Sleepless Nights - The Dark Side of Mothering

How do we find the will to survive a night without sleep when our children are sick? Why isn’t it sweet and magical like the mom giving her child Tylenol in the commercials? My 3yo son woke crying at 2am with a fever. Turning on the light to give him Tylenol meant a mini negotiation and a sticky stomach from spitting some of it out. “Take the medicine it will make you feel better.” “The monster got me mama. It made me hot.” (That was cute.) “Ok, this makes the monsters go away.”

Of course, at this point we couldn’t lay down and cuddle back to sleep. Suddenly he’s talking, and moving too much. We’re awake now! 3am we’re in mom’s room and 3yo says “I want to watch Joy.” Really kid? So I turn on Inside Out. Ten minutes in, we lose internet connection. WTF Comcast? We just talked to you on the phone hours ago. I decide it’s in the best interest of everyone if I contain the noise to my bedroom, which means rebooting the internet. So there I am, rebooting the internet in my 9yo daughter’s bedroom. Unfortunately her room is center to the house, so it just makes sense for the stupid wifi signal. “Mom? What are you doing?” “Go back to sleep, I’m just fixing the internet.” “What time is it?” …. “I think 3:30. Go back to bed.” Yeah, I’m winning at motherhood right now. Back in my room, my sick son is wearing a blanket like a cape and playing superman. Internet signal on the TV says strong, but no internet connection. Again, WTF Comcast?

Here enters Daddy, “Maybe you should just watch a dvd in the living room.” Mom has to go because for whatever reason my son is of the mindset that “Mama do it.” By it he means everything if mom is home. Otherwise yes daddy can do things. But where’s mama?

We cuddle on the couch with a movie. My son always sleeps with his own special pillow but of course tonight before climbing on the couch he adopted a second sleeping buddy. Suddenly he HAS to have the Mickey Mouse given to him on the day he was born. That meaning it has a rattle inside. It’s annoying as hell when you’re desperately trying to sleep on less than half of a couch. Somehow the smallest person takes the most space. As soon as I’d get into a form of restfulness, the mouse moved; if not the mouse, my son. At some point he has to pee and so I get up to help him. We start to resettle on the couch, and he rolls over right as I lay down. BOOM, tears in my eyes and my nose is on fire. “Ow, momma. You hurt me.” Takes deep breath, grinds teeth, “I’m sorry boo, let me kiss it.” And he’s all better.

It’s now a little after 5am, the movie is over and no we will not watch another one. It’s time for bed. “I sleep in daddy’s room.” (The other living room.) He knows I have no will power anymore. I follow him to the other couch. We cuddle up, I’m pinned on my left arm and somehow we manage sleep.

7:15 am… “Mom….Mom….” (My daughter) “WHAT?!” but really I whispered that. “It’s 7:15.” “Yea, ok. Tell Garrick to take you to school.” “Why?” “Do I look like I want to talk right now?!” I think she got the point. I now realize my arm is dead, and I’m covered in sweat. I’ve been pinned next to a sick kid and we are drenched. I get off the couch to head to bed for another short nap. I lift my shirt off and realize it’s pee. He had an accident. Neither of us seemed to notice nor care at the time.

I end this story by sharing that I love my son, I love being a mom, but everyone better just stay the hell away from me today.

Three Years of Love and Chaos

Oh my son, how wild you are. Literally every time I try to get you dressed or put on your coat I have to chase you. Once you realize a wardrobe change is coming you run giggling to the next room. This is my fault. When you were 10 months old I chased you around the house. You've enjoyed running from me ever since. Every morning you want a cup of "milk, quease (please)". We watch PJ Masks in the morning which you call "batman". Why can't daddy cuddle with you and watch it? "Way-down Momma." Most days you would rather sit in time-out than eat food that is not pizza or cake. If I'm feeding you, your mouth remains closed. When daddy comes along you take a bite. You always deliver a good night kiss, noseies, bonk, and a pound-it (in that order) to daddy and then snub me. The funny thing about our night time snub is that you still expect me to cuddle with you. "Momma, way-down." You may have slept through-the-night one time in the last three years. You sleep alone but at some time of the night you will loudly enter our room and sleep on my pillow. We have a king size bed yet I'm always at the edge because we have to share my pillow. Yes, I have switched to a second pillow but you find your way right next to me on any pillow I'm using.

You are a strong willed child. You challenge me everyday, yet you are set in enough routines to be predicatble as well. Our blended family was united by you when you were born. I guess you don't take that responsibility lightly. Daddy is your favorite to play with, and you expect me to do all of the care-taker responsibilities. "No, momma do it!" You will run into your sister's room at any time the door is left open. Once you're in she struggles to get you back out. You expect to play video games with your brother every time he is home as soon as you see him. You try to pillow fight with him and run around the house but he's too strong and you boys aren't supposed to run in the house. It's too loud!

I whine and complain about the challenging personality you have and yet I am hoping it serves you well in adulthood. Don't ever lose your will to get what you want. Set goals high and achieve them. I love everything about you, including the stubborness you throw at all of us. When you're excited you squeeze your arms in, your nose crinkles, your eyes squint tight, and your smile is huge. It is the sweetest sight and you give it to us daily. It's easy to play with you and keep you happy. If it's an off-day, well then you have your ipad. ;)

I love you my sweet son. Happy third birthday!

"Stay behind the line." *Stands on the line*

"I get more cake."

Wildflower

I had the pleasure of attending Drew Barrymore's book signing for her newly released "Wildflower". She has a fun personality and was a joy to listen to. I was moved by her personal stories that she shared with our group and I hadn't yet read them in full detail. I am very glad she came to our bookstore.

Her life story fascinates me. It is unthinkable to me that a child can become a partier and use drugs and alcohol. Even more fascinating is her ability to turn all of it around by herself. She emancipated herself at 14 and became an adult without parental guidance. She didn't just survive, she eventually thrived and is now telling her stories in the book Wildflower. Each chapter is a story that she finds significant to her life's path. Each story tells a lesson she learned or shows the impact of people in her life, such as Steven Spielberg. The chapters are not in chronological order. At her signing she explained that the book is a long love letter to her children. She understands they will hear about her untraditional childhood and mistakes. This is her way of sharing what she has learned.

I can appreciate that from her journey she learned what kind of a person and mother she needs to be. It seems that she doesn't take her position in life forgranted. As she said, she had the perfect example of what not to do as a mom. Some people don't realize that like she did, and the cycle continues. Applause to Drew for growing up without parents but instead relying on good friends and mentors. She is fortunate to have risen above her early mistakes.

This is an easy read. You can pick it up at any passing moment. If you're interested in how a child grew up to fast and yet became a responsible adult, I recommend the book. I also recommend watching "Ever After". I think it was her best movie.

Happy 8th Birthday to My Precious Love

My daughter will be 8 years old on Tuesday! This birthday post comes early because I will be with family all weekend and won’t stop to reflect on her first 8 years of life.
*********

Halle Joyce,

You have been the light of my life since the day you were born. I learned how to be your mom without a guidebook or internet forums. It was all instinct and lessons from your loving grandma whom you clearly adore. We started out together, sharing a bedroom, in your grandparents’ house which I’m sure you vaguely remember. We moved out when you were four after we met Garrick and Isaiah and became our own family.

I’ve loved watching you grow and develop your own brother/sister relationship with Isaiah. When you’re a mother yourself you will better understand why that matters so much to me. Though you aren’t of blood relation, both of you know that you’re siblings and love each other as such. To love so freely and without hesitance is something that I hope stays with you always.

I’ll never see a giraffe at the zoo without remembering you yelling at them “hi neck!” or “bye bye neck!” I’ll never comb your hair without remembering the short ringlet curls you had as a toddler. I will always be proud of your daily efforts to learn two languages. I will do my best to remain patient when your curious mind churns out questions about the world around you. I appreciate your desire to understand the how and why of everything. When I hear “let it snow” at Christmas time I will remember how you used to ask me to sing “frightful” to you. When you say Isaiah’s name I’ll remember how you couldn’t pronounce it with the I, and called him Zaiah. I will smile every time we kiss goodnight and you remind me “don’t close my door all the way”. With a reminder every night for the last four years I promise that I will not close it all the way.

Thank you for always listening to what I say, 90% of the time, with very little grief. You’re an amazing girl, wonderful daughter, and awesome sister. Me, Garrick, Isaiah, Grayson, and everyone who knows you, love and adores you. Thank you for being you.

“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” 
― Dr. Seuss, Happy Birthday to You!

Kisses,

Mom

Holding on to the Light

Yesterday I had a very enlightening day. Lately I have been feeling slightly overwhelmed and over worked. I can relate this abundance of stress to having missed hot yoga for over a week now. I didn't truly appreciate how much that really does soothe me. However, I still managed to end the day feeling like I had been moved positively yesterday.

It started with a blog post shared by a friend on Facebook. It was a long blog and took some time and dedication to read it all through. When I say dedication, I mean it. The post was from a missionary who served in Africa and her story was so depressing and heart breaking that continuing to read it was difficult. I didn't see what she saw with my own eyes, but through her words I felt a change in me. Slight change, but it’s there nonetheless. She mentions that when she first returned to the states she broke into sobs in the bread aisle. There was an overwhelming variation of breads here whereas in Africa, it was white or brown, and often with mold. I recently discovered that I love “Dave’s Killer Bread” and want to continue buying it rather than get the 99 cent loaf. Before reading this blog I hadn't ever really seen the grocery store for what it was, a luxury that can’t fully be appreciated by us. This isn't to say that I hate myself and Americans and national chains of grocery stores. What I’m saying is, when I walked into the bread section after work yesterday, I saw it differently. I was thankful that I am fortunate and can choose to buy any fancy or cheap bread that I please. I am grateful.

After reading that post through (and thanking Elyse for sharing it with me) I continued to my feed and found a sad post from a friend I love dearly. After leaving her home town four years ago, she hasn't connected with an adult in her new town the way she has connected with all of us at home. Granted, we've known her since middle school and for some, years before that. I understood her point though; she missed us and needs a good local friend. She deserves a friend nearby that she can trust. I did my best to cheer her up with witty banter (ya right). I then realized that I had only made one new friend that I truly trust and we work together. If we didn't, I would literally only have friendships and acquaintances from school years. How do adults make lasting friendships as adults without finding them at work? If I knew the trick it might also work for adults to meet their partners without having to pay a dating website. At our age, if you don’t work with the person you’re meant to meet, how will you cross paths with them? Again, I’m feeling very grateful for my gifts in life.

Continuing through my news feed, I found another article worth reading. It was about working moms. I enjoyed and appreciated the article because it shed light on something working moms (and stay-at-home moms who in my mind’s eye are the same thing) often forget to pay attention to, ourselves. We live up to expectations that can be too high. How is it we are supposed to get all of it done? Be 100% available to our paying job and yet also more dedicated to the job that doesn't pay us in dollars but is definitely of more value? Sharing this post was well worth the quick share button on Facebook. I loved watching different moms from different walks of life share their opinions and what they took from it. Something so simple made a visible impact.

I really didn't stay on Facebook all day. I’m a fast reader and those things happened close together. I finished my work day and I played bunco with the work girls that evening. It was at bunco that a co-worker noticed the tattoo on my shoulder of my daughter’s zodiac symbol and her birthday in script below. I explained to her what it was and why I had it. It was then that my friend Brittany asked when I would get one for Grayson who had just turned ten months that day. I had been holding out because anything that remains on my body forever has to be PERFECT; exactly what I want it to be so I can wear it for as long as I live. I explained that I was leaning towards getting his foot print because my son has the cutest crooked toe. It’s something known in my family as “Garcia feet”. I was only resisting because I didn't want the very popular tattoo of a baby foot. I didn't have time to dwell on my “problem” because she then asked if I was going to get one for Isaiah, my step-son. Of course I was, and I told her so. I just didn't know of what yet. She seemed pleased with my answer. Wouldn't every loving step-mom do that? I realized that no, they wouldn't. Not a child that wasn't “their own”. The truth is I don’t like calling him my step-son. I do it out of respect for his mother but I would be lying if I don’t often refer to him as just a son. Do I love him the same as my other kids? No. But I don’t even love Halle the same as I do Grayson. The three of them are all very different. They each came into my life in different ways. As a surprise when I was 20, as a two year old who loved to share my grapes on a sunny day at the beach, and as a planned but troubled pregnancy that followed a prior loss of a child I didn't get to meet. Each of them holds equal size spaces in my heart. The type of love and memories attached to that love that flows through each of their spaces is different but equally beautiful. I hold each of their lives and happiness above my own.

When I finally was home for the night my whole day replayed itself in my head while I rocked Grayson back to sleep and I quietly cried. I was so thankful for so many things, and so sorry for others. I couldn't understand why I was taking the day so seriously but that wasn't important to understand. I just realized that for whatever reason I took that day and all it held very seriously. I relaxed and kissed and smiled at Grayson and just appreciated my life so much. Not everyone can say they love their life the way I love mine.

During my quiet reflection, I finally solved the mystery of my upcoming tattoos. I know exactly what I want for Grayson and Isaiah and I know where I will put them. This may seem like no big deal but it is huge for me. It has finally clicked and I can’t wait to get started. I don’t know why I was so attuned to everything yesterday but I’m glad that I was. Call me crazy, or sensitive, or too sensitive, I don’t care. I feel enlightened. My goal now is to keep holding the light.

Grayson's Baby Suite, Part Two

My son, who will arrive in three "short" days, finally has a "bedroom". I use the quotations in the way a person would use air quotes to note sarcasm. Three days isn't short for the person carrying the baby who had pain in their back, wrists, arthritic hand and the lower lady regions. Bedroom is in air quotes because we don't have room to give the smallest person in our family their whole room. He could share with his big brother however at this age that isn't necessary. They'll share when Grayson is big enough to sleep alone in a big boy bed. (Maybe sooner if he drives me crazy in my room)

First let me tell you that I am no swanky designer and won't pretend to be. I also don't have a fancy camera so even though these will go on my pinterest boards, they aren't pinterest photo quality. I am just a working, school attending, mother of almost three who really misses the HGTV show Design on a Dime. There is no better interior designer than Lee Snider. I hope I spelled his name right.

I definitely put Grayson's suite, a.k.a. nook in our bedroom, together on a dime. I was able to pull it off for less than $500. I didn't actually spend that much because the crib and mattress were a gift from my in-laws. The dresser, and the shelf were a gift from my parents. But I bought the curtains, frames, material for the quilt, crib sheet (Organic and only $19 at PotteryBarnKids.com), and the glider chair. I was lucky to get the chair used for cheap from a friend. I couldn't fit the glider inside his small space but it sits right next to it. We spray painted it black and covered the cushions with soft gray material. We used the excess gray material for the back of the quilt. We meaning, my friend Mimi who sewed it for me. You may have seen the previews of that from Part 1 of this project.

It's not a large space, but it's made with love and belongs to our new son Grayson Charles. Mom and dad love penguins and I am glad that we were able to create a penguin theme for his space because there just isn't a penguin nursery set out there that fits for us.

The whole baby suite, face on.

Photos/quotes from "March of the Penguins" altered in Photoshop.

Right side of the suite.

Crib with quilt and sheet. No bumper.

Refurbished glider with pillows I already owned.

Perspective from our bed looking at his suite.

Bring Home the Goodies!!

KIDS!! I have to write about my kids; all the time. Get used to it!

Today I am just anxiously thinking about my baby shower. It is in just two days. I am looking forward to celebrating that my husband and I successfully created a human being who jumps around in my womb. Let’s all jump around in joy for the little boy who will be born in around six more weeks!

This is obviously my second baby shower. Well third really because I had two when I was pregnant with my daughter. I’ll also have a fourth in two more weeks. Who says you can’t do that? I’ve seen on some chatboards that women get uncomfortable having a shower after they’ve had one child. The same feeling some women have about getting to have a second bridal shower or bachelorette party when they’re getting re-married. Who makes these wack etiquette rules? Why shouldn’t we all celebrate joyous occasions in our lives? Besides, my daughter is 6 and I’m having a boy. Was I supposed to keep everything of hers for six years when I truly wasn’t sure I’d get to have more kids? Of course not. Life has progressed and I am excited to have a shower in honor of Grayson.

A piece of this whole experience I hadn’t considered until today is how excited I am to bring Grayson’s goodies home and set up the world he will live in for the beginning of his life.  I’m realizing that it’s different to bring home a baby into your own home and with your husband. It seems minor but I realize just how much it means to me.

A piece of me will carry guilt for not bringing Halle into the world the same way. However that just wasn’t realistic of a twenty year old mom. I wouldn’t take back any of the moments of our lives leading to this point because we are in such a wonderful place now. We can’t control everything that our three kids will be exposed to in life but at least we know that with us they’re in a very healthy and safe environment.

My Tiny Dancer

My “baby” girl is growing into quite the young woman. She is enjoying the first grade and just yesterday started ballet. She is a little bit too advanced for the class I signed her up for. The instructor is going to let her try the Pre-Ballet class on Thursday and see how she likes it. My girl just wants to dance so badly. She won’t care in which class.

Halle has asked me about being able to join dance class since she was old enough to know there were such things as ballet classes. She has danced to movies, radios, and TV commercials since she was a toddler. It hasn’t stopped yet. I refer to her as my “delicate flower”. She has the capability to play sports such as baseball. She throws footballs with Garrick and Isaiah. However her heart is in dance. She is thrilled that I said she doesn’t have to play baseball and can finally dance. Joy just radiates from her.

Her nickname “delicate flower” comes from her sweet yet sensitive personality. She is my cautious, careful, and emotional little girl. Hhmm, does she get it from me? LOL

She has surprised me the last few nights. She hasn’t woken up at night the last week. She sleeps in her own room but if she wakes in the middle of the night she tends to feel scared and asks me to come tuck her in. She has been waking up proud of herself saying “mommy, I didn’t even need you last night. I woke up but I just rolled over and went back to sleep”. I’m sure that her longer days at school this year have a part to play in this. But even so, I tell her how proud I am.

Our nighttime routine is to brush teeth, read a book, and then I tuck her in to bed. At this point, I sit on the side of her bed for two minutes. Just to relax her and let her drift off. It used to be five minutes. It began when we first moved out of my mother’s house. Due to space and so many people who spoil her, she became used to sleeping with someone. When I started “boot camp” in our new place to teach her to sleep alone, this was the compromise. I don’t miss those tough days in the beginning. But I fought through it all and we made leaps in progress.

I’ve been telling Halle that soon she won’t get even two minutes of me in her room at bed time. I’m going to have a new baby that will be quite demanding. She fortunately is old enough to understand this. She also has a baby brother at her dad’s house so she’s familiar with the needs of a small baby. So yesterday morning she says she wants to try going to bed by herself after her book. I agreed willingly of course, but I was a little doubtful. My delicate flower surprised me. She fell asleep and didn’t come to my room until 7:00am to get ready for school. We were both very happy and quite impressed.

My delicate flower/ tiny dancer/ baby girl is a big and brave little woman.

Oh I'm Having a Boy!

It’s no secret that the bundle of joy in my belly is a boy. His name is Grayson. If you know me even from a distance then you already know that. Why am I bringing it up like its brand new information? Well because sometimes it catches me off guard. As if I haven’t known for months.

When I was pregnant with my daughter Halle, I day dreamed about how she would look and how she would behave. I really wanted her to have my nose. I also would have made a deal with the devil if it meant she would have my toes (no such luck unfortunately). But appearance wise, that was all that I really quote-un-quote “cared” about. I most importantly wanted her to be like me on the inside. I wanted her to inherit my kind personality. So far so good; she has a very sweet disposition. She listens well and her teachers always comment on how well behaved she is.

So what do I want for my son? Well my toes of course. Except this time it’s not as serious because Garrick’s feet aren’t awful. I just happen to have cute feet. Hear me tooting my own horn there? Other than feet, can he please be just like my husband? Obviously I adore the man or I wouldn’t have married him.

These things aren’t truly important of course. What matters is that Grayson is born healthy. This just came to mind because of a game that we played at my friends baby shower last year. We all had to guess which features she wanted for her son; mom’s or dad’s. It would be an easy win for someone at my shower because only one answer would be about me, the toes. Otherwise I hope he has dad’s beautiful skin, gorgeous eyes, and hopefully a freckle on the nose too. But what are the odds of that?

I hope he is charismatic like his dad and can pick up pretty much any sport and play it like a professional. I also hope he has good manners (I will be all over this one) and grows up to be a true gentleman like dad. He will open doors for a lady at every opportunity like his daddy does.

Halle, Isaiah, and Grayson are truly blessed to be raised by us. We don’t have much, but we have a ton of love to go around. We will never be at a loss of love and affection which matters more than material things. My daughter will know how she deserves to be treated because of the examples she will see in our household, and my boys will know how to respect a woman when they grow up for the same reason. I’m so happy I took every single good and bad step in life to land where I am today.

To VBAC or not to VBAC…

…That is the question.

I didn’t get to decide if my first child would be born via c-section or not. Mind you back then I would have said no to it anyway. I didn’t pay attention to any of the facts, statistics or stories about a c-sec because well… I plain wasn’t going to have one. End of story! I was/am so damn terrified of surgery. I was so sure that since I’ve always been queen average/good health that I wouldn’t need to know what it meant to have a c-sec.

Well, my world went upside down not long after I had the epidural. I finally was able to relax because the pain had dissipated and I fell asleep watching my then favorite show, CSI. I was startled awake by a swarm of doctors and nurses who needed me to rotate, move, sit, and turn on all fours before they calmed down. Apparently my baby girl just couldn’t handle the stress of contractions. What felt like ten seconds later I was under bright lights, strapped to a table, and feeling a tugging at my uterus which apparently was them opening me for delivery. I “blinked” and there was my baby. All clean and dressed in her father’s arms. I say blinked because I didn’t know I was going to be knocked out and then brought back to consciousness.

 I will spare you readers the mourning I felt for the birth of my baby. Needless to say, it’s been six and a half years and I still can’t get over the loss of my baby’s birth. It wasn’t the loss of being able to try pushing; it was the loss of hearing her cry at her entrance to this world. It was the loss of seeing her naked and gooey the moment she was born.

So naturally you would think that this time around I would OF COURSE want a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). Well you would be wrong to assume that. As scary as my memories of a c-sec are, I still am scared of a VBAC. I’ve done one, I haven’t done the other. Not to mention that I could attempt a VBAC and still need an emergency c-sec; this is more risky than just having a planned c-sec to begin with.

So then I think, ok have a c-sec. You can pick the day and time he’s born. No worrying about if he can handle the birth. I get to have a safe entrance for him. Well that doesn’t account for me. This would be the second surgery in the same place. Bring on the scar tissue! I also remember that recovery for me was the equivalent of being ran over by a dump truck every other day. It hurt to laugh, cough, sneeze, or even move. I couldn’t get out of bed on my own because it required too much stomach muscles. All I wanted to do was soak in a hot bath and I couldn’t because of my healing incision.

Back to VBAC we go. But hey, a VBAC isn’t your average vaginal birth. It means that you cannot be induced. If you go too far past the due date, it’s a c-sec for you. You also can’t attempt a home birth or water birth (neither appeal to me but it’s just another fact). I regretted just lying in my hospital bed all day the first time I was in labor so I planned to this time walk a lot and only sit for as long as my body would allow. Well a VBAC requires extra monitoring so you can’t walk around! My doctor did say I could sit on the exercise ball in my room. It just has to be right by my monitors. Sounds fun to me!

All in all, I am set to have a VBAC birth. This is as long as Grayson naturally comes into the world before November 16^th. If he does not then we will have a c-sec. I just can’t give birth to Grayson at Thanksgiving when both of his siblings will be on holiday in their other homes. It would just break my heart.

So I will soon sign a form saying that I understand the risks of having a VBAC and that I have discussed them with my doctor. One of these named risks is the 1% chance that my uterus could rupture during birth at which time they could not do much to save baby. Yep! Sign me up for that! Both forms of birth come with their risks but the VBAC carries less risk and offers a healthier shot for me and Grayson.

Here’s to a happy healthy VBAC! Please Grayson; don’t keep me waiting past my birthday. ;)