think we all learned a lesson about ourselves that night. Enough said.
Anyway, back to my point. Oh wait, I never actually started making a point.
The other day, the kids and I were in the kitchen baking. This is quite common in our house. Evan especially enjoys baking anything at anytime, though he most often requests brownies so he can lick the spoon. I know, I know. No need for lectures. It never killed me. I'm pretty sure he'll live. Again, beside the point.
Back to baking...
We were having a grand ol' time and I had brought my computer in and had itunes playing on shuffle. We probably started with something fun like a Kidz Bop song and then I heard it. Feel Me Flow. Probably not the most appropriate choice for a 5 and 2 year old. (Maggie was to busy feeding herself baby snacks to even know we were there). So yeah, they've heard Red Solo Cup, but I'm pretty sure two "country" curse words don't quite match up to Naughty By Nature. I don't think either of them were really paying attention since it wasn't a song they knew, but I felt that it would be irresponsible of me not to put the Public Service Announcement out there to never let your itunes play on shuffle if you have a mix of music like I do.
End of PSA.
Anyway, back to my point. Oh wait, I never actually started making a point.
The other day, the kids and I were in the kitchen baking. This is quite common in our house. Evan especially enjoys baking anything at anytime, though he most often requests brownies so he can lick the spoon. I know, I know. No need for lectures. It never killed me. I'm pretty sure he'll live. Again, beside the point.
Back to baking...
We were having a grand ol' time and I had brought my computer in and had itunes playing on shuffle. We probably started with something fun like a Kidz Bop song and then I heard it. Feel Me Flow. Probably not the most appropriate choice for a 5 and 2 year old. (Maggie was to busy feeding herself baby snacks to even know we were there). So yeah, they've heard Red Solo Cup, but I'm pretty sure two "country" curse words don't quite match up to Naughty By Nature. I don't think either of them were really paying attention since it wasn't a song they knew, but I felt that it would be irresponsible of me not to put the Public Service Announcement out there to never let your itunes play on shuffle if you have a mix of music like I do.
End of PSA.
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