Knee Deep

Hello blog? It’s me, Mama G. I’m not sure how it happened, but another nearly-six months has gone by since I’ve spent any time with you. It’s not that I don’t care. I do. Really, I do. It’s just that I’ve been knee deep.

Sister is now 16 months old and damn, that girl is developing a ‘tude the likes of which I’ve not seen since … since I was a teen and the one with the ‘tude. She’s funny and spunky and silly and sweet. Until you piss her off. Then she’s trouble. God help me when she’s eleven years old. Knee deep in trouble, I’ll be.

Dancing is one of sister’s favorite activities. She hears music and her body starts moving in the cutest way. Last night at dinner she heard the piped in music at the restaurant and started her groove thing. I joined along, having a grand ol’ time when suddenly she stopped, looked at me, shook her finger at me and said “no, no, no”! In a bit of shock, I stopped dancing in my seat. She started again. So I did too. Once more … finger up, shaking at me, “no, no, no”.

What the? Am I not a good enough dancer for the little lady?

Believe it or not, V is now five. He’s mostly amazing. Actually he’s all amazing – but certainly tests me whenever he gets the chance. This week he’s been defiant to a degree I’ve not yet seen. No matter what I ask him to do he either ignores me completely or tells me no. Too knee deep to stop and ponder his behavior, I found myself letting it go and picking my battles. However four days of that proved too much for me as I hit the wall last night.

Rather than get his jammies on for bed, V decided he wanted to watch TV. I was in the middle of putting sister down and made it clear that he had to have his clothes changed by the time I came back in to the room. If not, we would only read two stories before bed rather than the typical three. His response? Tears.

Care to guess whether or not he had changed his clothes?

He didn’t.

Instead of reading three bedtime stories last night, I read two. And in place of the third one, when I had him all settled down in bed with zero distractions, I told him that I needed to talk to him. Citing a handfull of examples, I explained that his behavior over the past several days has made me feel sad and frustrated. I brought up a time when I knew he was frustrated with me and reminded him of how he felt at that time, letting him know that I was now feeling the same way. I also made it very clear to him that I couldn’t let the behavior continue and that if it did, there would be consequences, which I outlined very specifically. We ended the talk with lots of hugs and kisses and my little man not apologizing to me and telling me he loves me. Knee deep in love, I am.

This morning was a mad rush around the house because, once again, we overslept. I explained to V that we’d have to move a bit faster than usual so as not to be late. Although moving a bit faster is actually usual for us. But that’s beside the point.

Each and every request I made was met with absolute cooperation. In return, I thanked him each and every time. Score one for the parent.

Grabbing the kids, the keys, and the ‘crap’ I carry with me as I was rushing out the door to start our day it dawned on me that I’m knee deep in life. And lovin’ all of it.

 

Alive & Kickin’

Wow … seven months since my last post. I’ve been a bad, bad blogger of late.

It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. Or haven’t missed it. I have and I have. It’s just that I can barely seem to find the time these days to brush my teeth (kidding), let alone use a keyboard for more than a 3 minute span.

I think I may be too old for this motherhood thing. I certainly feel old.

My little lady is now 10 months old. She’s a really, really easy baby so I have nothing to complain about. I guess the bottom line is that I am missing me time. A friend was telling me about her weekend this morning and – with the non-stop rain we had on Saturday, she just hung out on her sofa in her pj’s and watched tv all day. A nice, lazy day of lounge. I miss those days.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids and I love being a mom. It’s just that I miss the ability to do whatever I want, when I want, how I want, with whom I want, with no one depending on me for their well-being.

Lately I’ve been dreading the weekends. The pressure to have “plans” so that V doesn’t get bored hanging around the house is enough to send me in to a tail spin. And even if we hang around the house, we still have to have “stuff” to do so the tv doesn’t become the babysitter. But why is it me that has to make the “plans” and select the “stuff”? Where’s The Husband in all of this?

The Husband and I try to each get out with our friends one night a week – but more often than not, I stay home all week with the kids because I feel guilty going out (and frankly, am too tired) after working all day. Last week was a bit unusual in that The Husband had plans Wednesday night, Friday night and Saturday. Come Sunday, I really wanted to get out of the house. By. Myself. And do some grocery shopping, errands. etc. But for some reason, The Husband really wanted to join me. With the kids, which meant zero alone time for me.

While we were shopping, I received a phone call from the mom of one of V’s former pre-schoolmates inviting us to former pre-schoolmates’ birthday party. In two hours. This was one of V’s bestest friends, so we cut our errands short, went home, grabbed our socks and headed to the bounce house place. But not before dropping off The Husband. You see, he had “stuff” to do at the house. And when his response to my suggestion that he take care of the little lady while I took V to the party was a huge SIGH, I took that as a sign and took her with us to the party.

Big mistake.

Somewhere along the line V has developed a shyness. He didn’t know any of the other kids at the party, and hadn’t seen his friend in more than a month, so he was stuck at my hip. And he was too frightened to go on the bounce house thingies without me. But with a ten-month old stuck on my hip – and knowing no other parents there that could help me – I was unable to join V to help him feel more comfortable.

Enter: meltdown.

After 15 minutes of trying to calm him down, I finally just packed up and left. Both V and I were in tears the entire drive home. His tears were because I made him leave the party. Mine were because I was done. Finished. Over. Finito. I needed an immediate break from parental responsibility.

I walked in the house, handed over the kids, ran to my bedroom, shut the door and stayed there for nearly two and a half hours. Me time. And thankfully, no one bothered me.

 

Buon Compleano

Happy birthday, mom. I miss you more than you know. I so wish my children had the opportunity, the pleasure of knowing you. Of talking, laughing, and learning from you.

And I wish you had the opportunity to touch, to hold, to hug and to kiss the kids. They are both amazing. But you already know that, don’t you?

Thank you for being our own special guardian angel. Please continue to watch over all of us and help guide us. Especially your grandchildren.

We love, love, love you.

 

Quite an Imagination

Two nights ago, V awoke in the middle of the night crying a terrifying cry. The Husband ran to the rescue and the following conversation took place:

(crying hysterically) “Mama! Dadda!!!!!”

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

(through his tears) “I had a bad dream!!!!!”

“What was it about?”

(with terror in his voice) “A leopard with a purple jacket!! I’m having a bad night, Dadda”

I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation … I was laughing too hard in the other room.

 

My Kind of Valentines Day

I’m a sucker for family traditions. Growing up, my family was full of them … sentimental ones, fun ones, silly ones and even boring ones. I love them all. So it is important to me that my kids grow up with traditions.

Yesterday was Valentines Day, and we created a new tradition for the holiday. We picked up food from an upscale market/cafe so that it would feel special. I brought out the fancy table cloth, the china, the nice wine glasses, the candles, and the expensive bottle of wine. And we ate our Valentines Day dinner by candle light in our kitchen.

It was perfect. And even though I’m already looking forward to next year, our family made a pact last night. We have pledged to eat dinner by candle light once a week … even if it’s pizza by candle light.

Now that is a newly created family tradition I’m most excited about!!

What about you? I’d love to hear about your family traditions – on Valentines Day or otherwise!

 

Wake Up Call

Last week I made an appointment to see my primary care physician. I love him – he’s young, he’s funny, and he never comes in to see me without his laptop. At his fingertips, he has all of my history, my vitals, etc. – and in a few clicks he can quickly look up information to help him explain side effects of this drug or that.

I’ve been on cholesterol medication for several years. I’ve tried diet. Exercise. Soy. Nothing worked to lower my numbers. Both my mother and my grandmother had extremely high cholesterol as well – lucky me.

When I was trying to get pregnant, my doctor suggested going off of the mediation. I’ve been of for over three years now since it took us nearly 2.5 to get pregnant. So the purpose of my appointment was to talk about going back on the medication.

As I mentioned in earlier posts, I had very high blood pressure towards the end of my pregnancy. Both pregnancies, actually. But after my first-born, the blood pressure returned to normal right away.

Not so this time around.

It’s not dangerously high, but it’s high. The doctor has given me four weeks to concentrate on 4-5 days a week of exercise in hopes that it will lower the pressure.

I’m not in any kind of immediate danger, however this has been a wake up call for me. As you likely know, I’m of “advanced maternal age” – having just given birth at 41 years of age. If I have a chance in hell of living long enough to attend my kids’ weddings, I’ve got to get ahold of my health. I’m 20 pounds overweight. And yes, I just had a baby – but I’m only about 8 pounds away from my pre-baby weight.

Thank goodness the weather has been nice, as it’s allowed me to take the baby out for a walk everyday. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t walk as trying to get to the gym is impossible. I don’t currently belong to a gym to begin with. I looked in to a gym down the street that has daycare – but they don’t take babies less than 3 months old. That does me no good.

Another option is the raquet club we join every summer … but that’s a very expensive option, and I can’t justify it from a budget standpoint.

So you’ll find me walking for now. And riding my bike on the weekends … oh, how I love my bike. And hopefully you’ll find me 20 pounds lighter in two months time!

 

Time Flies

Six weeks ago today, my little girl was born. It really does feel like it was just yesterday. And I know I’ll be saying the same thing while I help her plan her wedding. Unless, of course, she takes after her mother and elopes.

I don’t enjoy the infant stage. There. I said it. I’m actually comfortable saying it. It is what it is. I love my children with a love I’ve never before experienced. A deep, joyful, painful, sweet, amazing, terrifying kind of love. But I don’t love the infant stage. I’m doing a bit better with it this time around because I now know the payoff. And I also know that in the grand scheme of things, the infant stage of things lasts such a short period of time. Time flies.

I must also admit that I’m struggling with taking care of two kids. I feel a little embarrased to admit that because there are millions upon millions of moms that have raised not only two, but many more than two children and survived. Even look back upon it with great joy. And they did it without any help – back in the day when dad’s were mere providers and never changed a diaper. My own mother-in-law raised seven.

I have a husband who is a tremendous help. I have family that comes to help. Friends that help. Yet I still feel like I’m drowning sometimes. Perhaps it’s a hormonal thing that will improve once my system returns to normal? I certainly hope so. Or perhaps it’s because I’m old and set in my ways, thus less flexible to the demands of parenting. I’ve noticed this trait in loved ones – especially my dad. The older he gets, the less flexible he is – even unwilling to spend an evening in his favorite city, San Francisco, because of the traffic, the crowds and the complicated parking.

If I’m struggling this much with an infant who is fairly predictable and easy – how in the world will I manage when I have an active four year old coupled with an active toddler? Oi.

I will manage. I will survive. And I will benefit greatly. I know this … I’m just trying to patiently wait for time to fly right on through the infant stage.

 

Ramblings from an Exhausted Mom

This posting will likely make little sense, will surely jump around aimlessly from topic to topic, and more than likely will be posted before it’s actually finished. You see, there’s very little I can finish these days – other than feedings and diaper changes.

I realize I’m likely preaching to the choir here – but I seriously don’t remember it being this difficult with the first child. This all-consuming. This exhausting. Of course, I didn’t already have a child when V was born. Now there’s two little ones wanting and needing my attention. All of my attention. All of the time.

More wine, please.

A perfect example … I started typing this over 1/2 hour ago and look how far I’ve gotten. How foolish of me to think I could steal ten minutes of me-time. I did get a shower today – albeit no time for shaving the legs – it’s too bad I’m past my hippie stage. But a shower and computer time? No way, baby … not uninterrupted, anyhow.

Subject change. Let’s talk about push presents. I don’t know how I missed out on this with my first child – but I certainly worked it with the birth of SOF. When some good friends of ours had their first child back in May, they asked my Husband what he got me for a push present when I had V. Answer? Nothing … he’d never heard about the push present. So when the Husband asked me why I never told him about the “tradition”, I told him not to worry as he now had his chance to make it up to me!!

Here’s the link to Betty, Push Present #1. Mine’s the black and pink one. And she’s purrty!!

And here’s Push Present #2. Me-ow!

 

Happy New Year!

My New Year’s Resolution?? To get back on track with my blogging – oh, how I’ve missed it!!

December was a crazy busy month – actually November AND December were crazy. V turned four years old on December 4th. Because I knew I’d be too pregnant to want to want to throw a party in early December, we celebrated his birthday in early November. It was his first birthday party as I had told myself I wouldn’t throw a traditional kids birthday party until he was old enough and interested enough to ask for one. Literally about three days after his third birthday passed, he started asking for a birthday party!! So, he got one for his 4th birthday.

I took the easy route and had it at a bounce house place. Those places are a God-send for busy parents. They take care of everything. We just wrote the check. It was awesome and V and his friends loved it!

Sometime in early November I started getting depressed when thinking about the upcoming birth of our daughter and how it might affect my relationship with V. The mornings are the most special time for V and I. It’s when we spend quality time together – just the two of us – cuddling, talking, playing. I know that’s likely going to end once the baby comes – even if for a little while – and the thought of that is killing me. It’s the best part of my day and it makes me so sad to think of not having it.

I finally wrapped up things at work on December 7th and was looking foward to a good 2-3 weeks of me-time before baby G’s arrival. She had other plans. At about 2:00am on the morning of December 17th I started having contractions. Not heavy, not painful – but often. I had four within the span of 15 minutes and because of my condition and high blood pressure, I was told to call the doctor if I experienced more than four contractions in an hour.

So I called.

My doctor told me to come to the hospital. I was sure I’d just be monitored for an hour or so and come back home, so I drove myself and let my husband sleep. But long story short, my blood pressure was extremely high (185 over 135) – so they immediately hooked me up to an IV, took some blood and found that it contained protein, which meant pre-eclampsia to the degree that they worried it would move to eclampsia quickly. They informed that they needed to take the baby immediately. My health depended upon it.

Surgery would start in 30 minutes – with or without my husband. I was terrified. Luckily we live less than a mile from the hospital and luckily we have good friends who came over to take care of V – and my husband made it to the hospital just as I was rolling in to the OR at 6:00am.

Our little girl was born 3.5 weeks early – but very healthy and strong – at 6:44am on December 17th. She weighs just over five pounds, so I”m calling her my little Sack of Flour – or SOF. And now that it’s been just about two weeks since the surgery, I’m finally feeling stronger and able to get around!

V has been a dream with his little sister. At first he didn’t pay much attention to her, but that’s been increasing each day. He’s not acted out. He’s not asked to send her back. He’s been amazingly perfect about the whole ordeal. I’m convinced that’s because Christmas came only a week after his baby sister, and he received so much attention – and so many gifts – that that distracted him!

On Christmas Eve we went to my dad’s house, where Santa came for a vist. I hadn’t taken V to see Santa at all yet as the thought of hitting the mall and standing in line at 9 months pregnant was enough to send me over the edge. So it was important to me to make sure V would be at my dad’s so he could see Santa – even though I wasn’t feeling strong enough.

When Santa came in the house, V’s eyes got as big as saucers. He immediately ran up to him and just stared. All of the kids (about 15 of them) surrounded Santa as he announced that he had a bag of toys for all the good little girls and boys and that they all needed to sit down so he could hand them out. I noticed V with a look of terror on his face as he quickly scanned the room to try to find me. Once he did, he ran up to me with tears filling his eyes and asked me in a shaken voice:

“Mama? Have I been a good boy??”

It was the cutest thing EVER and brought tears to my eyes! I told him yes, and a look of relief mixed with joy came across his face as he ran back to Santa and took a seat to his right – and waited patiently for his toy.

The poor kid had to wait and wait as his toy was the last one out of the bag. With each toy that came out of the bag, V waited for his name to be called and when it wasn’t called his facial expression turned from anticipation and joy to concern and then near panic – and then relief when Santa finally called his name. My heart felt for him as I remember that feeling as a child as if it were yesterday!

All in all, our holidays were blessed – not only with the arrival of SOF, but with the time spent with family and good friends. We are looking forward to a fantastic ‘08 and wish you and yours an amazing New Year!!

 

Yes, I’m Still Alive

Wow. It’s been a long time since I’ve posted … and it’s been a long time since I’ve read any of my favorite blogs. Of those I have on my google reader, I have nearly 800 posts I’ve not yet read! Eee gads!!

First things first … why. Why have I seemingly disappeared off the face of the blog-o-sphere? One word … pregnancy. It’s been a real bitch for me, people. It’s all I can do to get through a day without losing my mind. Between the “complications” of this pregnancy, trying to get work in order so that I can be out of the office for 4 months, and chasing after a very energetic almost four year old, I’m drowning.

Oh, and the guilt. Perhaps it’s the hormones, but the guilt is sometimes crippling. I’m pregnant. I’m creating life. I should be glowing, excited, unbelievably happy, grateful, feeling oh-so-blessed.

NOT. Hence, the guilt.

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I’m “advanced maternal age”, but this pregnancy is kicking my ass. I recall not exactly enjoying being pregnant the first time around, but this is so much worse. I should start by explaining that all is going well with the baby as of now. It’s me and the fact that I seem to be falling apart.

I have cholestasis – which is pregnancy-induced liver disease. Lucky me. First the good news:
- with ongoing monitoring, the baby should be fine
- I will deliver early
- my liver will return to normal after giving birth

And the bad news?
- there’s nothing that can be done about it
- I have an all-over body itch that is present all day, every day and is driving me insane. It’s an itch that comes from inside, so it’s not like I can use a lotion or take a bath or do anything to relieve it. The ONLY thing that provides a bit of relief is Benadryl. Which makes me sleepy – and which I haven’t been able to take in the last few days because my blood pressure has started to rise.

Add the feelings of guilt to the ever-present, overwhelmingly annoying body itch, and you’ve got one depressed Mama G.

Hence my disappearance.

I will return eventually – to both posting here and commenting on all of your blogs as well! In the meantime, have a fabulous holiday season with you and yours …

Cheers!