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.  

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.

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..."

Black Friday

Before kids I did the black Friday shopping thing.  I don’t know why really, but chances are that when the kids are older I may do it again (except where I can get free shipping by doing online shopping of course).

Instead, today, I work.  Traffic was nonexistent, the parking garage was eerily empty.  But no one is around to keep me from getting stuff done.  It’s really nice.

I don’t typically mention much on this blog about those topics that are in the ‘air’ currently that are controversial.  But for some reason I wanted to talk about Black Friday turning into Black Thursday.

On one hand I’m like ‘whatever’.  It is my understanding that most retailers are not having a hard time finding people to work.  And a large portion of those that work in retail probably need the extra money that they could make on a holiday, so why not?

On the other hand I think it’s crap.  Why make people work on holidays?  I doubt I’d ever shop on Thanksgiving.

Nursing

February 25, 2012.

The first day that I didn’t nurse bug. I wrote a number of posts about weaning her last year (see some here, here and here), and going back and looking at them again brought new tears to my eyes.

I look at my little girl, who now really looks so much like a little girl, and it breaks my heart just a little that we weaned when we did, for the reasons we did. Infertility and wanting another baby.

Some of my worries back then didn’t come true. I was so worried that we’d wean and then never get pregnant and I’d regret it. I don’t regret weaning – because I look at the beautiful face of my smiling little boy and know that HE wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for weaning when we did. That doesn’t mean that the ache doesn’t come back sometimes.

One of my other worries that I don’t believe I really wrote too much about was that I was afraid that my nursing relationship with a new baby wouldn’t be the same.

And it’s not.

Goose isn’t known to comfort nurse in the same way that Bug did. For Bug, I was her EVERYTHING. If anything bothered her she wanted to nurse. If she couldn’t settle down she wanted to nurse. If she was tired, cranky, happy, hurt, sad, ill, she wanted to nurse. She loved our nursing relationship as much as I did. In the long run weaning that last daily session was easier with her than I expected, but she held on to my boobs (literally and figuratively) for months and months afterwards. Even when she went through her distracted stage she was still all about the nursing relationship. It was filled with sweet sweet moments of just her and I, loving each other as a mama and daughter were meant to in the early years.

Goose isn’t like that. He does some level of comfort nursing, but not like she did. I can’t keep him focused sometimes long enough to get a letdown. In the morning he’s become so accustomed to taking a bottle that he isn’t interested in me if I’m around when he gets up during the week (weekends he will eventually nurse). In the deep pit of my stomach I’m so afraid that he’ll self-wean earlier than I want him to. I want so badly for him to nurse until at least 2 because of the bond it creates. Because of the good that I know it does for him. (and the ease and price of it ain’t half bad either!)

He is rougher than she was. Yeah, she got those claws in my skin sometimes, but not bad (or maybe I’m just remembering the good part?). He is so rough and tumble, he will grip both sides of my boob sometimes and squeeze it in his tiny little fists. I’ll come out red and marked up. Sometimes with scratches. But the other night I was nursing him before bed, and I realized in some ways it’s not so different.

The relationship. In many ways it is similar.

I choose to take that step back and really pay attention, recognizing that he has a lot more going on than she did with a toddler running around to keep his attention.

As I felt the weight of him curled up against me, the rest of his hands on me (yes, he was being gentle) the way he eagerly drinks and the way his sweet little eyes went half closed reminded me of all those sweet moments with her. I took the step back and reclaimed the sweet moments with him right then and there. I watched him break away for a moment and take a deep breath, only to go back to nursing. That same soft deep pull of the nipple as he gets one of the best things that I can give him. The way his warm body stayed so close to mine.

And I realized that I very well may be wrong. That this relationship may have a lot more time in it yet. That our sweet moments are still there, hanging in tight, and it makes me glad (with a little sadness around it) that I weaned Bug when I did, so that I could have this relationship with Goose. And I thought that about 4 more times overnight as he woke up (teething) and wanted nothing but mama to nurse him through.

And, nursing Goose has taught me something about nursing Bug. Turns out she had a HORRIBLE latch and that’s why my nipples were always sore (nipple cream was used up until the last day I nursed!). Goose? He may be rough and tumble, but that boy has an AMAZING latch and the girls only get tender when AF is near. Nipple cream? I’m sure I have some in the medicine cabinet… somewhere :-)

Teething

Goose is teething. He is teething, but is a better teether (is that a word?) then Bug was. At least that’s what I keep thinking to myself in my sleep deprived haze that has been building up for the last 10 1/2 months. I know it’s true, he, in general, sleeps better than Bug did. But the weeks leading up to a tooth being cut are tough, and the week before and after are just brutal. I’m in the throes of that time. He just popped through teeth 3 and 4 and is working on 5 and 6. And I’m scared. The other night when he woke up the first time I dealt with something I don’t ever remember dealing with when it came to Bug, and she definitely was cause for severe sleep deprivation for a very long time. First, I didn’t really wake up to his cries. K did. Well, I guess I kinda did. I heard K ask a question about the cries, I think it was something along the lines of who it was that was crying, although I’m not sure. He said this morning that both kids were making noise, but I still don’t remember hearing Bug at all. K doesn’t typically wake up to it in the middle of the night in part because I'm so quick to wake up to him, so that makes me question how long Goose was fussing, and maybe that was why Bug was too – because she kept hearing Goose. In my sleep deprivation haze I couldn’t even function enough to understand that the noise I was hearing were a babies cries, and my husband asking who. He had to ask the question a couple of times while I tried so hard to dig through the haze to understand what was going on. I was confused. I finally got through and was able to advise that it was Goose. K left and went to care for him. What felt like a minute or 2 later (although K said it was 20 or so), K came back in and let me know he thought Goose wanted to nurse. I could hear Goose crying (again I believe?). I was oriented enough to go nurse him. But while I was nursing him I felt myself weaving in and out of confusion, weaving in and out of this haze. The best way I can explain it is to liken it to the stories I hear of people who have been in a coma, and how they explain of this haze, fog, muck all around them that they have to try to dig, crawl, fight through to get to the surface. I know sleep deprivation isn’t a coma, and please understand that I’m not trying to say my situation is anything like a coma. That is simply what it felt like. There was this haze all around me, and I kept feeling so lost and confused as I tried to dig my way through. I’d get through and recognize that I was holding a suckling Goose to my breast, and I’d close my eyes again and sometime later I’d realize I was deep in the fog again. I have no idea how long I sat there. It seemed like a long time. Finally I realized that he wasn’t nursing any more, and I had no idea when he had stopped. He was quiet and asleep in my arms. So I put him back in the crib, to which he woke up to. I stood there patting his bottom until I thought he was good. Then I went back to bed. Shortly after I heard him fussing again, but I didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, and it didn’t last long before he was back asleep. I know he woke up at least one more time, and I know the fog was there but I don’t think it was quite as bad. But I don’t really remember that wake up and nursing session. Maybe I’m getting them confused and that was the second nursing session and the first I remember even less. I really don’t know. The night was a confused hazy blur that honestly freaks me out a little bit. Here’s to hoping for some sleep tonight.

Pilot's Wife?

Yes, I’m still a Pilot’s wife. It’s true, I am :-) We've been both lucky and unlucky since K lost his job 2 years ago as a Flight Engineer on a 727. He didn’t have the hours to get another job for a carrier of any kind. He got his pilot’s license in his 30’s and got the job as an FE because he already worked for the company as an A&P Mechanic and they LOVED him. So he remained unemployed during our move, and then took a few months to spend at home with his little girl, whom he had been gone from 21 days a month for her entire life (sometimes more; during training). So a year and ½ ago he went back to work, but as a flight instructor. Then a year ago he added in some corporate flying on the side, but then that became his ‘main’ job in August of this year. Last summer he was never home. He committed to being home one weekend day and one evening a week this summer, and did that. He just kept chasing the new hour requirements for his ATP. (for those of you non-aviation followers, it’s something required to fly as a Captain/Co-Captain by commercial carriers) It sucked. He kept saying ‘there’s going to be a shortage of pilots and they’ll have to revise the laws’ for months. Then, they FINALLY DID!! He had just barely the right amount of hours for the Revised ATP (R-ATP), and happens to have a degree in aviation from a university that is in the process of getting their approval to be used towards the R-ATP. That is still in process, but in the interim he got hired on by United Express. They are desperate for pilots, so they hired him knowing that they may have to pay him to sit at home until the University’s approval comes through. So a month ago he started training. The first part of training was local, so he was home every night, but laaate every night, and helped get the kids ready for the day in the morning. So they were seeing him for maybe an hour a day during the week (that is rushed of course) and maybe 2 hours on the weekend. Then on Sunday he had to go out to Seattle for his Sim training at Flight Safety. Goose is doing fine with it (10 1/2 months already!!), but Bug, well, she’s not handling it so well. Daycare has mentioned many times over the past 2 weeks that she is sad or emotional during the day. I know it’s because she misses K. She does good most of the time at home with me, and is typically pretty happy, but I know it’s because I’m around. Luckily he got domiciled here at home. Low man on the totem pole we figure he’ll get a lot of 5 day trips in the beginning (that’s their longest stints). I’m good with that, but I’m worried about Bug. For those of you left out there following me that are Pilot wives, any suggestions on helping a 3 ½ year old handling daddy being gone after he WAS home? I feel so bad for her, it’s heartbreaking. And now she wants me more than him, which is sweet for me, but tough on him. We will Skype for sure when we can, but any other thoughts are appreciated. On an awesome note, United Express has flow through to United, which is K’s carrier of choice. So hopefully a handful of years from now he’ll be working for United! AND just because……. I AM SO EXCITED FOR NON REV BENEFITS!!!! (except the first bunch of times I use it will be Kid Free until I am a semi pro at handling it LOL) Any suggestions on non reving? :-)