New mom with teens

A Final Goodbye To The Boob

2013-01-22T16:24:00.000-06:00

For over a year I struggled with the notion of weening my son from breastfeeding. Either I felt I wasn't ready, or he wasn't ready. I seem to think it was more me, than him. As time went on, the harder it was to know how to stop. Seriously. He knew what it was, where it was, how to get it, and he did just that. It didn't matter where I was or what I was doing. If he was tired, hungry, thirsty, or just feeling insecure, down my shirt his hand would go to grab my boob and yank it out. Trust me, I was devestated when he tried doing this in public. And event then, I didn't stop.
On Johnathon's visit to the doctor, I mentioned my "dilemma" and when he responded that he was fine till the age of two, I felt relieved with his support. So many people are so judgmental, especially when you see how big my son is. Remember the Time magazine photo with the toddler standing while nursing? Yes, that could've been my son. But in my defense, I am pretty short.
Just before Thanksgiving, I got a call in for an interview. I am sure you can understand my excitement! No, I didn't get the job. But I did get the job that called after that one! I knew it was time. I just had to do it. Cold turkey. I was prepared for a week of hell.
I have no idea if Johnathon understood a word I was saying as I held him close, crying and muttering something about how much I love him and how I am not neglecting him. He may not have understood the words, but I know he understood the emotion.
I thought I was going to have to leave for a while, or let my husband put him to sleep, or wait until he got his own room. I thought I was going to hear him cry himself to sleep night after night and the household left feeling drained and exhausted from the experience. I thought the bond between us would suffer, that he would hate me for the abandonment. I thought it would happen on its own, as he wanted to stop he would. But none of that was the reality. And in hindsight, it was just perfect.
On November 18th, Johnathon 20 months old, I quit cold turkey. After a heartfelt conversation with my son, we headed off to bed. I worried about confusing him with a nipple, so we also stopped all bottle feeding and was down to sippy cup only. He fussed for a bit and I just held him close, but not up to my chest. I reassured him that it was all ok. I rocked him and loved on him. And he fell asleep. He woke up a time or two in the middle of the night. But I wore a sports bra under a tight shirt so he did not have access to my breasts. He was angry, naturally, but he caught on pretty quick. It took me longer to dry up than it took for Johnathon to stop trying to nurse. He was so great that first night that I wondered if in fact he had been ready this whole time. Maybe he was waiting for me? 24 hours after stopping I was extremely engorged and was in a lot of pain. I wanted to dry up quick so I was nervous about expressing. I did just enough to massage out the ducts to prevent further problems and then tightened up with the sports bra and tight shirts the entire time. On day four I was almost dried up, but it was pretty obvious (and funny) that one boob was favored by the other. I was lopsided. And not by just a little bit. It was put a breast pad on one side, even though I didn't need it noticeable. But by day 7 all was done. All of it. And no one suffered (expect me for a few days. And I can live with that).
I feel elated on my choice to nurse Johnathon. And even more proud that we weened in such a non-threatening way. He no longer takes anything to drink to go to bed. And although sometimes I see a little smirk on his face if he happens to see the boob, he doesn't even try to nurse. In fact, I think it's kind of sweet that he still remembers the time we shared.
Now... it's time to potty train. Oh my!

I'M BAAAAACK!

2013-01-22T15:38:00.004-06:00

I'd like to say that my 365 days to remember ended happily. But in fact, it did not. Don't worry, things got better for me. As I neared the end of my year of blogging my precious memories, I had a friendship that ended abruptly by jealousy. At the time, I was confused at the notion that someone some 20 or more my elder would feel threatened by a friendship her husband had with me. Hell, it could have even been 30 years my elder. I don't know. And I didn't care. I enjoyed his conversation and company, on a strictly platonic level. I never finished my 365 days, falling just a few weeks shy of completion. What a failure. I could lie and say I was sooooo busy. But I was not. Sad, maybe. But not busy. I suppose I lacked motivation. I lost my cheering squad.
My short term friendship led to a new respect and admiration for my elders. As I listened to his worries concerning his health and the feelings he shared and didn't share with his wife, I began to think of others in my life that also may feel this way. Others that just wanted someone to talk to. Someone to listen. (Conversation is so powerful!) My grandmother in particular. Since then, I have enjoyed the friendship we are building, outside of our relationship ties. So, thank you my dear friend. You brought so much perspective to my life.

Three very important events have taken place since I have last shared my thoughts with you. (It's been what, four months or so....) So bear with me as I get back into "blogging mode" with you.

1. A final goodbye to the boob
2. Ho-Ho-Ho and away I go...starting off the new year with a BAGEL
3. What these last two years have taught me: A revelation

Yes, I am here. Still with teens and now a toddler...it's still just as crazy!

Halloween 2013

2013-01-22T15:30:00.001-06:00

I Made My Toddler Sick

2012-10-17T08:55:00.002-05:00

It started out as a runny nose, then a nagging cough. I waited for it to get better, but it just got worse. His fevers were mild, if any, so I waited as long as I could before taking on the expense of the doctor.
The doctor looked him over. "I run the humidifier every night", I explained. But he still has a restless sleep. The doctor prescribed him antibiotics and called it an "upper respiratory infection".
It did get better, but barely. I blamed the changing weather, the day care, and the annoyance of his age where it is unsafe to offer any over-the-counter remedies.
Yet here we are again just shy of a month later, and he is having the exact same symptoms. This time, his symptoms are equally matched with my guilt.
I have been waking up with a headache and sore throat. I cannot grasp how I could run a humidifier but wake up with dry mouth. I am by no means lacking intelligence, but some things I am just not as attentive to as others. My husband snores all night long, often choosing to sleep in the living room for most of the night. Is it the bed? As my husband went to change the water this evening, he saw something terrifying.

I honestly didn't even know it had a filter. Shame on me. It is filled with mold, mildew, and all kinds of nasty. I have been making my toddler sick, I thought over and over. I held him so close, and apologized over and over. How can I fix it?
I wanted to write this blog post to make others aware of this filter and others. This particular item was a gift, so I never looked or put it together myself. For nearly a year I have been running it without changing the filter. I am embarrassed, ashamed, and filled with guilt.

Dirty reservoirs and filters in humidifiers can quickly breed bacteria and mold. Dirty humidifiers can be especially problematic for people with asthma and allergies, but even in healthy people humidifiers have the potential to trigger flu-like symptoms or even lung infections when the contaminated mist or steam is released into the air. Steam vaporizers or evaporators may be less likely to release airborne allergens than may cool-mist humidifiers.

Just like with food borne illnesses the elder, pregnant women, those taking medications, and infants and children are more vulnerable to the effects of mold.
If you believe that you or your children have symptoms that you suspect are caused by exposure to mold, you should see a physician. Keep in mind that many symptoms associated with mold exposure may also be caused by many other illnesses. You should tell your physician about the symptoms and about when, how, and for how long you think you or your children were exposed.

Check all the filters, air ducts, anything in your home that could be exposed to water or steam. It is serious, and I hope I caught it in time before it caused some real damage.
Off to the doctor's....

Day 352: Electoral Debates

2012-10-16T10:17:00.000-05:00

My oldest daughter is enraged. She just registered to vote, but the election will be held just four months shy of her turning 18. It is nice to see her interest in politics and the ability to expand her mind further than the four walls that surround her.
Growing up I paid no attention to politics. Like religion, I knew it was a hush hush topic that you never discussed with a group of strangers. In fact, it wasn't until I was in my early twenties that I realized my family's political standing. Still, it had no influence on me and it wasn't until the 2008 election that I used my rights to vote and headed to the polls for the very first time.
It is a very worrisome time today for many, and this election holds higher importance than I have ever felt in the past. It is this time I feel fortunate to not have the full effect of the cable-ran ads for either candidate that spends more time bashing one other rather than giving voters useful information to base their wise decision on.
My husband and I for the first time have political discussions with our family, teaching our children to have open minds and select the best choice for their family and future family, and not based on whether the candidate is Republican or Democratic.
Much like I was at her age, my youngest daughter shows little interest. But my oldest listens. She follows the debates, and she asks pertinent questions. She may not grasp the full scope of the effects that a presidents has on how we live, but an interest is a start that I will gladly encourage.
I still won't hold open discussions with my friends or extended family concerning my political views. As I scroll through the many political posts on facebook, I wonder why we can't discuss issues rather than demean others for not having the same beliefs.

Day 351: Get With It, Lady!

2012-10-16T09:42:00.000-05:00

Sure some days are better than others. But when I looked through the pictures taken of me getting my daughter ready for Homecoming, I cringed. And then I got scared. They were pretty horrifying. The grey hairs have taken over, the bags under the eyes enlarged, and the pale look of exhaustion plastered upon my face.
In some ways, it is liberating to know I am documenting a historical moment in my family's history. This is, after all a blog that has been written during the economic crisis of the early 2000's. I am curious what the future history books will say about these times, if anything. Will they glaze over it with unimportance, or give it the chapter or two it deserves?

I can't begin to explain the exhaustion that the feeling of despair brings. It is a constant battle to fight depression and put on the happy face for your family and your job. Meanwhile the stress builds as the bills continue to roll in, the income decreases, and the resumes go out unanswered. It takes a strong individual to maintain a positive attitude, let alone hold on to self confidence, self-worth, and dignity. My wall is crumbling. And I feel like I have already been drowning. For months. It is now that I know I have just a few bubbles left in my lungs to exhale.
I am at the mercy of hope. And hair dye. With a box of Ms. Clarol and a stick of eye liner I get to work. "Get with it, Lady!", I say to myself. You have to hang in there. Because the alternative leaves you without what's most important. Your family.

Day 350: Her 1st Homecoming

2012-10-16T09:18:00.000-05:00

My beautiful baby girl had her first Homecoming. Although she didn't make a big deal of it, it was big for me. I helped get her ready and watched as her date arrived and took her to the dance. She is growing up so fast.

Like they all do.

Day 344: Co-Sleeping

2012-10-02T12:21:00.001-05:00

It's a little after 4am, and I am awake due to my son's immediate need for attention at this early hour. Naturally, I am beyond exhausted but relish for a moment in the thought that I am not being jostled out of a deep sleep by the screeching noises from a baby monitor telling me that my child needs me from across the hall. Then, in my half-wakened state to stumble out of bed, crawl out my room and go into his and stay there till he fell back to sleep. Yes, there are some advantages to co-sleeping.

Johnathon is now dreaming. My curiosities around the subject of his dreams is overwhelming.
But my mere curiosity was replaced by shock and confusion when my son had his first nightmare. It happened twice two nights in a row. He woke up suddenly, violently screaming and seemingly half awake. I could not console him. He was trying to get off the bed, rolling and throwing his body out of my arms. I thought he was hurting. A few minutes felt like thirty and all I wanted was to help him. But I couldn't. All I could do was wait till it was over.

It wasn't until I went to work the next day and was discussing it with other moms that I knew what had happened. I am still worried for my little man to have been so scared to wake in such fear and anxiety. Yet somewhat comforted by the fact that despite if he remembers, I was right there.
There are various threads discussing nightmares in toddlers, and night terrors. The vast amount of threads leads me in some comfort that I am not alone in experiencing this. What is he dreaming about? What terrified my little boy? Mommy wants to go beat them up.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, he reaches out for me. I know he is comforted by my presence. I watch as he learns sleeping habits from us; like laying on his side, how he grabs the pillow, or even the way kicks off the blankets like his father. I am there when he goes to sleep and there when he wakes up. I am there when he can't breathe from a stuffy nose, or when a cough leads to gagging. I am there when he has been woken by an upset stomach and quickly pushed him over from even the possibility of him choking on it. I am there to comfort him. I am his security. At least until he can understand.
Naturally, there are also disadvantages. The main one being that I hardly sleep at all. In fact, I wonder if Johnathon would sleep through the night if I wasn't there to nurse him through and act as his security blanket, bottle, and pacifier all wrapped up into one.
Comfort is another element that may be lacking. This cute diagram holds truth;

Although I am not alone in the co-sleeping community, I am more frowned upon than cheered for this decision. And I cannot understand why. I am neither an advocate for or against co-sleeping for others. It is your choice and decision. It baffles me why people get so irate at my personal decision.

Day 345: Mall and Toddler

2012-09-26T02:54:00.001-05:00

Day 345: Mall and Toddler
Homecoming Week is fast approaching. This is the first year that Amanda is interested in her school dances and Lauren was asked (by a senior at another school) to go. Two girls' dances, two weeks apart. A trip to the mall was necessary.
Hindsight, I would have picked another day at another hour. But time was ticking, and I had to pick up their brother prior to our drive out. Although many visits to the mall have been had with him in tow, I knew this one posed many challenges. First and foremost, was the immediate need for dinner.
I packed a quick sandwich with snacks, fruit, and juice. Sure enough, no more than 30 minutes after our arrival, I was digging in my bag for all attempts to occupy him while I generously directed my attention on the seven or more dresses my daughter tried on within the three stores we browsed through. I have to say, despite the fact that I had to leave the store twice because of my son, got the antsy toddler in and out of the stroller numerous times, and ultimately had Lauren take him to burn off energy at the kiddie play area while we completed the look with accessories, I had a great time!
But next time we will pick another day, another time, and leave the toddler at day care.

Day 343: The Almost Moon

2012-09-25T10:45:00.000-05:00

Day 343: The Almost Moon

"I saw myself as if outside my body. I rose from my chair as my mother continued speaking, though I could not hear her anymore. Her hands were waving about her even more wildly, and all I wanted was for it to stop...I wanted her to comfort me. I wanted to scream at her and rake my nails down her face...but in stead she cowered and I screamed...What I did not say was that I did not intend to speak to her again. That in the morning I would wake up and leave the house early so I wouldn't have to see her...I forgot my hatred of my mother and opened to my love. It was, like a playground seesaw, so easy to pitch from one side to the other".

Was it a coincidence that as I read these words written by Alice Sebold, I was experiencing yet another outburst of emotions from my adolescent? I continued to read, hoping she'd shed some light on what she may be feeling. The "seesaw" effect clearly presented in my household each and every day. But our situations differed, and I do hope she doesn't kill me when I'm old and gray. But she may dream about it. Did I? I wonder. I don't think so.
I had my moments of being a teen-age brat. I remember ignoring my mother and the occasional eye-rolling or head popping that drove her in sane. I'd storm off to my room crying after being scolded and released with a month's worth of solitary confinement of the four walls of my bedroom. There were no comforts of the cell phone or internet to fall back on. There was no way to conceal my attempts to do so either. The only computer in the house was in the living room. Internet consisted of only games and chat rooms that I knew anything about. We had Q-link, that later became AOL. It took for-ev-er to get on and it make the horrific sound that could wake up the neighbors when connecting. Oh, how times are different.
I was a bit older than Lauren when my parents divorced. My teen-aged perception of the whole thing must be different than the reality. I know I was confused and angry. Not so much at the divorce itself, but the events that led up to it and that occurred after. Trust me, that's a whole other blog. At times like these, however, I am curious of my actions. I too, cried a lot. I too, felt alone. And how much of these feelings during my own adolescence were caused by the raging hormones and confusion associated with growing pains, and how much of it was the attempts to accept the changes in the world around me.
I thought of all of this as I continued to read, "The Almost Moon" by Alice Sebold. I wondered why a child would be so unsympathetic to her mother's mental illness, and why the author neglected to show the intensity of the "suffering" the main character proclaimed to have had at the cause of her crazy parent. Perhaps the point she was making wasn't about the mother at all, but about the loss of her father.
I tend to imagine myself in some sort of parallel universe with these recent books that I have read. The outstanding effects the father has on these women is consistent. There is no doubt that the pain that I endure from my own child has to do with her pain contributed to him. As a mother, I understand. I ignore and continue on. But as a human, I struggle daily with befriending another human who often expresses her disgust and hatred for me. I am her nemesis, but she is not mine.

Day 341: What He Knows

2012-09-24T09:17:00.001-05:00

Day 341: What He Knows
I read a post the other day from a mother that was eliciting confirmation from other moms that her baby was "on track" with their learning capabilities. She asked how many words children spoke and how many parts of the body the child recognized at the age of 16-18 months. As this is also my child's age, naturally I continued to read. As ladies proudly announced their toddler's accomplishments, I held my tongue. Later, I asked my husband if he thought we were not actively teaching our son as we should. He chuckled at my notion of thinking my son is anything but smart. He looked at me in a sweet but almost condescending way, and responded that I, of all people, should know that children learn in different ways and at different times. I did, of course, know this. And over the course of the following days that followed, I started to see exactly what he meant.
Johnathon babbles to himself a lot. I can catch a few words here and there, but mostly, I believe, he is working it out for himself. More important than his speech, is what he does. Johnathon is very observant. He wants to learn "tasks", and does. At the age of 18 months, he knows how to open the refrigerator, open the back sliding glass door, and how to spray hairspray (or perfume). He has watched us intently in our routines and knows which button turns on the keyboard in our bedroom, and which button turns off and on the TV. He knows how to open and shut the dishwasher, as well as how to turn it on and off. He is very close to turning the door knobs (if he was just a tad bit taller he could), and how to put on his shoes. He gets on and off the recliner and bed by himself, and has just recently learned how to take his diaper off (not so "yay" on that one). I'm sure there's more.
He plays with toys, he colors, he loves to play out doors. I have nothing to worry about. Having a boy is so much fun, but so new to me. I was never so competitive with my girls. I just let them be. And this is exactly how I should be with my son.

Day 340: My Playlist

2012-09-24T08:54:00.002-05:00

Day 340: My Playlist

Tonight, as I get the baby to settle down for the night, I shuffle through my iPod to find "soothing" songs. It has been quite some time since I used my iPod for music. A while back, upset that I couldn't take a lot of pictures due to such limited space, I asked my husband to go through the 300+ songs that I had on it and cut some to make room. I hadn't really looked to see what he kept and what he didn't. Until tonight.
I came across a song I played for Johnathon three times in a row, the Muppets, "I'm going to go back there someday". How could I resist. I wonder as a child how many times I fell asleep to Kermit the frog and his friends? Did my husband purposely leave it there, knowing it's sentiment?
I go way back to my earliest memories with The Muppets. We lived in a double-wide trailer on top of a steep mountain in West Virginia. The mountain top held three houses including ours, each about a little less than a block away from another. At least, that's how I remember it. We had land for miles, it seemed, and we would often go play in the woods as children did without fear in my youth. I remember my dad the most when hearing these songs played on my iPod. I also have "Lydia the Tatto Lady". I found it a year or two ago and was delighted that I could preserve that memory forever with it. My dad would sing it to me, tickling me as they came to "Up the Hill with Andrew Jackson". Not realizing what the song was actually about, I thought maybe Kermit really knew who I was, and was singing to me. I often wondered why my parents never called me by my first name, Lydia. It is so beautiful. And other than when my dad sang this song to me, or when I was in big trouble and they used my entire name to get my attention, I never heard it spoken from them.
The Muppet Show (and the movies) was something I looked forward to. One day I will own the collection, just to see how many I can actually remember. Or more importantly, how many memories they may bring forth. "Pigs...In...Space...", my dad would say with Jerry Nelson, the announcer. No doubt he liked the sketch since it was created as a parody of "Star Trek, Lost In Space". He liked to share his affection for these things with me. I still get chills when I think of the worm-like creatures in "Wrath of Kon" when they are placed in their ears to get them to talk. I think I was secretly angry at my dad for letting me watch that, and the nightmares I had after. But I digress.

I shared this song with my son tonight and he listened, seeming to like the sound of Gonzo's voice as I did once. And still do. I played a few other songs, but came back to this one. "I'm going to go back there someday". Will I ever go back? Probably not. But this song will always lead me back there. They were simpler times. I was young, pre-kindergarten age and as I remember, I was happy.

I'm Going To Go Back There Someday Performed by Gonzo in The Muppet Movie
This looks familiar, vaguely familiar,
Almost unreal, yet, it's too soon to feel yet.
Close to my soul, and yet so far away.
I'm going to go back there someday.

Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls.
Is that a song there, and do I belong there?
I've never been there, but I know the way.
I'm going to go back there someday.

Come and go with me, it's more fun to share,
We'll both be completely at home in midair.
We're flyin', not walkin', on featherless wings.
We can hold onto love like invisible strings.

There's not a word yet for old friends who've just met.
Part heaven, part space, or have I found my place?
You can just visit, but I plan to stay.
I'm going to go back there someday.
I'm going to go back there someday.

Day 338: It's Nap Time

2012-09-16T12:09:00.000-05:00

Day 338: It's Nap Time
I seem to see a pattern emerging from mothers in my mommy groups concerning their pride and sometimes annoyance with being the only one in the household that "does it right" with their baby. don't get me wrong, plenty of times I have heard my husband shriek then scowl at me when I neglect to notice that Johnathon has a pen in his hand. We have already concluded in previous blogs that it is my husband that is generally more fearful of the accidents and boo-boos, and I tend to be the more nurturing and concerned with his development. So naturally, when I see a pen in his hand I think, "please don't mark up the couch. Here's a piece if paper". While my husband thinks, "he's going to fall and poke his eye out".
Johnathon has been going to daycare now for about two months. For the most part this has blessed us with an informal routine. A routine that I am very familiar with. So when I received a text at work stating, "he won't take a nap. Should I feed him lunch" at 2pm, I immediately freaked. By 2pm, he should be waking up from his nap! Aye aye aye! Men!
Finally, at 18 mo., he has structure. He gets up between 7-8am, and immediately has breakfast after brushing his teeth. He's at daycare by 9:30am and they have lunch around 11am, followed by nap time. He's up by 2pm and I get him by 4:30pm. Dinner by 6pm and in bed between 9-10pm. Bath times vary. Pretty straight forward.
Once I left work, I was told he was finally asleep. I was anxious to catch this nap due to the last few days of little to no sleep. My head felt like it was going to explode and so did my face. I can barely keep my eyes open they hurt so bad. A couple aspirin and an hour nap later and I felt pretty good.
During our dinner conversation, I learned that Johnathon is now taking on another one of my traits. When he's tired, he wants to go to bed! Yay!
My husband didn't know what Johnathon was doing. Usually when he turns the TV off, it means that he doesn't like that show. But this is Phineas and Ferb! His favorite show, ever! So my husband turns it back on. Johnathon turns it off. So he changes the show. Johnathon humors him, but eventually gets up and turns it off again. My husband picks him up and walks into the kitchen to discover he is already asleep.

Last night I sat in the floor to play with the baby. We played, cars, blocks, puzzles, and pretend wrestling. I admit I'm not the best at this "boy entertainment", but at least I'm trying. Later, as we were watching "Super 8", he comes tugging at me, taking my hand. I allow him to guide me to see what he wants. He takes me back over to the play area and proceeds to "attack" me. He wanted to play.
Just a moment ago, he turned off the TV again, grabbed my hand and led me into the bedroom. He turned on the humidifier and crawled up on the bed. It's nap time. Right in schedule.
It is really fascinating to watch him learn to communicate what he wants. He's growing up so fast and I'm learning first hand the power of consistency. I'm loving it!

Day 337: Yes, We Are Still Nursing

2012-09-14T09:41:00.001-05:00

Day 337: Yes, We Are Still Nursing
Johnathon hasn't felt very well. After his mild congestion turned into fevers that turned in a nasty cough, I took him to the doctor. He has an upper respiratory infection and is on his first batch of antibiotics. I'm actually quite surprised he made it this long without needing them. As I sat in the sick waiting area, I realized it was the first time I had been in that room. He's a pretty healthy child.
At times I feel completely drained and sickly. Maybe not sickly.. unhealthy. As if my son takes everything from me. No doubt he has taken every bit of energy from me as he nurses still throughout the night. But when he doesn't feel good, this intensifies throughout the entire day. I become the replacement for the food he cannot consume otherwise. I am nourishment plus comfort.
I am an advocate for breastfeeding. I feel that if you can, then you should. But to each their own and I do not look poorly on those that choose not to. I am extremely proud of what I have accomplished with my son and the duration of our connection. However... To my family and my peers, I am shy concerning the topic, I must appear to be a freak in their eyes. Especially since my son, a toddler, is already half my size. I give up trying to convince myself that I am going to wean. And during these times when he is not feeling well, I feel lucky to have the ability to continue to offer him the best of me.
I took a moment to review my blog by searching "weaning". I giggled out loud as I read on October 29, 2011 that I was trying to wean after I had returned for work five months prior. October 29th. That date is closely approaching, a year later and I am still "gradually weaning" Ha ha. On November 3rd, 2011, I introduced Johnathon to the sippy cup and hoped to remove the bottles and nursing at bedtime. That didn't happen either. Other mentions of weaning on February 10, 2012, March 20, 2012, and April 17, 2012. Too funny.
I am proud to be a part of a mommy group that supports toddler nursing. "Way To Go!" and other cheers of encouragement make me feel like I am not so much a freak after all. They understand. My advice to other mothers that wish to shout out loud, "Yes, I am still nursing!" is to find a group of supporting mothers that understand and reap the benefits of your accomplishments guilt free. You are awesome! And you deserve praise!

Day 334-336: How Was Your Day?

2012-09-14T09:01:00.002-05:00

Day 334-336: How was your Day?
Each day I ponder about the events that conspired the last 24 hours that may have created a special memory to be preserved. Sometimes this is much harder than others. Sometimes, you get into a mundane schedule and as it repeats itself you forget to stop and take it in. Or it could be the complete opposite. Maybe these mundane hours that passed aren't worth remembering. I can't believe that to be true.
There are subtle hints everyday of the growth of my children. Each of them are so unique and have combined to create this family atmosphere and dynamics. Each night as we sit down for dinner, the mundane actions may be the same, but the story is always changing. Let's take the last few days for example.
My attempts at cooking are OK at best. I try. If anything, it is often a conversation piece. We have had chicken of some sort for nearly five days straight and I have no creativity in the kitchen. Fried chicken, Chicken and rice, Chicken salad, Chicken topped with BBQ sauce, sauteed onions, bacon, and cheese, Chicken sandwiches, Chicken tacos...it could be worse, it could be spam.
Things I learn over dinner conversation:

Amanda has a wedding to go to this weekend that she just found out about and she has no idea what to wear. She owes $77 for a book she was told she did not turn in her Sophomore year, but knows that she did. She got a 100% on her vocabulary test. Amanda applied to the Gap and she's feeling very good about the reaction from the manager. She's also frustrated that her boyfriend hasn't applied to as many jobs as she thinks he should, but has promising news of work from his mom a few days a week.
Lauren thinks her teachers are crazy. She is doing well in her block math class. I think this surprises her, even. She spends her lunch with primarily guys and one of them seems upset that she know longer spends it with him. She has a crush on a guy that she stalked to his 5th period but he doesn't even know she exists. In one class, one guy stole her seat and started going through her stuff. She cursed at him. She's expecting good news on the upcoming progress report.
Johnathon hasn't been feeling well so he has been extremely picky on what he eats and how much. With a table cloth now on the table, he has been placed at his little table and chair beside us till I can find the booster seat I know I have somewhere. He curls up his nose or pushes food away now. It's cute, but annoying. I know he must be hungry. He flings food he doesn't like and sifts through it to find the pieces he does. He loves turkey, ham, tomatoes, and cheese. He does not like boiled eggs, green peppers, brown rice, and cranberry fruit chews.

I've spoken a time or two about the importance I place on these family dinners. Not only are they a time for us to spend together every single day, but you can also learn so much about how things are going with your children by simply asking, "so how was your day?"

Days 331-333: I Wish Them Humility

2012-09-10T15:47:00.004-05:00

Days 331-333: I Wish Them Humility
The simple word "no" sends my adolescent into a fury of emotional torture towards the most fragile target, her mother. Using the technologies of today, her first round of attacks came via text messages that I received at work. Distracted by my anger, the shift seemed to be at most unproductive. I had a choice to make. I could ignore, argue, or protect. Protect myself. To ignore is to allow. To argue is to befriend and not parent. I chose to protect. Protect my rights to be treated respectfully. Unfortunately, in order to protect, I had to place myself once again in the line of fire.
I was in no rush to get home after making the crucial decision to turn off her phone. At fourteen, this privilege was given to her for the communication between us and not the parental bashing that I endured. As the shift proved to be unfruitful, I had to leave and I had no where else to go but home.
Both my husband and son were not feeling well. My oldest had made plans with her beau. I was a deer in a cleared field during open season. This time, I opted to not engage in her attempts to persuade me through her jabs at my open wounds from previous scrimmages. She lacks strategy.
My dear friend had connected me with a gentleman I have come to admire. Not only for his knowledge in current and past events, but also as a distinguished and astounding author. Upon his acquaintance, he kindly sent me his book to read.
When I checked the mailbox prior to the slow walk up the driveway towards the front door where my demon-teen would be awaiting me, I was overjoyed to see my package from him had arrived. I had heard of it's greatness, and it offered the perfect distraction to the whips of my teen's sarcasm.
The next few hours went with little harm. She had decided she was doing what she wanted and there's was nothing I could do to stop her. And you know what? She was right. Outside of tackling her to the ground and strapping her to her bed, applying bars to her windows and padlock to her door (all of which entered my mind), I was left feeling powerless. In fact, at that very moment, I felt both powerless in my financial affairs, and also in the eyes of my children. It was degrading and I felt hopeless.
She left without permission but not without the final word. What came next were statements filled with anger and self-pity. I cannot comprehend the outburst of disgust for her mother that she announces publicly for the world to see. This glamor of being "the victim" is widespread through numerous television programs and Internet sites. It is a disgrace to all those that truly suffer. Let's not ignore that I was always taught to have discretion in family affairs. At times, I wish I had the liberty to have taught my children as my parents did, to some extent, and to be able to have provided the same disciplinary actions. But by today's standards, my parents would be thrown in jail by the very child they were protecting from the world's harshness through this "lesson".
I dove into my new book not expecting the intense impact it was about to have on me. Page after page I was engaged in this story. This amazing journey that touched the depths of my soul.
Awoken in the night by my feverish toddler and my thoughts haunted by the harsh words of my young teen, I am once again reminded of the purpose of this blog in the first place, to provide some outlet for the stress associated with caring for these extreme ages simultaneously. I don't have the answers to dealing with these critical teens years where the average teen rebellion is coupled with underlying issues of neglect, anger, and perhaps even fear of the absent parent. Her displacement of anger holds no boundaries and no limitations. She feels liberated by her freedom of speech and thus feels no remorse for her feelings that are openly expressed at the very moment that she feels them.
In my journey, I hope if anything you will know that you are not alone.

Mr. Dawson shares an extraordinary story of two sisters that risked everything to fulfill her father's last wish, "I don't care what you do, just live". The pages created such vivid imagery of this world of fear and suffering. These young girls endured far more than their share of horrors, yet still displayed admiring humility. A must read.

I thought of this book and my own children for hours after the last page left my fingers. I wish for them to be appreciative. I wish for them to explore their passions and expand their potential. I wish for them to have humility.

Thank you, Mr. Dawson. It is my pleasure to recommend that everyone read your family's astounding and touching story. I thank you from the sincerest part of my being. I am forever touched.

Day 330: She Was Crowned

2012-09-10T00:51:00.001-05:00

Day 330: She Was Crowned
Amanda had stayed over at her boyfriend's house after school. Their first senior prep rally was the next day so seniors were making their "crowns" to signify their school spirit and power. I can just picture flocks of teens entering Burger King seemingly on a treasure hunt for these paper crowns that were a perfect match for their needs. Maybe they stopped and also had a burger. (I can't help it, occupational habit. Anything to increase sales).
Amanda and her beau spray painted theirs black and then decorated them in their school colors, purple and gold. In the meantime, the afternoon shower had let up and the warm air enticed me to allow my son to play in the puddles. I love these moments that remind us of times prior to the Internet. Those of us that still remember playing outside.
Later that evening, Amanda came home with her crown in a panic. After seeing some of her colleagues' crowns pictured on Facebook, she was desperate to make hers better.
For about an hour I helped Amanda with her crown. I don't get these moments often, so I relished it. Anything to be a part of this special year. Proud mama. She was crowned.

Day 329: Knows Someone That Knows Someone That Knows Someone

2012-09-09T09:03:00.002-05:00

Day 329: Knows Someone That Knows Someone That Knows Someone

This seems to be the only method of getting employment, I've heard. Over a month ago, I tried this method with my daughter. She's 17 and what employers deem as "cheep labor". I honestly thought she had this job in the bag and I was so grateful for the friend that was helping me out. As it turns out, she was given the run around comment, "we aren't currently hiring, but will keep your application on file". It makes me wonder about the message employers are sending applicants about their company. I recently came across a job opening that stated "integrity" as a job requirement. I thought about this to quite some extent. I respected this company for throwing this term out there in stead of "honest and hard working", yet wondered if in deed they were a company of high integrity.
With the hardship downfall of employment, I understand the applications must be in tremendous abundance. HR professionals must sort through and "filter" these down to potential prospects and then once more. Being in the hiring position, I am very familiar with this process. I am also familiar with differences in opinion when it comes to selection. "Too wordy", "Too many jobs in the last year", "Too much time in between jobs", the list goes on and on of rejected resumes with just a single glance. Applicants that call prior to or after selection are given a brief scripted message concerning their application process. Yet none of them give a single hint as to a genuine reason why they are not a good fit.
I am not suggesting that any employer has any obligation to assist applicants in their desperation for employment. But I am curious about a moral ethical obligation to represent the company's culture by taking more time in the selection and creating an environment where human resource management goes beyond the script. Perhaps this is a HR nightmare of the numerous claims of discrimination that could surface from this "honesty".
I've applied to many jobs over the last two years. Many of these jobs I am overqualified for. I have changed my resume at least three times to "appeal" to employers. I have made connections and social networks a plenty. It has been suggested that my social media may be hindrance to my job placement. This blog, for example, may deter someone from hiring me. I glanced over my facebook page for things that may be "offensive" and nothing more than my family life stands out. As for my blog, it is filled with entry after entry of integrity. I am not ashamed.
As part of the 365 days to remember, I leave with this memory for me to savor: In these times perseverance is they key. Stay true and work hard.

Day 328: Mmmmm Coffee

2012-09-08T08:19:00.000-05:00

Day 328: Mmmmm Coffee

Some people get addicted to cigarrettes. Some people can't go a day without soda. Me? I love my coffee. And I love that so many people do too! Did you know that coffee is the second most traded commodity in the world?

US coffee drinkers consume on average 3.1 (9oz) cups of coffee a day. Let's see. My usual coffee mug is also 9 oz. (My favorite mug is Avon's empowerment mug: it's purple, 13 1/2 ounces, only $5 and 100% of profits go to aid in ending domestic violence). I drink at least two of these in the morning before and on the way to work. Once I get home, I want a cup. I tend to only grab a cup or two at this time. After dinner, I consume another cup or two, mostly two. That's an average of 5 cups a day for me. Is this too much? I didn't think so either.

Actually, a little coffee has been proven to be good for you.

Coffee has had a bad reputation over the past few years however research is now showing that coffee may have benefits to your health. The Harvard School of Public Health notes that the risk of type 2 diabetes may be lower in people in who regularly consume coffee. They also report that the risk of liver cancer, liver cirrhosis and Parkinson’s disease may also be lower in coffee consumers. The risk of stroke in women may also be lower in coffee consumers. Research published by the American Association for Cancer Research showed that the risk of head and neck cancer may be decreased by 39% in those individuals who consume four or more cups of coffee a day. As caffeine is a stimulant it can also improve mental alertness. Research on shift workers in the Cochrane Library has found that those who consume caffeine are more likely to perform better (better memory scores, attention, perception and reasoning) when at work than fellow workers who had a placebo or had a short sleep (nap). They also make fewer errors on the job. Research also conducted at the Harvard School of Public Health found that people who drink up to six cups of coffee a day were at no higher risk of death than those who had less than this. It is thought that with a balanced diet, coffee consumption can be part of a healthy lifestyle if you do not have any other medical conditions that may be affected by caffeine/and or coffee intake.

That's interesting. Woo hoo!

But what about coffee intake while breastfeeding? I didn't drink coffee while I was pregnant, but I do now and have since he was born. It's OK. Although they recommend in moderation, I suggest to read your baby's cues. If there is a noticeable change in his behavior after drinking a cup and nursing, decrease or switch to decaf. Interesting fact to consider, though, is that "The concentration of caffeine in breastmilk actually peaks about an hour after you have consumed it". So drinking and nursing, may be just the way to go!

Ask me for coffee.. I can't resist!

Day 327: Labor Day 2012

2012-09-08T07:21:00.001-05:00

Day 327: Labor Day 2012

I've always worked on Labor Day. That's the life of the service industry. It doesn't bother me much. Most people are very nice. After work, I came home to my family waiting for me. With the kids out of school / day care and the husband off work, it was nice to have that welcome home. I needed it.

I didn't catch any super duper retail sales. We didn't grill out or attend any parties. But I enjoyed the evening with my family just the same. As we sat down for dinner, I thought about all the jobs I had applied to over the last few weeks, and even more over the past two years. I felt defeated. And then I was reminded of so many that had the day off simply because they had no job to go to. I wish to motivate.

I saw a saying that I have shared with others, and I'd like to share it again today.

This is exactly what I do.

Day 325: Sparkle In The Eye

2012-09-08T07:06:00.000-05:00

Day 325: Sparkle In The Eye
Johnathon enjoys my trips with just him and I to Publix. At least I seem to think he does. This morning, it was both his parents to Target. He looked up at his daddy as he pushed him in the shopping cart as if to be confused with the scenerio before him. I was anxious to check out the latest toys for him. To my amazement, he must have been too. Johnathon's face lit up, eyes began to sparkle, and his arms and legs started dancing about over the shelves of colorful, shiny toys! I haven't seen this reaction from him before and it made me so excited for Christmas! We tested out a few by placing them in front of him. All the while, I'm soaking it in how different having a boy is, (and how rambunctious he will become). Even during breakfast this morning, he was running around the house, banging on the coffee table, reaching for stuff off the dining table, and gurgling his milk and spitting it out (completely missing the point of doing this after brushing his teeth). It came to no surprise, really that one toy he fancied was Thor's Hammer. Although he was adorable raising it up in the air in the middle if the store then hitting the cart, I was envisioning this toy going through our flat screen TV. I will have to give this one some more thought.

Toys. It isn't about the pieces of plastic or metal molded together. It isn't about the occasion about which it is given. It's about the child's expression when receiving it. I can't wait for the years of these expressions for him, just as I was with my girls. But I have a feeling this time around, it's going to be different. I'm guessing a boy's excitement is more exaggerated than a girl's. I am in for a treat!

Day 324: No Getting In

2012-09-06T21:46:00.001-05:00

Day 324: No Getting In
With decreasing shifts available at work, it's no surprise that I was grateful for a chance to pull another double shift. Especially a closing shift. I called my boss to ask permission to cover for a co-worker and then quickly gathered my things and my son to head on out for the day. Within ten minutes I was calling him back, unable to make my first shift. I was also unable to take my son to day care.
It's not just because I genuinely hate to pump gas, or because I don't pass any on my way home from work. At $4.64 / gal, I am skimpy on my gas consumption. So last night when I told my husband to just order pizza, he thought he was doing the right thing by saving a few bucks with a delivery fee. Problem was, I had just enough has to get to work the next day. Not any more. I had forgotten about this little jaunt my husband took until my gas light popped on. I hadn't even made it out of the driveway when it showed it's evil glow. I pulled right back up and went inside to scrounge for change.
I really didn't want to touch his piggy bank. Just seemed wrong in so many levels. But I saw no other choice. I unlocked my bedroom door, sat Johnathon and my keys on the bed, and took $2.50 from his bank. I felt so guilty. Not only have I asked my children not to take from this bank, but I even had written a small letter under it saying, "I understand the temptation to steal from us, but please don't steal from your brother".
We have to lock our bedroom door if we leave the house. It's like she can't help but take stuff; clothes, make-up, hair products, change, or whatever. I feel horrible that we have to be so drastic, but it was proven time and time again that she could not be trusted. I don't think it's malicious, I think it stems more from boredom. Nonetheless, It just feels a little creepy knowing your daughter is snooping around your personal items when you aren't home. So we lock it up.
Perhaps karma played a part in the events that followed my thievery into the baby's bank. I picked up Johnathon and headed back out. I didn't get far before I realized what I had done. The door was locked and my keys were still inside, laying on the bed.
I'm sure my boss thought I was fibbing, but I wasn't. And it broke my heart to miss that shift. I tried everything to break into my bedroom, but nothing worked. It was solid. I waited for my husband to come home from lunch to let me in. Until then, Johnathon and I played and hung out.
Sure I was upset with my absent mind. Sure I was disappointed in my actions. But more than anything, these events made me sad. Sad that in my own home, I have to lock my bedroom door. Please let this be a phase too.

Day 322: One Day At A Time

2012-09-06T19:01:00.001-05:00

Day 322: One Day At A Time

Aug 30: I just spent the last hour or so listening to my husband ramble on about politics. He's become more political the last few years and he is so passionate about his beliefs. It isn't that I disagree with him, it's just that I believe the entire system is corrupt. All this was brought up after I told him that I talk to his father this morning. I actually talk to him more than he does. His parents have been so supportive and patient with the choices he has made in his life. My husband, the prodigy they hoped to see become greatness, has like so many of us thrown curve balls in his life that proved to be unsuccessful to put it nicely. He learned to read sheet music before words. His parents were in awe with his talents both in classical piano and as he got older, the electric guitar. He was supposed to be a rock -n-roll star. But he got married young and she sucked the life out of him, made him give up his dreams and get "a real job". He had hoped to recreate this need to be artistic when he and I discussed his attendance to an industry specific college. He admired my willingness to move my family and work all hours to put him through school. Naturally, we had the help of student loans, in which we are indebted to, for the rest of our lives. Combined, we owe more than we will ever be able to repay. A debt I hope to avoid passing down to my children when I pass. But I digress.
As I watched my family scatter like roaches when the lights come on after my parents separated, his family is as tight nit as can be. They have moved across the states together with the air force, then migrated to be with each other after he retired. When we moved, it was a shock, but a glimmering hope that this prodigy son would see his dreams come true. The funny thing about dreams, is that they change. They adapt. And we had to do just that. I suppose as children we innately learn more than we will ever really comprehend. But when our parents wish for their children to be successful, the term isn't used to define wealth. It is to define happiness. And if finances were not an issue, my life would be damn near perfect. I beat myself up so much with the inability to get a job. It is hard not to take the lack of response as a swift kick in the butt of rejection. But I have to keep in mind that society as a whole is struggling. And as much as I try to ignore or believe that politics don't pay a huge role in how we are living today, I cannot any longer.
My husband and his father can argue for hours over politics. They really get into heated arguments over it. I sit quietly, biting my tongue, hoping my ignorance in the matter grants me some immunity to the feud. I still don't wish to talk about the topic. Even to my husband. I just want life to be better, easier. And neither party can guarantee that for me and my family. I am worried about the future for my children and grandchildren. It really scares me. But right now, I have to face my daily struggle and get through one day at a time.

Day 320: Her Job Hunt

2012-09-06T18:53:00.001-05:00

Day 320: Her Job Hunt

Amanda and I have decided to play a game with the job hunt since we are both applying everywhere right now. If she gets a job before me, we have to increase her curfew to midnight.
It's a great incentive for her. She's 17 and needs to start paying for her own cell phone. Not to mention all the senior crap she will want this year. And since we are on the topic, let's talk about it.

Reality is, on average parents spend about $1,500- $2,000 on their children during their senior year of high school, Times have changed. Senior pictures, class rings, dances, dates, sports, memorabilia, year book, testing, college applications, and other miscellaneous fees they throw in there. It can really add up. So my daughter and I thought we'd make our own list based on her school and wants / needs.

Cap/gown/tassel/lamination for diploma- $90
Yearbook $70-$90
Prom ticket $80
Homecoming $35
Dresses HM and accessories- $100
Prom dress and accessories $150-$200
Spirit week (supplies for dressing up) $25
Sport games $5-$7 each
Senior pic for yearbook $10
Senior pictures $100-$200
Dance pictures, dinner, etc expenses $100-$150
Class Ring $200-$500
Parking Passes $70
SAT's- $30
College Applications $40-$50
Misc. memorabilia- $50-$100
Graduation Announcements- $30-$50
Senior Trip $200-$300

This comes to: $1,450-$2,250
And I just felt about five more gray hairs pop up! Any advice for saving on these things? I'd love to hear them!

Day 319: I Hide Food

2012-09-05T07:07:00.002-05:00

Day 319: I Hide Food

Aug 27: Johnathon had been asleep for a nap for about an hour. I took advantage of this time and cleaned up quite a bit. I was so proud of myself! As my "reward", I had stashed away 4 chocolate chip cookies. Yum. I eagerly hurried up- envisioning my moment alone relaxing on the couch with my cup of milk and 4 little morsels of greatness. Ahhh. I poured my milk. I was so anxious. I turn around and then my girls opened the door. They were home from school. Oh no! I knew if they saw my cookies they would guilt trip me into giving them away. So I ran to my room, locked the door and devoured them! hahahaha. It wasn't my wonderful moment, but I got my cookies!

I am not the only one that hides food from their children. Correction, from their teenagers. It's not a matter of keeping the food from them as it is a matter of preservation. When times are hard and food is scarce in the first place, it is extremely upsetting when your children plow through it in one setting. Additionally, it is frustrating when the snacks I buy clearly for the toddler are consumed by the older children.

I have been confronted by me ex husband on this matter. Personally, he just kiss my ass, but I humor his request to "speak to me" on the matter. What the children say in passing, or say out of a rant, he feels he needs to say something about. Whatever. When I heard of another co-worker going through the similar thing with an ex, I knew we could not be the only one having to explain, to the person that doesn't deal with these kids 24/7, that despite the stories they were told, this "food" is not in excess. Meaning, there is not an extra refrigerator in my bedroom. It's a bag or two at best. My children do not starve. They have food to eat (they just don't want to make it), and I prepare dinner every night. But if they wants snacks, they will get them in baggies.

Do you hide food from occasion? Of course you do. And guess what, it's OK.