Moving Forward

The other night I stood in the baby product aisle of the local grocery store. I stared at a bottle of baby wash for several minutes. This simple bottle of baby wash left me dumbfounded. I didn't know whether or not to buy it. The kids needed more soap but they are no longer babies and I don't buy anything else out of this aisle, anymore. It sounds crazy now just thinking about it but that bottle was so much more than soap. I have to come to terms with that I will never have another pregnancy. My pregnancy with CJ was filled with maternal fetal specialists, monthly blood tests and worry. An anomaly in the structure of my blood cells caused my body to view the fetus as a foreign entity caused my body to mount defenses to destroy it. Thanks body. It's a condition that they couldn't predict or do anything about except damage control if necessary...and after the full disclosure of worst case scenario we were pretty much terrified. The fun thing is that it isn't present with pregnancy number 1. Only subsequent. Now I also have a negative blood type and a husband who is positive. So, with WC I had taken my Rogam shots to keep a similar situation from happening due to my negative type and all was supposed to be hunky dory. It wasn't. The antibody doesn't cross the placenta until it reaches a certain level of parts per million. And monthly blood tests were ordered to keep an eye on this. After months of hoping, praying and let's be honest bartering with God we had a healthy baby boy. He was three weeks early but considered full term and without an issue to be found.  The specialists advised that with subsequent pregnancies it would be worse that my body's defenses would be stronger against the fetus. We decided not to be greedy. The grace of God allowed us to come through healthy.We decided not to be greedy. The grace of God allowed us to come through healthy. So I opted to count my blessings and undergo a tubal. Why chance it? And I've never looked back or second guessed that it was the right decision for me. But with CJ now out of diapers I find myself missing having a baby. I walk past the baby section in Walmart and it feels odd not needing to stop in. The indecision over whether to buy baby wash brought it all to the surface. Do I want another baby? The more I dwell on it the fact is that I'm not feeling that I want a new baby. I miss my babies. I love the boys - crazy and amazing all in one little package. Watching them grow and develop is something I wouldn't trade. My problem with it is that it all is going by too fast. I need one year to last three or four.But since I like my life with them right now and they've moved on from the baby stage then I should too. I put the baby wash back on the shelf and finished my shopping.

Adventures in PT

I once read somewhere that potty training a toddler would test the parents patience and be both emotionally and physically draining. But that the experience was twice as hard for the toddler. Think about it, they spend the first one and half to three years (give or take) of their lives doing a basic bodily function one way and no one minds. Suddenly their caregiver expects them to do a 180 and to recognize the signals that we automatically take for granted but they've never thought about. Not only we expect them to recognize these but then take appropriate action. It can be confusing. There are all these theories out there as to the appropriate time to begin the process of teaching a toddler to use the potty. Arguments are abound as to "early" versus "late." And pros and cons of each. Years ago most children potty trained shortly after they could walk. But with the advent of the disposable diaper and working mothers, these days it has been pushed to the average age of three- an little earlier for girls.
WC was three when I was expecting CJ. The thought of two in diapers-even disposable was not appealing. Luckily he was ready. I used the timer method. I took a long weekend, he picked out his new big boy underwear and the diapers were gone with exception of night. Three days later he was fully potty trained.
Fast forward to CJ. This child has been doing things his own way since he surprised us by arriving three weeks early. Silly me set out to potty train him the same way that worked for WC. Now I could make him go sit on the potty when the timer went off but I couldn't make him actually go in the potty. He would sit there and then leave the bathroom and promptly urinate in the kitchen floor. We spent weekend after weekend being frustrated. Downtrodden, I abandoned trying for a few weeks. His daycare provider insisted on using pullups for the convenience. They don't help. Pullups are a diaper. I think I kept my cool in front of him fairly well while wanting to scream. I swore that I didn't think the child would ever potty train. Then the strangest thing happened. One day he declared that diapers were for babies. And was decidedly not a baby. I told him if he didn't want to wear the diapers then he had to pee in the potty. That was all she wrote, except for a couple of timing accidents. He decided he was going to wear underwear and not diapers. This child is going to be my trouble. He can do anything he puts his mind to, then problem will be what he puts his mind to (or doesn't).

Finally Finished!...well sorta

Four years and 112 thousand words later, I have typed the words "The End" on my novel manuscript. In the days leading up to this I have been ecstatically happy. And I could not wait to get to my lunch break and continue typing. I took merely a minute to bask in the glory of those words. I'm aware that I will not be leaving my beloved characters behind anytime soon. Now comes the revision and editing process. This is a scary process...I've been so wrapped up in getting it all out and now it's time to go in with a hatchet and kill my child. Well, maybe not kill but take it down a couple of inches. Some parts I look forward to cutting because I know it sucks...And now I begin the cutting. I've read numerous works and taken online writing workshops and I hope these things have prepared me to craft the best story that I can.
The title of my work in progress has been All That Remains. I look forward to sharing more about this work while I go through this process.

Where do they come up with this?

By now nothing my boys do really suprises me. I'm handed stories by
their other caregivers & experience many for myself. Still when I
picked up CJ from daycare I was not prepared to laugh this hard. Ms. C
began by setting the story of them all sitting around the table having
an ordinary time coloring. CJ goes to the potty, he's been wearing
underwear exclusively for over a week after he simply declared he
wouldn't wear baby diapers any more. She turns around to find him
standing there without a stitch on- shoes, socks, everything gone.
"I naked," he declared.
"Put your clothes back on," ms. C tells
him.
"But I naked," he states.
"I can see that but you have to put your clothes on"
"But I naked," he reiterates. Smiling, proud as a peacock.
"You can't be naked out here"
"You sure?"
"Yes, now get in that bathroom & put your clothes on."
"Awwww..."
And she finally wrangles my littlest streaker back into his clothes.

Why oh why can't I keep these children clothed in public?

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To Have Been A Fly on the Wall

When CJ went to the dr for his checkup but had a fever and step they
wouldn't give him a shot that he was due. I needed to bring him back
when the fever was gone. Naturally, during my week off- when this
would have been easy, I forgot. So, I asked my mom to run him back
over to the pediatrician. All they had to do was go in and the nurse
would give it to him, no copay no dr. Simple.
Mom calls me later that afternoon and begins the story with how happy
CJ was to play with the train set: see prior entry for his love of
trains. The nurse steps out calls his name and he hits the floor like
a bag of cement screaming, "I don't want to see the dr." Mom attempts
to coerce him into standing. She lifts him off the floor but he
refuses to put his feet down. He's sprawled in the middle of the
waiting room floor chanting that he doesn't want to see the doctor. My
mom begins to yell back at him "your mother is making me do this."
while trying to drag him across the floor. Eventually unable to gain
compliance she picks him up & carries him into the back alternating
responses to his protests with that his mother was making her & that
if he's good she'll buy him a toy. Back in the exam room she can hear
the women behind the front desk laughing hysterically.
Oh, I wish I could have seen that!
Mom declared that never in her life had she had any trouble taking a
child to the doctor. And not to ask her to do it again. Awww mom...

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Mom Makes Plans...God Laughs.

Friday morning I was all excited. A mere four hours of work, lunch with hubby, a well check up for the three year old and I was on my way to one week of freedom from the 9-5er. Then CJ woke up. Unlike WC & myself, he is a morning person. He hits the ground reving his little engine and he's off.

Except this morning...he laid there like a slug. And I knew...

He left with Jay, as normal and I wondered and worried. When will the call come?

When I arrived at work I called the daycare to let them know I would be there early in the afternoon to take him to the dr. I asked how he was doing because he wasn't himself that morning. And God- love them. The morning girl had noticed the same thing and had taken his temp- 99. He was simply wandering around the room looking lost. They would keep me posted. Poor baby.

On my way down the interstate to meet Jay for lunch, they called. 100.2- still not high enough to warrant a pick up, but they knew he would be leaving at 1:30 anyway. He was napping.

I called the pediatrician to see if they would still see him. They would, except if he was due a shot then I'd have to bring him back.

He was still asleep when I arrived- his security blanket in hand. She woke him up and he crawled into my arms and lay limp on my shoulder.

There are many pros and cons to the doctor office train set. And CJ's love of trains brought them all screaming to the forefront. He didn't want to leave the trains, for him that was why he was there. He asked about them in the car on the drive. He was pissed when it was our turn. If I could have had a dime for every time he told the nurse, 'no', 'stop it', 'don't touch me' or 'I want the train'. I'd be a wealthy woman. She commented on how she'd cut him slack for being challenging because he isn't feeling well. Oh, you poor delusional woman, this child is a challenge when he feels well and pretty damn close to impossible when ill. We never could get his hearing checked- but trust me there's not an issue there. He hears perfectly fine- what he wants to.

He wasn't any easier with the doctor. I was so sick of hearing about the stupid trains by the time she arrived I was ready to jam the tongue depressors into my ears and take out my ear drums.

After the examination she decided that she wanted to swab his throat- it was very red. Assume the position- which is fairly similar to giving a cat a pill except we don't wrap the child in the blanket- but now that I think about it. It's a fairly disturbing scene to the non parent. Hold child in lap, wrap leg around his (to keep him from kicking the dr), one arm wrapped around his waist to secure both of his and one hand on his forehead to hold his head back against my chest. There was my exercise for the day. After the swab she let us return to waiting area and the much heard about train set to wait while the culture developed. CJ now happy. Me very, very worried about the results of the swab. And of course the receptionist announced that we needed to return to our room due to the fact the culture was positive for strep. Are you *&^%$ kidding me! I'm starting my vacation! Strep!  ARGH!

 

Blue screen of death

Sorry that I haven't posted a story in a while. Last week I was on
vacation from work and had every intention of posting stories of my
adventures home with the kids... But my modem died! No Internet all
week! Finally received the new modem yesterday & during installation
last night the thing crashed the computer giving me the blue screen of
death. So tonight after karate (I'm using their wifi connection) and
after I get the kiddos to bed I'll be attempting battle with the old
computer, praying that I can bring it around long enough to get the
years photos copied to a disk. Then I'll worry about the rest.

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