Wow, it's been a bit since I've managed to write. So much for a computer helping to make that happen :-) Needless to say, school, work and the kids have kept me busy!!
So when we bought a house back in April, one of the things that we looked for, as I'm sure most, if not all, parents do, was a good school district. Shortly after moving I outreached to the school district to talk to them about getting Bug assessed.
Let me back up a step. I've mentioned many times that Bug has a speech delay. Well initially we had her assessed b Early Intervention back at 18 months. We used them until she hit age 3, which is when she aged out. They would have transferred her over to the school district at that time, but we did NOT like the school district we were in, and therefore went on our own and worked with her, did the speech therapy thing, etc.
So I knew that at 3 we could get help.
Well we moved shortly before her 4th birthday. So I called the new school district and asked them about getting her assessed. It was at the end of the school year, so they sent me out the paperwork but advised that an assessment wouldn't happen until the new school year. Which I was OK with. I actually even held off on sending the paperwork for a bit so that I could send in the most up to date information. So I sent it in early August.
They came out and did an initial assessment at home. K and I were both here, and we actually got her to say a lot during this initial assessment. At the beginning of the assessment, the woman doing it let us know the steps of the process. The initial at home assessment, then if they determined the child warranted further review a play assessment at one of the schools where a team of people assess and make the decision together. Then they would decide at what level of need the child was at. For example, just speech therapy in the home, or maybe at her current daycare, all the way up to being eligible for the school districts preschool program.
So they did the in home assessment, and before the woman left she advised that they would want to bring Bug in for a play assessment.
So we took her in for the play assessment. K handled the majority of that assessment as I was only able to stay for a little while. They let me know before I left that they would schedule a meeting after they had a chance to meet and decide what to do, and that meeting would be either a 'your child is fine' kinda meeting, or they would present their findings and an IEP.
When I talked to K after the play assessment was over, I asked him what he thought. He said they eluded to the fact that she would be eligible for some services, but we weren't sure what. It took a few weeks before I got the call, but they scheduled an IEP meeting. Based on the call I knew it was an actual IEP meeting and not a 'give your kid a break, she's fine' meeting. And I was happy about that - she has come so far, but I think we need the professionals to be back in the mix now.
So, I went to the meeting. K wasn't able to come, but my mom was, and I was really glad that she was able to tag along.
It was kinda crazy when I got there and there were 5 people in the room. I felt a bit stressed about that at first. There was the speech therapist, 2 preschool teachers, the school psychologist and the person who did the initial at home assessment. They started off the meeting by going over each of their individual thoughts/findings/assessments of Bug. Nothing was surprising.
The speech therapist then went over where she fell on her language skills. They found her receptive language just barely normal, which is what i expected. I think she's got better receptive then what they gave her credit for, but knowing my daughter like I do, she didn't show them everything she can do. She gets shy, and when pushed in a situation she's not fully comfortable in she kinda shuts down. And they did say she didn't talk much for them, in fact, the speech therapist sat outside the bathroom door when K took her to the bathroom, because she was fighting him on going - and using her words. Yeah, that's my girl ha ha.
Anyways, then the part that made this mama cry came in. They diagnosed her with a developmental delay. That was HARD. Her score was WELL below normal. But they all said (and I've often wondered) that they think part of it is her significant speech delay. What they told me is that a developmental delay in educational terms is different than the medical term. It's given to children ages 3 - 5 who show delays in pre academics. Things like rote counting to 10, recognizing shapes, colors, numbers, letters, etc.
She struggles with these things. We work on it, but she still struggles.
So it wasn't a surprise. But the fact that she fell so far below normal was enough to break me down.
In the end, she qualified for their preschool program. So Monday through Thursday morning she'll attend preschool in our school district from 8:35 - 11:05. She will get 40 minutes of speech therapy a week. Her IEP is very detailed with the goals they are aiming for in terms of words and/or signs that others can understand, the number of capital letters she will recognize, how far she can rote count, etc. The school district will pick her up at daycare and drop her back off; and a car seat will be used (yeah!!).
She is the 9th child in the class, and they can have up to 12. No more than 4 of them can be 'typical' peers. They have 1 teacher and 2 aides, plus the speech therapist that comes in on Mondays. Amazing ratios. I have very high hopes. I'm happy with the school district so far.
I got a chance to talk to her teacher, and I LOVE him. He was actually doing a play assessment with another little boy when we took Bug in for hers, and I could tell just how good he is with kids. Talking to him reiterated that fact. You can tell he's in it for the right reasons.
So, the IEP meeting was last Friday. We are still working on getting the transportation set up since pick up/drop off isn't at home. But yesterday K drover her and took her to the program so that she could have someone there for her first day, as well as having a day break on Friday to help let it settle in.
K really likes the teacher too, and that's a wonderful wonderful thing.
So. Here's to the next phase in our lives. Here's to getting our Bug the additional help she needs, and here's to hoping that this time next year I'll be telling you all about the person my little girl is; and not just what I know because I know her, but what I know because she is TELLING me.
Friday, October 17, 2014
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
A mother's intuition
So, as mentioned in my post Sweet Bug from the other day.... I called the 'new' doctor. They weren't accepting new patients until after the first of the year because they are switching to EMRs.
I couldn't deal. Bug had been in so much pain.
So I called her current peds office the day after that last post. They were going to get me in with their normal ped, and I requested a different one. So they got me in with the only male in the practice.
For a minute I felt kinda bad, making my 4 year old daughter show her butt to a guy that she's only met like twice, when she won't hardly let us see it because of the pain.
But I didn't have a choice.
So we went in, and we all went. He asked first about what was going on. So we explained it all. And he asked what the other doc had said, and we told him - sitz bath.
He flat out was like 'that won't work.' Mind you, this was before he even looked at her!!!
So, he did really good with getting her attention, calming her down, redirecting her while he checked out her eyes and ears. Then he looked at her poor little butt.
The minute he looked at it he said 'this is strep'
He let us know that they used to be able to do the rapid strep test (yes, the same one for your throat) in the office, but the FDA said they couldn't do that any longer for the butt. So the only way to 'verify' was a 2 day lab test... which he said right off that it was a bad case, and there was NO WAY he was making Bug wait that long for relief. He was like 'I've seen this multiple times, I promise it's what it is.'
Even with everything going on I chose to trust him.
So she got an antibiotic and a prescription cream.
We are just over a week into the meds and her butt is completely cleared up. She's, for the most part, no longer holding her poop. Sometimes she still does, but I think that's because she's trying to get used to the fact that it doesn't hurt any longer - after all the time that it did.
She's going poop on the potty sometimes. I figure that we're completely starting poop training from the beginning, and I'm OK with that.
And I called a contact I have in the system we use and she is going to help ensure that I can either get in permanent with this doctor we saw, or a new office.
Because I will NEVER. EVER. see that loser of a pediatrician again. She's absolutely worthless and I'm NOT wasting my time for someone that wouldn't take the time to really look at my daughters problem, even after multiple complaints.
It was a good thing K was with us that day, because I'm pretty sure I would have caused a scene when leaving the office. Instead I waited to call until I calmed down.
I'm just thankful that I finally listened to my gut, that I took her to someone else, and that I wasn't crazy. I didn't want anything wrong with her, but it validated that it was SOMETHING, not NOTHING.
And now we can move forward.
My poor little bug.
I couldn't deal. Bug had been in so much pain.
So I called her current peds office the day after that last post. They were going to get me in with their normal ped, and I requested a different one. So they got me in with the only male in the practice.
For a minute I felt kinda bad, making my 4 year old daughter show her butt to a guy that she's only met like twice, when she won't hardly let us see it because of the pain.
But I didn't have a choice.
So we went in, and we all went. He asked first about what was going on. So we explained it all. And he asked what the other doc had said, and we told him - sitz bath.
He flat out was like 'that won't work.' Mind you, this was before he even looked at her!!!
So, he did really good with getting her attention, calming her down, redirecting her while he checked out her eyes and ears. Then he looked at her poor little butt.
The minute he looked at it he said 'this is strep'
He let us know that they used to be able to do the rapid strep test (yes, the same one for your throat) in the office, but the FDA said they couldn't do that any longer for the butt. So the only way to 'verify' was a 2 day lab test... which he said right off that it was a bad case, and there was NO WAY he was making Bug wait that long for relief. He was like 'I've seen this multiple times, I promise it's what it is.'
Even with everything going on I chose to trust him.
So she got an antibiotic and a prescription cream.
We are just over a week into the meds and her butt is completely cleared up. She's, for the most part, no longer holding her poop. Sometimes she still does, but I think that's because she's trying to get used to the fact that it doesn't hurt any longer - after all the time that it did.
She's going poop on the potty sometimes. I figure that we're completely starting poop training from the beginning, and I'm OK with that.
And I called a contact I have in the system we use and she is going to help ensure that I can either get in permanent with this doctor we saw, or a new office.
Because I will NEVER. EVER. see that loser of a pediatrician again. She's absolutely worthless and I'm NOT wasting my time for someone that wouldn't take the time to really look at my daughters problem, even after multiple complaints.
It was a good thing K was with us that day, because I'm pretty sure I would have caused a scene when leaving the office. Instead I waited to call until I calmed down.
I'm just thankful that I finally listened to my gut, that I took her to someone else, and that I wasn't crazy. I didn't want anything wrong with her, but it validated that it was SOMETHING, not NOTHING.
And now we can move forward.
My poor little bug.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Suicide
Suicide is in the forefront of everyone's mind these days.
I'm gonna let you in to some of my dark history, some of the stuff I don't really talk about.
During my early to mid teen years I talked about suicide. Like a lot. I 'wanted' to end things, but I never had the 'courage'. I had a couple of friends that we had it all figured out, how we would do it, when, etc.
I'm beyond glad that I never was so incredibly stupid.
I'm not judging others, so let me make that clear. But when I look at all these wonderful, amazing things I have in my life, I think to myself about how I would have missed all that. How it never would have been. And that is a sad, sad thought to me. A scary thought.
All those bad things, the bad times, the difficulties when I had no idea how to handle the mass of feelings I was having during those tender years, I get why people do it. I don't agree with it. I am amazed by how my life has turned out though.
But I did lose one friend to suicide. That's what I'm here to tell you about.
I met Rachel through some mutual friends when I was around 16. It was during my downward spiral that was my life at that time. I was an addict, and it was getting worse during that time. I was in with a bad crowd, and barely making it through the things that I had obligations to do.
I was a teenager.
And don't get me wrong, I wasn't as bad as other kids out there. I'm not here to compare, I'm here to simply share my experiences.
Rachel was this calming force in our lives. She was about 18 at the time I met her. She was awesome. We all loved her. The guys in our group were infatuated with her.
I saw her as the balance to all of our craziness.
She was my anchor. When I was having a bad day, she's who I called.
When I needed to get away, she's who I called.
When I wanted to laugh and just hang out, she's who I called.
And when I was having a bad trip, she's who I called. She was the only one that could bring me down from the ledges. And there were plenty of times that happened, and plenty of times that she was called. The last time being the worst, and someone else had to call her, and she almost had to come to save me.
We spent a bit of time together for those next few years. We had a lot of fun, and partied hard.
But Rachel had her own demons. She took on everyone else's demons, and never took care of her own. She was in and out of treatment for mental health, but we all thought she was doing good.
Then she wasn't. She spent the better part of a few months in intensive treatment.
Then she tried to end it all.
And then she spent months in inpatient treatment.
It didn't work.
She found the key to her dad's gun cabinet.
She unlocked it and took out a gun.
She put it in her mouth, and pulled the trigger.
She ended those things that she couldn't figure out how to take care of in her own life, all the while taking care of everyone else's issues.
It was 1999, and I remember her funeral like it was yesterday.
And after the funeral, I went out with friends and partied like there was no tomorrow.
And in those moments, those days, those weeks of sorrow I was both jealous of her for having the courage that I didn't, and beyond pissed off at her that she could do that to us, to her friends, her family.
How could she make the decision to end our time with her? I didn't understand it then, and life experiences have helped me to get it in some ways, but not in others.
To this day I love that girl. I ache that she chose to end it when she did.
But it was in the aftermath of that death, the wake of emotions that tore me up beyond belief, that I realized I wanted only one thing.
To live.
To live my life in the best way possible.
To fix the person I was.
To choose life.
It wasn't easy, and it didn't happen overnight. But that was the start of the me that I am now. That was the start of a new life, the life that I live, and love today.
And I couldn't imagine it any other way.
Rachel, I miss you. I miss how giving you were, how thoughtful you were, and how badly you wanted to help everyone in your life, at the expense of your own happiness. I hope beyond hope that you have found peace, and that you are watching down on me now and proud of where I have ended up. I know that had you stuck it out you would be an amazing person today. You would have remained the selfless, loving, caring person that you were back then.
I'm gonna let you in to some of my dark history, some of the stuff I don't really talk about.
During my early to mid teen years I talked about suicide. Like a lot. I 'wanted' to end things, but I never had the 'courage'. I had a couple of friends that we had it all figured out, how we would do it, when, etc.
I'm beyond glad that I never was so incredibly stupid.
I'm not judging others, so let me make that clear. But when I look at all these wonderful, amazing things I have in my life, I think to myself about how I would have missed all that. How it never would have been. And that is a sad, sad thought to me. A scary thought.
All those bad things, the bad times, the difficulties when I had no idea how to handle the mass of feelings I was having during those tender years, I get why people do it. I don't agree with it. I am amazed by how my life has turned out though.
But I did lose one friend to suicide. That's what I'm here to tell you about.
I met Rachel through some mutual friends when I was around 16. It was during my downward spiral that was my life at that time. I was an addict, and it was getting worse during that time. I was in with a bad crowd, and barely making it through the things that I had obligations to do.
I was a teenager.
And don't get me wrong, I wasn't as bad as other kids out there. I'm not here to compare, I'm here to simply share my experiences.
Rachel was this calming force in our lives. She was about 18 at the time I met her. She was awesome. We all loved her. The guys in our group were infatuated with her.
I saw her as the balance to all of our craziness.
She was my anchor. When I was having a bad day, she's who I called.
When I needed to get away, she's who I called.
When I wanted to laugh and just hang out, she's who I called.
And when I was having a bad trip, she's who I called. She was the only one that could bring me down from the ledges. And there were plenty of times that happened, and plenty of times that she was called. The last time being the worst, and someone else had to call her, and she almost had to come to save me.
We spent a bit of time together for those next few years. We had a lot of fun, and partied hard.
But Rachel had her own demons. She took on everyone else's demons, and never took care of her own. She was in and out of treatment for mental health, but we all thought she was doing good.
Then she wasn't. She spent the better part of a few months in intensive treatment.
Then she tried to end it all.
And then she spent months in inpatient treatment.
It didn't work.
She found the key to her dad's gun cabinet.
She unlocked it and took out a gun.
She put it in her mouth, and pulled the trigger.
She ended those things that she couldn't figure out how to take care of in her own life, all the while taking care of everyone else's issues.
It was 1999, and I remember her funeral like it was yesterday.
And after the funeral, I went out with friends and partied like there was no tomorrow.
And in those moments, those days, those weeks of sorrow I was both jealous of her for having the courage that I didn't, and beyond pissed off at her that she could do that to us, to her friends, her family.
How could she make the decision to end our time with her? I didn't understand it then, and life experiences have helped me to get it in some ways, but not in others.
To this day I love that girl. I ache that she chose to end it when she did.
But it was in the aftermath of that death, the wake of emotions that tore me up beyond belief, that I realized I wanted only one thing.
To live.
To live my life in the best way possible.
To fix the person I was.
To choose life.
It wasn't easy, and it didn't happen overnight. But that was the start of the me that I am now. That was the start of a new life, the life that I live, and love today.
And I couldn't imagine it any other way.
Rachel, I miss you. I miss how giving you were, how thoughtful you were, and how badly you wanted to help everyone in your life, at the expense of your own happiness. I hope beyond hope that you have found peace, and that you are watching down on me now and proud of where I have ended up. I know that had you stuck it out you would be an amazing person today. You would have remained the selfless, loving, caring person that you were back then.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Sometimes, I hate this lifestyle
Because being a pilots wife is a lifestyle, isn't it?
And sometimes I hate it.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes I love it. I love the time that I have in my routine with the kids when K is gone. But I love him coming home. Like really love him coming home. And then that time home with him? It's wonderful, and needed beyond anything I could ever explain.
But sometimes it's really really hard.
K left early this morning for his first week actually 'on the job' after his 3 week training.
Last night we were reading to the kids together before bed, and Goose made it clear that he was ready to nurse. So I left K to finish reading to Bug, and took Goose to bed. After I nursed him, sang to him, and got him down I stepped outside and went to go back into Bug's bedroom. But I paused for a moment and listened before going in.
K was talking to Bug about having to leave this morning. It was low so I just caught snippets of what he was saying.
But it was what Bug said that broke my heart.
When there was a pause in what K was saying, Bug simply said 'No go daddy, no go.'
It simultaneously broke my heart and made me smile. I know it broke his heart too.
I let him have his moment with Bug, and I headed downstairs to finish some things from dinner.
So he told me that he let her he would kiss her good bye this morning. I knew what time he was getting up (4:40) and what time he had to be out the door (5:15) so I didn't want him to go into her room, I knew it would wake her up.
But I couldn't tell him that. He needed to make that decision on his own. And I sure couldn't tell him that he couldn't say good bye to his little girl.
So he did this morning, and she ended up whimpering in bed next to me after he left.
It. Was. Miserable. I felt so bad for her, so horrible, so sad.
K agreed that he wouldn't do a morning good bye again if he left that early. It was miserable for him too as he was trying to pry her arms from around his neck while she cried into his shoulder.
So tonight my mom picked up the kids for me as I had a work function that had me out just a little later than normal. I was home by 6, so in time for dinner and bed. When I got home mom said the kids had been good.
I swear, within 5 minutes, Bug was a MESS. An absolute wreck. Didn't want to eat dinner, didn't want to get ready for bed, do her hair, let Goose get anywhere near to her, let anyone touch her. I tried talking to her about understanding that she misses daddy, but nothing helped.
It finally ended in bedtime without her normal Curious George episode while we get ready, and with no books. She earned back a song by letting me braid her hair.
After I get Goose down, I went back into her room and cuddled with her for a bit. I curled up into her and stroked her hair. I whispered in her ear that I loved her, and that I knew she missed daddy, and so did I. She simply curled into me more and laid there.
I hate that every time he leaves it throws off everyone's routine. I hate seeing what it does to our little girl. I hate that she can't fully communicate just how it affects her.
And sometimes, I hate this lifestyle.
And sometimes I hate it.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes I love it. I love the time that I have in my routine with the kids when K is gone. But I love him coming home. Like really love him coming home. And then that time home with him? It's wonderful, and needed beyond anything I could ever explain.
But sometimes it's really really hard.
K left early this morning for his first week actually 'on the job' after his 3 week training.
Last night we were reading to the kids together before bed, and Goose made it clear that he was ready to nurse. So I left K to finish reading to Bug, and took Goose to bed. After I nursed him, sang to him, and got him down I stepped outside and went to go back into Bug's bedroom. But I paused for a moment and listened before going in.
K was talking to Bug about having to leave this morning. It was low so I just caught snippets of what he was saying.
But it was what Bug said that broke my heart.
When there was a pause in what K was saying, Bug simply said 'No go daddy, no go.'
It simultaneously broke my heart and made me smile. I know it broke his heart too.
I let him have his moment with Bug, and I headed downstairs to finish some things from dinner.
So he told me that he let her he would kiss her good bye this morning. I knew what time he was getting up (4:40) and what time he had to be out the door (5:15) so I didn't want him to go into her room, I knew it would wake her up.
But I couldn't tell him that. He needed to make that decision on his own. And I sure couldn't tell him that he couldn't say good bye to his little girl.
So he did this morning, and she ended up whimpering in bed next to me after he left.
It. Was. Miserable. I felt so bad for her, so horrible, so sad.
K agreed that he wouldn't do a morning good bye again if he left that early. It was miserable for him too as he was trying to pry her arms from around his neck while she cried into his shoulder.
So tonight my mom picked up the kids for me as I had a work function that had me out just a little later than normal. I was home by 6, so in time for dinner and bed. When I got home mom said the kids had been good.
I swear, within 5 minutes, Bug was a MESS. An absolute wreck. Didn't want to eat dinner, didn't want to get ready for bed, do her hair, let Goose get anywhere near to her, let anyone touch her. I tried talking to her about understanding that she misses daddy, but nothing helped.
It finally ended in bedtime without her normal Curious George episode while we get ready, and with no books. She earned back a song by letting me braid her hair.
After I get Goose down, I went back into her room and cuddled with her for a bit. I curled up into her and stroked her hair. I whispered in her ear that I loved her, and that I knew she missed daddy, and so did I. She simply curled into me more and laid there.
I hate that every time he leaves it throws off everyone's routine. I hate seeing what it does to our little girl. I hate that she can't fully communicate just how it affects her.
And sometimes, I hate this lifestyle.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Day 2
Today was day 2 of our new daycare for the kiddos.
It has been way more smooth than I expected. There were delays in my getting out of there both mornings, but yesterday was worse than today. It took 40 mins to do drop off. I ended up asking at one point if Bug wanted me to call Nana and ask her to pick them up early. She actually didn't answer the question when I asked, but when she finally stopped clinging to me and I was able to leave, she stopped playing for a sec and, without looking at me, said 'call nana. bye bye mama.' It was super adorable.
So my mom, Nana, picked them up yesterday. She typically gets them around 2:30 or 3:00 when she picks them up to help out. Apparently when she got there to get them, neither one of them were particularly interested in leaving.
That makes me so happy!!
Today when I dropped them off Bug was saying 'my school' as we pulled up, with a big smile on her face.
It still took about 20 mins for me to get out of there this morning, but it wasn't nearly as bad as yesterday. Not that yesterday was bad, just lots of clinginess.
They seem like they are really enjoying their time there. I'm hoping this isn't a honeymoon period, but typically daycare switches are not quite like this. I can't really explain it. But this is her 4th daycare since she was about 19 or 20 months old. That's a lot.
This one really might be it!!!
I expected a potty training regression. There's been no regression. She's still going to daycare in underwear, and making it to the potty to go pee. She is still having accidents to go poo, but we're getting there, and I honestly think this daycare is going to help.
I am beyond happy.
On a side note, K comes homes tomorrow after his 3 weeks of training. I. Can't. Wait.
(and if timelines seem a little strange, please note that I'm typing these and then scheduling them to post. So in reality, I probably wrote this a week or two before it actually posted :-) I'm ahead of the game right now ha ha)
Monday, August 18, 2014
Sweet Bug
Potty training continues to go pretty well. She has less and less pee accidents.
Poop though, that's a different story.
At first I thought she just didn't want to poop in the potty. Then it seemed as though she was maybe struggling with constipation.
This weekend I realized I don't think any of that was true all along.
Her poor little butt hurts. I think she's trying to NOT poop.
We've struggled with diaper rash type issues for a while. We've tried all different kinds of things. In the last 6 months I've mentioned it to my 'new' pediatrician who pretty much blew me off. 'Just put her in a sitz bath' was what her answer was each time I mentioned it.
I mean come on, one time the visit was for Goose and I made her look at Bug's butt.
I started to think I was crazy.
Then I was talking to a couple of mom's at work with young kids.
They reminded me to TRUST MY GUT. That if I thought something was wrong it probably was.
So let me back up a step. Not long after Goose was born their pediatrician was noticeably pregnant. She went on maternity leave and never returned. We all LOVED her.
So we had a locum tenon for a while, basically a fill in. She was a really sweet older woman who was retired, but filled in when needed for the system that our peds are in. We really liked her too.
Right before Goose turned a year we 'got' our 'new' pediatrician. During the wait I had asked to change peds within the practice and they said no.
Should have known at that point. But I try so hard to give people the benefit of the doubt.
So we met her for the first time at Goose's 12 month check up. I don't even remember what it was exactly that she said, but when I advised I was still nursing and wasn't in a hurry to stop, she made some comment that I didn't appreciate. Whatever. I let it go and decided to give her a couple chances before I made my judgement. Especially since for most sick visits I did see other docs in the practice.
Well, in the last 6 months we've seen her multiple times between the kids.
My mom put it best during a visit that she went with to help out (both kids going). She said the ped was clinical.
Yep, she's right. At Bug's 4 year check up and Goose's 18 month I realized just how right my mom was. She didn't try to get the kids happy, she didn't try to win their attention, affection, or love. She was clinical and the kids cried The. Entire. Time. All she was interested in doing was forcing Bug to let her see her ears, or Goose to see his teeth. You get the point.
So after those visits I knew I was done. And yes, I brought up her diaper area during that appointment too.
Then the conversation with the other mom's. I. Am. Done.
I delayed the change a little because I knew I needed to get her 4 year shots, and we were changing daycares so I needed them to fill out the medical forms.
Today I had to take her in for her 4 year shots as we couldn't get them at her appointment. I knew going into it that this was the last appointment. I already have the name of a new ped that a friend took her daughter to, and her daughter has had some similar issues to Bug. She loves this ped, says she takes lots of time with them, etc. So, at today's appointment I told the chick at the front desk that Bug is to the point of holding her poo, crying in pain when she goes, etc and could one of the docs, ANY of the docs stop in for a minute to check it out?
Nope. The answer was No.
I came home frustrated. Then for the rest of the evening I had to spend comforting my little girl as she howled in pain while trying to NOT let her body poop as her body NEEDED to poop. Arching her back, locking her knee's, face turning beet red, teeth clenched, butt clenched. Then it got worse because she got something out twice and I had to hold her down each time to wipe her and put something on her butt in hopes it will help. Because she doesn't want it cleaned up, which makes things worse, so much worse.
Seriously, it's gotten so bad that there's ALWAYS a streak in her diaper. When she goes it's a small little bit (and no, it's not hard, it's nice and soft). So she goes CONSTANTLY. Like I'd guess maybe 10 or more times a day. If I bought new underwear every week I'd spend at least $30 a week on underwear. Instead, every evening I wash poo out of underwear while I cry silent tears of worry for my daughter.
So that's it. I'm done. I don't know why I tried to give the benefit of the doubt when this is MY CHILD. My little girl, my first so she's my learning curve.
Tomorrow I call the new doc. Tomorrow I start the process of finding someone who will listen to me that something is NOT right.
Poop though, that's a different story.
At first I thought she just didn't want to poop in the potty. Then it seemed as though she was maybe struggling with constipation.
This weekend I realized I don't think any of that was true all along.
Her poor little butt hurts. I think she's trying to NOT poop.
We've struggled with diaper rash type issues for a while. We've tried all different kinds of things. In the last 6 months I've mentioned it to my 'new' pediatrician who pretty much blew me off. 'Just put her in a sitz bath' was what her answer was each time I mentioned it.
I mean come on, one time the visit was for Goose and I made her look at Bug's butt.
I started to think I was crazy.
Then I was talking to a couple of mom's at work with young kids.
They reminded me to TRUST MY GUT. That if I thought something was wrong it probably was.
So let me back up a step. Not long after Goose was born their pediatrician was noticeably pregnant. She went on maternity leave and never returned. We all LOVED her.
So we had a locum tenon for a while, basically a fill in. She was a really sweet older woman who was retired, but filled in when needed for the system that our peds are in. We really liked her too.
Right before Goose turned a year we 'got' our 'new' pediatrician. During the wait I had asked to change peds within the practice and they said no.
Should have known at that point. But I try so hard to give people the benefit of the doubt.
So we met her for the first time at Goose's 12 month check up. I don't even remember what it was exactly that she said, but when I advised I was still nursing and wasn't in a hurry to stop, she made some comment that I didn't appreciate. Whatever. I let it go and decided to give her a couple chances before I made my judgement. Especially since for most sick visits I did see other docs in the practice.
Well, in the last 6 months we've seen her multiple times between the kids.
My mom put it best during a visit that she went with to help out (both kids going). She said the ped was clinical.
Yep, she's right. At Bug's 4 year check up and Goose's 18 month I realized just how right my mom was. She didn't try to get the kids happy, she didn't try to win their attention, affection, or love. She was clinical and the kids cried The. Entire. Time. All she was interested in doing was forcing Bug to let her see her ears, or Goose to see his teeth. You get the point.
So after those visits I knew I was done. And yes, I brought up her diaper area during that appointment too.
Then the conversation with the other mom's. I. Am. Done.
I delayed the change a little because I knew I needed to get her 4 year shots, and we were changing daycares so I needed them to fill out the medical forms.
Today I had to take her in for her 4 year shots as we couldn't get them at her appointment. I knew going into it that this was the last appointment. I already have the name of a new ped that a friend took her daughter to, and her daughter has had some similar issues to Bug. She loves this ped, says she takes lots of time with them, etc. So, at today's appointment I told the chick at the front desk that Bug is to the point of holding her poo, crying in pain when she goes, etc and could one of the docs, ANY of the docs stop in for a minute to check it out?
Nope. The answer was No.
I came home frustrated. Then for the rest of the evening I had to spend comforting my little girl as she howled in pain while trying to NOT let her body poop as her body NEEDED to poop. Arching her back, locking her knee's, face turning beet red, teeth clenched, butt clenched. Then it got worse because she got something out twice and I had to hold her down each time to wipe her and put something on her butt in hopes it will help. Because she doesn't want it cleaned up, which makes things worse, so much worse.
Seriously, it's gotten so bad that there's ALWAYS a streak in her diaper. When she goes it's a small little bit (and no, it's not hard, it's nice and soft). So she goes CONSTANTLY. Like I'd guess maybe 10 or more times a day. If I bought new underwear every week I'd spend at least $30 a week on underwear. Instead, every evening I wash poo out of underwear while I cry silent tears of worry for my daughter.
So that's it. I'm done. I don't know why I tried to give the benefit of the doubt when this is MY CHILD. My little girl, my first so she's my learning curve.
Tomorrow I call the new doc. Tomorrow I start the process of finding someone who will listen to me that something is NOT right.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Gender Roles
So we don't really believe in gender roles in this family.
It's nothing we ever really thought about, or talked about, it just is who we are and always have been.
K loves to cook and clean. Maybe even a little more than I do. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy both as well. Let's be honest, if I didn't, then we'd eventually starve while he is gone (or be really fat from eating lots of fast food) and my house would be condemned because it would be so gross. (don't worry, it's not :-))
I enjoy mowing the lawn, doing 'work' around the house. I've done lots of tiling job, some plumbing, lots of painting, I've helped to lay lots of pergo type flooring, etc etc. I really really enjoy it actually. Put it this way, I was the one who tiled part of my parents house by myself (a small part, but whatever) when I was around 6 or 7 months pregnant with Goose.
And I'd bet that the majority of pilots wives are similar, after all, we have to deal with all the crap while our pilots are away.
So anyways.
One of the difficulties of being a pilots wife is sometimes fitting all that crap in. Especially with 2 kids. It's really exhausting sometimes, and sometimes I really don't want to do it, and put something off as long as possible.
So we've actually had a lot going on recently. My best friends wedding, then her reception 3 weeks later back home in T town. My friend's angel babies 4 birthday party. Finding a new daycare, preparing to move the kids to said new daycare. Lot's of craziness going on at work.
So, mowing the lawn. I actually enjoy doing it. But I'd enjoy it even more if I could be like 'hey K, I'm gonna go mow the lawn, so have fun playing with the kids while I do so.' But that's not the reality. I'm mowing because he's gone. So I'm doing it in the evenings, after the kids are in bed, after the dinner dishes are cleaned up, and before I shower and do whatever else needs done.
Yeah. That kinda sucks sometimes.
I've figured out how to make it work for me though. I break it down into 2 nights. I'll do the front lawn one night, the back lawn another. It helps to break it down, and as long as I time it right (and don't leave, you know, days and days between the 2 halves) then it actually works out really well.
So I mowed the front lawn 2 nights ago. It wasn't too long so I was able to mulch it, which was nice. But I choose the front lawn that night because the back lawn was already longer, and mulching couldn't happen. And it was a day I took a PTO day to spend with the kids, to take them to meet their new teachers, and I ended up feeling like crap. Dizzy, headachy, stuffy, sinusy, etc. And the kids were HORRIBLE. ALL DAY.
So I picked the easy way, and did the front lawn, and didn't bag it but mulched instead.
So tonight I had to do the back lawn before you know, the neighbors or the city called to see if we were still alive. Cause it was long people.
But the backyard always needs cleaned up first, you know, chairs, the kids pool, toys, and all that fun stuff. and the pool needed emptied of course, which I can't just dump it, I feel like I need to use the water to water the gardens, so as not to waste that precious resource. (timing here is interesting, as T town (my hometown) just had some severe water issues recently with some pretty serious toxins in the water supply. Like they couldn't even boil it. Fun times).
So I take care of cleaning up and get to mowing. As I'm working, I'm writing this post in my head, enjoying myself even though I was SO ready to be chilling watching TV.
And the mower starts putting and coughing halfway through. And I'm begging and pleading like the dang thing is one of my kids, NOT to run out of gas.
And like our kids so often do, it ignores me.
It puts it's way right to not moving anymore.
And in my non gender role gender moment, I had to call K and explain that like another child, it didn't listen and ran out of gas.
And I had NO idea where the gas was. In fact, I was just HOPING that there was more gas, as I was looking at half mowed, half long hair looking back at me. And silently I hung my head while laughing at myself that as I was writing this post in my head about gender roles, I had to call K to tell me where the gas was. Gotta love moments like those.
Needless to say, by the time everything was done, I finished the last bit of mowing without really being able to see what I was doing, and where I was needing to go.
Always love moments like these :-)
It's nothing we ever really thought about, or talked about, it just is who we are and always have been.
K loves to cook and clean. Maybe even a little more than I do. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy both as well. Let's be honest, if I didn't, then we'd eventually starve while he is gone (or be really fat from eating lots of fast food) and my house would be condemned because it would be so gross. (don't worry, it's not :-))
I enjoy mowing the lawn, doing 'work' around the house. I've done lots of tiling job, some plumbing, lots of painting, I've helped to lay lots of pergo type flooring, etc etc. I really really enjoy it actually. Put it this way, I was the one who tiled part of my parents house by myself (a small part, but whatever) when I was around 6 or 7 months pregnant with Goose.
And I'd bet that the majority of pilots wives are similar, after all, we have to deal with all the crap while our pilots are away.
So anyways.
One of the difficulties of being a pilots wife is sometimes fitting all that crap in. Especially with 2 kids. It's really exhausting sometimes, and sometimes I really don't want to do it, and put something off as long as possible.
So we've actually had a lot going on recently. My best friends wedding, then her reception 3 weeks later back home in T town. My friend's angel babies 4 birthday party. Finding a new daycare, preparing to move the kids to said new daycare. Lot's of craziness going on at work.
So, mowing the lawn. I actually enjoy doing it. But I'd enjoy it even more if I could be like 'hey K, I'm gonna go mow the lawn, so have fun playing with the kids while I do so.' But that's not the reality. I'm mowing because he's gone. So I'm doing it in the evenings, after the kids are in bed, after the dinner dishes are cleaned up, and before I shower and do whatever else needs done.
Yeah. That kinda sucks sometimes.
I've figured out how to make it work for me though. I break it down into 2 nights. I'll do the front lawn one night, the back lawn another. It helps to break it down, and as long as I time it right (and don't leave, you know, days and days between the 2 halves) then it actually works out really well.
So I mowed the front lawn 2 nights ago. It wasn't too long so I was able to mulch it, which was nice. But I choose the front lawn that night because the back lawn was already longer, and mulching couldn't happen. And it was a day I took a PTO day to spend with the kids, to take them to meet their new teachers, and I ended up feeling like crap. Dizzy, headachy, stuffy, sinusy, etc. And the kids were HORRIBLE. ALL DAY.
So I picked the easy way, and did the front lawn, and didn't bag it but mulched instead.
So tonight I had to do the back lawn before you know, the neighbors or the city called to see if we were still alive. Cause it was long people.
But the backyard always needs cleaned up first, you know, chairs, the kids pool, toys, and all that fun stuff. and the pool needed emptied of course, which I can't just dump it, I feel like I need to use the water to water the gardens, so as not to waste that precious resource. (timing here is interesting, as T town (my hometown) just had some severe water issues recently with some pretty serious toxins in the water supply. Like they couldn't even boil it. Fun times).
So I take care of cleaning up and get to mowing. As I'm working, I'm writing this post in my head, enjoying myself even though I was SO ready to be chilling watching TV.
And the mower starts putting and coughing halfway through. And I'm begging and pleading like the dang thing is one of my kids, NOT to run out of gas.
And like our kids so often do, it ignores me.
It puts it's way right to not moving anymore.
And in my non gender role gender moment, I had to call K and explain that like another child, it didn't listen and ran out of gas.
And I had NO idea where the gas was. In fact, I was just HOPING that there was more gas, as I was looking at half mowed, half long hair looking back at me. And silently I hung my head while laughing at myself that as I was writing this post in my head about gender roles, I had to call K to tell me where the gas was. Gotta love moments like those.
Needless to say, by the time everything was done, I finished the last bit of mowing without really being able to see what I was doing, and where I was needing to go.
Always love moments like these :-)
Saturday, August 9, 2014
The Pilot Changes
So K was working for a local regional carrier.
And the mainline that that regional carrier did their thing for, well, they closed their hub here.
So the regional carrier ended up losing flights in the mix.
So K went from being domiciled here, to being domiciled in Washington DC.
And he still had lower seniority, so he was only getting a couple of nights worth of hotel room paid for. And crappy (non) routes as he was getting put on reserve.
So that meant no per diem. And we had to cover his crash pad.
Seriously people, we were paying for him to work.
It was getting more and more stressful.
So, he went looking. Well, not really, but he talked to someone that he knows that works at DPJ, and she talked to the Chief Pilot for him.
Interview happened. Job offer happened.
So, he took it. Got a raise, became home based. He's no longer nervous about being 'stuck' in this type of job, he thinks he can still move up to a mainline.
He'll have an 8 day work schedule. Tuesday to Tuesday. Consistent, which is NICE in this industry. I know there will be trips that last longer, and the yearly training will be in his off time, but who cares. I'll take it.
I told him it didn't matter to me, as long as it didn't harm our family and it made him happy.
So he's currently almost through his 3 week training.
Since I start back to school soon, I'm curious to see how he handles both kids, daycare pick up, dinner, and bed time, when he is home. It'll be interesting as he's never really had to do it before with both of them. My mom is going to watch them when he's working on my class days.
I am SO ready for him to be home. Some days have been easy and others tough. That's how it goes and I'm OK with that.
But I miss the man. Oh do I miss him.
I can't wait for his return!!
And the mainline that that regional carrier did their thing for, well, they closed their hub here.
So the regional carrier ended up losing flights in the mix.
So K went from being domiciled here, to being domiciled in Washington DC.
And he still had lower seniority, so he was only getting a couple of nights worth of hotel room paid for. And crappy (non) routes as he was getting put on reserve.
So that meant no per diem. And we had to cover his crash pad.
Seriously people, we were paying for him to work.
It was getting more and more stressful.
So, he went looking. Well, not really, but he talked to someone that he knows that works at DPJ, and she talked to the Chief Pilot for him.
Interview happened. Job offer happened.
So, he took it. Got a raise, became home based. He's no longer nervous about being 'stuck' in this type of job, he thinks he can still move up to a mainline.
He'll have an 8 day work schedule. Tuesday to Tuesday. Consistent, which is NICE in this industry. I know there will be trips that last longer, and the yearly training will be in his off time, but who cares. I'll take it.
I told him it didn't matter to me, as long as it didn't harm our family and it made him happy.
So he's currently almost through his 3 week training.
Since I start back to school soon, I'm curious to see how he handles both kids, daycare pick up, dinner, and bed time, when he is home. It'll be interesting as he's never really had to do it before with both of them. My mom is going to watch them when he's working on my class days.
I am SO ready for him to be home. Some days have been easy and others tough. That's how it goes and I'm OK with that.
But I miss the man. Oh do I miss him.
I can't wait for his return!!
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
It's about time....
So, part of the reason I haven't posted much in recent months (well, other than the obvious 2 kids and part time single mom status) is because I didn't have a working computer. Our desktop took a crap a while back, and our laptop finally stopped allowing blogger to work correctly.
Then my work stopped letting me post.
So I was trying to post from my phone, or K's IPAD, or my nook... all of the above were a pain in the butt to post from, and left all my posts in a freaking mass with no separation or anything.
It was annoying.
So. I got a new computer today! I get to actually post again!
You know, when I have time. Between the 2 kids, and part time single mom status.
Oh yeah, and school. Because after 8 years I finally took the leap, and I start back for my MBA in about 3 weeks.
And holy crap, I'm scared. I mean, I'm excited too, but I'm scared. It's been a while since I've done the school thing, and doing it with all the above mentioned items as part of the mix, well, I'm nervous.
But it's OK, I'm gonna make it happen.
So deep breathing, and here's to moving on with good things in my life.
Then my work stopped letting me post.
So I was trying to post from my phone, or K's IPAD, or my nook... all of the above were a pain in the butt to post from, and left all my posts in a freaking mass with no separation or anything.
It was annoying.
So. I got a new computer today! I get to actually post again!
You know, when I have time. Between the 2 kids, and part time single mom status.
Oh yeah, and school. Because after 8 years I finally took the leap, and I start back for my MBA in about 3 weeks.
And holy crap, I'm scared. I mean, I'm excited too, but I'm scared. It's been a while since I've done the school thing, and doing it with all the above mentioned items as part of the mix, well, I'm nervous.
But it's OK, I'm gonna make it happen.
So deep breathing, and here's to moving on with good things in my life.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Speech Delay
My bug is getting so big.
Where has the time gone? Where has it disappeared to?
And why don’t I feel like I know my little girl as good as I should? Why do I look at her and think to myself that there’s so much in her life that I don’t know, that she can’t communicate to me.
There’s so much to HER and WHO she is that she can’t share with me. It’s so hard to see other kids her age that will ask me ‘why doesn’t she talk.’ It’s heartbreaking. It’s made more heartbreaking as they go on to have ENTIRE conversations with me. Or another kid. Or a teacher, or another parent.
When I know I’m lucky if I get a few words strung together to make a pseudo sentence. It makes me worry for her.
I don’t want her to be an outcast, left to the sidelines by her inability to communicate. I don’t want her to burrow into her own little shell and give up. I look at her every day and realize how much she has grown, not physically (although she has!) but in the person that she is. In her verbal skills. She has SO MANY words today compared to a year ago. She TRIES so much more than she ever did.
But so much of it is difficult to understand to an outsider. So much of it isn’t clear enough that sometimes WE can’t figure it out. When we are out and about people love to say ‘hi’ to her. She’s a cute kid, and it seems like people love to try to talk to her. She typically looks at them and doesn’t say a word. Sometimes she’ll hide behind me, so sometimes people take it as shyness, the whole ‘don’t talk to strangers’ thing.
Other times not so much.
People will ask how old she is, and when I tell them ‘almost 4’ I get the look. The look like I’m somehow not doing enough to get her to talk. Even with prompting.
It’s even worse if they can see she’s wearing a diaper. Heaven forbid, WHY isn’t your 4 year old POTTY TRAINED!? I swear I can hear their internal dialogue.
‘You’re not doing enough.’
‘What kind of parent are you?’
‘You obviously haven’t tried everything in the book.
‘Just let her run around naked.’
Or ‘just put her in underwear’ or ‘put a pull up on over the underwear’
Like I haven’t tried everything. Like I haven’t attempted. Like I haven’t begged and pleaded and cried and thrown my own adult sized tantrum in hopes that she’ll Just. Do. It. But she won’t do it for me. I know that. She’ll do it in her own time, I just don’t know when that time is.
I read with her and try so hard to get her to repeat after me. Sometimes she will. Others not so much.
I’ve tried bribing her to potty with Everything. Under. The. Sun. Seriously people, I TRY. But she has to want it too. She rolled late. She sat up late. She walked late. But she’s smart as a whip. I can see that. And to all those people that always said ‘she’ll talk in her own time and then you’ll wish she’d just stop.’ You know, the old adage of ‘we teach them to walk and talk so that we can spend the rest of their lives telling them to sit down and shut up.’
I hate that. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Do you know how badly I want to hear her voice say an ungarbled, fully understandable sentence? Do you know how badly I want to hear her tell me about her day? Do you know how badly I want to hear her ask the WHY questions over and over and over again until I want to rip my hair out??
Because that would mean my baby girl is communicating to me. That would mean I have a chance to get to know her and what her interests are, what she spends her day doing at daycare/preschool, who her favorite friend is and more importantly WHY that is. I don’t want to have to drag out of her that ‘yes’ she colored or ‘no’ she did not.
I want to know her sense of humor. Because I know it’s there, but I don’t get to hear it.
I want to know WHY she doesn’t want to take a bath tonight.
I want to know what makes her love ‘monkey’ so much.
I want to know what SHE wants for dinner tonight. Or lunch tomorrow. Or what kind of ice cream she wants at the ice cream shop. I want to hear her ask me why the sky is blue and the grass is green, and so many other things that I may or may not know the answer too.
I want to know my little girl more than I feel I do now.
And that feeling, that feeling of not knowing your 4 year old, is soul crushing and heart wrenching.
Update: I actually wrote this post almost a month ago, and felt it deserved to be published. The only change I made was the very first line where I originally said she was 'almost 4' so as not to confuse people after her birthday post. I felt it was important to post, but also to give a quick update. Bug has been wearing big girl underwear during the day for almost an entire week now. She still has accidents, but SHE wants to wear them, and has started to have near meltdowns when I try to put her in underwear. So I'm hoping that she's finally making the decision that she is ready, that it is time. She's going potty on the potty with no prompting at times and only a little prompting at others. We are changing daycare centers next week (hope to write about that later), and I'm hoping, hoping, hoping that we don't revert back to 'baby diapers' due to that change. I don't care that I'm doing a lot of extra laundry - anything to help get this girl in underwear full time :-)
Where has the time gone? Where has it disappeared to?
And why don’t I feel like I know my little girl as good as I should? Why do I look at her and think to myself that there’s so much in her life that I don’t know, that she can’t communicate to me.
There’s so much to HER and WHO she is that she can’t share with me. It’s so hard to see other kids her age that will ask me ‘why doesn’t she talk.’ It’s heartbreaking. It’s made more heartbreaking as they go on to have ENTIRE conversations with me. Or another kid. Or a teacher, or another parent.
When I know I’m lucky if I get a few words strung together to make a pseudo sentence. It makes me worry for her.
I don’t want her to be an outcast, left to the sidelines by her inability to communicate. I don’t want her to burrow into her own little shell and give up. I look at her every day and realize how much she has grown, not physically (although she has!) but in the person that she is. In her verbal skills. She has SO MANY words today compared to a year ago. She TRIES so much more than she ever did.
But so much of it is difficult to understand to an outsider. So much of it isn’t clear enough that sometimes WE can’t figure it out. When we are out and about people love to say ‘hi’ to her. She’s a cute kid, and it seems like people love to try to talk to her. She typically looks at them and doesn’t say a word. Sometimes she’ll hide behind me, so sometimes people take it as shyness, the whole ‘don’t talk to strangers’ thing.
Other times not so much.
People will ask how old she is, and when I tell them ‘almost 4’ I get the look. The look like I’m somehow not doing enough to get her to talk. Even with prompting.
It’s even worse if they can see she’s wearing a diaper. Heaven forbid, WHY isn’t your 4 year old POTTY TRAINED!? I swear I can hear their internal dialogue.
‘You’re not doing enough.’
‘What kind of parent are you?’
‘You obviously haven’t tried everything in the book.
‘Just let her run around naked.’
Or ‘just put her in underwear’ or ‘put a pull up on over the underwear’
Like I haven’t tried everything. Like I haven’t attempted. Like I haven’t begged and pleaded and cried and thrown my own adult sized tantrum in hopes that she’ll Just. Do. It. But she won’t do it for me. I know that. She’ll do it in her own time, I just don’t know when that time is.
I read with her and try so hard to get her to repeat after me. Sometimes she will. Others not so much.
I’ve tried bribing her to potty with Everything. Under. The. Sun. Seriously people, I TRY. But she has to want it too. She rolled late. She sat up late. She walked late. But she’s smart as a whip. I can see that. And to all those people that always said ‘she’ll talk in her own time and then you’ll wish she’d just stop.’ You know, the old adage of ‘we teach them to walk and talk so that we can spend the rest of their lives telling them to sit down and shut up.’
I hate that. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Do you know how badly I want to hear her voice say an ungarbled, fully understandable sentence? Do you know how badly I want to hear her tell me about her day? Do you know how badly I want to hear her ask the WHY questions over and over and over again until I want to rip my hair out??
Because that would mean my baby girl is communicating to me. That would mean I have a chance to get to know her and what her interests are, what she spends her day doing at daycare/preschool, who her favorite friend is and more importantly WHY that is. I don’t want to have to drag out of her that ‘yes’ she colored or ‘no’ she did not.
I want to know her sense of humor. Because I know it’s there, but I don’t get to hear it.
I want to know WHY she doesn’t want to take a bath tonight.
I want to know what makes her love ‘monkey’ so much.
I want to know what SHE wants for dinner tonight. Or lunch tomorrow. Or what kind of ice cream she wants at the ice cream shop. I want to hear her ask me why the sky is blue and the grass is green, and so many other things that I may or may not know the answer too.
I want to know my little girl more than I feel I do now.
And that feeling, that feeling of not knowing your 4 year old, is soul crushing and heart wrenching.
Update: I actually wrote this post almost a month ago, and felt it deserved to be published. The only change I made was the very first line where I originally said she was 'almost 4' so as not to confuse people after her birthday post. I felt it was important to post, but also to give a quick update. Bug has been wearing big girl underwear during the day for almost an entire week now. She still has accidents, but SHE wants to wear them, and has started to have near meltdowns when I try to put her in underwear. So I'm hoping that she's finally making the decision that she is ready, that it is time. She's going potty on the potty with no prompting at times and only a little prompting at others. We are changing daycare centers next week (hope to write about that later), and I'm hoping, hoping, hoping that we don't revert back to 'baby diapers' due to that change. I don't care that I'm doing a lot of extra laundry - anything to help get this girl in underwear full time :-)
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Bug
My dear Bug.
Today, July 25, is a great day.
It’s an amazing day in your life.
It’s another milestone that makes me smile at the same time that it makes me cry.
Today, you turn 4. 4! Where has the time gone?
During those 4 years you have left me sleepless and happy, amazed and sad. Frustrated and excited, proud and exasperated. Loved and hated, speechless and crazy. A range of emotions that I never knew I could feel, especially such drastic and different emotions at the Exact. Same. time.
Every day you introduce me to you. To the you that you continue to unlock. To the you that you determinedly show me. To the YOU that you are deciding to be. To the YOU that you were meant to be.
My bug, you are stubborn. Oh you are so so stubborn. You are lively and funny. You have an amazing sense of humor and you LOVE to laugh. And that laugh, oh that laugh. It’s contagious. When I hear it I can’t help but to want more. To try to do anything in my power to coax it out of you. And you think you’re hilarious. You love to joke and be silly, to be tickled and swung around.
My bug, you are sweet. A cuddler at heart. The way you’ll grab me and give me hugs and kisses makes me laugh. Especially when the kisses are so random and in random places. Like my arm. Or my leg, or my tummy, and yes, sometimes even my butt. The way you love to sit on anyone’s lap that will let you (unless it’s a stranger).
My bug, you love to dance and jump in puddles. You love to play with cars and trucks. You think it’s hilarious to get dirty while you eat.
My bug, you are a perfectionist. If you can’t do something, you get SO SO frustrated.
My bug, you are not potty trained quite yet. You’re getting close, and have been wearing big girl underwear all week to daycare, accidents and all. You are speech delayed and that causes frustration with everyone. But these 2 things don’t define you, they make you YOU and are a part of who you are, and that YOU is beautiful and loving and so so perfect to me.
My bug, you hate to be called a baby. That’s been hard for me as I so want to call you my baby girl. But you’re insistent that you’re a BIG GIRL.
My bug, you love to act like a kitty cat. You chase me around on all fours meowing.
My bug, you love your mommy and daddy and nana, your papa and bubba. Even when you’re mad and say you don’t.
My bug, you are my everything. My sweetheart, my beautiful girl in heart and soul. You are everything I wished for and so much more than I ever expected. You are the true light of my life, some days the only thing that keeps me going.
My bug, you have taught me so much more than I ever expected when you first graced this world at a tiny 7 pounds, 2 ounces.
You have taught me patience.
You have taught me how to be a mom, how to love like I’ve never loved before, how to keep going even when the days are tough and I just want to lie down and do nothing.
You’ve taught me that personality and heart is what defines a person, even at this tender age, not those things that you have or have not done ‘on time.’
You have taught me how important it is to fight for what YOU need, and you have taught me how to push even when I’m afraid to do so, to ensure that you get just that.
You have taught me what it means to carefully care for the seed you’ve planted.
You have taught me how to love myself because the way I love ME is a direct reflection of how you will love YOU as you get older.
You have taught me to love my body, flaws and all, because the way I love my body is a direct reflection of how you will love your body when you get older – flaws and all.
You have taught me the meaning of Love. I thought I knew love before you. And I did, but not fully. Now I do, and every second, every minute, every day, week, month and year I learn more about love, and the highs and lows that is love, and I love more and more than I ever thought possible.
You have taught me patience.
You have taught me how to better interact with people, how important it is to keep judgment out of my voice, body language and speech. How to see the person through a child’s eyes, and not the mistakes I perceive they have made.
You have taught me about the beauty of a childlike innocence. That saying ‘apple juice helps me poop’ is a completely natural thing to say, no matter where you are.
You have taught me that my relationship with your daddy is of utmost importance. And that even when he’s gone and life as a part time single mommy of 2 kids gets in the way, that it is important that I ensure that our connection and communication is there and kept strong.
You have taught me patience.
And you have taught me Love.
Today, July 25, is a great day.
It’s an amazing day in your life.
It’s another milestone that makes me smile at the same time that it makes me cry.
Today, you turn 4. 4! Where has the time gone?
During those 4 years you have left me sleepless and happy, amazed and sad. Frustrated and excited, proud and exasperated. Loved and hated, speechless and crazy. A range of emotions that I never knew I could feel, especially such drastic and different emotions at the Exact. Same. time.
Every day you introduce me to you. To the you that you continue to unlock. To the you that you determinedly show me. To the YOU that you are deciding to be. To the YOU that you were meant to be.
My bug, you are stubborn. Oh you are so so stubborn. You are lively and funny. You have an amazing sense of humor and you LOVE to laugh. And that laugh, oh that laugh. It’s contagious. When I hear it I can’t help but to want more. To try to do anything in my power to coax it out of you. And you think you’re hilarious. You love to joke and be silly, to be tickled and swung around.
My bug, you are sweet. A cuddler at heart. The way you’ll grab me and give me hugs and kisses makes me laugh. Especially when the kisses are so random and in random places. Like my arm. Or my leg, or my tummy, and yes, sometimes even my butt. The way you love to sit on anyone’s lap that will let you (unless it’s a stranger).
My bug, you love to dance and jump in puddles. You love to play with cars and trucks. You think it’s hilarious to get dirty while you eat.
My bug, you are a perfectionist. If you can’t do something, you get SO SO frustrated.
My bug, you are not potty trained quite yet. You’re getting close, and have been wearing big girl underwear all week to daycare, accidents and all. You are speech delayed and that causes frustration with everyone. But these 2 things don’t define you, they make you YOU and are a part of who you are, and that YOU is beautiful and loving and so so perfect to me.
My bug, you hate to be called a baby. That’s been hard for me as I so want to call you my baby girl. But you’re insistent that you’re a BIG GIRL.
My bug, you love to act like a kitty cat. You chase me around on all fours meowing.
My bug, you love your mommy and daddy and nana, your papa and bubba. Even when you’re mad and say you don’t.
My bug, you are my everything. My sweetheart, my beautiful girl in heart and soul. You are everything I wished for and so much more than I ever expected. You are the true light of my life, some days the only thing that keeps me going.
My bug, you have taught me so much more than I ever expected when you first graced this world at a tiny 7 pounds, 2 ounces.
You have taught me patience.
You have taught me how to be a mom, how to love like I’ve never loved before, how to keep going even when the days are tough and I just want to lie down and do nothing.
You’ve taught me that personality and heart is what defines a person, even at this tender age, not those things that you have or have not done ‘on time.’
You have taught me how important it is to fight for what YOU need, and you have taught me how to push even when I’m afraid to do so, to ensure that you get just that.
You have taught me what it means to carefully care for the seed you’ve planted.
You have taught me how to love myself because the way I love ME is a direct reflection of how you will love YOU as you get older.
You have taught me to love my body, flaws and all, because the way I love my body is a direct reflection of how you will love your body when you get older – flaws and all.
You have taught me the meaning of Love. I thought I knew love before you. And I did, but not fully. Now I do, and every second, every minute, every day, week, month and year I learn more about love, and the highs and lows that is love, and I love more and more than I ever thought possible.
You have taught me patience.
You have taught me how to better interact with people, how important it is to keep judgment out of my voice, body language and speech. How to see the person through a child’s eyes, and not the mistakes I perceive they have made.
You have taught me about the beauty of a childlike innocence. That saying ‘apple juice helps me poop’ is a completely natural thing to say, no matter where you are.
You have taught me that my relationship with your daddy is of utmost importance. And that even when he’s gone and life as a part time single mommy of 2 kids gets in the way, that it is important that I ensure that our connection and communication is there and kept strong.
You have taught me patience.
And you have taught me Love.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Sweet moments
Now that K is flying, the kids and I are settlinb into a routine. Some days are easier than others, but we are workingit out.
So tonight they were both pretty laid back at bedtime. We got through our routine and I tucked Bug in and went to put goose to bed. Like every night, he was uber excited to nurse. He doesn't nurse often these days, and if it's not sleep time will typically refuse if I offer. But at bedtime he loves it, and tonight was no different. It was incredibly sweet as my typically overactive, never sit still, no cuddle time toddler snuggled into me and happily nursed, sighing with contentment.
Our routine is that after i get goose down, i go in and sing bug one more song. She is so much a daddys girl these days it's unbelievable.
So tonight after i finished our one more song I got up to leave. In her sweet little girl voice she simply said mama, and reached out her hand. She asked me to rub her back and snuggled into me.
I had things to do. Instead I sat and cuddled with my little girl. Because these moments won't last, and my little girl deserves her mama's time. So I hung out while she winded down, holding my hand the whole time.
These sweet moments make my day, mean the world to me.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Extended pumping
I mentioned in a prior post that I’ve been pumping for a while. I pumped for 12 months with Bug, and so far 15 months with Goose.
I had a huge oversupply with Bug, so even though I stopped pumping on her birthday, she continued to get pumped milk in a sippy until she was 24 months old (not for every sippy as she had whole milk too). I actually even still donated a bunch (since we moved 5 ½ hours away after I stopped pumping) as I was nervous the milk wouldn’t make the move.
Either way, in the state we lived when Bug was a baby, they moved to the toddler room in daycare at 12 months-ish (she moved at around 13 months just because she wasn’t ready). And the state disallowed you to bring in your own food/drinks after moving to toddler rooms, so she could no longer have pumped milk at daycare.
Now, in the big OH they move to an ‘infant 2’ room instead of direct to a toddler room. Goose has actually already been in the infant 2 room for a bit since you know, he’s a mover and shaker (did I mention he started walking at 10 months??). Since he’ll be there for a while I’ll be able to continue to give him pumped milk at daycare even after I start mixing in whole milk. I’m excited about that. And that is what will keep me pumping for a few more months instead of weaning from the pump at a year like I did with Bug.
But today I went to pump for the first time at work and realized I’m really sick of pumping. I mean, I love that he gets the good stuff, I love that I am able to share (I’m giving some of the older stuff to a mom that I’ve already donated to at Christmas time – that way I can make sure nothing ages out before he drinks it all, but that’s also why I plan on pumping a little longer), and I love that what I’m doing is so good.
But.
It takes so much time. Right now I'm down to pumping 2 to 3 times a day. It involves getting up early and taking a lot of time out of my day to do it. Plus all the washing of bottles and pump supplies.
I’m over it.
But alas, I will not quit yet. I’ll continue to pump 2 to 3 times a day for a while longer, then cut out another session, do that for a while then cut out another, etc. I'm guessing around 17 months I'll wean completely. But My initial plan was to be weaned from the pump by the time he was 14 months and that didn't happen ha ha. I haven't started him on whole milk yet as daycare continues to give breast milk. I'm not sure when I'll do that. He actually only nurses 1 or 2 times a day during the week, and sometimes 3 or 4 times on the weekends. I just hope he doesn't self wean anytime soon.
I surprise myself that I plan on pumping longer this time around. I haven’t had the insane supply like I did with Bug and I think that’s part of it. So I want to get rid of old stuff so that I know it’ll get used timely, but then it’ll take me longer to build the supply back up. I don’t want to wean from the pump until I have a full deep freeze again.
I will continue to do what I know is best for my little guy. He’s (one of) my rays of sunshine, and he deserves the best.
So the best he shall get.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Don't pump if you have to poop
This really goes for BFing too. And I bet you all know this already. But you get to hear anyways. Because what fun is it if I’m not way oversharing on my little portion of the internet?
So I’ve been pumping for a total of 27 months between 2 kiddos. I have breastfed for a total of 34 months between 2 kiddos. I’ll pump 2 to 3 times a day for another month, and then slowly wean it down, thinking that I’ll wean off the pump in 2 maybe 2 ½ months. I’ll breastfeed until he self weans.
But the point. We all know that BFing, and therefore pumping, causes you to have little contractions. Most of the time I bet most of us don’t even notice them (at least not after the first days/weeks). But it continues to happen.
And for someone who is very, well, regular such as myself, these contractions can be problematic if not timed appropriately. Let’s just say that I do not BF or pump if I gotta go. You know? It’s just safer that way.
So the other day I was getting ready to pump at work for the first time of the day. Which meant 1more time after that. And I thought to myself that I should go to the bathroom first, but well, I was at work, it was the middle of the day and I was busy. I didn’t have to really go, so I thought I was safe.
Suffice it to say that I had to STOP pumping before I was done and walk as quickly as possible to the bathroom. Hoping I wouldn’t get any questioning glances.
Yeah, I won’t make that mistake again!
First world problems :)
Monday, April 14, 2014
Birthday
April 14th.
It's my birthday!
I'm 34 years old today, and life is great. We get possession of our new home in 2 weeks. We get to move from a place we despise to one we love. We get to save some money, cut off commute time, and call a place our own again.
Bug will turn 4 soon, and she's growing up so fast.
Goose amazes me every day as he proves he is so different from his sister.
We've struggled financially recently but I see a light at the end of the tunnel.
I'm going back to school in August. I've put off my masters for years, and now it's time.
We will celebrate our 12th wedding anniversary this year.
And I've been promised a night out at the melting pot for dinner for my birthday. It's all I want.
Life is good.
Friday, April 11, 2014
It really CAN be fun
Goose is a 15 months old now. He hasn’t cut any new teeth in about a month, but has had a cold during that time. So his sleep has been a bit better. Still waking up, but for the most part not a million times a night.
So I’m officially almost 2 years out from the stress of going through our last IVF cycle.
I’m officially 8 years out from when we first started trying to get pregnant. And through the miracles of science (and other stuff) we have our 2 beautiful miracles.
And in the last few months as sleep has gotten better and we’ve all felt more human, I’ve found something that I’ve been missing now for over ½ of my marriage. This is not the fault of people, but rather of circumstances.
Sex. No, Making Love. And as it turns out, it really can be fun.
It can be meaningful, and sexy, and (somewhat) spontaneous. It can be devoid of worry and full of smiles and enjoyment of the moment.
It is, officially, truly and really, no longer baby making sex. No longer ‘we hope it will happen so that we don’t have to do IVF for number 2.’ No longer scheduled out based on when ovulation is happening, JUST IN CASE.
It’s more like when when we first got married. No, we are not in those stages of tearing each other’s clothes off any chance we get (because trust me, with Bug and Goose the opportunities aren’t coming out of our ears), but it’s that ‘whenever we have the chance and one/both of us isn’t so overtired that we wouldn’t enjoy.’
It doesn’t matter if it’s on Sunday, or Tuesday, or Thursday or any day in between. It doesn’t matter if I’m getting ready to ovulate or not. It doesn’t matter if we were getting ready to walk out the door and the kids are behaving and playing in the other room (oops, did I just say that?). It doesn’t matter, well anything. It just DOESN’T MATTER. If the mood strikes we take it and run with it. And it’s FUN. Did you hear that folks? It’s actually FUN!
After 8 long years of turning something fun into not so much fun we have found the fun again. We have found each other again. We are reminded that we are attracted to each other and can have fun with that attraction.
Have I mentioned FUN enough in this post for you? Do you think I may be trying to get a point across?
After we got pregnant with Goose it did get a lot better, but there was still the exhaustion of a non sleeping kid involved, so while it no longer had the same stigma on it, there was still something about it that was different.
That. Is. All. Gone.
It’s FUN, Every. Single. Time.
I enjoy him and he enjoys me.
12 years of marriage. 7 years full of TTC and then 1 year of sleep deprivation after the last kid came. More than ½ of our marriage had this stigma in some way or another.
And I always feared during all those years that we’d never get back to what we had, that we’d never view intimacy the same, that it would never be as wonderful as it was when we were blissfully unaware. I feared we had lost something so magical, and that magic doesn’t just come back into our lives no matter how hard we wish it to – because believe me, during all those stressful, hellish years, I wished for that magic back. And now I know that I was wrong during that time, that I was wrong that the magic would be lost forever.
Because folks, We got it back.
And you know what???
NOW, it's better than EVER!!
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Let kids be kids
OK, I’ll admit it. I’m type A. Like seriously Type A. And I want everything to go my way. And I always want to be in control.
It NEVER works.
Huh.
Dealing with first infertility, and then raising kids (and hey, I’m only 3 ½ years into it!) i have learned that I CANNOT control everything. No matter how hard I try. I’ve struggled with that. More so with Bug as I’ve learned that it won’t work, and I’ve learned to let go of the control and go with the flow. It’s been hard, but I know I’m doing better.
But there are some things that just never even crossed my type A mind.
Bug loves to be a kid. I mean loves it. Who doesn’t at this age, right? If there’s puddles outside, she plays in them. Jumps in them. Runs through them. LOVES them. And you know what? Good for her! I don’t care! In fact, I encourage it! Let’s play in the rain and the puddles, let’s get wet and yes, a little dirty. Let’s have FUN while we allow our children to be KIDS.
After every rain I have to take her soaking wet pants off as soon as we get home. And I don't care. The smile on her face, the rosy glow of her cheeks, it makes it all worth it.
The other week I picked up the kids from daycare. We have had a horrible winter. Lots of snow and cold. We probably had around 15 or so inches of snow just hanging out on the ground. Then we had a random day of mid 30’s temps. Snow melt begin. The next day it hit mid 40’s. Snow melt continue. Then it rained. Like thunder storms along with those mid 40’s.
Yes, gotta love weather.
Needless to say, those 15 inches of snow began to melt, along with the incoming rain.
So when I picked them up there was still snow on the ground. And puddles of water. I put Goose in the car and Bug got herself stuck in a snow drift. She called out to me to help, all the while with a big smile on her face. I just laughed and went back to get her.
On my way to do so I heard the woman in the car one spot away from me (the one in between was open) as she was getting ready to put her second kid in the car. He had been standing on the sidewalk waiting, and as he headed to her he steered very clear of a lake very small puddle. Like really went all the way around it.
His mom proceeded to praise him. “Oh honey, thank you so much for going around that puddle. It makes me so proud that you went around it! I am so so happy that you did so” and went on like this for way too long.
That poor little boy is being robbed.
Robbed of some serious fun that ALL kids should be allowed to have.
Because really, even as an adult, who can say they don’t want to, just once, dance in the rain with the loves of their lives.
That’s our chance to be kids again. Because kids are carefree and like to play in the rain and the water. They like to splash around and giggle. And they SHOULD BE ALLOWED.
Yes, their pants will get wet. Yes they may get a little dirty. We all do laundry, they’ll come clean. Unless they’re white pants. And what are you doing putting a kid in white pants anyways? In the middle of winter?
Please moms and dads, don’t forget how much you loved having fun in the rain as a kid. Please don’t take that away from your babies.
Let your kids be kids while they still have the chance to do so.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
The playground of my youth
As I wrote this post in my,heas I digressed a few times. Yeah, it'll happen when I take pen to paper as well. Well, fingers to keyboard anyways.
I've mentioned my hometown before, but I think I've only referred to it as T town. People from Ohio may know where that is, but for those that don't, it's good old Toledo Ohio.
Yep, remembed the good old John Denver song It's Saturday night in Toledo Ohio? yeah, it's pretty spot on, especially as the years passed and the auto industry killed us.
John Denver was the first concert I went to. I guess I was like 7 or so, and apparently fell asleep. Who falls asleep at a concert? I mean, I know it was John Denver and all, but if he,had,played Grandmas feather bed it SO would have woken,me up, I'm sure of it. (go ahead, youtube the song, it rocked to my little ears)
Anyways.
When I was growing up we had 4 large indoor malls. And restaurants on every corner. Literally. They used to say if a restaurant could make it in Toledo it could make it anywhere. We apparently didn't like to cook for ourselves.
So many years ago the first mall started to die. I remember going there the year I got married because one of the last few stores open was a Fredericks of Hollywood. So that was 12 years ago. Not long after that it closed and became a parking lot for Jeep i believe. That wasn't the mall I spent much time at.
Then Southwyck Mall closed. That was a mall I frequented when I was a little older, late teens to early 20's. It was crazy and a little sad. They,ended up tearing it down because no one would buy it, and it was covered in asbestos.
The third mall was Woodville mall. That was my stomping grounds. I spent quite some time there dating back to my first beauty pageant at 3ish years old.
This mall hung on LONG after it should have closed. They were down to just a handful of stores and an indoor skate park. Part of the reason it hung on was because of the Andersons, go ahead, look it up. It's an amazing store. It's got everything from groceries to toilets to flooring and everything in between. Great wine selection and knowledgeable staff.
So apparently they closed that location. And the mall stopped paying their gas bill because thet couldn't afford it. So the tenants were using space heaters. There were holes in the roof they couldn't afford to fix. Asbestoes everywhere.
So they condemed the place.
Shut it down.
And last month?
They tore it down.
I grew up there. K literally lived a block away, he REALLY grew up there.
It's so sad to see an important piece of your childhood gone. I never thought a mall of all things would fit that bill (I actually didn't love shopping), but it did.
And it's sad.
K just told me this tonight. And it oddly affected me enough that I sat here, with my Kracken and caffeine free diet, and typed this on my cell.
My birthday is in 2 weeks. I'm only going to be 34, but things like this make me feel suddenly old. It's saying goodbye to a large part of my childhood.
And yes, that's very sad.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
I remember
Dear Goose,
When you first came into existence you were an egg in a petri dish that managed to get fertilized. You multiplied in cells along with others to become one of my much loved embryos. You and one sibling grew together to be our strongest hope to give Bug a little brother or sister. There were others, but they were not as strong. So we picked you and one more to transfer back into my waiting body, and hoped that at least one of you would burrow in for a long 40 week stay.
One of you was a mere 8 cells, and one of you was a mere 9 cells. We have pictures of both of you. We will never know which one you were little fighter boy, but to me it doesn’t matter. I’m sad that we lost your sibling in there, but you were strong and you latched on and burrowed in and held on tight. I am so thankful for that my love. I am so glad that in that beginning you knew I was meant to be your mother, K was meant to be your daddy, and YOU were meant to be our Son.
I knew you made it before we had the blood test to prove it. I just knew it, in my gut, in my soul, and in my being. I took that leap against your daddy’s wishes and took a home pregnancy test that minutes later took on a faint second line. I remember that moment so well, I remember the tears that flowed. I remember pouncing on your daddy who was still asleep to tell him the amazing news that he was going to be a daddy again. I remember his sleep hazed shock and overwhelming happiness.
I remember 40 pretty uneventful weeks of pregnancy. I remember agreeing to be induced 1 day after your due date because I couldn’t hardly stand, walk or sit, and I remember a short but powerful labor.
I remember your first scream. Oh man do I remember. You were pink and healthy and screaming, very unhappy to be forced into the cold world around you, out of the warm place you had been so content to try to stay. That first scream lasted a good 20 minutes.
I remember the first time you latched onto my breast. Gratefully sucking away somehow knowing it was your survival. It was an amazing moment, the way you knew exactly what to do, the way it quieted those screams down.
I remember the first time your daddy looked at you. I remember the look of love and pure adoration on his face.
I remember introducing you to your sister for the first time. She was so excited that baby was here, and just wanted to hold you and hug you and kiss you.
I remember bringing you home. Officially, finally making our family of 3 a much wanted family of 4.
I remember the early sleep deprivation. The ease that breastfeeding came to us. The reflux that made me want to cry with you.
I remember how you always want to be held. By me. Except when you didn't.
I remember being peed on when I forgot to make sure your diaper was on, well, correctly.
I remember being so scared when you were a mere month old and your sister had to spend a few days in the hospital. I was so afraid you were going to get sick too. I hated taking time away from you, but needed to spend time with her.
I remember you rolling over. I remember you sitting up unsupported at 5 months. I remember you crawling. I remember that first tooth breaking through at 8 months, and the 5 teeth that followed over the next 3 ½ months. I remember you taking those first awkward steps at 10 months, and then it was off to the races.
I remember the craziness of you being a boy.
I remember pink shorts at a restaurant when I forgot to bring you a change of clothes.
I remember feeding you solids for the first time at 6 months, and how you immediately shoveled food into your own mouth. I love that I’ve never had to feed you, that you’ve been so independent to do it on your own.
I remember the jokes daddy and Nana made about what a mama’s boy you were, and still are.
I remember that when nothing else would sooth you, I always had the power to do so. Sometimes by the breast, sometimes by walking, sometimes by bouncing, and sometimes by simply holding you.
I remember the adoration in your beautiful blue eyes as you looked up at me.
I remember how different you are than your sister. How wonderfully, fiercely YOU you are.
I remember the first time you said mama and dada. I remember when you looked at me and said mama, knowing that was me.
I remember how you’ve adored your sister since day 1. How you want to be just like her, do what she does, play with what she plays with, go where she goes.
And I remember holding your sleeping body in my arms. Heavy with fatigue myself. Marveling at the wonder and miracle that I hold in my hands.
1 year ago today my little Goose. 1 year ago today you came into this world so fast and furious that I knew life would never be the same. All of these little memories will never go away. They may fade with time and life may get in the way, but they will never disappear. Because I will not let them.
Happy Birthday my little Goose, my little boy, my son. I cannot wait to see what memories this next year brings with you. I cannot wait to watch you grow more into the little boy you are meant to be.
I love you Goose, forever and ever.
Love,
Momma
“….I wanted you more than you’ll ever know, so I sent love to follow wherever you go..."
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