The Moment I First Felt Like a Mother

I was in the hospital, hours after giving birth to our first child, Mary Grace. A stream of visitors had kept us busy most of the day, and by the time Brandon, our best man, arrived with his daughters, Mary Grace was done. She started to cry in his arms.

I panicked when he said, "She wants her mama." I thought, "This is the moment when I'm revealed as a fraud - this is when they're going to realize that I can't do this - that I don't have what she needs. Don't hand her back to me! I don't know what she wants! She's going to keep crying forever because I don't know what to do!"

He placed her gently in my arms and she stopped crying. And for the first time since I'd become pregnant, through the fog of perinatal anxiety I had the first flicker of an idea that I might be able to do this.

I've been doing this for over ten years now, which is hard to believe. My kids are happy. Their needs are met. They're thriving. I wish I could go back and tell myself, "It's going to be ok."

Happy Mother's Day!

The Election

A woman just called me wanting to know if she could count on my support on Tuesday..... for Ted Cruz.

"Well, I suppose if every other republican and democrat is kidnapped by aliens, there might be a chance that I would vote for Cruz... No, actually, I don't think I would even then."

"So you're not a Cruz supporter ma'am?"

And then I started quoting his positions to her, and instead of refuting any of it or giving me any facts at all, she kept saying, "I don't believe that he believes that."

"I can't support Cruz. He is in favor of <controversial thing> and I find that morally repugnant."

"I don't believe that Cruz is in favor of that thing."

"I'm looking at MSNBC and it says that Cruz supports that thing."

"I don't believe that he said that."

"It's a direct quote, 'I support that thing,' said Ted Cruz on April 6, 2016."

"MSNBC is biased."

"Ok, pick a source that you'll believe... The New York Times, Wikipedia, the Washington Post? Because Ted Cruz is on the record supporting the thing."

"I don't believe that he believes that."

"Who would you believe?"

"I don't believe that he believes that."

"..."

"..."

"Honey, you need to get your story straight."


If you're going to call me and argue politics, at least argue from a position of facts, not denial.  

My favorite part was when she told me that she was in Indiana, but she was originally from Kentucky, and currently lives in Utah, and had come here to volunteer for Cruz's campaign.  I said, "Are you safe? Are they holding you against your will? If you need me to call the police, say 'Benghazi'."

I'm about sick of this stupid election.  We citizens of Indiana are uncomfortable with being relevant.  I'm getting 3 - 4 phone calls from various political personnel or surveys every day.  Next time someone asks me how I'm going to vote, I'm just going to say, "Spoilers!" and hang up.

It ended with her telling me they were about to shut down their phones (LOL), and me telling her that she needed to think about what sort of person she is supporting, because literally everyone who has ever met Ted Cruz in real life hates him.

On Criticism...

This weekend I found myself in a situation where a friend (male half of a couple that BJ and I are good friends with) corrected something I did that offended him. He was 100% right, and I was wrong (although wrong with good intentions, which he acknowledged right away).

I have to be honest, it really stung. When I got his first text I was so angry. I went straight into defensive mode. I wanted to justify my behavior. I wanted to attack him for calling me out - even though I knew I had been wrong.

I am not here to talk about that specific situation, because it all got resolved and everyone is cool now. I calmed down and found my zen before I replied. I acknowledged that I was wrong, apologized, and promised to work on that bad habit. I also reached out to other people I've done the same thing with, and asked for their forgiveness. It's 100% better now.

But what I do want to talk about is criticism.

picture borrowed from Good Housekeeping

Have you ever thought of how much criticism our kids have to endure on a daily basis? 

Get up! You're running late already! You should have been up 20 minutes ago! You're wearing THAT? Comb your hair. Do it again, it looks terrible. What do you mean you had a Pop Tart for breakfast - that's not healthy! Hurry up! Where are your shoes? Why can't you ever put them back where you found them? Your room is a mess. Go go go, you're going to be late! What do you mean you forgot your lunch/homework/backpack! You're so irresponsible....  and that's all before they get out the door!

Then they go to school and they don't have that lunch/homework/backpack and the teacher gives it to them, too. And they sit through that subject they are struggling in, and they feel stupid. Maybe they get a poor grade on a homework or a test. They sit there and feel dumb, worry about how their parents are going to react, and worry about their future. Their peers criticize them for what they wear, what they like, what they don't like, where they sit, where they don't sit, what they can do, what they can't...

Then they come home. Get off your iPad! Read a book for once! Go outside! Play with your siblings! Your room is still a mess. What do you mean you flunked that test! Do your homework. No, this is all wrong, do it again. You're not even trying. Get your elbows off the table. Don't talk with food in your mouth. You left without clearing your place at the table. What do you mean you forgot your math book at school? I don't have time for this. You need posterboard? For TOMORROW!? You couldn't tell me that an hour ago when we were out getting your math book? Slow down! Hurry up! Brush your teeth. Do it again. Go to bed. Stop coming downstairs, it's late. What do you mean you can't sleep?

Readers, that one bit of criticism I got threw me off for the entire morning. It literally took me 3 hours and half a milligram of Xanax to get over it. No one yelled, called names, berated, or accused - it was all very adult and respectful and mature, and yet I went through every negative emotion from angry to embarrassed to sad to hurt to angry again and even frightened that I had ruined an important friendship with my boneheaded behavior.

Is it any wonder that by the time our kids hit the teen years, they roll their eyes at adults? Maybe it's simply because they've taken so much criticism from us their entire lives that they learn to think we're stupid as a defense mechanism!  They just shut down.  And wouldn't you?

Next time I get irritated with my kids (which should be in about 11 seconds), I'm going to try really hard to correct without criticizing. Correction is often necessary, but criticism hurts and I don't want to hurt the people I love most.

Hello From the Other Side

My kids are now 10, 9, and 5.  Jack is starting kindergarten in the fall, which is completely insane. I can't remember the last time I changed a diaper. And for some reason I feel moved to dust off This Old Blog today and say a few things to you moms who are still in the trenches that I wish I could go back and say to myself 10(!) years ago.

You Matter

Oh, please take care of yourself. Your body matters. Before you know it, you're going to be 40 and you're going to start falling apart. My blood pressure was recently 180/110 for no particular reason (it's better now, yay meds!). I wish I could go back and take better care of myself. If I had it to do over, I would have joined a gym with free childcare when the kids were little, I would have ignored their cries when they got dropped off at said free childcare, I would have made myself forget that you get what you pay for and understood that an hour of unhappiness would not kill them, and I would have walked on the treadmill for an hour every day. What a huge difference that would have made! And sometimes, especially during Shark Week, I would drop them off in childcare and go read blogs in the locker room for an hour. Because I deserved it. And I would have remembered that children don't die of neglect in a single weepy hour.

(I just remembered why we quit the gym - there was a corner where the slightly-less-young children who were in charge couldn't see the kids, and I caught someone hiding there eating drywall from a hole in the wall. Oh well. I made the best decision I could at the time. It would have been worth it to drive to the nice gym on the other side of town, Past Amy. When you get your do-over, do that!)

Your spirit matters, too. Having kids gives you an excuse to make friends that you won't enjoy again as an adult, so take advantage of it and make them. Bond with other adults over chicken nuggets and fast food play place playdates, and keep those friends. They'll keep you sane. Make time to take them a pot of soup when they're sick, or a cup of coffee when you know (from Facebook, of course) that they're having a crappy day. You won't believe the love that will come back your way. It's ok to put "Jane Smith, Tommy's mom" in your phone. I have handed people my phone at the park (usually when I've already forgotten their name) and said, "Put yourself in my phone so I can text you - I'll watch the kids!" You wouldn't believe how long you can go without using someone's name, anyway. There's this lovely woman I've known for years. No idea what her name is. She's delightful. Someday someone will say, "Oh, hello _____!" to her in my presence and I'll figure out what her name is. I'll probably promptly forget again, but maybe I'll get it into my phone in time someday.

Cultivate a hobby. Yes, I know you're too busy. Stop arguing with me. You have to do something for yourself, or you'll become one of those women who can't talk about anything but her kid's latest bowel movement and how little sleep you're getting. Even if your hobby is just reading on your smartphone over your kid's head as you feed him (pause every few paragraphs to make loving eye contact, of course). At least then you can say, "I am reading the most fascinating novel about World War II!" when you have to go to some adult function, instead of trying to cut your boss's steak into tiny bite-sized chunks for him and asking about his bowel habits.

Lots of Things Don't Matter

There were so many things that I absolutely agonized over that ended up not making a bit of difference. I struggled and struggled to breastfeed MG.  I tandem nursed the girls for 9 months, which was misery.  Guess what?  By the time they got to preschool, just a short year after I weaned MG, no one gave a damn. Does she eat?  Great.  Well done.  Gold star.  Let it go.

I am happy that we breastfed, mostly because we saved a ton of money, and because I'm lazy and cleaning bottles would have irritated me. I'm glad I stuck with it through the hard part so that I could get to the easy part. This is not to say that there aren't great advantages to nursing - there are - but there are advantages to bottle feeding (or doing both which is TOTALLY a thing) too. The main one being that someone else can do it!

Other things that ended up not mattering include:

• Birth plans - approximately zero things went according to my birth plan, other than the fact that I left the hospital 100% less pregnant than I was when I went in. Save yourself some printer ink and go get a mani/pedi instead. Trying to plan birth is futile. It's like trying to plan a tornado. There are things you can do to be slightly less unprepared, but you can't control the situation no matter how many pages your birth manifesto encompasses. Besides, no one asks at Kindergarten registration whether or not you had an epidural, and I'm still waiting for my Natural Childbirth Trophy (I was begging for drugs - there just wasn't time to get them, maybe I disqualified myself).
• The order in which you introduce solid foods - with MG I had a spreadsheet. With Claire she kind of just ate whatever I felt like feeding her that day, and I waited a few days to see if she broke out in a rash. By the time I got to Jack, he was eating pretty much everything (except honey, because botulism) by 6 months old. None of the kids have any allergies, all of them are equally good eaters (they love shrimp and roasted cauliflower, for heaven's sake, and Claire loves buffalo wings). That stuff about "if you give them fruit first they'll never learn to like veggies!" is bologna.
• Preschool choice - they're all pretty good around here, and I'm glad we saved a fortune by not going with the most expensive one or the one with the waiting list.  
• Kindergarten early enrollment vs. redshirting - MG missed the kindergarten cutoff by 10 days, and I agonized about whether or not to send her to a charter school that first year. We ended up putting her in a third year of preschool, and I'm so glad we did. There's no reason to push them to go early - it all evens out by middle school. There's also no reason to redshirt them. Just do your school system a favor and send them when they're eligible according to whatever arbitrary criteria the school system has chosen.
• Sleeping arrangements/crying it out - we never cried-it-out, and all my kids have eventually learned to fall asleep alone in their own beds. Someday they'll stay there all night, too. Turns out that I'm the one who is having trouble letting go of snuggling Jack to sleep. He can do it, but I feel sad when I don't snuggle him. I also kind of like it that he sneaks into our bed at night, most of the time. Again, with MG I agonized.
• Attachment parenting - this is the philosophy that most closely aligned with our natural tendency as parents, but we didn't follow it like it was a holy book. In the end, as long as what works for your family isn't illegal, immoral, or fattening - just do it. It's ok to be friends with people (or not argue online with people) who are doing something different. What works for you works for you, and may not work for another family. Realize that no one is wearing their 10-year-old in a Bjorn of any sort, and that there are plenty of paths to parental enlightenment. Namaste, baby.
• Staying-at-home vs. Working-outside-home parents - I'll bet every single person reading this can think of at least one great kid whose parents both work, and at least one little tyrant who has a parent that stays home. It would be nice if parental success boiled down to one decision, but it doesn't.
• Most childhood illnesses - I wish I could have all the co-pays back for all the little coughs and sniffles I took our kids to the doctor over. Try to think like a nurse, and if the kid isn't actively dying, keep them out of the doctor's office. They're just going to get sicker (or the healthy siblings that you have to drag along will get sick) from going there.  

Basically, if there's a Mommy War over it, it is probably a matter of personal preference. 

Things that Actually Matter

• Vaccines
• Car seats
• Botulism
• um....

What You Should Focus On

So if you aren't agonizing over all of the above, what are you going to focus on in all your free time?

Your relationship! Oh my gosh, that person you made the kid(s) with is still going to be there when the kid(s) stop(s) hanging off of your body every second of every day, and you might want to make sure you still like each other when that happens. Invest time and energy in your relationship. Go on dates. Talk about non-kid-related things (I'll let you know what those are as soon as I think of some!). Do nice things for him or her, just because. Be the kind of spouse you would want to have if you switched places. Be interesting. Be kind.

Dad: don't read the rest of this paragraph. The rest of you: remember there's a reason why it's called making love. Ahem...

Have you ever noticed that people are nicer to strangers (like waitresses and cashiers) than they are to their own family, sometimes? That makes NO sense to me at all. When you find yourself starting to be an asshole, and we can all be assholes, remember that the people who share your home are the people you love most in the entire world - and treat them accordingly. (Also, unless your partner happens to be a waitress or a cashier, do not make love with waitresses and cashiers!)

Focus on teaching your kids how to have a good relationship by modeling it for them. They will thank you when they're adults and they're not married to someone who drives them insane.

What Else?

The best advice I ever gave was, "Only take advice from someone whose kids you would cheerfully live with." (Mine are outstanding so it's safe to listen to me). The best advice I ever received was, "If you teach your kids nothing else, teach them to be helpers." ~Dr. Dave. All of my kids will stop whatever they're doing and feed the dogs or empty the dishwasher when they're asked to help. It's kind of my superpower, actually. And I honestly believe that it's because we told them, from the time they were tiny, "Oh, you are SUCH A GOOD HELPER!"

Kids will believe what you tell them about themselves, so if you tell them, "You're such a brat!" they're going to prove you right. If you tell them, "You're lazy," they will be. So use that to your advantage and tell them, several times a day, "Oh, you're a great helper! Thank you!" 2 year old big sibling brings you a diaper for the baby? "Oh, thank you my big helper!" Start early, say it often, make it so.

READ READ READ. I've been reading The Boxcar Children series to Jack, and when we get to some random old fashioned thing, we look it up. Grandfather Alden sent a telegram. "Jack, do you know what a telegram is?" Of course not, but suddenly we're off on a Google mission, listening to recordings of Morse code and talking about what the world was like before telephones. We've looked up birds and animals and specific sorts of shells (Cat's paw, if you care). We looked up what uranium ore looks like on the ground because the Boxcar children were given a ranch by their Great Aunt Jane, because of course they were, and the fireplace is made out of rocks with yellow flecks of uranium in them, because of course it was. And it's starting to come up occasionally in real life, too. I'm looking forward to him finding, and recognizing, a cat's paw (hopefully not uranium!). BJ is reading Harry Potter to the girls, and they're all obsessed. Reading together is a memory they'll cherish forever. Plus, kids who read or are read to are exposed to thousands more words over their childhoods than kids who aren't, and it makes an enormous difference in their education. Read every day, starting from birth.

BJ's on a business trip, and the other night we were "sending love" to Daddy. "How do you do that, Mommy?" "Well, you have to get a good clear picture of Daddy in your head. I always start with his hair, and I pop it on like Lego hair. Then I draw in his eyebrows, then his eyes, his nose, and his smile. Can you see him? Good! Ok, now you have to picture him doing something that either makes you feel loved or that makes you feel love for him, or both. What do you picture?" And every kid said, separately, "Reading to me!" ("And then you take the love from the picture in your head, and send it ALL the way to Daddy! Ready? Go!" Then the kids wanted to send me love, and I laughed and told them that it tickled, so if they ever ask you if you can feel it when they send you love, tell them that you can and it tickles.)

Rituals and traditions matter. When BJ is out of town we have breakfast for dinner. Always. It gives them a little something out of the ordinary to look forward to, and it makes them feel like life is predictable and safe. It gives them continuity. I still remember some of our traditions from when I was a kid, and they still make me smile. I do some of them with my own kids. They don't have to be elaborate, and they don't have to be tied to holidays. You can start now.

Family dinners matter. BJ always asks the kids, "How was school today?" when we sit down for dinner, and it's hilarious because when he isn't home the kids will ask each other, in their deep "Daddy voice," "How was school today, Mary Grace?" "How was school today, Jack?" "How was school today, Claire?" It's a ritual, and it matters to them.

Everything is a phase. Nothing lasts forever. And just when you get that little weirdo figured out, they'll switch it up on you and go on to the next phase. Don't stress too hard over any of it.  

Make a few friends whose kids are older than yours; they'll show you the path.

Finally, write it down. You're sleep deprived and you can't remember anything. Reading my own old blog entries is like reading a book written by someone else, now. Write down the cute things your kids say and do, in a journal or an app or on Facebook or a blog - just write it down. It goes by so fast, and I know I'm about to sound like those crazy old women at the grocery store, but I'm going to say it anyway: Enjoy every minute.

 

Purdue Christmas Show

I'm the worst blogger ever.  We're busy.  Mary Grace was in the 2013 Christmas Show at Purdue, and we're both in it this year.  She's the third kid from the left (red dress) in this video.  Gorgeous!  Love these kids, and this organization, so much.

Someday I'll have stories again.  Until then, friend me on Facebook, where I'm sharing most of my crazy these days.

Claire Turned Seven and Mommy Blew It

Dearest Claire,

Please pay no attention to the date on this post.  I know that your birthday was a week ago.  I'm sorry to be posting this so late.

School Picture

On Thursday, your actual natal day, I worked, and then we went out for dinner.  You chose Pizza King where they have trains to deliver your drinks - not because it's your favorite, but because you knew it would delight your brother.  That sums up the kind of kid you are nicely.  You are always thinking of other people, and rarely think of yourself first.  I think that's a really rare quality in a 6 or 7 year old!

On Friday a bunch of your friends came home from school with you, and we had cake and ice cream and watched Frozen and played video games.  You have such wonderful friends, and everyone was super good and we all had a wonderful time.

Friend Party - slightly blurry

Saturday we had your "family party," including both the family we were born with and the family we've chosen.  Then Saturday night I had a party to go to, we had a reunion in Zionsville on Sunday, we went to Grammaland Monday (it's spring break), I worked Tuesday and Thursday, we had a bunch of errands to do on Wednesday...  Which brings us to today and here I am, FINALLY getting around to your birthday post.

Family Party

Frozen has been really popular all winter, and you got two sets of the "Elsa and Anna" Barbie dolls for your birthday.  I've been SO PROUD of the way you've shared them with your sister.  You've been extremely generous and kind to her.  Again, that's just the kind of person you are.

Even though you spend so much of your time worrying about other peoples' feelings, you're not a doormat! When you play you are a real leader, often scripting the dialogue between dolls and telling the other kids what you want them to say.  It makes me wonder if you're going to be a scriptwriter, or maybe the CEO of a huge corporation when you grow up.  Because you balance being compassionate and caring with being assertive, people are always willing to go along with what you want to do. 

The First Warm Day of the Year at the Park

You have gotten really into video games this year - you and Mary Grace play Wii Infinity almost every day.  I will confess that I have no idea what it is that you do with the Infinity.  To me it looks like the characters just run around an island, climbing things and jumping down.  I must be getting old, too, because I just don't get the appeal.

You started piano lessons this year, and you really love it.  I often have to chase you away from the piano because it's time to get ready for school, but you'd rather be playing.  I hope you keep that commitment to practicing as you get farther in your learning.  I love to hear the house fill with music.

Dr. Seuss's Birthday

We're so proud of you, Claire.  You're such a fun, caring, loving person.  I can't believe you're already 7 years old.  Try not to grow up too fast, ok?

Christmastime at Grandma Susan's

Here's the checklist I started when you were a baby:

Your favorite toy for playing is: Wii Infinity, Barbies

Your favorite toy for snuggling is: Biscuit went missing this year!  :(  You most love to snuggle with Jack

Your favorite food is: "Panda Chicken" (orange chicken from Panda Express), and crepes with Nutella

Your favorite book is: You've been reading The Hobbit with Daddy.  You read a hundred books this school year!  

Your favorite activity is: Wrestle Night 

Your favorite place to go is: Chuck E. Cheese and Dave & Busters

Your best friend is: Jack, Mary Grace, Jocelyn, Emma, Caitrin, Juliet, and Cameron, and UNCLE CHUCK

Something new that you're doing: playing piano

Something you've mastered: fashion - you have a strong sense of your own personal style

Something people say about you:  People are always telling us how kind you are to all the kids around you

.

Something that you're saying is:  Last year I wrote, "you're SINGING.  You are really good!  You have a natural ear for music.  I can't wait for you to start piano lessons next January.  You're going to be amazing."  I'm proud to report that you're still singing and you love playing piano, just like I knew you would!

Something Dad and I are proud of you for: your selflessness

Something surprising about you: you are very, very consistent.  Some of the answers on this checklist have been the same for years and years!  (I'm leaving this one, also, because it's still true!)

We love you, Claire Bear!

Love,

Mama

Make Snow Safely

Lots of fun science is happening during the Polar Vortex of 2014, or whatever this will be remembered as, but apparently there are a bunch of people burning themselves with boiling water because they're trying to make snow.

B.J., my brilliant husband, figured out a better way.  Observe:

Auld Lang Syne

Happy new year, from the world's worst blogger!  As we bid farewell to 2013 and look forward to the coming year, I have a few reflections to share.

I didn't do the couch to 5k program that I started in January.  I didn't even finish a full week.  Turns out that while my internal organs weren't literally dragging behind me on the ground, it felt close enough to the truth to put me off of jogging and running permanently.  I guess if I'm ever being chased by something scary, I'd better hope that I remember where I put my car keys.

Jack started speech therapy in January of 2013, and now we can hardly believe that we ever thought he needed it.  Hopefully by this time next year we'll be able to say the same about potty training.  (I hate potty training - I will happily give birth to your kids for you if you'll promise to potty train mine for me, because it is my least favorite part of being a parent - I'd rather deal with stomach flu.  I'd rather do nearly anything, honestly, than potty train man or beast).

In February I was slightly more awesome - I stood up for that kid at Chick Fil A who was being verbally berated by her grandfather for an accident (the whole story).  I didn't run anywhere.

In March I got an MRI of my head, proving once and for all that there is a functioning brain up there.  It was normal.  Here we are in December and I think we've finally found the right combination of medicines to keep my headaches away - I have only had one since December 10 and alcohol may have been a factor.  It has been a long year of "let's try this for 6 weeks and if it doesn't work we'll try the next thing for 6 weeks."  My answer has been, "Hey, I don't get migraines when I'm pregnant, BJ," but so far he's not a fan of that plan.  We'll see...  Claire turned 6.

In April I turned 37.  That's exactly 20 years older than I feel (until I hang out with actual 17 year olds, then I'm like, "Oh yeah, I'm a fossil.")

In May Kate turned 1, Jack continued speech therapy, and I didn't write much.

In June we bought our new home, and most of my time since then has been spent playing house.  BJ also turned 37.

In July I panicked about renters.  I shouldn't have, though, because the family we eventually found is AWESOME.

In August Mary Grace turned 8 and I accidentally got another dog.  The girls started 2nd and 1st grade.

In September Han Solo started showing up EVERYWHERE.  The girls discovered and then promptly blocked out the truth about Santa, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, etc.

In October, not much happened.  In November I didn't even post.  Truly I am the world's worst blogger.

In December Jack turned 3 and we spent most of the month partying instead of blogging.  You would know that if I ever posted pictures anywhere other than Facebook.

It's funny because this time of year I always look back and regret not writing more, but at the same time, I feel like the kids' stories belong to them more and more as they get older.  Last time I got all angsty about this I had another baby so that I would have new material.  Not sure that BJ is going to let me get away with that again.

Happy New Year, Internet!

Jack Turned 3!

Dearest Jack,

You are three.  I am so sorry for not writing your birthday letter on your actual birthday, but things have been ridiculously busy at our house.  But we'll pretend that it's because most of my pictures of you are on my work computer, because that's where I back up my phone, ok?  Cut Mommy some slack.

Last year I was so worried about you because you weren't talking much.  It makes us laugh now, because you never stop!  When you get excited you say something will be "so so much fun!"  Instead of "stop" you say "fop," and Superman is "Fooperman," but it's cute so we don't worry about it.  I apologize if you're reading this as an adult and calling me foopid for not fixing it.  Feriously.

When you go to sleep you still like to snuggle, and you're likely my last baby so I'm not as firm about it as I was with your sisters.  You like to feel my cozy arms (what is it with you kids and my arms?) and to rest your head on my tummy.  You love to read books - especially books about trains and dogs.

You are such a happy, sweet natured little boy.  It's very rare that you're grouchy or hyper.  You love to be around people, but you'll also play by yourself happily (it helps that you got lots of cool new stuff for your birthday).  You love your "gogs" (dogs).  You love Daddy and you break his heart when he has to leave for work and you're begging him to come downstairs and play trains with you.  

I'm so glad that we have had the opportunity to raise a little boy.  I hope that you grow up to be as strong and as gentle as your father.  I hope you stay as sweet as you are right now.  I hope you learn to do your own laundry at a prodigious age, because seriously...

Here's the checklist:

Here's the checklist:

Your favorite toy for playing is: anything with wheels, especially trains

Your favorite toy for snuggling is: your dogs

Your favorite foods: strawberries, apples, apple pie, chocolate

Your favorite book is: Spot Goes to School - books with trains, dogs, and flaps

Your favorite activity is: riding things (trains, bikes, etc.)

Your favorite place to go is: the park

Your best friend is: Penny

Something new that you're doing: counting

Something you've mastered: speaking, almost!

Something people say about you: "Look at his curly hair!"

Something that you're saying is: When I call you I'll say "Jaa-aack!" on a decending third, and you'll sing, "Whaaa-aaat," back to me, and I'll sing back, "I love you!" and you sing, "I love you too!"  Sometimes I lose you on purpose just so that I can hear you sing to me.

Something Dad and I are proud of you for: You are gentle with the dogs and almost never pull their ears and tails.

Something surprising about you: you have a sense of humor that is well beyond your age.

What you want to be when you grow up: Fooperman.

I love you so much, Jack Jack.

Mommy

Autumn

In the car this morning:

"Look at the pretty trees, Jack!  Aren't the leaves pretty today"

"Why somebody paint doze trees?"

Oh, this kid, he is my heart.

Things I Don't Want to Forget, October Edition

I was adjusting the "static correction" collar we got for Penny, because she barks constantly.

Mary Grace said, "Set it to extra crispy!"

***

I complained that Jack hadn't touched his dinner.  He stuck out one finger and gently nudged his sandwich.  "I touched it."

***

Aunt Mimi was babysitting, Jack had a dirty diaper.  He wouldn't let her change it.  She asked him why.  He replied, "I do not want you to see my butt."

***

Our friends gave us a big cardboard stand-up Han Solo.  The kids have delighted in scaring me with him at every opportunity.  First they left him standing in my doorway.  I actually screamed and jumped backward about 8 feet.  He has shown up in every room of the house, in the shower, in my bed, behind BJ's car.  I even printed little Han Solos and sent them to school in the girls' lunches one day.  The whole thing has been hilarious.

***

A girl was giving Claire a hard time at school - this girl gives everyone a hard time, actually.  Claire came home asking what it means when someone holds up their middle finger at you.  Ugh.  So I explained, and told her to just stay away from that kid as much as possible.  Instead of listening, Claire drew a picture with the two of them holding hands under a rainbow.  She took it to school and gave it to her the next day.  The little girl with the problems showed the teacher, and Claire got to "clip up" to Sparkling - the highest honor for the day.

I am humbled by her gentle heart.  It turns out that the little girl has a paraprofessional with her in the class, and obviously has special needs of some kind.  Leave it to my girl to realize that she needs a friend, and to reach out to her.

***

Oh, how I love these wonderful kids!

PPD in the News

I'm heartbroken this morning to learn that the woman driving the car in Washington DC who was shot to death by Capitol police after running over a member of the Secret Service and driving erratically in the mall area suffered from postpartum depression.

Actually, chances are that she suffered from postpartum psychosis, which is a different disorder, but since I'm not a shrink and I've never met the woman, I'll refrain from diagnosing her myself.

What kills me is that PPD and PPP are known disorders with effective treatments available, and yet so many women suffer in shame and silence.

I know the pain of PPD.  I have felt helpless, wanting the pain to end so badly that I might have done anything to make it stop.  Instead of doing anything, though, I called my husband or my mom, I called my sister, I called a friend.  I got help.

I'm heartbroken that this woman didn't have the support she needed so desperately.  I'm heartbroken for her baby who will never know her mother. 

And I'm writing this today because I know that there are women out there who are in the throes of PPD and who will read this story and think, "Might I do something like that too?" and it'll send them spiraling downward - as any bad news will do when you're in that place.

Listen to me - help is out there.  There are plenty of places you can go.  Call someone you love.  Call the crisis line - 1-800-273-TALK.  Call your doctor.  Call the hospital where you gave birth.  Don't suffer alone. 

You are not alone.  Perinatal Anxiety and Mood Disorders affect thousands and thousands of women every year - nearly a million women in the US per year, according to Postpartum Progress.  Only when we're honest with each other and willing to be vulnerable and admit, "Yeah, this happened to me," can we get help or help each other.  Which is why I am brutally honest about my experience on this blog.  It happened to me.  It was awful.  But I GOT BETTER and you can too.  Please, if you're suffering right now, ask for help.

Rest in peace, Miriam Carey. 

School Pictures

Dear People,

In the interest of being able to send the children to college one day, I have elected to never ever ever buy prints of their school pictures to distribute, because it would cost a fortune.

Therefore, I have purchased the digital rights to these photos and you are welcome to copy them and print them to your heart's content.  Actually, if everyone prints each one 47 times it will bring the total cost per picture down to a reasonable level.

Here is MG's official 2nd Grade Portrait:

And here is Claire's official 1st Grade Portrait:

I still regret not getting the laser background.

Rest in Peace, Santa

"Mommy, one time I was at Miss Monica's house, and I saw a toy that we got from the Easter Bunny, and I asked her about it, and Miss Monica said, 'That's because your mom and I went shopping together.'  Is the Easter Bunny real?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Hesitantly, Mary Grace said, "Yes."

"No, honey, the Easter Bunny is a story parents make up to make Easter magical for their children."

"Oh."  (pause)  "What about Santa?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"Claire?"

"Yes."

"(deep breath)  No, guys, Santa's not real.  The spirit of Santa is real, and there's a little bit inside everyone who believes in that spirit, but there's no jolly man who comes down the chimney and leaves gifts for children.  That was me and your dad because we're Santa's helpers.  And again, parents lie to their kids about these things to help make their childhoods more magical."

"So Santa was never real?"

"No, there was a real man named St. Nicholas who lived a long time ago, and that's who Santa is based on."

"Woah, so you bought our American Girl dolls?" Mary Grace asked.

"Yep."

"You have a hundred dollars???" Claire said.

"Not anymore," I replied.  "So now that you know the truth, you have two jobs.  First, you can't spoil it for other kids who still believe.  Second, you have to help Daddy and I make Christmas magical for kids who still believe, like Jack, and everyone else.  Maybe when we go shopping this year you can buy Jack's gift from Santa.  Would you like that?"

"YEAH!"

"Mommy," Mary Grace said after a moment, "is anyone else a made up story?"

"Like who?"

"The Tooth Fairy, is she real?"

"Nope."

"OH MY GOSH!" she yelled, falling back against the couch.

I knew this day would come...  (Here's the post from 1000 years ago saying we weren't going to do Santa, and here's the follow up from when everyone flipped their lids.  Santa even got passive aggressive and threatened to bring drum sets and tubas to the girls if we didn't see the error of our ways!  LOL)

I feel a little sad that they're old enough to know, and I feel like a part of childhood is over for them forever, but I also feel kind of relieved.  I think I handled it pretty well.  They didn't cry.  Well, I take that back, Claire cried during the conversation but that was because Jack poked her in the eye.  I think they'll be ok.

Han Solo Just Scared The Crap Outta Me

Our friends the Perrys gave us a life sized cardboard cutout of Han Solo today. MG immediately claimed it.

So, BJ and I watched a movie tonight. Afterward, at midnight, I came upstairs to get ready for bed. The kids sleep with their doors open so I didn't turn on the hall lights - I just had my phone in my hand when I saw this:

I assure you it was much more startling without the flash. 

I yelled "SHIT" followed quickly by a disparaging comment about BJ, thinking he was the culprit.  

When he stopped laughing he told me that the whole thing was Mary Grace's idea!  "Let's put this where it'll scare Mommy!" she apparently said.

Oh, it's on kiddo. It's on.

Misunderstanding

On the way to the sitter's house this morning, Jack said, "Have ickies, Mommy?"

"What?"

"Have ickies?"

"I don't understand, honey, have ickies?"

"Yes."

"No, I don't have ickies."

"I have ickies?"

"No, you don't have ickies."

"Oh."  Pause.  "Have a hug, Mommy?"

Oh my gosh, he was asking for a KISS.  Have a kiss, have ickies.  I am a horrible mother.

Of course I gave him about a thousand kisses as soon as I got to Erin's house.

Not So Fast

While doing some online back-to-school clothes shopping, Claire informed me that she no longer likes polka dots, and that she wants to wear a lot of black because it "goes with everything."

Every single item she picked out was black or denim.

Isn't 6-1/2 a little young for a goth phase?

So if you see her walking around looking like a midget Morticia Adams, know that I tried.  But she doesn't like purple anymore.  Purple is for babies, Mom.

Also, we're growing out her bangs, and she refuses to keep any sort of barrette or bow in them for more than eleven seconds, so her hair is always in her eyes.  I get after her, constantly, to push it to the side, "you know, the way Mimi wears hers?" but it doesn't do much good.

If she gets into my eyeliner, I swear I'm sending her to boarding school.

Middle child syndrome, y'all.  It's a thing.

Mary Grace is Eight!

(I wrote this Friday night and scheduled it to auto-publish on 8/10, but I must have done something wrong because it never did.  Sorry, Kiddo...)

Dear Mary Grace,

Once a year I have a good cry about my baby being X years old, and how could that possibly be because it seems like just yesterday... blah blah blah.  But seriously, you were just born, how can you be 8 already?

Official First Grade School Picture

This year I've really started to see glimpses of the adult you're becoming.  For example, your brother had the stomach flu, and he threw up all over the new house, and you helped me clean it up!  I was stunned.  I mean, I'm the mom and I still have to put on my big girl undies to clean up vomit, and there you were helping, for real, without being asked.  It was pretty awesome.

You're going into second grade, which blows my mind completely.  You love school, you love to read, you love learning about science.  You're awesome at everything.  You totally take after your dad.

Daddy, Superman, and Mary Grace at ComicCon.

In fact, considering that Daddy didn't even think you liked him when you were a baby, you've turned into quite a Daddy's girl.  As I write this, you and your siblings are downstairs with him watching Star Wars.  You had a great time with him at ComicCon, and you're looking forward to GenCon with him next weekend.

Adler Planetarium - October 2012

When we were in San Diego, you totally geeked out over the pandas at the San Diego Zoo.  I love watching you get that excited over things like that.  We had to go straight to the pandas, because you just couldn't stand to wait any longer.  

50s day at school - Poodle Skirt Costume

I've been having technical difficulties with everything, so these pictures are largely from last year...  Sorry about that kiddo.  But honestly, I'm having a good time looking through them.

This is animated on my screen. I don't know if it'll show up that way in the post or not. Crazy.

You're just awesome, Cuppycake.  I don't write about you much anymore because you've got your own voice, and I feel like your stories are your own to tell (and let's face it, with moving and everything Mom hasn't written much about anyone in a while).  But don't think for a minute that it's because you're any less awesome and fascinating than you were the day you were born.  You get more awesome and more fascinating every day.

Here's the checklist I started doing a million years ago:

Your favorite toy for playing is: your bow and arrow (it's real!)

Your favorite toy for snuggling is: your panda bears

Your favorite foods: cheese pizza and anything sweet

Your favorite book is: Nancy Drew

Your favorite activity is: board games

Your favorite place to go is: Dave & Busters

Your best friend is: Ava

Something new that you're doing: cleaning up - for real!

Something you've mastered: riding a bike without training wheels

Something people say about you: "She's so tall!"  (they also like to play with your hair)

Something that you're saying is: you've learned to whistle, and you do it a lot

Something Dad and I are proud of you for: I can't pick just one thing.  We're proud of EVERYTHING you are, Cuppycake.

Something surprising about you: you have a great sense of humor, you make us laugh all the time

What you want to be when you grow up: you said that you want to find a cure for cancer *sniff*

I love you to bits, Happy Birthday!

Love,

Mom

My Accidental Baby

Tuesday was a work day for me, the kids were home with our awesome friend and babysitter Erin.  I had to run an errand on the way home, so I thought, "I'll take that old fabric travel crate to Natalie's on my way.  If I go without the kids, I won't come home with a dog!"

Famous. Last. Words.

I was on the phone with Amanda when I rolled up.  Got the crate out and tried the door.  Locked.  Tried the other two doors.  Locked and locked.  The sign said "open" but they weren't.  I put the crate outside the door, and walked back to my car as another car pulled in.  Two women got out with a cute little puppy.  They started trying the doors and peeking in the windows, looking a little desperate.

"Amanda, I'm going to have to call you back.  I think I'm about to get a dog."

I got out and asked them if they were there to surrender that cute widdle baby puppy wuppy.  They said that they were social workers and that he'd belonged to a client.  Social worker #1 had 5 dogs and 2 cats, and social worker #2 had 5 cats and 2 dogs.  "We just don't know what we're going to do!  We can't take him home!" they said.  They explained that their client was planning to put him in the paper for free, and they were afraid he'd end up a bait dog.

I asked if anything was wrong with him, and why the former owner wanted to get rid of him.  "No, he's a great little dog.  She's just that way, she's done this before," they explained.  "His name is Max."

Game over.

"We just don't know what we're going to do!" they were practically in tears.

"I'm going to go get that crate I just donated," I said, resigned, "and you're going to put him in my car."  We exchanged phone numbers and hugs, and they assured me that it was fate that we happened to be there at the same time.

I called BJ on the way home and said, "You're not going to believe what I just did."  He wasn't even mad.  I guess 16 years with me have worn him down to the point where he just rolls with all the crazy.

Wednesday I took Sheldon (we couldn't call him Max.  In this life you only get one Max) to the vet.  He was pronounced healthy, except for a case of fleas (and let me tell you, if vacuuming were an Olympic event, I would've won the gold after they called and told me that!).  They think he's an Australian Shepherd mix.  He's cute as a bug.  He has a sweet little personality, and even seems to be house trained.

I had him neutered and he did just fine, but now he has to be kept quiet.  We're dog-sitting for my friend Kaity, so right now I have three dogs (one who has to be kept quiet), which is a little nuts.  But they're good dogs.  It's kind of fun.  (Don't worry, Honey, I won't get a third dog!)

Oh, and the "free" dog has cost $600 so far.  

So, between the new house (which we're still unpacking), the old house (which we got ready for our tenants with 30 whole minutes to spare), the new dog, the old dog, and back to school...  Well, that's where I've been.

Hello, Blog

Sorry if any of you got spammed.  My sister said that a post claiming to be from this blog showed up from "Angie" on Feedly. I have no idea how that happened.

We're getting settled in at the new house, the fence should be installed next week which will make everything a LOT easier.  Penny and Jack are kind of going nuts.  Penny has a small dog run, but she can't really get much exercise in there because she spends the whole time scratching at the garage door to get back in.  Jack has done a pretty good job of staying in the yard, but he doesn't know that he's little (having older sisters will do that to you) so if I'm not careful he'll just take off down the street to look for the neighbor's cat, or to look at the little Mickey Mouse fountain that the neighbors have.  *sigh*

We kept our old house as a rental, and we had some interesting folks come to see it.  My favorite was the woman who called and said, "I know you're asking for X, but I can only afford X/2, so if you're willing to rent it for that I'd love to rent from you."  I was like, "I"m sorry, that's hundreds of dollars below our break-even point, there's NO WAY I can rent it to you for that."  "Oh, well if you change your mind...."  Um, no.

The other good story involved a guy who gave me the wrong first name (he said his middle name was Y Z, but it was actually X Z, and Y was his middle name, which I found out when I looked him up on the county's website).  I also found that he had $20,000 worth of debt that had gone to court over the past 10 years - showing a habitual pattern of not paying his bills, as well as a couple of assault charges and generally more criminal history than I was comfortable dealing with - especially considering that there's a school two blocks away!  When I confronted him and said that I'd need first and last month's rent, plus the security deposit, he got all hostile with me.  Dodged that bullet.

Oh, and there were the 36 year old twins who were dressed identically and who talked over each other constantly, so it was like having two conversations with the same person at once.  That one made my head hurt!  (Also, they were guys).

In the end, we found a wonderful family that's moving in from out of state.  They have a daughter Claire's age and a four year contract at the university.  I'm super hopeful that they'll stay for the whole four years -that would be amazing, because trying to find a tenant SUCKS.

Right.  So we'll see how it is being landlords.  We have a couple more weeks to get the rest of our crap out of the old house (currently the garage, the shed, half of the play structure, and the contents of the attics - stuff I couldn't get on my own and BJ's back has been too bad to get) and get the projects done over there.  We have a lot of projects to do over there, which is why I haven't had much time to post, lately.  I've been on Facebook quite a bit, though, you can always look for me over there.  Facebook is easier to do from my phone.

All right, time to get this day on the road.  Need to get showered and go take down the rest of the play structure.  Thanks for sticking around during this transition.