I am dismayed by how much my life changes with the season shifts and the light in my life is reduced.  I’m also disappointed by how my concerns have been brushed aside by several primary care physicians over the years.  One told me that my problems would be solved if I simply exercised more and lost that extra weight, which would give me more energy to tackle life.

Last year, I had to switch to a new primary care doctor.  I appreciated his time in listening to my concerns, and then his thoroughness in covering all bases.  He discovered my body is vitamin D deficient, and that my thyroid is underactive.  I started taking mega doses of vitamin D, and started on medication to regulate my thyroid.  I started feeling better and had tons of energy…but that also coincided with winter solstice and the days becoming longer.

So this autumn, I hoped the SAD wouldn’t be an issue with the extra vitamin D and the treatment of my hypothyroid.  Alas, I’ve been let down.  I’m struggling once again to keep my head above water and to keep telling myself that this, too, shall pass.  The sun will shine again.

It just sucks in the meantime.

Not fun.  Not fun at all.

Last night, as I was lying in bed waiting for the next dosage of medicine to kick in so I could breathe, I composed a list of subjects that have been floating around my mind.  Brain lint.  I want to blog about these things, but it will have to wait until I’m more fully human.

Of course, now that I am sitting at the keyboard, I have no idea what I wanted to say.  And as it is, I don’t have the stamina to sit and write out a real blog post anyway.

So I’m going back to my bed now.  There will be more resting and sleeping.  Come Monday morning, I’m on my own again, so I must be as functional as possible.

Now imagine all of those people spending a week together.  In a house.  Forced togetherness.

Yes, you read that right.  For a WHOLE WEEK.

Did you just shudder?  The thought of spending a whole week with my family makes me cringe.  Oh, I like everyone just fine…in small numbers and in controlled, small amounts of time.  But if we were made to be together for an entire week?  Um…just have me committed afterwards.

This Is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper, is a story of Judd Foxman, his brothers Paul and Phillip, and sister Wendy.  The Foxman siblings are asked to sit shiva in their family home after the death of their father.  Their mother is present, as are Paul’s wife, and Wendy’s husband and three children.  Phillip brings along his life coach/fiancee Tracy.  The next door neighbor, Linda, is around as well.  Oh, and Judd’s soon-to-be-ex-wife (who cheated on Judd with his boss), shows up to announce that the baby she is carrying is indeed Judd’s, not the other guy’s.

There’s more to the story than that, but just think of all the tensions, irritations, secrets and skeletons that would surface with all that Together Time.  Stories told.  Histories rehashed.  Secrets revealed.  Families are great…but too much family in such an environment can be downright toxic.

So going back to the skin-crawling hypothetical of spending an entire week with MY family…well.  I’d be finding ways to escape, even if it’s just to a trance-like state and monosyllabic grunts in response to anyone and everyone.  And since my mom thinks alcohol is evil and we generally don’t drink around her, I’m sure there’d be a lot of sneaking off to the bathroom for surreptitious shots.  Either that or we’d all imbibe openly in front of her…however, not sure any buzz is worth mom’s wrath because she would never forget and never let us forget.  The Husband and my father would have to find new, inventive ways to ignore one another while pretending to communicate normally.  My children would see me from the eyes of my parents and sister.  Secrets my sister and I have kept would be in danger of being blown.  My life would be judged quietly and loudly, re-told and shared in ways I wouldn’t choose to do myself.  All in the name of love and family.

I am sure there would be wonderful moments emerging from the periods of uncomfortable squirming.  New memories would be made.  Laughter would ring like music.  There would most certainly be Korean soul food to nosh on.  Awesome time would be shared with the people I love most in this world, people who have known me my entire life, people who know me most intimately now in my life.  That would be precious time that could not be replicated in our usual hurried time together.

I’m just not sure I’m willing to go through the uncomfortable stuff to reach those moments of wonderful.  I guess that’s why it would have to be a week of forced togetherness.

I must stop thinking about this hypothetical situation before I hyperventilate.

…

This post is written in response to Jonathan Tropper’s This Is Where I Leave You, the SVMom’s Blog Book Club selection for October.  Members were given the book to read and discuss on our blogs.  Read more responses to the book at NYC Moms blog (this month’s book club host)..

Of course, I am more anxious for The Husband’s arrival on those days. The Crew must smell a weakness in me, because they are exceptionally squirrely.

We had one of those days recently. After battling with the kids for a bit, I threw my hands up in surrender. Since the weather was nice, I decided to take The Crew to a nearby dollar store. It’s just a short walk, so Bito and Cupcake hopped along as BabyMuffin got a ride in the stroller.

Once there, Bito quickly picked out a truck, but just as quickly, he changed his mind and chose a wiggly, jelly bug instead. Cupcake considered her choices carefully, first eyeing a horse-on-a-stick toy, then fingering the dolls. A bouquet of fake flowers earned a moment of reflection, as did a ceramic figurine. However, when she spied the candy, she focused all her attention on choosing the perfect candy that would maximize her dollar purchase. Bito ditched the wiggly bug and also perused the candy as if it were a matter of life and death to pick out the best candy.

I marveled as I watched my older two children choose anything they wanted for a dollar. It amazed me how it delighted them to have such a surprise, special treat that day.

Moments later, we were on our way out the door, Cupcake happily munching on a candy necklace, and Bito opening a whistle filled with bubble-gum. So maybe their dinners were spoiled, maybe they’d have a sugar crash later on, maybe they’d come to expect special dollar store treats more often than I was willing to give them. I didn’t care, though. That one trip brought joy and peace to my otherwise difficult afternoon–for the mere price of $2.

The Husband and I were living overseas when Bito was born.  The latter part of my pre-natal care and Bito’s birth took place in a Japanese birthing center, which was a cool experience.  The nurses were kind-hearted and extremely sweet, but there was no lactation support.  I suppose they could’ve been offering advice, but since The Husband and I didn’t speak much any Japanese, and the nurses’ English was marginal at best, I didn’t ask for help.  Of the American community we were attached to, there was one recent mother who talked me through her experience.   I was armed with a bunch of books about nursing.  Other than that, that was it.  I decided I would give it a go, but if it didn’t work out for Bito and me, I wasn’t going to feel guilty.

Well.  Bito had no problem with nursing.  He got it right away, and really made it easy for me.  We spent his newborn days establishing a good nursing relationship.  However, I knew I would be returning to work when he was almost three months old.

Since it had started so easily and he had only had breastmilk his entire short life, I decided to pump at work.  I had no problem with using formula if it had come to that, but it became a challenge for me to see how long we could continue his diet of mama’s milk only.  I purchased a top-of-the-line breast pump and learned to use it while I was still on maternity leave.  I read everything I could on expressing, storing, and freezing breastmilk–Kellymom became my best friend.  And so I went back to work.

I was fortunate for several things:

1. My schedule allowed me to express three times during my work day without time constraints.
2. I had a classroom that was not shared with anyone, so I could close the door and lock it.
3. There was a sink and a refrigerator in my room.
4. The Husband supported me by ensuring the pump parts were clean and packed each morning for me.

Pretty ideal for a mother who is pumping milk, right?  I was relaxed, and my confidence grew as I found I could express oodles of milk–I probably could’ve fed his entire daycare with what I produced!  Bito continued to thrive on breastmilk only until he started solids at six-ish months, and continued nursing until he was almost 18  months old.

So enough about my story.  This is all to say that the recent news story covered by Campbell Brown struck a chord with me.

I suppose there are two sides to this story, but the employer isn’t saying much.  This much seems to be true:  LaNisa Allen got a job with this company.  When she interviewed, she told them she would need a place to pump breastmilk.  She was told she could pump at 11:00, in the bathroom, five hours after the last time she fed her baby.  She began to pump earlier in the bathroom because as any nursing mother knows, going too long between feedings or expressing the milk can be quite painful.  After twenty days of working there, she was fired for taking unauthorized breaks.

First:  pumping in the bathroom??  Ewwww.
Second:  to be made to wait five hours before being allowed to pump?  Um, any mom who has been engorged will understand the feeling of having two full bags of pebbles attached to your chest.  Enough said.
Third:  Unauthorized breaks?  I think Jeffrey Toobin, CNN’s Senior Legal Analyst, summarizes my third point best: “The irony is that smoking breaks are so institutionalized, everywhere and everyone gets them, and that makes you sick. And breastfeeding makes everyone healthier, but that’s harder to get.”

So technically, Allen was not fired for pumping at work.  She was fired for taking unauthorized breaks.   If she’d asked to take breaks to pump and been denied, she could’ve filed for discrimination.  Okay, sure.  Whatever.  Let’s just ignore that she had to wait until 11:00 and was told she could pump in the bathroom.  Actually, I am surprised that the employer chose to not let this die quietly.  They released a statement which included:  ”…does and will continue to provide work-place lactation support for all nursing mothers, including considerations for time, place and opportunity. Many nursing mothers have and continue to take advantage of these accommodations. In this particular case accommodations were in place and provided.”  Instead, they let it go all the way to the Ohio Supreme Court, thus opening themselves up for the possibility of negative press.  Did they not learn from Motrin’s babywearing commercial that it’s not a good idea to tick off a bunch of moms?

Senators Carolyn Maloney (NY) and Jeff Merkley (OR) are working to pass The Breastfeeding Promotion Act. If passed, the act would protect breastfeeding women from being fired or discriminated against in the workplace.  There are other points to the bill, which you can read here.  There’s also a link to tell your representatives to support the act.  I personally will be signing online as well as writing paper letters to my legislators.  I’ll also be boycotting the employers’ products.  And if I could boycott the state of Ohio, I would…but that might be a little tough to do.

Anyway.  This post got way longer than I intended, but it is a topic I am passionate about.  Please feel free to pass this along to others.

I wrote about the polarizing views of owning a minivan over at DC Metro Moms!  Will you come check it out…and leave me some comment love there?  Please??  I promise not to mock whether you do or do not drive a minivan…  :)

Well, lots of things.  But today, I’m going to give in and actually tell you by posting a rare rant in my blog.

Bito’s public school and Cupcake’s private preschool are currently running the same fundraiser that all the other schools in the DC Metro area are no doubt running.

I hate that my children are little salespeople that are sent out to raise money for their schools.

And yes, it’s really me that is doing it because I’m not about to let Bito and Cupcake hawk the products of this company, even if their schools will receive 50% of all sales profits.  I’m not about to put the burden of raising money for their schools on their little heads.

I get angry reading the info sheets that come home with thick envelope of the latest fundraiser.  I’m afraid my kid will be the only one who doesn’t sell something and therefore, won’t receive a “prize.”  I don’t want Bito and Cupcake not to get some cheap little toy that everyone else will get because they sold one, ten, a hundred or a zillion items.  I don’t want my child to be sad because they don’t get to attend the Ice Cream Social because they didn’t bring in $xxx amount of orders.

And so I dutifully ask neighbors and family members if they’d be interested in supporting Bito and Cupcake.  I send out emails with the online codes that can be used for out of area friends and family.  I half-heartedly tout the awesomeness of the products in an effort to get some orders.

I don’t like it.  I feel guilted into getting some orders so my kid won’t be sad he/she didn’t get some little toy or a scoop of ice cream.

And while I’m on a rant, let me just say that what really burns is that this fundraising has to be done in the first place, especially in public schools.  This is my children’s education, for crying out loud!  Supposedly it’s an investment for the future of the country, too, right?  Why are the schools forced to to get money in such a fashion?  There is something wrong here!

Sadly, this will be a part of my life for the next twenty-some years as my three children progress through school.  The Husband and I are committed to public education and will do what we need to do.  You’ll probably hear this rant every September from me.

And if you want to order anything…let me know.

Arrr, before I had children, I didn’t understand the ‘alue o’ pirates.

But now I do.  Aye, me parrot concurs.

Ahoy, tis’ Talk Like a Pirate Day, shiver me timbers!

Who knew such a day existed, right?  Gar, where can I find a bottle o’rum?

In honor o’ this fine day, Me brin’ you Bito’ and Cupcake’s fa’orite pirate song.  The Backyardigans, A Pirate Says Arrgh!

Like today.  It’s rainy, damp, and a bit chilly outside.  We don’t have any errands that need to be run, and I am content to sit in front of my computer to catch up on work and blogging.  The easiest way for me to do this without being disturbed in to turn on the boob tube.

How many programs are too many for them to watch in a row?

Guilt got the better of me, so I went in and switched off the telly to the loud protests of Cupcake and BabyMuffin.

**Side note here: Bito is at kindergarten (and doing quite well, we think!  Back-to-School-Night is tonight!), but I find it interesting that when it comes to the watching TV, he can take it or leave it.  Not Cupcake and BabyMuffin.  If the set is on, they will sit to watch, even if it’s The Weather Channel.  It’s like they are sucked in, and they become totally mesmerized.**

After the complaining died down, I firmly told them to play.  Then I returned to my office.

I have had to field a number of visits from them.  Cupcake whined and tried to pull all her tricks:  ”I’m hungry.  I’m tired.  I’m bored.  There’s nothing to do.”  BabyMuffin just came and tried to sit in my lap, push the buttons on the keyboard, and pull books off the shelf.

I decided to try a robot-like approach.  I only spoke to say, “There are a zillion toys in there.  I am sure you can find something to play with.”  I think I repeated this two dozen times in the span of ten minutes!

Now I am listening to Cupcake and BabyMuffin playing Restaurant.  I am sure the room will be trashed as they have rummaged through every bin and cubby, rediscovering long-forgotten toys.  That’s kind of sad, right?  That we have toys they haven’t even missed because we have so many?  I digress.  They are giggling and using the play kitchen to prepare meals.  This is way better than children who are zoned out from watching too much tee-vee.

As for the destroyed playroom…guess I’ll just look at it as an opportunity to teach them the fine art of cleaning up!

He was cheerful as he went in to the classroom and never looked back.

I was patting myself on the back for preparing him so well for the transition to Big Kid School.

The second day…not so much.

Apparently we’d focused so much on getting him ready for the first day that we neglected to inform him of the days to come.

And so he screamed on his way into the school on the second day.

Screamed.  I could hear him from the playground behind the building.
(To be fair, his classroom is the one closest to the playground.)

Oy.

We quickly recognized the error of our ways and began talking about the rest of the days.

Today, the third day, he resumed his cheerful attitude.

Guess my preparation for school needed to be expanded!