Sometimes it is a whisper

I spend a lot of time wondering if I’m doing it right.

And by ‘it’, I mean parenting.

Why do they speak to me like that? I never did that.  Why do they fight so much?  Ok, I might have fought with my brother *a little*.  Why don’t they listen? Why don’t they clean their rooms?  Or eat their dinners? Feed the dog? Put the toys away? Roll their eyes?

Maybe I’m not any good at this after all.

Sometimes that heavy feeling descends.  I close my eyes and struggle not to buckle under the weight of it.

Other days I get mad, determined to change it all.  They will put their shoes away.  They won’t whine.  They will eat those green beans.

But then there is a whisper.  Like a soft wind lifting my hair from my ear.

If I wasn’t listening yesterday, I might have missed it.

I sat in church next to an older woman and her grown son.  The son sat at the edge of the pew rocking back and forth, unable to make eye contact.  As I directed my four and six year old children through the mass, she did the same, reminding him to kneel, to stand, to pray.

coopwhisperAs the hour drew to a close, she turned to Cooper and started to chat with him…..this was their conversation,

“What is your name?”

“Cooper.”

“How old are you, Cooper?”

“I’m four.”

“Wow, four.  That’s big. (big smile from Coop)  Cooper, this is my son, Gary.”

“Hi, Gary.”

“Gary has problems.”

(I held my breath, afraid of what might spring from my four-year old’s mouth)

Cooper smiled.  Reached out for her hand. Shrugged his itty-bitty shoulders.

“That’s ok, everybody has problems”

I exhaled.

Sometimes the whisper is all I need. And the green beans and the sibling fighting suddenly don’t matter.

Do it again!

OK…this cracks me up. I can’t help it, and it is probably oh-so-very-wrong on oh-so-many-levels.

My two year old son is just about the cutest little guy in the world (so what if I’m prejudiced!)

 Coopercheese

I LOVE to hear him giggle.

He still wears a diaper.  Which means I still have to wipe him.

He laughs when I wipe him.

And he almost always says, “Do it again.” And it isn’t because he’s worried I didn’t clean him off well enough.

It makes me laugh.  And I have to stop myself from doing it again – just to make him laugh.

How wrong is that?

I’m thinking this is a story he WON’T want me to share with his Prom date….

KnowwhatImean?

Holding Hands

It is when things seem to be at their worst in your life that the very best in those around you comes shining through. Our friends hold our hands and do everything to make turn our worlds right side up when we aren’t sure we can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

We have friends who just had a beautiful baby girl on November 4th.

Would you look at that sweet face?  A few hours after her birth, mom, Kelly noticed that Chloe seemed to be having trouble breathing.  What the nurses originally believed to be ‘new mommy jitters’ turned out to be TRUE MOMMY INSTINCT.

That beautiful, calm baby girl is fighting a Congenital Heart Defect.  The long-term prognosis is good, but lost amidst all of the medical jargon, the potential surgeries in Chloe’s future, and what can only be described as fear for their newborn, new parents Chad and Kelly are proving to be some of the strongest people we have ever met.

They are surrounded by wonderful people, who are rallying to love and support them and their new daughter.  Many friends have started fundraisers on their own…just to help this sweet little girl who is only 9 days old.

In fact…I wanted to share one of those events with you.  Kelly’s cousin Gia has her own online business…it is just darling.  It is called Sock it to Me.

She has decided that 100% of all sock sales between now and Christmas will go to Chloe.  The socks are only $5 and would make such a sweet little stocking stuffer!  There are so many options to choose from and range in size from newborn to 5 years old.

But more than anything, if you wouldn’t mind sending your thoughts and prayers to Kelly, Chad and Chole…I think they could use them to get through this obstacle.

What recession?

How do you spell phenomenon for a little girl?

Well, in Chicago (and I imagine in a few other cities as well) it is spelled
A-M-E-R-I-C-A-N  G-I-R-L  D-O-L-L

and it might look a little bit like this:

Every November, Delaney, my MIL and I head to Chicago to visit this very special place.  This trip is something my Mother in law pictured in her head from the moment she found out I was having a girl.  Our first trip to the windy city occurred before Delaney was even two.  Now that she is 4, (and owns three – that’s right, three dolls from the store) she is enthralled by the whole experience.

If you have never been, allow me to give you a little tour:

 They have a fancy cafe that requires advance reservations. Yes, the dolls have their very own seats as well: LeeLee and LeeLo (the Bitty Twins) had a front row seat for Delaney’s heart shaped pancakes and they had their own cups.

The whole cafe is black, white and hot pink.  Darling.  The tables are equipped with a question box to inspire conversation, hair bows that the true American Girl can take home with her, a special appetizer, a main course and a fabulous little dessert (that I could have eaten for every portion of the meal).


To the right you can see the place setting – that pink bow around the napkin – that’s the hair bow you get to take home.  The wait staff has impeccable manners (which, sadly, I can’t say for most adult-fare restaurants – but that’s a chat for another day).

You can choose to come for brunch, lunch or dinner.

Food is fantastic.  Delaney’s ear-to-ear smile, absolutely memorable.

But, this is just the beginning of the experience.

After we ate, we made t-shirts for the twins, had Delaney’s photograph taken with them, wandered around the 2 floor store and made a special trip to the Doll Beauty Salon.

There are roughly 8-10 stations set up for the dolls to be taken care of.  The ‘mommys’ choose the desired hair styles and the stylists, well, they take care of these American Girls like they are people.

 

This is LeeLee while she is being worked on and then, you can see the finished product.  Clearly, Delaney chose the 2-ponytail-style. My sweet girl was absolutely thrilled to watch as LeeLee was taken care of…

 

 But, it was while looking at this line for the Doll Beauty Salon that I thought to myself…what recession?  There was a 2 hour wait to have your doll cleaned and styled.  It wasn’t terribly pricey – $10 for most styles, but when you consider the true frivolous nature of what you are doing, it makes you pause.  And then I looked around and saw just how many parents are on the same path I am….  Despite poor economic times, parents want to give their kids ‘everything’ they can, ‘everything’ we didn’t have growing up.

So many of us are guided by the idea of providing joy for our children by providing ‘things’ they want…I am included in that category.  At least I have been. It is the smile you see right there that I love to see.  Admittedly, this weekend was Grandma’s treat, not Mommy’s, but for a 4 year old, the distinction isn’t an easy one to understand.

I long to teach my children the important things in life: gratitude, trust, honesty, respect, love.  The guilt I feel when I consider that I may be missing the mark makes me sick to my stomach.  What if, by providing the small things that make her smile (the $10 doll salon, the $10 Barbie she wants for Christmas) I am giving her the idea that all she has to do is ‘want’ something and someone will provide it?

This fear has bubbled up to the surface a few times lately when Delaney has broken down in tears at the end of a fabulous, busy, fun-filled day because she didn’t get something she wanted.  The way her 4 year old self processes the over-stimulation and tiredness is to complain that the whole day was terrible.

So…here’s my internal battle: is she just 4 and doesn’t know any better?  Or am I, by providing constant entertainment, events and fun, creating a truly spoiled child?  I’m hopeful it is a little of both.  I know she’ll grow out of ’4′ and I can make adjustments to my parenting.

It has been suggested to me that a true recession might not be a bad thing.  The less money we all have, the more we would be required to connect on a purely emotional, family level.  We wouldn’t be able to rely on computer games, high-tech gadgets and expensive (or even inexpensive) toys to do the talking for us – we would have to teach joy by example.

Imagine holidays that include only family meals, hugs, traditions and stories. 

I can’t say I wouldn’t miss the joy of giving at Christmas.  I can’t say it wouldn’t pain me to be unable to provide that eyes-light-up moment when the kids rip open a gift they’ve been wanting. 

But, I think there will be something innately satisfying in paring things down this year.  I want to focus on family traditions – on joy – on togetherness – on the spirit of giving.  I want to teach my children the importance of valuing what you have and being grateful to those who give.

I’m just feeling my way through this maze that is parenting.  Thoughts?
 

Everything is right at night

No matter how frustrated I get during the day, (and I do), no matter how mad these little people can make me (and they do), no matter how much they yell, fight, disobey, refuse to eat, argue, sass and talk non-stop (oh….and they do) it all slides away as they slide into sleep.

There is just something beautiful and peaceful watching them breathe and dream *quietly*.  It grounds me.  It reminds me they are only children.  It reminds me to focus on what is important: them.   Just them.

And while I occasionally wish they would sleep all day, as I need the constant reminder of their peaceful little souls, nighttime is usually enough to take me to a happy, mommy place.

 

OK….I’ll admit it…

I’m scared.  In fact, I’m petrified.

Call it intuition, call it self-awareness.  I suppose, call it whatever you want.  But I know, deep down in my gut, that something is wrong.

Just like I know, even when the doctors do not, when there is something wrong with my children.  I know if a cough is really pneumonia, and whining is really about to turn into a fever.  So, I suppose it is safe to recognize that same intuition when it applies to me.

On July 8th, I was standing in my kitchen, on the phone with my mom.  I had just come home from the gym.  Kids were playing, mom was talking.  And, all of a sudden, I couldn’t see.  No lights or spots appeared.  I just couldn’t see, and then it felt like I was cross-eyed.  I couldn’t focus no matter how I blinked or shook my head to clear it.  I felt like a cartoon character trying to knock the side of my head to correct my vision.

When I told my mom, she had me sit and close my eyes.  Didn’t work.  She told me to hang up and call my doctor.  My shaking hands and crossed eyes found my way to my purse and began to feel for a business card I knew had my doctor’s number on it.  Of course I couldn’t focus on it, but was able to make out a number or two that prompted my memory.  It was while I was on hold waiting for a nurse that my vision started to return…but it was hazy and there was a lot of pressure focused in and around my right eye.

Because I expressed my fear of strokes, because I had never lost my vision, because my husband was out of town,  because I was home alone with 2 children., because I was frightened…I was eventually told to go to the hospital.

They didn’t even check me in before taking me back for an examination and a cat scan.  The diagnosis: (which I later found out was a diagnosis of exclusion) an ocular migrane.  I never got a headache.  I was given a migraine cocktail (miserable by any one’s standards) but the cocktail was administered 4 and a 1/2 hours after my eye episode.  I was sent home.

The next night, on the eve of my daughter’s 4th birthday, I sat down at the computer and within 5 minutes, felt a numbness and tingling move its way down my right arm.  My husband was still out of town.  My irrational mind could think of nothing except  “I cannot die on my daughter’s birthday.”  I ended up on the phone with my doctor.  She (God love her) calmed me down.  She explained that a stoke would effect my right eye and my LEFT side (or vice versa) but said she wanted to see me again if the symptoms persisted.

They did.  My right side, my dominant side was slightly weaker.  My right eye moves slightly slower than my left. My fear was MS.  Based on the symptoms (loss of or trouble with vision, tingling, numbness or heaviness in extremities, loss of coordination, fatigue) I was a poster child.  But an MRI of my spine and brain revealed no lesions that are indicative of the disease.

I visited a neurologist.  She looked at my MRI, examined me, looked at the MRI again to make sure she hadn’t missed something, and told me we had a few options: it could be MS (but she highly doubted it since there are no lesions visible), it could be migraines or it could be stress.

P.S.  I get headaches all the time, but not what I would classify as a migraine.  And, I wasn’t stressed until all of this started happening….and I was alone with the kids. I already have fibromyalgia.  I has lived with it for 16 years. I was diagnosed by a leading rheumatologist in Los Angeles long before the disorder became truly recognized.

The neruologist seemed to think a ‘fibromyalgia’ medication might help.  It would decrease the physical pain, and, oh by the way, it might also help my stress.  As it turns out, Cymbalta is marketed as an anti-depression medication that could help with aches and pains rather than the other way around.  After taking it for 3 weeks, having terrible headaches, and being unable to go to the bathroom for a week of that time, I stopped taking it.  It hadn’t improved my symptoms and it was making me feel worse.

Five days ago, my symptoms intensified.  I lose my balance when I am standing still.  I am constantly dizzy.  I often feel like there is a current running from the top of my head down my neck to my shoulders and out both arms.  My mom described it as an ‘inside shiver’.  That is a perfect way to explain it.  It sometimes appears as though someone has ‘dimmed’ the lights in the perimeter of my vision.  It is all worse at night when I am most tired.   I am constantly stopping in the middle of sentences, having lost my train of thought, or unable to grasp the word I need to continue. 

I have experimented with food to make sure it is not blood-sugar related.  I have tried going to bed earlier in the hopes that my eyes are tired.  I was hopeful I might be experiencing the onset of the flu. 

I went to visit a chiropractor (despite my irrational fear of being paralyzed by a quick snap) in the hopes that there was a misalignment causing the heaviness on my right side.  The chiropractor is wonderful.  She is gentle and kind. My x ray was fine.  Another test she did was not.  It is computerized, Nasa Technology that can determine the amount of strain/pressure on each muscle surrounding your spine and neck.  My scan showed as ‘severe’ and ‘off the charts’ on the right side.  She hopes treatment can alleviate the right side dysfunction.

I have an appointment with a neuro opthamologist next Friday.  In my perfect world, the chiropractor fixes the problems on the right and the numbness, tingling and heaviness abates.  And the neuro opthamologist says, “Girl…you need glasses” …that will fix all the visual issues. And then I go back to normal, right?

Except, I really don’t think so.  I just feel as though there is really something off.  I don’t trust that I can see everything in my perimeter when I am driving.  I’m not confident that my body won’t betray me while I am picking up the kids or carrying them up to bed.  It feels as though there is someone else at the controls.  Someone else is playing with my internal temperature gage…hence the inside shivers.  And someone else keeps dimming the lights or making me blurry…causing me to shake my head constantly in an attempt to clear the horizon.

I hate to ask for comments…but, since I’m at a bit of a stalemate…I would appreciate any thoughts, insight or suggestions.

The true definition of Terrible Twos

Wikpedia says, “A colloquialism describing a stage in the developmental lines of a toddler ” (or a future punk rock band from Detroit)

Pardon me while I snort with laughter….if only it was that benign.

I have a few alternate definitions: (terrible 2′s can be used as a noun, an adjective or a verb)

1) How best to make mommy’s head explode
2) A remarkable stage of development during which your child (sometimes 1 1/2, 2 or nearing 3) will often tantrum and frequently pretend your voice no longer registers for anyone other than the neighborhood dogs
3) The time you are most likely to be heard calling your child “Sybil” in public
4) The toddler act of displaying any and every behavior you were confident existed only in ‘those other children’.
5) The period exisiting right in between the beautiful stage of ‘firsts’: walking, talking, running, giggling and the moment when mom and dad look at each other in wonderment: “Do the terrible 3′s exist?”

A friend once told me, when your ‘terrible twoish’ child acts their age….pretend they are drunk.  It might just make you giggle.

They certainly act like drunks:  they stumble (alot), they cry (easily),  they DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY WANT (ie: “Mommy, have p butta fo wunch”…but, once you had made said Peanut Butter sandwich…the tides have changed.  “No wan p butta…yuck…no like p butta!” often accompanied by a quick toss of said sandwhich you have just made.) “Fine, Sybil…just let me know when you make up your mind.” (PS…it is at this point when your older child pipes up and says, “His name isn’t Sybil, Mommy.  He’s Cooper.”)  Great…two for the price of one..I don’t even get to make side jokes to myself without commentary.

It is much like having the most demanding boss in the whole world….and surprise!  you never get to go home.  Your mean boss wakes you up in the morning with a deviant gleam in their eyes…..just counting (if in fact counting was truly plausible) the ways to make your day difficult.  Whining, tantruming, irrational hitting, never sharing and refusing to eat all come to mind.

You little boss has lots of plans for you today…and every single one of them revolves the world revolving strictly around them.  Hope you don’t have any thing else you  would like to do.

I reached my terrible two limit today.

Don’t let the face fool you….this is Coop’s mandatory ‘keep your %$**!!* hands to yourself’ pose.  It is now a phrase I say multiple times throughout the day.

Wait, I think I hear Coop calling me…..nevermind, he said he doesn’t want me…oops, yes he does.