At all. Anywhere. I can think of nothing appealing. I don't have any cravings, exactly. I went thru a couple of weeks when all I ate was frozen mint milano cookies, then suddenly, those were repulsive and I couldn't even think about them without wanting to vomit. Did the same thing with mandarin oranges, and then with onion bagels. Now I'm done with onion bagels and there's literally nothing in the world that even remotely sounds like I might want to eat it. And the nausea is building, and it's only going to get worse until I solve this.
I think a hamburger pizza might work. I'm going to try that for lunch. Of course, that's more of a one-shot deal, so I'm going to be faced with this same dilemma later on this afternoon...
In other news... not too much going on. Various family dramas bubbling up all over the place, on both sides, but so far, I've managed to stay disengaged. For the most part. Halloween this weekend - Jess is going as a witch - she's got the cutest costume and green face paint so she'll be suitably spooky. Sam's got a sword and a shield (that I'll end up carrying, I'm sure) and is planning on being a knight. Sam's not a kid who thrives on attention from strangers, and if there wasn't candy involved, I'm sure he'd flat out refuse to participate in the whole thing. Ironically, he doesn't like candy - he likes unwrapping it and then licks it and puts it down somewhere for me to find (hopefully before it melts into a disgusting mess) at some point later.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
I'm the worst mother in the world
Just ask Jess. She'll tell you.
They say parenting isn't easy. And when they say that, it's not just because of the beginning, the nights of endless nursing, the ear infections, the fevers, the crying, the terrible twos. It's because sometimes you have to intentionally make your kids miserable because making them happy would teach them the exact opposite of what you need for them to know. For example, allowing Jess to push aside dinner in favor of ice cream would not be a bright move. Further making her miserable by depriving her of all dessert because of the attitude that ensued when I didn't give her the ice cream is what earned me the title of the worst mother EVER. She's in her room right now, crying about how much she hates me. Or the situation - I don't think she's actually saying 'I hate her' I think she's saying "I hate it." Not that makes me feel any better...
Because I really struggle with this - I want my kids to be happy. It's not that I want to indulge them, it's that I hate having to on purpose make them miserable. I do it, and I know it's the right thing to do, and maybe she'll walk away from this knowing that lashing out with screaming and crying isn't her best choice when it comes to negotiating. Maybe she'll learn a little self control, a little respect... but it's still an awful feeling to know that your child is miserable and it's entirely your fault.
In other news - Marc's co-worker was hospitalized with swine flu this weekend. He works in a small office and now I'm a little freaked out. This was a healthy guy - hospitalized with a really high fever and hallucinations. My OB has finally gotten the vaccine in and I have an appt on Wednesday to get my immunization. But the pediatrician and Marc's primary have no idea when the vaccine will be available for the kids or for my diabetic husband. I don't normally rush to get the flu shot, some years I get it, some years I don't, and if it works out that I'm at the doctor with the kids during flu season, they get the vaccine, but I know they haven't every year. This H1N1 flu is freaking me out, because every morning on the news they tell me how critical it is that pregnant women and small children need to get it.
They say parenting isn't easy. And when they say that, it's not just because of the beginning, the nights of endless nursing, the ear infections, the fevers, the crying, the terrible twos. It's because sometimes you have to intentionally make your kids miserable because making them happy would teach them the exact opposite of what you need for them to know. For example, allowing Jess to push aside dinner in favor of ice cream would not be a bright move. Further making her miserable by depriving her of all dessert because of the attitude that ensued when I didn't give her the ice cream is what earned me the title of the worst mother EVER. She's in her room right now, crying about how much she hates me. Or the situation - I don't think she's actually saying 'I hate her' I think she's saying "I hate it." Not that makes me feel any better...
Because I really struggle with this - I want my kids to be happy. It's not that I want to indulge them, it's that I hate having to on purpose make them miserable. I do it, and I know it's the right thing to do, and maybe she'll walk away from this knowing that lashing out with screaming and crying isn't her best choice when it comes to negotiating. Maybe she'll learn a little self control, a little respect... but it's still an awful feeling to know that your child is miserable and it's entirely your fault.
In other news - Marc's co-worker was hospitalized with swine flu this weekend. He works in a small office and now I'm a little freaked out. This was a healthy guy - hospitalized with a really high fever and hallucinations. My OB has finally gotten the vaccine in and I have an appt on Wednesday to get my immunization. But the pediatrician and Marc's primary have no idea when the vaccine will be available for the kids or for my diabetic husband. I don't normally rush to get the flu shot, some years I get it, some years I don't, and if it works out that I'm at the doctor with the kids during flu season, they get the vaccine, but I know they haven't every year. This H1N1 flu is freaking me out, because every morning on the news they tell me how critical it is that pregnant women and small children need to get it.
Salem and Pumpkin Carving
Friday night - I went to Salem with the girls in my family. Not all of them, but there were 12 of us altogether and it was fabulous. Three of my aunts, my mother, my sister and two stepsister and two cousins. We had two side by side hotel rooms and just really loved every minute of it. My cousin Becky and I were the middle ones - with older aunts and the other four girls were all at least six years younger than we were. Becky and I are just exceptionally close - she's my best friend, and it was awesome to spend that much time with the women in my family. And SAM DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE I WAS GONE. Well, I'm sure he noticed, but he didn't fuss once, had a great night, fell asleep on Marc's lap, slept thru the night, and was sunshiney happy the next day.
We all got readings done (because that's what you do when you go to Salem). Mine was a little... off, she first started off with I wasn't married (which I am), then decided that we're obviously going thru a rough patch (which we aren't). She talked about the kids - and ascribed character traits to both that belonged to the other (that Sam was an intense child, thoughtful and worried a lot, and that Jess was smooth sailing and calm all the time), but it was still fun. We had dinner in an Irish bar, which involved a lot of stepdancing and hollering with the band.
Pumpkin carving on Sunday was a fiasco - too many kids, WAY too much screaming and yelling and crying... I was sick to my stomach (spoke too soon on the morning sickness going away) and ended up taking some Reglan. This promptly put me to sleep, which meant that poor Marc had to carve four pumpkins by himself. They came out great - and the kids had fun in the end, so that's what matters, right?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wait - hold on, I actually feel... okay :-)
I feel as though a fog is officially lifting - I think that I'm entering the second trimester - time of glory and sunshine. I felt REALLY good yesterday - still sick when I didn't eat, but actual whole hours when I felt like myself, I got a TON of stuff done around the house, and am really hoping that this trend continues. It's been a rough 12 weeks. Really rough, way tougher than my other pregnancies. I'm not sure if it was worse because I'm older now, if it's that I'm home and able to really just feel like crap as opposed to being distracted, or if it's that I'm running around after a million other children - probably a combo of all of it. But I feel AMAZING this morning - and I know it's just because I have a feeling that I'm going to feel okay physically all day long. I want to take the boys for a walk, it's gorgeous out today, I want to organize all the jackets, finish all the laundry, make a delightful dinner for everyone.
I worry - the ONLY perk to feeling awful was that I knew that the pregnancy was okay. But I've seen the heartbeat on ultrasound, heard it in the office, I'm thirteen weeks tomorrow, and I know that my chances of miscarriage are so low. Plus I do still feel pregnant. I have to eat every couple of hours or get really sick to my stomach again - but it's a HUGE and DRAMATIC improvement over the past three months.
I would not do well with a chronic illness. I know I've been grumpy and hostile at times (most of the time, if you listen to extended family members), and I'm not going to apologize for that (because most of the time, there was an amazing effort on my part to be as nice as I was). But I have to give major kudos to my wonderful husband Marc - who, never, not once, hinted that I was perhaps a bit grumpier than I should have been. Never was anything other than kind and loving and sweet and nurturing. Rubbed my back when I vomited, told me how pretty I was. He was, hands down, AWESOME - and out of everyone in my life, the best source of support and comfort during the last three months - thank you, honey - I don't think I could have made it without you.
I worry - the ONLY perk to feeling awful was that I knew that the pregnancy was okay. But I've seen the heartbeat on ultrasound, heard it in the office, I'm thirteen weeks tomorrow, and I know that my chances of miscarriage are so low. Plus I do still feel pregnant. I have to eat every couple of hours or get really sick to my stomach again - but it's a HUGE and DRAMATIC improvement over the past three months.
I would not do well with a chronic illness. I know I've been grumpy and hostile at times (most of the time, if you listen to extended family members), and I'm not going to apologize for that (because most of the time, there was an amazing effort on my part to be as nice as I was). But I have to give major kudos to my wonderful husband Marc - who, never, not once, hinted that I was perhaps a bit grumpier than I should have been. Never was anything other than kind and loving and sweet and nurturing. Rubbed my back when I vomited, told me how pretty I was. He was, hands down, AWESOME - and out of everyone in my life, the best source of support and comfort during the last three months - thank you, honey - I don't think I could have made it without you.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Wow - morning sickness
I feel like I post about this a lot - but really, it's most of my life these days... I feel almost newly pregnant today, unbelievably nauseated and sick to my stomach. Everything smells wretched and so strong and I dream of sleep. Fantasize about it, crawling into bed by myself, snuggling down into the blankets and just... sleeping. For hours. I can't eat much, swallowing the anti-nausea meds this morning was incredibly difficult because I immediately started gagging and choking on this tiny little pill. Isn't it supposed to ease up as I get to the end of the first trimester??
Jess cried this morning on the way to school... I hate that. Even though she's so much better this year, I have such negative associations from last year. We just overslept this morning, and had to rush a bit - but she didn't want to go, and cried. I feel so awful for her. Plus then I spend all day thinking of her little face, so sad and miserable...
Jess cried this morning on the way to school... I hate that. Even though she's so much better this year, I have such negative associations from last year. We just overslept this morning, and had to rush a bit - but she didn't want to go, and cried. I feel so awful for her. Plus then I spend all day thinking of her little face, so sad and miserable...
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Freedom of Speech - and why am I so horrified?
Was it Winston Churchill who said if you weren't a liberal at 18, you had no heart, and if you weren't conservative at 30, you had no brain? I can't remember the exact quote, but something happened today that really shocked me and made me rethink a whole bunch of things.
I'm a library girl - I LOVE the library. I'm a book addict - I read CONSTANTLY. I'm usually in the middle of two or three books (right now I'm rereading Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood and a new book about the relationship between sisters (fascinating). Anyway - so I take out between twenty and twenty five books a week. I take the kids there a lot - I think the best way to encourage the kids to read is to constantly feed the addiction - so they've always got lots of new kids books to read. The girls (Sarah and Jess) were at Hebrew School (which is an important detail for the rest of the story) and Lilli was at dance class. Marc was going to drop me off, and then come back after picking all the kids up and meet me there.
We pulled up in front of the library, and there was a guy standing there, with a huge sign, proclaiming his firm conviction that Israel was responsible for 9/11. I was shocked. Just... shocked. Marc was FURIOUS. Got out the car and confronted him, ended up chasing him away (we saw him later on in the afternoon standing in a different part of town). I was just speechless. I've got kids. Kids who read. Kids who go to Hebrew School - and there was every chance that I would have gone down to the library, parked the car and led them right past that sign. If things had been slightly different this morning, I wouldn't have seen the sign until after I parked the car, got my (Jewish) kids out of the car and walked down to the library.
It just brought up a WHOLE bunch of issues that I'm still trying to work my way thru. I always believed in freedom of speech - I mean, who doesn't? Right? We love freedom of speech - it's like apple pie and baseball. But what if it's YOUR kids who are being attacked? Because Israel really means the Jewish people - and that's what my kids would have read it as. How do I explain that to them? How is it okay that they would have to see that - on their way into the library? What does that say about the world that I live in? The world I'm raising my children in? I feel vulnerable in a way that I've never felt before, I feel attacked in a way that's completely unfamiliar to me. I wasn't raised Jewish - I didn't grow up as part of a hated minority. Marc wasn't shocked by the protestor, unbelievably furious, but not shocked. I haven't moved past the shock yet.
The library is one of my all time favorite places in the whole world - it's where the books live. It's knowledge and rest and comfort - it's awesome - I love the library. Now I'm afraid to go back. I'm afraid in a way that feels wrong and scary and unsafe. There are really people out there like that? People who hate me and my kids that much? Really? And they walk around, looking all normal and friendly, but holding signs that terrify me.
Do I still believe in free speech? I think so, but I've never questioned it as much as I have in the past six or seven hours. Do I believe that my children should suffer because of some ignorant bigot's right to spew hatred? Do I believe that I should have to explain to them why this man hates them so much? Should I explain that? Do I want them to grow up afraid? Aware that there are people who believe that they are evil because their last name is Cohen? And if I don't - if I try to protect them from that, to shield them from that - do I run the risk of having them feel the way I do now? Unsure and afraid and violated and threatened? How do I explain this to my children when I can't explain it to myself?
I'm a library girl - I LOVE the library. I'm a book addict - I read CONSTANTLY. I'm usually in the middle of two or three books (right now I'm rereading Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood and a new book about the relationship between sisters (fascinating). Anyway - so I take out between twenty and twenty five books a week. I take the kids there a lot - I think the best way to encourage the kids to read is to constantly feed the addiction - so they've always got lots of new kids books to read. The girls (Sarah and Jess) were at Hebrew School (which is an important detail for the rest of the story) and Lilli was at dance class. Marc was going to drop me off, and then come back after picking all the kids up and meet me there.
We pulled up in front of the library, and there was a guy standing there, with a huge sign, proclaiming his firm conviction that Israel was responsible for 9/11. I was shocked. Just... shocked. Marc was FURIOUS. Got out the car and confronted him, ended up chasing him away (we saw him later on in the afternoon standing in a different part of town). I was just speechless. I've got kids. Kids who read. Kids who go to Hebrew School - and there was every chance that I would have gone down to the library, parked the car and led them right past that sign. If things had been slightly different this morning, I wouldn't have seen the sign until after I parked the car, got my (Jewish) kids out of the car and walked down to the library.
It just brought up a WHOLE bunch of issues that I'm still trying to work my way thru. I always believed in freedom of speech - I mean, who doesn't? Right? We love freedom of speech - it's like apple pie and baseball. But what if it's YOUR kids who are being attacked? Because Israel really means the Jewish people - and that's what my kids would have read it as. How do I explain that to them? How is it okay that they would have to see that - on their way into the library? What does that say about the world that I live in? The world I'm raising my children in? I feel vulnerable in a way that I've never felt before, I feel attacked in a way that's completely unfamiliar to me. I wasn't raised Jewish - I didn't grow up as part of a hated minority. Marc wasn't shocked by the protestor, unbelievably furious, but not shocked. I haven't moved past the shock yet.
The library is one of my all time favorite places in the whole world - it's where the books live. It's knowledge and rest and comfort - it's awesome - I love the library. Now I'm afraid to go back. I'm afraid in a way that feels wrong and scary and unsafe. There are really people out there like that? People who hate me and my kids that much? Really? And they walk around, looking all normal and friendly, but holding signs that terrify me.
Do I still believe in free speech? I think so, but I've never questioned it as much as I have in the past six or seven hours. Do I believe that my children should suffer because of some ignorant bigot's right to spew hatred? Do I believe that I should have to explain to them why this man hates them so much? Should I explain that? Do I want them to grow up afraid? Aware that there are people who believe that they are evil because their last name is Cohen? And if I don't - if I try to protect them from that, to shield them from that - do I run the risk of having them feel the way I do now? Unsure and afraid and violated and threatened? How do I explain this to my children when I can't explain it to myself?
Friday, October 16, 2009
Infomercials
Sam's got a thing for infomercials. Actually, Sam's got a thing for his Daddy - and Marc is amused by Vince, the spokesman for the Slap Chop and the Sham Wow. My mother got the slap chop and my sister got the sham wow, and they were both so charmed by Sam's obvious joy in these products that they promptly handed them over for him to take home. Not that we let him HAVE the slap chop - but he does help me use it :-). Anyway, today, he came into the dining room and said "Mommy, where be the sham wow?" I handed it to him, and he walked away from me muttering "I tink dis'll come in handy." He's so funny - and luckily adorable enough so that when I discovered that it actually came in handy because he had upended a glass of chocolate milk all over the floor, all I did was agree that the sham wow really was a handy thing to have around ;-).
Waiting for the girls to come home, and thankfully the heat just turned on - which helped my bread rise. I'm making a big Shabbat dinner tonight - and my goal is to actually have it ready and waiting for when Marc gets home from work. For the past couple of months, poor Marc has been coming home and having to assemble the whole thing - I get all the food mostly ready and then collapse on the couch, too tired and too sick to finish. My goal tonight? Table set, candles ready to be lit, food on the table waiting.
12 WEEKS TODAY. Very happy about that. I feel like now that I've reached 12 weeks, I'm safe. And I feel better - not great, not 100%, and definitely still pregnant, but in between the nausea and the fatigue, there are little burts of energy. Occasionally, I'm even productive - for example, yesterday, I vacuumed. Folded laundry, even. House is still in shambles most of the time, and that's troubling to me - but it's getting better. And the second trimester - that's my favorite. Actually, the third is really my favorite - when I'm all big and the baby's kicking away and I'm getting everything ready and so excited...
Starting to panic a little bit about bringing a baby home - wondering how Sam's going to make it while I'm in the hospital. I LOVE being in the hospital - which I know puts me in a minority of pregnant women. But what's not to love? Nurses on call, qualified to watch your baby while you sleep, they bring you food, people come visit and hang out, and I get to laze in bed and adore the new baby. Everything's right there, everyone's ready to help - I don't have to break up fights, or pick up toys - I just get to be Mommy of this tiny little baby. It's great. And I'm telling myself that Jess was FINE while I was in the hospital, and Sam'll actually be about three months older than she was, and he'll be fine too. But hey, I've got another 28 weeks to freak about it - no need to do it all right now :-)
Waiting for the girls to come home, and thankfully the heat just turned on - which helped my bread rise. I'm making a big Shabbat dinner tonight - and my goal is to actually have it ready and waiting for when Marc gets home from work. For the past couple of months, poor Marc has been coming home and having to assemble the whole thing - I get all the food mostly ready and then collapse on the couch, too tired and too sick to finish. My goal tonight? Table set, candles ready to be lit, food on the table waiting.
12 WEEKS TODAY. Very happy about that. I feel like now that I've reached 12 weeks, I'm safe. And I feel better - not great, not 100%, and definitely still pregnant, but in between the nausea and the fatigue, there are little burts of energy. Occasionally, I'm even productive - for example, yesterday, I vacuumed. Folded laundry, even. House is still in shambles most of the time, and that's troubling to me - but it's getting better. And the second trimester - that's my favorite. Actually, the third is really my favorite - when I'm all big and the baby's kicking away and I'm getting everything ready and so excited...
Starting to panic a little bit about bringing a baby home - wondering how Sam's going to make it while I'm in the hospital. I LOVE being in the hospital - which I know puts me in a minority of pregnant women. But what's not to love? Nurses on call, qualified to watch your baby while you sleep, they bring you food, people come visit and hang out, and I get to laze in bed and adore the new baby. Everything's right there, everyone's ready to help - I don't have to break up fights, or pick up toys - I just get to be Mommy of this tiny little baby. It's great. And I'm telling myself that Jess was FINE while I was in the hospital, and Sam'll actually be about three months older than she was, and he'll be fine too. But hey, I've got another 28 weeks to freak about it - no need to do it all right now :-)
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Mental Health Day and 12 Week checkup
Called a mental health day today for Miss Jessica. She's missed only one day so far, when she was sick, and quite honestly, I think she just needed a quiet day when she's sitting at home, with no other older girls here, just relaxing, reading, watching television. Even though she only had four days this week, the weekend was just insane with constant activity. She's been coming home from school and having massive temper tantrums the past two days, plus it's been difficult to wake her up, and she's been complaining of a variety of different maladies (sore throat, upset stomach, sore knee, her bug bites hurt, etc). She's very happy at the moment, in her Hannah Montana jammies, her hair a wreck, and I made homemade corn muffins for her.
In other news, I have a bunch of housework type stuff to do - switching over Jessie's summer stuff to winter, figuring out if I have any mittens and hats left over from last year, vacuuming and mopping and scrubbing. I'm so wiped out all the time, a lot of the stuff has been woefully neglected as of late. But I'm momentarily energetic, so am going to do what I can before I decide that it's time to lay down and read.
Had my 12 week check up yesterday and heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time. I LOVE my OB appointments. I saw the same mid-wife when I was pregnant with Sam, and for every appointment, I brought a three year old Jessica. Bringing Sam is so much fun - he's so interested in all of it ("why you pee in a cup, Mama?"). The hospital is gorgeous, with a huge atruim and waterfall that he can throw pennies into, and the lab techs always give him two stickers when they draw my blood (which they do with alarming regularity - I've had it done twice so far, and have more bloodwork scheduled for the next appt). My next appt will be the 16 week one, and I get the super big ultrasound. We aren't going to find out the sex, Marc doesn't want to know, and since I'm totally not giving him a vote on the baby's name, I let him win this one ;-). I'm torn on wanting one sex or another - I want both for different reasons. I think it'd be great for Sam to have a brother, we have a really female dominated family, and another boy would be great for Sammy. But a girl... I love the thought of Jessie having a sister (not that she doesn't already have two sisters - but I'd like to have two daughters that are all mine - a sister she can share her whole life with, as opposed to just every weekend). Plus little girl clothes are cuter.
In other news, I have a bunch of housework type stuff to do - switching over Jessie's summer stuff to winter, figuring out if I have any mittens and hats left over from last year, vacuuming and mopping and scrubbing. I'm so wiped out all the time, a lot of the stuff has been woefully neglected as of late. But I'm momentarily energetic, so am going to do what I can before I decide that it's time to lay down and read.
Had my 12 week check up yesterday and heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time. I LOVE my OB appointments. I saw the same mid-wife when I was pregnant with Sam, and for every appointment, I brought a three year old Jessica. Bringing Sam is so much fun - he's so interested in all of it ("why you pee in a cup, Mama?"). The hospital is gorgeous, with a huge atruim and waterfall that he can throw pennies into, and the lab techs always give him two stickers when they draw my blood (which they do with alarming regularity - I've had it done twice so far, and have more bloodwork scheduled for the next appt). My next appt will be the 16 week one, and I get the super big ultrasound. We aren't going to find out the sex, Marc doesn't want to know, and since I'm totally not giving him a vote on the baby's name, I let him win this one ;-). I'm torn on wanting one sex or another - I want both for different reasons. I think it'd be great for Sam to have a brother, we have a really female dominated family, and another boy would be great for Sammy. But a girl... I love the thought of Jessie having a sister (not that she doesn't already have two sisters - but I'd like to have two daughters that are all mine - a sister she can share her whole life with, as opposed to just every weekend). Plus little girl clothes are cuter.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Sleepovers
Jess wanted a sleepover this weekend, so Saturday night, I invited my old neighbor Glennys to spend the night. We first met Annie and John (Glenny's parents) when we moved into the apartment below them just before Sam was born. Gradually, Glennys came to be just another member of our family - in fact, I believe that Sam thinks she is his sister. She's six months younger than Sarah and almost exactly a year older than Miss Jess - and from the very beginning, Jess and Glennys were bestest friends.
Saturday night, we went to a party at the synagogue for Simchat Torah, and when we came home, Marc put the girls to bed in Jessie's bedroom. They wore matching jammies, heard two stories read to them, and then (this was so cute), I told them to whisper to each other until they fell asleep. It was hard, because I kept wanting to go in and yell at them to go to sleep, but by quarter of ten, the whispers had quieted down, and they both slept great. It was Jessie's first real big girl sleepover - when it was just the two of them, alone in her bedroom, one on the top bunk and one on the bottom, whispering secrets and telling stories to each other until they drifted off to sleep.
They had so much fun, they did it again last night at Annie's house :-)
Saturday night, we went to a party at the synagogue for Simchat Torah, and when we came home, Marc put the girls to bed in Jessie's bedroom. They wore matching jammies, heard two stories read to them, and then (this was so cute), I told them to whisper to each other until they fell asleep. It was hard, because I kept wanting to go in and yell at them to go to sleep, but by quarter of ten, the whispers had quieted down, and they both slept great. It was Jessie's first real big girl sleepover - when it was just the two of them, alone in her bedroom, one on the top bunk and one on the bottom, whispering secrets and telling stories to each other until they drifted off to sleep.
They had so much fun, they did it again last night at Annie's house :-)
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Weaning - again
I hesitate to post on this - mostly because I don't like getting the negative comments (from anonymous, every time) about how ridiculous it is that I'm still nursing a child who's over three... but it's really a big issue for me, so I'm going to be brave. Let me say first that I loved nursing my babies, and never considered not doing it. My goal was strictly to get to one year, after that, if he had shown any sign of wanting to wean, I'd have been all over it. Jessie weaned on her own at seven or eight months, so I was grateful to not have to spend money on formula for him, and even at two, nursing didn't seem like a big deal. At three... I'm really ready for it to be done.
Weaning sucks. Weaning while pregnant sucks even more. I know this because I've been trying to do it for a LONG time and now that I'm 11 weeks pregnant, I can officially say that it's gotten significantly worse now that I'm pregnant. Between the actual physical discomfort that comes from anything that has to do with my breasts, and pregnancy hormones - the whole weaning process is filled with tears and rage and frustration - on everyone's part.
I've got Sam down to minimal nursing - and it really is minimal. He nurses to sleep (and it's quick, less than five minutes) and when he first wakes up. It's the waking up that's killing me. Because Sam's not a kid who wakes up sunshiney delighted to face the day - he wakes up groggy and mean. He's never happy about it - and always requires some quiet alone time nursing before he'll even consider not screaming. It's a good morning when he actually wakes up and gets out of bed to find me, a bad morning when he lays in bed hollering "MAMA! COME IN HERE!"
He sleeps fine thru the night, rarely, if ever, wakes up to nurse - it's just that every morning we have a huge raging battle of wills and it sucks unbelievably bad. Screaming, crying, begging, pleading, sobbing - and it's so physically uncomfortable that I just can't do it for very long. Couple of minutes, five, maybe ten tops. And that's nowhere near enough, as far as my stubborn little love bug is concerned.
The problem, if you ask me, is that I read a quote about how a nursing mother should no more count the number of times you nurse a baby than you should count the number of times you kiss your baby. So I always nursed on demand - and with colic and reflux, Sam learned early on that nursing was the only thing that made his life better. He outgrew the colic and reflux, and has a healthy appetite, is a confident, independent boy - but LOVES nursing. Nursing for us is so much more than food - he obviously doesn't need it for sustenance, but today - after he'd been screaming and sobbing and nothing was working, he finally just said "hug me please" and his big brown eyes were still brimming over with tears and he looked so lost and so sad, like he just couldn't figure out why I was denying him this basic expression of love and attachment - and then I, of course, picked him up, hugged him and held him, rubbing his back and he asked for breakfast. By the time Marc brought him in a bowl of cereal, I was a teary-eyed mess, crying and feeling like the worst mother in the world - he obviously isn't ready to give up nursing, and I went ahead and got pregnant, and now it's so physically painful and I can't do it anymore and it's breaking his heart... it was awful.
He hasn't asked to nurse all day - which is typical for him. He doesn't nurse at all during the day, it's just to go to sleep and then to wake up. I've tried everything, special drinks, distraction, encouraging a lovey, chocolate, movies, special time with Daddy - nothing works. I've even broken out the bottle and pacifier, thinking maybe he just likes sucking on something. I think we're just going to have to battle thru it. Nursing certainly isn't going to get easier, it's only going to get worse. As I get bigger, it's going to be more and more difficult, and I'm just praying that he'll outgrow the need.
I feel a little bitter - because I always thought that nursing on demand would result in this perfect nursing relationship, he'd stop on his own because he didn't need it anymore - but he turned three in July - and in his version of a perfect world, he'd have my breasts available whenever he wanted them. I did everything right - as far as the attachment parenting model is concerned - my only problem is that Sam didn't read the same parenting handbooks that I did. He doesn't know he's supposed to have stopped on his own - he doesn't know he's supposed to have just outgrown this because he knows that I love him and will be there. He's just a little boy - and doesn't understand why I'm so mean to him.
Yeah - pregnancy hormones are not making this whole process easier. Marc's on board, as supportive as he can be. He thought I was mostly crazy for continuing to nurse, but since it wasn't him doing it - and weaning was obviously not going well, he pretty much just stays out of it. But when asked, he tells me that I'm doing the right thing, that part of parenting is giving a little push out of the nest and that Sam needs me to encourage him to be a big boy. Or something like that - and I know that he doesn't need the nursing - I know that it's more a battle of wills and Sam's an incredibly stubborn kid when it comes to this. Once he accepts that I'm done for the morning (and that can take up to an hour of him temper tantrumming), he moves on and is fine all day.
But suffice it to say - my house is nowhere you'd want to be between seven thirty and nine o'clock every morning.
Weaning sucks. Weaning while pregnant sucks even more. I know this because I've been trying to do it for a LONG time and now that I'm 11 weeks pregnant, I can officially say that it's gotten significantly worse now that I'm pregnant. Between the actual physical discomfort that comes from anything that has to do with my breasts, and pregnancy hormones - the whole weaning process is filled with tears and rage and frustration - on everyone's part.
I've got Sam down to minimal nursing - and it really is minimal. He nurses to sleep (and it's quick, less than five minutes) and when he first wakes up. It's the waking up that's killing me. Because Sam's not a kid who wakes up sunshiney delighted to face the day - he wakes up groggy and mean. He's never happy about it - and always requires some quiet alone time nursing before he'll even consider not screaming. It's a good morning when he actually wakes up and gets out of bed to find me, a bad morning when he lays in bed hollering "MAMA! COME IN HERE!"
He sleeps fine thru the night, rarely, if ever, wakes up to nurse - it's just that every morning we have a huge raging battle of wills and it sucks unbelievably bad. Screaming, crying, begging, pleading, sobbing - and it's so physically uncomfortable that I just can't do it for very long. Couple of minutes, five, maybe ten tops. And that's nowhere near enough, as far as my stubborn little love bug is concerned.
The problem, if you ask me, is that I read a quote about how a nursing mother should no more count the number of times you nurse a baby than you should count the number of times you kiss your baby. So I always nursed on demand - and with colic and reflux, Sam learned early on that nursing was the only thing that made his life better. He outgrew the colic and reflux, and has a healthy appetite, is a confident, independent boy - but LOVES nursing. Nursing for us is so much more than food - he obviously doesn't need it for sustenance, but today - after he'd been screaming and sobbing and nothing was working, he finally just said "hug me please" and his big brown eyes were still brimming over with tears and he looked so lost and so sad, like he just couldn't figure out why I was denying him this basic expression of love and attachment - and then I, of course, picked him up, hugged him and held him, rubbing his back and he asked for breakfast. By the time Marc brought him in a bowl of cereal, I was a teary-eyed mess, crying and feeling like the worst mother in the world - he obviously isn't ready to give up nursing, and I went ahead and got pregnant, and now it's so physically painful and I can't do it anymore and it's breaking his heart... it was awful.
He hasn't asked to nurse all day - which is typical for him. He doesn't nurse at all during the day, it's just to go to sleep and then to wake up. I've tried everything, special drinks, distraction, encouraging a lovey, chocolate, movies, special time with Daddy - nothing works. I've even broken out the bottle and pacifier, thinking maybe he just likes sucking on something. I think we're just going to have to battle thru it. Nursing certainly isn't going to get easier, it's only going to get worse. As I get bigger, it's going to be more and more difficult, and I'm just praying that he'll outgrow the need.
I feel a little bitter - because I always thought that nursing on demand would result in this perfect nursing relationship, he'd stop on his own because he didn't need it anymore - but he turned three in July - and in his version of a perfect world, he'd have my breasts available whenever he wanted them. I did everything right - as far as the attachment parenting model is concerned - my only problem is that Sam didn't read the same parenting handbooks that I did. He doesn't know he's supposed to have stopped on his own - he doesn't know he's supposed to have just outgrown this because he knows that I love him and will be there. He's just a little boy - and doesn't understand why I'm so mean to him.
Yeah - pregnancy hormones are not making this whole process easier. Marc's on board, as supportive as he can be. He thought I was mostly crazy for continuing to nurse, but since it wasn't him doing it - and weaning was obviously not going well, he pretty much just stays out of it. But when asked, he tells me that I'm doing the right thing, that part of parenting is giving a little push out of the nest and that Sam needs me to encourage him to be a big boy. Or something like that - and I know that he doesn't need the nursing - I know that it's more a battle of wills and Sam's an incredibly stubborn kid when it comes to this. Once he accepts that I'm done for the morning (and that can take up to an hour of him temper tantrumming), he moves on and is fine all day.
But suffice it to say - my house is nowhere you'd want to be between seven thirty and nine o'clock every morning.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Day off from school
And hordes of children here, although all four of them are mine. Depending on your definition. And so far, things are going well, couple of conflicts. Jessie, Lilli and Sarah get along like most sisters - sometimes best friends and sometimes mortal enemies. More often than not, Jess and Lilli are together and Sarah is the one on the outside. Sam is much more likely to prefer Sarah to Lilli, so it mostly balances out, but sometimes it's just the three girls playing together, and then it's just a waiting game until Sarah gets really mad at the other two. Their personalities are all so different and they are just all far enough apart in age so that they don't mesh as well as I'd like them too. Sarah has already been banished to Jessie's room for some cool off time, and it's not even eleven o'clock yet. Going to be a long day....
Puked last night - just when I thought that I had mostly moved past the puking portion of the pregnancy... I'm used to feeling yucky, that's pretty much an all day thing, but the throwing up has (or had) pretty much subsided. But when I went to bed, I felt it coming and ran for the bathroom. Marc stood beside me and rubbed my back and then held me for a while until I stopped shaking. I hate throwing up. I mean, nobody likes it, and I suppose I'm better at it than most, but I still hate it. I hate the heaving sensation when my stomach feels like it's trying to turn itself inside out - but as an added bonus - I'd had a LOT to drink last night, which made it much better (possibly TMI - but really - drinking makes puking 100% better for me - everything flows better, if you know what I mean).
Eleven weeks today! YAY! I'm so happy, especially because I always get extra scared right around this time. I love this pregnancy - I'm so excited about the baby coming. I don't need an awful lot, I need to get a new dresser (for Jessie, I think - she's got so many clothes she needs a much bigger dresser than she has) and move hers to Sam, and Sam's for the new baby. Sam's is the perfect size for a changing table - I just need to buy another mattress for it. I also need a bouncy seat and a bassinette. I've got baby clothes from both Jess and Sam saved, so I'm not too worried about clothes, but I'll need to get onesies and blankets and burp cloths.
Still agonizing over names. Although agonizing isn't the right word - just still pondering. The boy's name is all set - Benjamin Alfred. The Benjamin part is just because I love that name, and Alfred is after Marc's grandfather. I'm still debating over the girl's name. I know I'm using Julianna - and think it'll probably be the first name. It's after Marc's cousin who passed away a couple of years ago, and his grandmother (Julie and Anna). But I'm really stuck for a middle name - any suggestions? I can think of lots of first names that sound great with Julianna as a middle name, but I love Julianna as a first name (Marc hates it, but again - he's not the one throwing up so I win this battle).
Puked last night - just when I thought that I had mostly moved past the puking portion of the pregnancy... I'm used to feeling yucky, that's pretty much an all day thing, but the throwing up has (or had) pretty much subsided. But when I went to bed, I felt it coming and ran for the bathroom. Marc stood beside me and rubbed my back and then held me for a while until I stopped shaking. I hate throwing up. I mean, nobody likes it, and I suppose I'm better at it than most, but I still hate it. I hate the heaving sensation when my stomach feels like it's trying to turn itself inside out - but as an added bonus - I'd had a LOT to drink last night, which made it much better (possibly TMI - but really - drinking makes puking 100% better for me - everything flows better, if you know what I mean).
Eleven weeks today! YAY! I'm so happy, especially because I always get extra scared right around this time. I love this pregnancy - I'm so excited about the baby coming. I don't need an awful lot, I need to get a new dresser (for Jessie, I think - she's got so many clothes she needs a much bigger dresser than she has) and move hers to Sam, and Sam's for the new baby. Sam's is the perfect size for a changing table - I just need to buy another mattress for it. I also need a bouncy seat and a bassinette. I've got baby clothes from both Jess and Sam saved, so I'm not too worried about clothes, but I'll need to get onesies and blankets and burp cloths.
Still agonizing over names. Although agonizing isn't the right word - just still pondering. The boy's name is all set - Benjamin Alfred. The Benjamin part is just because I love that name, and Alfred is after Marc's grandfather. I'm still debating over the girl's name. I know I'm using Julianna - and think it'll probably be the first name. It's after Marc's cousin who passed away a couple of years ago, and his grandmother (Julie and Anna). But I'm really stuck for a middle name - any suggestions? I can think of lots of first names that sound great with Julianna as a middle name, but I love Julianna as a first name (Marc hates it, but again - he's not the one throwing up so I win this battle).
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Apologizing in advance
One of my biggest pet peeves is parents of only children, excusing some indulgence or another by saying "Hey, I've only got one." Like having only one means you love him/her that much more than those of us who have more than one child. Just FYI - having more than one doesn't mean that you like them any less, doesn't mean you want any less to spoil and indulge and do whatever you can to make them happy. The only difference, as far as I can tell, is that it's not as easy to buy whatever the latest toy is, cater to their dietary needs or whatever else it is. I love and worry and agonize over both my kids, and I'm sure that I'll be the same way with the next one. It's perhaps not as easy to accomodate everyone, and there are times when one has to suffer to indulge the other one. When Sam is screaming and I say to Jess "honey, I can only handle one crisis at a time, you're going to have to wait" or when Jessie is sick and I'm holding her and rocking her sleep and Sam announces he's "rumbly in his tumbly" and needs food asap - he's going to have to suck it up and suffer a little. This doesn't mean that I don't feel enormously guilty, that I don't wish that I could be the very best parent all the time for both the kids - but the fact is, when you've got more than one, you can't be the everything everyone wants all the time. With just one - you've got a shot at being able to pull it off, or at least you don't have to balance completely equal needs and totally valid requests for attention and love. Nobody has to wait while the other one gets snuggled, for example, if at that particular moment he/she would like to be cuddled. When it comes to buying balloons or toys or special treats - when it's a matter of paying $10 for one child - or $40 to get each of the four kids something - it's a tougher decision - and WAY harder to say no. This doesn't, in any way, mean that it's easier to say no to four children than it would be to say no to one.
I'm a bit grumpy today - for no real reason. I'll blame pregnancy hormones, I guess, because that's always an easy excuse. But I've had a couple of people randomly say that to me lately "well, I've only got one" as though it makes it harder to be strict and tough and fair. It's not - if anything, from my perspective, having only one should make it much easier to parent. Looking back, having only one was a breeze. It wasn't always easy, but it was a lot easier than having two, and I'm sure having two is got be easier than having three. But I love having children, I love having a LOT of children, and wouldn't trade the balancing and the guilt for anything in the world. I just wish that people understood that you don't love them any less because you have more than one.
I'm a bit grumpy today - for no real reason. I'll blame pregnancy hormones, I guess, because that's always an easy excuse. But I've had a couple of people randomly say that to me lately "well, I've only got one" as though it makes it harder to be strict and tough and fair. It's not - if anything, from my perspective, having only one should make it much easier to parent. Looking back, having only one was a breeze. It wasn't always easy, but it was a lot easier than having two, and I'm sure having two is got be easier than having three. But I love having children, I love having a LOT of children, and wouldn't trade the balancing and the guilt for anything in the world. I just wish that people understood that you don't love them any less because you have more than one.
Mama - COME IN HERE!
First - the disclaimer - I love my boy child. I find him enchanting and funny and sweet and loving. He's my buddy, my constant companion, and truly, I can't imagine my life without him. BUT HE'S DRIVING ME CRAZY THIS MORNING. He's grumpy and demanding and imperious. He's been screaming whenever things aren't 100% to his liking (and that's been pretty much all morning). I'm severely limiting the amount of nursing (we're down to about fifteen minutes total all day and night) and he's just been fighting that hard all morning. Woke up and screamed until I went to get him out of bed (as if his legs were broken). Then cried until I let him nurse, cried when I stopped him, screamed and cried and hollered at me all morning long. I finally let him latch back on, and let him nurse for a few more minutes, then he calmed down (because it works like magic to soothe and make him friendly again) and then relaxed and ate a bagel. I keep wandering away from him and after a few minutes I'll hear the demand "MAMA - COME IN HERE!" and when I don't (because there's something off putting about obeying a three year old), he escalates into screaming. I'm going to drag him outside for a long walk, in hopes that he'll cheer up when exposed to sunshine and crunchy leaves to walk thru.
In other news... Marc's been home for the past two days with a wretched cold. Nobody else seems to be sick (although possibly Sam is coming down with something - I'd much rather blame it on him feeling sick to him just being impossibly spoiled). Jess is still content and happy at school. I went in to cover her lunch (every Wednesday, I do lunch coverage at school for her teacher) and she seems to be thriving. Sam fits in well too - she's plays really well with him at school and he loved going in to visit his big sister at school. She had dance yesterday afternoon, and seems to be much more into it this year. She's really loving it - I'm so glad about that.
Pregnancy is still whipping along, alarmingly fast. I'll be 11 weeks tomorrow, and next week, I have another appointment and more bloodwork. My appointment after that will be the big ultrasound - and I'm shocked that it's so fast. I always think of that as the half way point, and it's unreal that it's already almost here. I'm still unbelievably sick - have adopted several coping methods to avoid puking. The biggest one is frozen mint milanos. Just nibbling on one is usually enough to get my stomach under control. I still take the Reglan, although not as much as I'm supposed to. I don't like swallowing pills when I'm not pregnant and even though I know it's safe, there's something about it that I don't like, so I take it often enough to keep the worst of it at bay, but still feel pretty crappy most of the time. But my belly is getting bigger and bigger, and I'm loving every minute of it.
In other news... Marc's been home for the past two days with a wretched cold. Nobody else seems to be sick (although possibly Sam is coming down with something - I'd much rather blame it on him feeling sick to him just being impossibly spoiled). Jess is still content and happy at school. I went in to cover her lunch (every Wednesday, I do lunch coverage at school for her teacher) and she seems to be thriving. Sam fits in well too - she's plays really well with him at school and he loved going in to visit his big sister at school. She had dance yesterday afternoon, and seems to be much more into it this year. She's really loving it - I'm so glad about that.
Pregnancy is still whipping along, alarmingly fast. I'll be 11 weeks tomorrow, and next week, I have another appointment and more bloodwork. My appointment after that will be the big ultrasound - and I'm shocked that it's so fast. I always think of that as the half way point, and it's unreal that it's already almost here. I'm still unbelievably sick - have adopted several coping methods to avoid puking. The biggest one is frozen mint milanos. Just nibbling on one is usually enough to get my stomach under control. I still take the Reglan, although not as much as I'm supposed to. I don't like swallowing pills when I'm not pregnant and even though I know it's safe, there's something about it that I don't like, so I take it often enough to keep the worst of it at bay, but still feel pretty crappy most of the time. But my belly is getting bigger and bigger, and I'm loving every minute of it.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Good morning sunshines
I started taking Reglan, which is an anti-nausea med, and it's made an enormous difference. I feel a LOT better. I haven't taken it yet this morning, just because today I'm officially ten weeks, and am feeling a little insecure because that's when I miscarried. So I waited until I could really "feel pregnant" and I'm happy to report that the nausea is here full force. I think I'm safe to take the medication and feel better now. It's amazing what a difference it makes, I feel so much more like me. I'm actually doing stuff, cleaning up the clutter and making the house look lovely again. When it was at it's worst (the nausea), all I could manage was dishes and laundry - and even that was pretty haphazard and incomplete.
In other news... kids are both doing amazingly well. Sam, the other day, was sitting in the backseat quoting an old Johnny Carson interview with the director of Godzilla or King Kong (this is a Marc thing - Marc says it a lot randomly and Sam picked it up) "Monkey die, everybody cry." He says it in this odd little accent and it was adorable in an weird sort of way. Anyway, so he's back there, repeating over and over again "Monkey cry, everybody die" and making Jessie and Marc laugh. Finally he says plaintively "Mommy, how do you get things out of your head?" because he couldn't figure out how to stop saying it. Maybe you had to be there, but it was so funny. How do you get things out of your head? Don't we all struggle with that :-)?
Jess is really developing into this little personality. And as much as I hesitate to say this in front of her, because I don't want her to feel like she has no choice but to mirror me - she reminds me SO much of myself at her age. She dances to the beat of her own drummer. I watch her in social situations, at Hebrew School or at recess when I go in to cover her teacher's lunch break, and she's so confident and secure - but so not a joiner. She's in her own world, and happy there. It's not that she doesn't like the other kids, and I don't get the sense that anyone is mean to her or excludes her, but she's happier not being a part of the group. Whatever it is, she's just in her own little world, either taking care of someone younger (she does that a lot), or just doing her own thing. I worried about it for a while - why isn't my daughter popular??? But it's not that she's unpopular, she gets along fine with the other kids. They all yell hi to her when we're walking to the car from school, she hollers back with enthusiasm, she seems perfectly content, but really - she's not a leader. Not a follower either - she's delightfully just Jessica. Light years ahead of where I was socially at that age, I think I was much more insecure at her age, it wasn't until high school that I was really content with who I was and where I fit. She seems to be there already - and my only hope is that she always stays that happy with who she is.
In other news... kids are both doing amazingly well. Sam, the other day, was sitting in the backseat quoting an old Johnny Carson interview with the director of Godzilla or King Kong (this is a Marc thing - Marc says it a lot randomly and Sam picked it up) "Monkey die, everybody cry." He says it in this odd little accent and it was adorable in an weird sort of way. Anyway, so he's back there, repeating over and over again "Monkey cry, everybody die" and making Jessie and Marc laugh. Finally he says plaintively "Mommy, how do you get things out of your head?" because he couldn't figure out how to stop saying it. Maybe you had to be there, but it was so funny. How do you get things out of your head? Don't we all struggle with that :-)?
Jess is really developing into this little personality. And as much as I hesitate to say this in front of her, because I don't want her to feel like she has no choice but to mirror me - she reminds me SO much of myself at her age. She dances to the beat of her own drummer. I watch her in social situations, at Hebrew School or at recess when I go in to cover her teacher's lunch break, and she's so confident and secure - but so not a joiner. She's in her own world, and happy there. It's not that she doesn't like the other kids, and I don't get the sense that anyone is mean to her or excludes her, but she's happier not being a part of the group. Whatever it is, she's just in her own little world, either taking care of someone younger (she does that a lot), or just doing her own thing. I worried about it for a while - why isn't my daughter popular??? But it's not that she's unpopular, she gets along fine with the other kids. They all yell hi to her when we're walking to the car from school, she hollers back with enthusiasm, she seems perfectly content, but really - she's not a leader. Not a follower either - she's delightfully just Jessica. Light years ahead of where I was socially at that age, I think I was much more insecure at her age, it wasn't until high school that I was really content with who I was and where I fit. She seems to be there already - and my only hope is that she always stays that happy with who she is.
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