I seem to get schooled on a regular basis, picking up lessons I’m supposed to learn from unlikely places; eighth graders, people I have nothing in common with, and my toddler have been my latest teachers. It’s quite humbling and refreshing at the same time.
Take my endocrinologist appointment last week. My mom was luckily in town so she came with me to hang out with Wren because my daughter has an aversion to all doctors’ offices, not just the ones intended for her. The trigger seems to be the scale. Once the scale is visible, she pretty much starts the pouty lips. Maybe it’s because she’s had her ears irrigated, poked, and drained at doctors’ offices after they weigh her, or maybe she’s just a girl and doesn’t want anyone to know what she weighs. Either way, it tends to go down hill after that.
Having my mom there was a gift because Wren was pretty much occupied until the nurse started unwrapping the syringe to take my blood. I assured Wren, as I had all morning, this appointment was for me, not her. No one was going to touch her, mess with her ears, make her get on a scale. We had been having this conversation for an hour prior to the appointment. Still, when the needle was visible, the lower lip started quivering. She sat in my mom’s lap just staring at the needle while I tried to figure out why she thought they were going to stick her. The tourniquet was wrapped around my arm and she was five feet away. I kept telling her it would be okay and no one was going to touch her. Finally, my mom stated what should have been pretty obvious: she wasn’t worried about her, but she was pretty devastated that someone was about to hurt me. It proved to be true. When I didn’t cry and assured her I was okay, she held in her tears, though the bottom lip never stopped quivering, and she gave the nurse one of the nastiest looks I have ever seen come from anyone.
It was empathy. It went beyond feeling bad for me; she felt my pain in a way that hurt her. I saw it again the next day when a little boy started crying and sticking his fingers in his mouth due to teething pain. Wren, in the throes of trying to bust through that last eye tooth, began crying with him. She couldn’t make him feel better so she just wanted him to feel less alone.
I felt like a jerk for not making this connection sooner. Empathy? Who knew? That’s why last week at my OB appointment when the doctor picked up the baby’s heartbeat with the Doppler, the little heartbeat had to compete with the wailing sounds coming from my toddler. I thought she was just mad because I wasn’t holding her. Actually, I’m sure the jelly and the magic Doppler wand being spread over my stomach might have looked scary to a kid. I didn’t assure her everything was okay because I had no idea that’s what she needed. I am a not so smart mommy at times.
It’s sad, but I find empathy to be a pretty foreign idea to adults, or at least to me. I don’t hurt for others much. I feel bad for them, but mostly I’m glad I’m not hurting. My daughter still has the ability to care about others as much or more than she cares for herself. Obviously, this example has not come from mom. However, if I’m lucky I can pick up on her example and do better in the future. Christ gave me this child, I thought, to train and raise. Now I’m wondering if I’m the one getting the raising. Either way, it’s working out.
I’ll save the lessons she’s taught me on adaptability for another day. Let’s just say she gave up her cow’s milk and took to drinking unsweetened coconut milk without complaint. I have yet to try the coconut milk and chugged organic whole milk straight from the carton after she went to bed tonight. Enough said.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Luxury Items
When I became a mother, I was warned that I might suddenly disappear. For instance, I would have no time to myself, no time for random leisurely afternoons strolling through the park or sipping coffee at a book store with no particular agenda or schedule for the day. These are luxury items, and it was explained to me that I would have to fight to protect them, that being a mother would snatch them from my open arms and throw them to the wind.
I never lived in fear of this and I don’t now. While I still have well meaning individuals, mainly mothers, telling me that I better start hording opportunities for myself, I’ve discovered that I never knew luxury until now. Here is my list of luxury items/events, and these are just the ones that occurred this week:
My house is clean and I didn’t have to do it. My grandmother deep cleaned every nook and cranny.
My husband came shoe shopping with three girls because Wren gets a little excited in the shoe department, and I needed back up to keep her from snatching shoes. This is the 2nd or 3rd time he’s had to participate in this event in a week, and he does it joyfully.
My mom told me I was pretty when I had no makeup on, half dry hair and acne left over from the first trimester hormone surge.
Dennis cooked an amazing enchilada dish while I napped for two hours with Wren.
Wren is saying I love you. She hasn’t breastfed in two days, and though she’s still a little bitter, it’s getting easier every day. At least it is for her. I still want to cry pretty much every second.
My husband and I watched a movie together on the couch while cuddling. Since I’m usually in bed way earlier than him, this was sweet. It sort of felt like a date.
The baby started kicking.
A phone call to my sister made me feel better about my baby bump, or lack there of, at this point in the pregnancy, even though my doctors are not happy. I did this with Wren so I don't know why it's a huge surprise this time. I pop out during the third trimester.
Father's Day came around, and I have a great dad and a husband who is a great dad.
I have hot water. My mom and grandmother realized the pilot light was out on our water heater, and my mother-in-law drove to my house in rush hour traffic to light it because there was no way I was going near something that operates using gas with fire when I have no sense of smell and don’t really want to explode. By the way, Dennis and I had ignored the no hot water issue for two weeks because we didn’t know what was wrong and just assumed it would come back. This is either God making us content or we’re just idiots.
This may not look like much to some people, but it’s why I don’t need the coffee laced afternoons, pedicures, massages, hair appointments, me time moments everyone told me to collect when I became a parent. Nothing is wrong with any of those things, but my life is already pretty luxurious. And as I discovered driving home from dropping off my grandmother today, I don’t enjoy just me like I used to. I’m good being alone, but it’s not the same now. Instead of blaring the radio or daydreaming of some exotic location or the book I want to publish, I just wished to be with my husband and daughter and tried to stay below the speed limit though I was tempted to floor it just to get home. My life of luxury is defined by the people who make it so great, the ones who clean my house, make me enchiladas, light water heaters with fire, say I love you even when I can no longer give them milk. Too much time away from any of them would make me disappear or at least make me want to.
I never lived in fear of this and I don’t now. While I still have well meaning individuals, mainly mothers, telling me that I better start hording opportunities for myself, I’ve discovered that I never knew luxury until now. Here is my list of luxury items/events, and these are just the ones that occurred this week:
My house is clean and I didn’t have to do it. My grandmother deep cleaned every nook and cranny.
My husband came shoe shopping with three girls because Wren gets a little excited in the shoe department, and I needed back up to keep her from snatching shoes. This is the 2nd or 3rd time he’s had to participate in this event in a week, and he does it joyfully.
My mom told me I was pretty when I had no makeup on, half dry hair and acne left over from the first trimester hormone surge.
Dennis cooked an amazing enchilada dish while I napped for two hours with Wren.
Wren is saying I love you. She hasn’t breastfed in two days, and though she’s still a little bitter, it’s getting easier every day. At least it is for her. I still want to cry pretty much every second.
My husband and I watched a movie together on the couch while cuddling. Since I’m usually in bed way earlier than him, this was sweet. It sort of felt like a date.
The baby started kicking.
A phone call to my sister made me feel better about my baby bump, or lack there of, at this point in the pregnancy, even though my doctors are not happy. I did this with Wren so I don't know why it's a huge surprise this time. I pop out during the third trimester.
Father's Day came around, and I have a great dad and a husband who is a great dad.
I have hot water. My mom and grandmother realized the pilot light was out on our water heater, and my mother-in-law drove to my house in rush hour traffic to light it because there was no way I was going near something that operates using gas with fire when I have no sense of smell and don’t really want to explode. By the way, Dennis and I had ignored the no hot water issue for two weeks because we didn’t know what was wrong and just assumed it would come back. This is either God making us content or we’re just idiots.
This may not look like much to some people, but it’s why I don’t need the coffee laced afternoons, pedicures, massages, hair appointments, me time moments everyone told me to collect when I became a parent. Nothing is wrong with any of those things, but my life is already pretty luxurious. And as I discovered driving home from dropping off my grandmother today, I don’t enjoy just me like I used to. I’m good being alone, but it’s not the same now. Instead of blaring the radio or daydreaming of some exotic location or the book I want to publish, I just wished to be with my husband and daughter and tried to stay below the speed limit though I was tempted to floor it just to get home. My life of luxury is defined by the people who make it so great, the ones who clean my house, make me enchiladas, light water heaters with fire, say I love you even when I can no longer give them milk. Too much time away from any of them would make me disappear or at least make me want to.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
A Time For Change
The first three days of this week have taught me that nothing is the same after a year. Last year, I had a six month old. I spent my summer working around nap schedules, nursing schedules, Texas heat, teething, all the fun infant stuff. This summer, some of that hasn’t changed. However, what needs to be done to work around it has.
Last year, I would not take Wren out of the house if we were near a nap, near a feeding, teething, or showing the slightest signs of sleepiness. Couple her hate for the car seat and any of those other factors, and taking her outside of the house felt like child abuse. She didn’t enjoy the outing, screamed the whole way there or back or both, and I ended up feeling like I had left the house for my benefit, not hers.
I knew things were different this year, but I didn’t understand to what extent until today. Comparing my today and my yesterday revealed the truth. First of all, my child is a social butterfly. She needs kids her age. She loves me, but after a few hours, I am not enough to keep her completely entertained. This is probably a good development, but it’s a little difficult because I could just sit around and play blocks with her all day. She’s the one who bails on that plan. My first attempts to enhance her social life minus daycare failed miserably. Apparently we are the only people at the park or the play area in the mall before nine am. Maybe this is not a shocker to anyone else, but I was sure other people had kids who woke at 6 or 7 am, ate breakfast and were ready to head out the door. It’s possible that our school year schedule has programmed her for this, but if we are not in the car heading somewhere engaging by 8 am, then I have a cranky pants on my hands who only wants to nurse. Since we’re weaning, that’s not good.
Dennis and I decided last weekend when planning my first week home with Wren minus tons of nursing that after our morning outing it would be good to have something for her to do until her naptime near noon. That way she didn’t fall asleep too early, take a wimpy nap and wake up cranky, or just beg for breastmilk all day out of boredom. Tuesday, however, I forgot we were dealing with an 18 month old who likes constant stimulation and regressed back to how I would have treated my six month old. When we got back from the park around 9:30, I decided not to take her to the library at 10 for story time. I justified it by saying it was too much, she wouldn’t want to be in the car again, and she would be cranky because she hadn’t had time to wind down. This would have been true for a six month old. But she’s not anymore, and my refusal to acknowledge this change caused suffering for everyone for the rest of the day. Home with no distractions, my daughter remembered that she loved nursing. In fact, she fixated on it for the rest of the day. I went ahead and nursed her down for her nap, but when she woke up, that wasn’t enough. When I wouldn’t give in, Wren was not happy, and the child can hold a grudge. For the rest of the day we played the all the reasons I do not like mom game. Being the mom, this was not a fun game for me. Wren cried, gave me pouty lips, and ultimately I felt like in her mind she thought that daycare was much better than mommy time because mommy had something she wanted(milk) and refused to share. At least the kids at daycare share.
Today, we started over. Obviously, thinking of my child as she was last summer instead of how she is today failed. So, we went to the store first thing this morning, then we hit the mall to watch the girls ice skate, then we came home and had a wonderful play date with our friend in the inflatable kiddie pool. At one, having had absolutely no break or I-want-booby breakdowns, she crashed for almost three hours. The rest of the day was cake. This is what my child now considers a good day. I had a great time too because she was happy. Everybody wins. So why didn’t I do this Tuesday?
There’s no excuse really. Dennis and I had a plan. If I had stuck with it, the disaster we will call Tuesday never would have happened. And the thing is, I really have no issues with change. Sure, I like it better if I initiate the change, but I’m fairly adaptable. Why I regressed to my old way of thinking is beyond me. I wonder if subconsciously it really is hard for me to see her grow up so fast. Do I crave the days when she just laid in the floor and cooed at me and that was enough? Yes and no. I love the age she is now. I will have another cooing in the floor at me soon. I wouldn’t change anything about who she is and where she is in her life. But I have noticed this need for independence in every area of her life except for nursing, and it makes me proud and sad all at once. She wants to be her own person and she is. She wants to be engaged by other people and things other than mom. We can’t go back to the days of sitting in the recliner, breastfeeding and smiling at each other all day. It’s not the same, and that’s okay. Each day with her just gets better. Even if we’re playing all the reasons I don’t like mom game, I’m still glad to be a part of the game.
Last year, I would not take Wren out of the house if we were near a nap, near a feeding, teething, or showing the slightest signs of sleepiness. Couple her hate for the car seat and any of those other factors, and taking her outside of the house felt like child abuse. She didn’t enjoy the outing, screamed the whole way there or back or both, and I ended up feeling like I had left the house for my benefit, not hers.
I knew things were different this year, but I didn’t understand to what extent until today. Comparing my today and my yesterday revealed the truth. First of all, my child is a social butterfly. She needs kids her age. She loves me, but after a few hours, I am not enough to keep her completely entertained. This is probably a good development, but it’s a little difficult because I could just sit around and play blocks with her all day. She’s the one who bails on that plan. My first attempts to enhance her social life minus daycare failed miserably. Apparently we are the only people at the park or the play area in the mall before nine am. Maybe this is not a shocker to anyone else, but I was sure other people had kids who woke at 6 or 7 am, ate breakfast and were ready to head out the door. It’s possible that our school year schedule has programmed her for this, but if we are not in the car heading somewhere engaging by 8 am, then I have a cranky pants on my hands who only wants to nurse. Since we’re weaning, that’s not good.
Dennis and I decided last weekend when planning my first week home with Wren minus tons of nursing that after our morning outing it would be good to have something for her to do until her naptime near noon. That way she didn’t fall asleep too early, take a wimpy nap and wake up cranky, or just beg for breastmilk all day out of boredom. Tuesday, however, I forgot we were dealing with an 18 month old who likes constant stimulation and regressed back to how I would have treated my six month old. When we got back from the park around 9:30, I decided not to take her to the library at 10 for story time. I justified it by saying it was too much, she wouldn’t want to be in the car again, and she would be cranky because she hadn’t had time to wind down. This would have been true for a six month old. But she’s not anymore, and my refusal to acknowledge this change caused suffering for everyone for the rest of the day. Home with no distractions, my daughter remembered that she loved nursing. In fact, she fixated on it for the rest of the day. I went ahead and nursed her down for her nap, but when she woke up, that wasn’t enough. When I wouldn’t give in, Wren was not happy, and the child can hold a grudge. For the rest of the day we played the all the reasons I do not like mom game. Being the mom, this was not a fun game for me. Wren cried, gave me pouty lips, and ultimately I felt like in her mind she thought that daycare was much better than mommy time because mommy had something she wanted(milk) and refused to share. At least the kids at daycare share.
Today, we started over. Obviously, thinking of my child as she was last summer instead of how she is today failed. So, we went to the store first thing this morning, then we hit the mall to watch the girls ice skate, then we came home and had a wonderful play date with our friend in the inflatable kiddie pool. At one, having had absolutely no break or I-want-booby breakdowns, she crashed for almost three hours. The rest of the day was cake. This is what my child now considers a good day. I had a great time too because she was happy. Everybody wins. So why didn’t I do this Tuesday?
There’s no excuse really. Dennis and I had a plan. If I had stuck with it, the disaster we will call Tuesday never would have happened. And the thing is, I really have no issues with change. Sure, I like it better if I initiate the change, but I’m fairly adaptable. Why I regressed to my old way of thinking is beyond me. I wonder if subconsciously it really is hard for me to see her grow up so fast. Do I crave the days when she just laid in the floor and cooed at me and that was enough? Yes and no. I love the age she is now. I will have another cooing in the floor at me soon. I wouldn’t change anything about who she is and where she is in her life. But I have noticed this need for independence in every area of her life except for nursing, and it makes me proud and sad all at once. She wants to be her own person and she is. She wants to be engaged by other people and things other than mom. We can’t go back to the days of sitting in the recliner, breastfeeding and smiling at each other all day. It’s not the same, and that’s okay. Each day with her just gets better. Even if we’re playing all the reasons I don’t like mom game, I’m still glad to be a part of the game.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Check it out for summer
This is not a traditional post, but when I was looking at one of my favorite sites today, I found some disturbing information about sunscreen. I'm crazy obsessed with what chemicals we are exposed to and how to get rid of them in our environment, so this freaked me out!
You can see how your sunscreen rates and then go from there.
http://www.ewg.org/2010sunscreen/
Also, check out the site I saw this on at http://www.askmoxie.org/
It's awesome!
Praying for Aunt Sherry. Wren misses you!
You can see how your sunscreen rates and then go from there.
http://www.ewg.org/2010sunscreen/
Also, check out the site I saw this on at http://www.askmoxie.org/
It's awesome!
Praying for Aunt Sherry. Wren misses you!
Monday, June 7, 2010
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