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!
Monday, October 28, 2013
Friday, October 4, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, September 23, 2013
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.
"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.
Monday, September 9, 2013
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.
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.
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