This is a letter I want to write. It's geared to the people who say stupid things about sweet adorable people with allergies. Who think that their child's right to eat a Skippy sandwich overrides MY child's right to, you know, not die.
I had heard it said that when you become a mom, you become a mom to all the children in the world. And I never really got that, even when I became a mom. I mean, I wanted kids to be loved and cared for and healthy and stories of sick babies and neglected children and babies thrown in dumpsters made me terrible sad. Then I became Allergy Mom. And I suddenly got it. And here's what I got.
My child's health and safety and life is equal to YOUR child's life and health and safety. And that's equal to the kid's down the streets life. And that's as important as the random strange kid at school's life.
And my child's preferences and convenience is on par with your child's and every other kid's convenience.
And life is more important than convenience.
And it is MY job as a parent to ensure not only the safety and well-being of my child, but for all the kids I directly or indirectly come into contact with. Yup, that includes kids with health issues in grade 6 at the same school that my pre-schooler goes to. And if something that MY child does negatively impacted the health and well-being of that child who's name I don't even know, well then, as soon as it was brought to my attention I would do my best to change it. EVEN IF IT WAS A PAIN IN MY ASS. because your child's life is important to me. It's that simple.
So for all those mom's who seriously have an issue with not being able to bring peanut butter to school, or having to wash your hands when you come into the class room, or are annoyed because the teacher will ask your child to change their shirt if she shows up with breakfast on it, I really want you to just think. Step out of your self-centred, narrow-minded little world for just one second. Please. Imagine the pain and grief of rushing your child to the hospital repeatedly not knowing if they would survive because for some stupid reason their body decided that milk (or eggs, or nuts, or whatever) is poison. And then think how you would want YOUR child treated if they had some sort of issue. Would you want them segregated? Would you want them pointed and and griped about? Would you want other people to wish they would just go away so that their life was a bit more "convenient"? Just think. And then, you know, follow the golden rule. And get your head out of your arse and treat people with empathy and respect and care and concern.
That said- feel free to whine a bit at home. But NEVER EVER say in public or to an allergy parent or to anyone, really, that it's annoying. Because I guarantee you being allergy mom is MORE annoying.
And... for allergy parents with more than one child, we also live both sides. I am Allergy Mom and "mom of kids who can eat everything". And I have to find a way to balance Bravo's safety with Alpha's and Charlie's love of yogurt and milk and cheese and Eggo waffles and pizza. And you know what, it's possible. It requires safety precautions to be put in place and it require that you be diligent and careful. But if I can do it every. single. day., then you can do it for 6 hours in a day when your child shares an environment with mine.
Please, just think. And treat my child and all other allergy kids like the sweet wonderful little people that they are, not like an annoying thorn in your side. Please.
THE END.
Thursday 29 December 2011
Friday 23 December 2011
grief in a box
I keep my grief about Thomas in a box. But I really do mean that in the most literal way possible. When Charlie was born my doula and very close friend (who happens to work at a crisis pregnancy centre) gave me a hand painted small blue box with little shooting stars on it. Inside was a small packet of Kleenex, a super ugly tiny teddy bear, a small beaded bracelet that says "loved" and a little candle. I have almost thrown out the teddy bear multiple times because it's THAT ugly, but the thought of throwing out anything that even remotely has anything to do with me is just so sad. I mean, I already threw him out (my biggest regret) and to add anything else to that list makes me queasy.
I have added to the box. There are the 2 ultrasound pictures with both Thomas and Charlie in it. Charlie, big and healthy and living, Thomas, a visible, fully formed perfect but dead baby. Charlie's head snuggled into Thomas'.
Beside the box is a pair of tiny knitted booties I made: dark brown with little blue buttons. And on top of the box is a small (and very cute) lamb. The box and it's contents and the 2 extras sit on a small corner shelf in Charlie's room. Every now and then I open the box. And I look at those pictures and I both feel joy for having him inside me and deep sadness for having him not be with us. I miss him right now. I should be chasing TWO 11 month old babies away from the Christmas tree. I used to have the ultrasound pictures in my bed side drawer but I found I looked at them too much, I obsessed about them. Having them in Charlie's room makes it harder to obsess and makes me happy that the small bit of Thomas left shares a room with his brother. And maybe one day when he's old enough Charlie will want them to be in there anyways.
On Thomas' day (August 26th) I lit the candle and had it burning as I was putting Charlie to bed. Then I blew it out before I left the room. And I bawled. I think that candle will be saved for every August 26th.
I don't think Matt even knows about those pictures. Or about me lighting the candle. I don't know if he knows what I keep in that box, what it signifies. Maybe he does, but it's one of those things we have never talked about. It's like it's my thing for my missing baby. I know that makes zero sense. But if there is anything I have learnt about grief in the last 16 months is that it rarely makes sense.
And so up until now I have kept my grief in a box. Hidden for people to not see, a secret for me to hold and love. For it to be mine.
And then this week a gift was sent to me in the mail. A small angel Christmas tree ornament. Sent to me in memory of my beautiful Thomas. And I held it and I cried. Alpha saw me holding it and he asked if the beautiful beautiful ornament was very delicate and special. I said it was, and he asked to see it. He held it and told me again how pretty he thought it was and that we should hang it on the tree.
So we did. And now my grief hangs on a sparkly tree covered in glitter and lights and strange child-made ornaments. Not everybody knows what it is, but it's there for all who notice it to see.
Knowing that somebody thought of Thomas at the holidays both breaks and warms my heart. It brings a bit of peace and a bit of healing. I am not the only one who thinks of him. Somebody else thought of him and me enough to lovingly buy and send this angel. And that I think is one of the best gifts I could have received.
And so my grief will hang on the tree. And when we take the tree down I am not sure that I will place the ornament in the decoration box. I think perhaps it will hang in Charlie's window. Because I put enough things in boxes and perhaps it's time Thomas isn't one of them.
I have added to the box. There are the 2 ultrasound pictures with both Thomas and Charlie in it. Charlie, big and healthy and living, Thomas, a visible, fully formed perfect but dead baby. Charlie's head snuggled into Thomas'.
Beside the box is a pair of tiny knitted booties I made: dark brown with little blue buttons. And on top of the box is a small (and very cute) lamb. The box and it's contents and the 2 extras sit on a small corner shelf in Charlie's room. Every now and then I open the box. And I look at those pictures and I both feel joy for having him inside me and deep sadness for having him not be with us. I miss him right now. I should be chasing TWO 11 month old babies away from the Christmas tree. I used to have the ultrasound pictures in my bed side drawer but I found I looked at them too much, I obsessed about them. Having them in Charlie's room makes it harder to obsess and makes me happy that the small bit of Thomas left shares a room with his brother. And maybe one day when he's old enough Charlie will want them to be in there anyways.
On Thomas' day (August 26th) I lit the candle and had it burning as I was putting Charlie to bed. Then I blew it out before I left the room. And I bawled. I think that candle will be saved for every August 26th.
I don't think Matt even knows about those pictures. Or about me lighting the candle. I don't know if he knows what I keep in that box, what it signifies. Maybe he does, but it's one of those things we have never talked about. It's like it's my thing for my missing baby. I know that makes zero sense. But if there is anything I have learnt about grief in the last 16 months is that it rarely makes sense.
And so up until now I have kept my grief in a box. Hidden for people to not see, a secret for me to hold and love. For it to be mine.
And then this week a gift was sent to me in the mail. A small angel Christmas tree ornament. Sent to me in memory of my beautiful Thomas. And I held it and I cried. Alpha saw me holding it and he asked if the beautiful beautiful ornament was very delicate and special. I said it was, and he asked to see it. He held it and told me again how pretty he thought it was and that we should hang it on the tree.
So we did. And now my grief hangs on a sparkly tree covered in glitter and lights and strange child-made ornaments. Not everybody knows what it is, but it's there for all who notice it to see.
Knowing that somebody thought of Thomas at the holidays both breaks and warms my heart. It brings a bit of peace and a bit of healing. I am not the only one who thinks of him. Somebody else thought of him and me enough to lovingly buy and send this angel. And that I think is one of the best gifts I could have received.
And so my grief will hang on the tree. And when we take the tree down I am not sure that I will place the ornament in the decoration box. I think perhaps it will hang in Charlie's window. Because I put enough things in boxes and perhaps it's time Thomas isn't one of them.
Thursday 8 December 2011
Food Friday on Thursday- dairy free soy free cheese sauce
OK. I've been meaning to write this out for some time now. But first I had to make some and measure. I don't measure. Ever. I dump and stir and add and taste until things look and taste... right. So this took FAR too much time. But it's done now.
Ingredients (and this is what I used, but is by no means set in stone)
4 Tablespoons oil
8 Tablespoon flour
4 1/2 cups rice milk (almond would probably taste pretty good, but we can't use that)
1 teaspoon garlic powder (more wouldn't hurt)
1/2 teaspoon pepper (also- more would be fine)
3/4 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon salt (I tried to use less- it tasted really bad until I got up to 1/2 teaspoon. More would be fine, too, just not less)
3/4 bag of daiya "cheese". Pepper jack is really yummy in it, cheddar is what I normally use because it's more readily available, mozzarella I've tried but the result was a bit bland.
Heat oil in large pot over med to med/ high heat. Add flour and whisk or stir. Whisking makes it smoother more easily. Add rice milk 1/2 cup at a time whisking/ stirring well in between each addition and adding the next when it gets thick. Once you've added all the milk reduce heat to a low simmer. Add in seasonings. If it's getting too thick add some more rice milk. Once you have it the right texture and the right taste (should be tasty before the addition of the "cheese") add about 3/4 of a bag of Daiya and remove from heat. Stir until cheese is melted and well blended. I let sit in the pot until cooler (or in the fridge) and then I pour into ice cube trays.
This is enough to fill 2 full ice cube trays. Once frozen I pop 'em out and store in a ziplock bag i the freezer. This is AMAZING to have on hand for quick lunches or something. I just make some noodles for Bravo, melt 2 cubes of this in the microwave and add the noddles to the bowl and stir. Also good to use over veggies, it may just need to be thinned out a bit more. This makes good sauce for a baked pasta dish as well. I make the giant pot of it so I only have to make it every so often and I have it ready to use when needed. If I didn't know this didn't taste like cheese (like if I had been dairy free for a while, or like Bravo, for always,) then it would get the cheese sauce job done.
I was so excited when Bravo outgrew his pea allergy because it meant I could use daiya cheese. Wonderful. And superstore even sells it, so it doesn't mean an extra trip to thetoo expensive store health food store.
Voila.
Tomorrow: diary free cream of mushroom sauce- amazing for meatballs!
Ingredients (and this is what I used, but is by no means set in stone)
4 Tablespoons oil
8 Tablespoon flour
4 1/2 cups rice milk (almond would probably taste pretty good, but we can't use that)
1 teaspoon garlic powder (more wouldn't hurt)
1/2 teaspoon pepper (also- more would be fine)
3/4 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon salt (I tried to use less- it tasted really bad until I got up to 1/2 teaspoon. More would be fine, too, just not less)
3/4 bag of daiya "cheese". Pepper jack is really yummy in it, cheddar is what I normally use because it's more readily available, mozzarella I've tried but the result was a bit bland.
Heat oil in large pot over med to med/ high heat. Add flour and whisk or stir. Whisking makes it smoother more easily. Add rice milk 1/2 cup at a time whisking/ stirring well in between each addition and adding the next when it gets thick. Once you've added all the milk reduce heat to a low simmer. Add in seasonings. If it's getting too thick add some more rice milk. Once you have it the right texture and the right taste (should be tasty before the addition of the "cheese") add about 3/4 of a bag of Daiya and remove from heat. Stir until cheese is melted and well blended. I let sit in the pot until cooler (or in the fridge) and then I pour into ice cube trays.
This is enough to fill 2 full ice cube trays. Once frozen I pop 'em out and store in a ziplock bag i the freezer. This is AMAZING to have on hand for quick lunches or something. I just make some noodles for Bravo, melt 2 cubes of this in the microwave and add the noddles to the bowl and stir. Also good to use over veggies, it may just need to be thinned out a bit more. This makes good sauce for a baked pasta dish as well. I make the giant pot of it so I only have to make it every so often and I have it ready to use when needed. If I didn't know this didn't taste like cheese (like if I had been dairy free for a while, or like Bravo, for always,) then it would get the cheese sauce job done.
I was so excited when Bravo outgrew his pea allergy because it meant I could use daiya cheese. Wonderful. And superstore even sells it, so it doesn't mean an extra trip to the
Voila.
Tomorrow: diary free cream of mushroom sauce- amazing for meatballs!
Wednesday 7 December 2011
Food Friday on wednesday- Allergy Friendly Egg Nog
I came across a blog writer a while ago (the blog has lots of writers, but this one in particular has amazing recipes free of the 8 major allergens) and I'm in love. If you have food restrictions, check her out.
The recipes are easy enough to substitute back in what you don't need to avoid (like normal flour for us or maybe egg or milk or nuts or something for somebody else) but are all really inclusive. Which is nice because she has made it possible to give Bravo some of the things that other wise he couldn't. Like Mayo (and therefor honey dill dipping sauce!) or Christmas Eggnog.
Bravo obviously didn't have the added rum, but I made this for him today and he LOVED it. I mean loved. I think his 8 oz cup of it was gone in less than 30 seconds. The downfall is it doesn't store long, but it was really really easy to make so it won't be hard to make this every few days for the season. I just need to remember to make it ahead of time because it needs to get nice and cold.
So here it is, copied right out of the blog.
A delicious “creamy,” rich eggnog that’s much lower in fat and cholesterol than the traditional beverage---and allergy-friendly to boot! It’s also free of refined sugar. This recipe may be made with or without rum.
3 cups rice milk (or other vegan milk of choice)
2 Tbsp. tapioca starch
1 ½ tsp. pure vanilla extract
¼ cup maple syrup
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg (preferably freshly grated), plus more for garnish
¼ cup dark rum (optional)
1. Combine ½ cup of the rice milk with the tapioca starch. Whisk well until frothy. Add vanilla extract. Whisk well to combine.
2. Combine 1 ½ cups of the rice milk with the maple syrup in a heavy pot. Whisk. Add nutmeg and whisk well to combine. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, stirring often with a wooden spoon. Add tapioca starch mixture to pot. Heat, whisking continuously, until it reaches a simmer. Once it's slightly thickened, add the remaining cup of rice milk. Bring to a simmer, reduce heat to low, and cook, stirring continuously, until rich and creamy, about 4 minutes.
3. Pour into a pitcher or large mason jar. Chill for at least four hours and up to 2 days. When ready to serve, stir or shake eggnog, mix in rum, pour into glasses, top with Rice Whip, and garnish with ground nutmeg.
Allergy-Friendly, Vegan, Gluten-Free, Refined Sugar-Free “Eggnog”© 2010 by Cybele Pascal
Yummy!! Happy Christmas season!!!
The recipes are easy enough to substitute back in what you don't need to avoid (like normal flour for us or maybe egg or milk or nuts or something for somebody else) but are all really inclusive. Which is nice because she has made it possible to give Bravo some of the things that other wise he couldn't. Like Mayo (and therefor honey dill dipping sauce!) or Christmas Eggnog.
Bravo obviously didn't have the added rum, but I made this for him today and he LOVED it. I mean loved. I think his 8 oz cup of it was gone in less than 30 seconds. The downfall is it doesn't store long, but it was really really easy to make so it won't be hard to make this every few days for the season. I just need to remember to make it ahead of time because it needs to get nice and cold.
So here it is, copied right out of the blog.
A delicious “creamy,” rich eggnog that’s much lower in fat and cholesterol than the traditional beverage---and allergy-friendly to boot! It’s also free of refined sugar. This recipe may be made with or without rum.
3 cups rice milk (or other vegan milk of choice)
2 Tbsp. tapioca starch
1 ½ tsp. pure vanilla extract
¼ cup maple syrup
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg (preferably freshly grated), plus more for garnish
¼ cup dark rum (optional)
1. Combine ½ cup of the rice milk with the tapioca starch. Whisk well until frothy. Add vanilla extract. Whisk well to combine.
2. Combine 1 ½ cups of the rice milk with the maple syrup in a heavy pot. Whisk. Add nutmeg and whisk well to combine. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, stirring often with a wooden spoon. Add tapioca starch mixture to pot. Heat, whisking continuously, until it reaches a simmer. Once it's slightly thickened, add the remaining cup of rice milk. Bring to a simmer, reduce heat to low, and cook, stirring continuously, until rich and creamy, about 4 minutes.
3. Pour into a pitcher or large mason jar. Chill for at least four hours and up to 2 days. When ready to serve, stir or shake eggnog, mix in rum, pour into glasses, top with Rice Whip, and garnish with ground nutmeg.
Allergy-Friendly, Vegan, Gluten-Free, Refined Sugar-Free “Eggnog”© 2010 by Cybele Pascal
Yummy!! Happy Christmas season!!!
Thursday 1 December 2011
thankful for canadian health care
I was going to mope on here today. I'm having a really hard time emotionally with Saturday's events. The emotional impact of them hit me yesterday and hit me hard. I was a wreck. It feels sometimes like I'm just waiting for Bravo to die. Maybe soon, maybe when he's 4, maybe when he's 8 or 15 or 37, but this could get him anytime anywhere. And I'm having a hard time with it.
But then I did some looking around the Internet. 6% of kids under 3 have anaphylactic food allergies. 6% is scary. That's a lot of kids. 3% of all Canadians have them. This is not rare to me and my family, even though sometimes it feels like it. And anaphylaxis is deadly when epinephrine has either been delayed, not given at all, or given in inadequate amounts. If you get that epi pen in quickly, and have a back up in case the reaction is still severe in 5-15 minutes and call an ambulance then chances are that the person will be fine. So we make sure that everyone in contact with Bravo knows about his allergies and knows what to do if he starts up with a reaction. Reactions happen. I can minimize the risk, but I can't control it. As much as I would like to put him in a plastic bubble and feed him plastic food and never let him or his food out of my sight, I can't do that. It wouldn't be good for me or for him or for anyone else involved. But I can prepare and still protect him. And eventually teach him to protect himself.
And I am thankful that we live in a time and place where there is epi pens. And 911 and ambulances and paramedics and medicine and hospitals and public health care. And I'm thankful that I don't need to worry about insurance companies and filing claims to get crazy hospital bills covered. I'm thankful that Bravo will not need to face being denied coverage because he's a "high risk" individual. I'm thankful for benefits that pay for ambulances ($380!!!) and for epi pens. I'm thankful that there are people that care about my boy and go out of their way to keep him safe. I am thankful there are people who are paid to help him when he's had a reaction. I am thankful for my little boy. And that he's still here with me. Because in another time or place he might not be.
So as much as being Allergy Mom really sucks some days, it's not necessarily a death sentence for him. And I know that other families face much harder struggles on a daily basis.
I am thankful that when he eats something and gets very sick and it could be deathly if not treated that he's back to being normal old Bravo 8 hours later. Allergies are strange.
And I'm thankful that there's a LOT of research going into allergies. And that there are smart people trying to fix them. And I'm hopeful that by the time my little Bravo has babies that maybe, just maybe, he won't have to be on the parent end of this and and they will have found a cure for allergies.
But then I did some looking around the Internet. 6% of kids under 3 have anaphylactic food allergies. 6% is scary. That's a lot of kids. 3% of all Canadians have them. This is not rare to me and my family, even though sometimes it feels like it. And anaphylaxis is deadly when epinephrine has either been delayed, not given at all, or given in inadequate amounts. If you get that epi pen in quickly, and have a back up in case the reaction is still severe in 5-15 minutes and call an ambulance then chances are that the person will be fine. So we make sure that everyone in contact with Bravo knows about his allergies and knows what to do if he starts up with a reaction. Reactions happen. I can minimize the risk, but I can't control it. As much as I would like to put him in a plastic bubble and feed him plastic food and never let him or his food out of my sight, I can't do that. It wouldn't be good for me or for him or for anyone else involved. But I can prepare and still protect him. And eventually teach him to protect himself.
And I am thankful that we live in a time and place where there is epi pens. And 911 and ambulances and paramedics and medicine and hospitals and public health care. And I'm thankful that I don't need to worry about insurance companies and filing claims to get crazy hospital bills covered. I'm thankful that Bravo will not need to face being denied coverage because he's a "high risk" individual. I'm thankful for benefits that pay for ambulances ($380!!!) and for epi pens. I'm thankful that there are people that care about my boy and go out of their way to keep him safe. I am thankful there are people who are paid to help him when he's had a reaction. I am thankful for my little boy. And that he's still here with me. Because in another time or place he might not be.
So as much as being Allergy Mom really sucks some days, it's not necessarily a death sentence for him. And I know that other families face much harder struggles on a daily basis.
I am thankful that when he eats something and gets very sick and it could be deathly if not treated that he's back to being normal old Bravo 8 hours later. Allergies are strange.
And I'm thankful that there's a LOT of research going into allergies. And that there are smart people trying to fix them. And I'm hopeful that by the time my little Bravo has babies that maybe, just maybe, he won't have to be on the parent end of this and and they will have found a cure for allergies.
Wednesday 30 November 2011
amublances are not as fun as they look
They're scary. And hard to be in. And hard to watch your baby fighting for his life in. They're not set up for small children. They have to try to use an adult blood pressure cuff until the fire man first responder guy gets there and has actual paediatric sized equipment and knowledge.
So the beginning. Well, not quite the beginning. The beginning happened when he was 4 months old. But the beginning of THIS story (oh please let there not be many more stories after this) starts with our Saturday Christmas celebration. Matthews parents are snow birds, so we have Christmas in November every year. That was Saturday. As usual for Christmas supper we had lasagna (strange, yes, but also delicious.) and there was Cesar salad and garlic bread smothered in butter and all sorts of other wonderful treats that pose a big big threat to my little man's life. Matt's mom had made Bravo his own pasta dish, but I guess there was just too much around. Matt and I were being careful and cautious, but not everybody else there necessarily realised just how serious Bravo's allergies are. That horrible September day was over 2 years ago and Matt and I are really the only ones who have the memories of that burned in our heads.
Anyways. Bravo was eating a bit and then going to play and came back to the table to nibble and then he came and sat on my lap and had a little bit to eat. Then he threw up. And not just a little bit. It kept coming. More and more and more. My pants were soaked. My shirt was soaked. I could have rung them out. The chair pad was soaked, the floor was a giant puddle, some of the projectile vomit landed in a drinking glass and filled it half way. My plate was full, the table was covered. I thought there was a lot of vomit when he was 4 months. Nope. THIS was a lot of vomit. Right away my mind went to "what did you eat??". I asked if he wanted a bath, he whimpered yes. We got him in the tub (and Matt dug out the Christmas pyjamas I had just received so that I could be less vomit-covered) and then the hives started. All down his chest and back and face and arms. I went to call health links. I think I got about 2 sentences out with her when Matt and Bravo came into the room and Matt was trying to tell me that Bravo was wheezing. All I noticed was Bravos face was swelling. So I hung up on health links, told my mother in law to call 911 and I got the epi pen out. Nobody prepares you for that. For holding your shaking scared baby in your lap while you stick them with a needle. I had been taught how to use them, but my mind went blank. Matthew reminded me what to do and I did it. He screamed. About a million years later the ambulance finally showed up (they say it was 9-11 minutes, but I don't think I believe them. Do you know how LONG 9 -11 minutes is???) and we met them outside and got Bravo in. He looped back into anaphalctic shock and they gave him more epinephrine. And then a lot of Ventolin and oxygen to force his airways open. And then we rushed to the hospital and went into the same horrible room as last time. Matt and I were terrified, not just of what was happening currently, but of all the memories flooding back of that horrible night 2 years ago. Thankfully there wasn't the flurry of activity that had previously happened in the resuscitation room. They were just making sure he was stabilized before we went to the observation room for the next 6 hours.
The next 6 hours were long, but not as long as that last hour had been. Bravo went crazy from a combination of too many drugs and up way way way too late. he didn't go to sleep until 2 in the morning when we got home. He was climbing the walls in the hospital room and the only 5 minutes he sat still was when a kind nurse gave him a Popsicle to encourage small sips of liquid.
The ambulance still shocks me. I'm glad they were there. I'm so very thankful we live in a time and place where there is epi-pens and ambulances and paramedics and Ventolin and needles and IVs. Or I would not have my beautiful Bravo with me. But seriously. They had the heart tracing machine that they said only works 50% of the time. Fantastic. They had 1 (ONE!!!) paediatric IV starter. So they had to make sure they didn't mess it up or they couldn't have given him his much needed IV. The first two paramedics had no clue what to do with a 2 year old. It wasn't until a fire first responder got there with specalized training in small kids that they were able to really help him. Why do they not have paediatric equipment on each and every ambulance??? And I tell you, I thought that 2 year olds were big. Nope. When you see a tiny 2 year old strapped to an ambulance bed meant for adults with his eyes rolling back into his head while getting another shot of epinephrine you realize just how tiny a 2 year old really is. I sang to him and held his hand. He was a trooper. He even didn't fight the mask because I told him it made him sound like Darth Vader.
I'm still struggling to process these events, but that's what happened. Merry Christmas.
So the beginning. Well, not quite the beginning. The beginning happened when he was 4 months old. But the beginning of THIS story (oh please let there not be many more stories after this) starts with our Saturday Christmas celebration. Matthews parents are snow birds, so we have Christmas in November every year. That was Saturday. As usual for Christmas supper we had lasagna (strange, yes, but also delicious.) and there was Cesar salad and garlic bread smothered in butter and all sorts of other wonderful treats that pose a big big threat to my little man's life. Matt's mom had made Bravo his own pasta dish, but I guess there was just too much around. Matt and I were being careful and cautious, but not everybody else there necessarily realised just how serious Bravo's allergies are. That horrible September day was over 2 years ago and Matt and I are really the only ones who have the memories of that burned in our heads.
Anyways. Bravo was eating a bit and then going to play and came back to the table to nibble and then he came and sat on my lap and had a little bit to eat. Then he threw up. And not just a little bit. It kept coming. More and more and more. My pants were soaked. My shirt was soaked. I could have rung them out. The chair pad was soaked, the floor was a giant puddle, some of the projectile vomit landed in a drinking glass and filled it half way. My plate was full, the table was covered. I thought there was a lot of vomit when he was 4 months. Nope. THIS was a lot of vomit. Right away my mind went to "what did you eat??". I asked if he wanted a bath, he whimpered yes. We got him in the tub (and Matt dug out the Christmas pyjamas I had just received so that I could be less vomit-covered) and then the hives started. All down his chest and back and face and arms. I went to call health links. I think I got about 2 sentences out with her when Matt and Bravo came into the room and Matt was trying to tell me that Bravo was wheezing. All I noticed was Bravos face was swelling. So I hung up on health links, told my mother in law to call 911 and I got the epi pen out. Nobody prepares you for that. For holding your shaking scared baby in your lap while you stick them with a needle. I had been taught how to use them, but my mind went blank. Matthew reminded me what to do and I did it. He screamed. About a million years later the ambulance finally showed up (they say it was 9-11 minutes, but I don't think I believe them. Do you know how LONG 9 -11 minutes is???) and we met them outside and got Bravo in. He looped back into anaphalctic shock and they gave him more epinephrine. And then a lot of Ventolin and oxygen to force his airways open. And then we rushed to the hospital and went into the same horrible room as last time. Matt and I were terrified, not just of what was happening currently, but of all the memories flooding back of that horrible night 2 years ago. Thankfully there wasn't the flurry of activity that had previously happened in the resuscitation room. They were just making sure he was stabilized before we went to the observation room for the next 6 hours.
The next 6 hours were long, but not as long as that last hour had been. Bravo went crazy from a combination of too many drugs and up way way way too late. he didn't go to sleep until 2 in the morning when we got home. He was climbing the walls in the hospital room and the only 5 minutes he sat still was when a kind nurse gave him a Popsicle to encourage small sips of liquid.
The ambulance still shocks me. I'm glad they were there. I'm so very thankful we live in a time and place where there is epi-pens and ambulances and paramedics and Ventolin and needles and IVs. Or I would not have my beautiful Bravo with me. But seriously. They had the heart tracing machine that they said only works 50% of the time. Fantastic. They had 1 (ONE!!!) paediatric IV starter. So they had to make sure they didn't mess it up or they couldn't have given him his much needed IV. The first two paramedics had no clue what to do with a 2 year old. It wasn't until a fire first responder got there with specalized training in small kids that they were able to really help him. Why do they not have paediatric equipment on each and every ambulance??? And I tell you, I thought that 2 year olds were big. Nope. When you see a tiny 2 year old strapped to an ambulance bed meant for adults with his eyes rolling back into his head while getting another shot of epinephrine you realize just how tiny a 2 year old really is. I sang to him and held his hand. He was a trooper. He even didn't fight the mask because I told him it made him sound like Darth Vader.
I'm still struggling to process these events, but that's what happened. Merry Christmas.
Monday 28 November 2011
hello baby belly, good bye brain
As my belly grows, my brain and it's abilities are shrinking. Which is a bad thing because I still have 27/28 weeks to go. I'm in trouble.
On top of being a petty criminal there are many things that have gone amiss lately.
top 5
1. brand new block of cheese in the cupboard
2. tried to unlock my house with my van key. And swore really loudly when it wouldn't work thinking that our door was busted.
3. went to put Charlie to nap and it wasn't until I tucked him in that I realized that he doesn't have blankets to tuck him in. And he sleeps in a crib not a toddler bed.... wait a minute... wrong room.
4. Wrote down a time and date for SOMETHING on a piece of paper. Only thing, I have no idea what that something is. So unless I figure it out I'm missing something on November 29th at 2:00pm. I've already called all the doctors to see if it was for one of us. Nope.
5. I made some pizza pops for lunch last week (yup, my stolen ones) and was really confused when i came back 2 minutes later and they were still frozen. Turns out you need to press "START" for the thing to turn on. Who invented these complicated machines anyways?.
there are a lot more. Involving things with the oven that are similar to #5, laundry in weird places, thermometers frozen (they don't work so well after that, those fancy digital ones. whoops.) but I think I've made my point.
I am so seriously in trouble for the next 27 weeks.
On top of being a petty criminal there are many things that have gone amiss lately.
top 5
1. brand new block of cheese in the cupboard
2. tried to unlock my house with my van key. And swore really loudly when it wouldn't work thinking that our door was busted.
3. went to put Charlie to nap and it wasn't until I tucked him in that I realized that he doesn't have blankets to tuck him in. And he sleeps in a crib not a toddler bed.... wait a minute... wrong room.
4. Wrote down a time and date for SOMETHING on a piece of paper. Only thing, I have no idea what that something is. So unless I figure it out I'm missing something on November 29th at 2:00pm. I've already called all the doctors to see if it was for one of us. Nope.
5. I made some pizza pops for lunch last week (yup, my stolen ones) and was really confused when i came back 2 minutes later and they were still frozen. Turns out you need to press "START" for the thing to turn on. Who invented these complicated machines anyways?.
there are a lot more. Involving things with the oven that are similar to #5, laundry in weird places, thermometers frozen (they don't work so well after that, those fancy digital ones. whoops.) but I think I've made my point.
I am so seriously in trouble for the next 27 weeks.
Thursday 24 November 2011
confessions on a Thursday afternoon
My name is Chrissy Jennings and I am a criminal.
Ok, not like a bad guy criminal who smoke ups and shoots people and skulks in the darkness. But a criminal none the less. Parenthood and it's accompanying stupidity has caused me to be a bad person, at least in the eyes of large supermarket and home improvement chains.
Prior to becoming a parent I shoplifted one thing. It was in grade 4. A pack of purple halls. What a lame thing to steal!! I felt so guilty though that I went to a different store, bought a pack of purple halls, and reverse shoplifted at the red rooster. Once I also ate half an ice cream sandwich at the back of the store before putting it back in the case. Also- grade 4. Not a good time of life for me apparently......
Since becoming a parent I have stolen: electrical tape, a 2L of ginger ale, and most recently a family size Rice Krispies and a large box of pepperoni pizza pops.
The electrical tape was shortly after Alpha was born. He was maybe 4 months and I had to run down the the local home improvement box store and buy some paint and other things. Alpha was getting cranky, I let him play with the electrical tape, he fell asleep, the tape fell to the bottom of his car seat bunting bag thingy and wasn't discovered until the next day. Whoops. The ginger ale was when Charlie was about.... lets say 3 months old. Matthew had a brutal flu, it was so bad that he refused to watch even one kid while I ran to the store to grab a few things. I was cranky, also sick, feeling overwhelmed, and had 3 super miserable 4:00 kids with me. I grabbed what I needed and didn't discover the ginger ale tucked into the top of the cart beside the car seat until Alpha and Bravo were in and buckled in their car seats. And Charlie was having an apocalyptic meltdown. I was NOT going back in. I've been meaning to pay for that ginger ale since, but never remember when I'm there.
Then there was last week. The older two were and Granny's. I just had the baby (and Delta who has officially made me stupider than I've ever been in my entire life). I rushed around, spent a remarkable $362 on who knows what and then rushed to the car because it was 20 minutes past Charlie's nap time and past his lunch time and he was MAD. it didn't help that we had a dumb and exorbitantly slow cashier. Then after Charlie was in his seat and I had unloaded the top of the cart I noticed the pizza pops and Rice Krispies. Shoot. Seriously though, the line took me 45 minutes to get through. And those people are crazy about checking to see if you have anything on the bottom of the cart (and now I know why...) but not this time. So I guiltily put them in the car, returned my cart, seriously thought about leaving my dollar inside for penance (but didn't) and then drove home. And ate pizza pops for lunch. I would tell myself that i would tell them next time that I forgot to pay, but chances of that happening are about -12%.
Sigh.
I SWEAR I used to be a good person. Watch out: I'm one stop short of cocaine and guns.
Ok, not like a bad guy criminal who smoke ups and shoots people and skulks in the darkness. But a criminal none the less. Parenthood and it's accompanying stupidity has caused me to be a bad person, at least in the eyes of large supermarket and home improvement chains.
Prior to becoming a parent I shoplifted one thing. It was in grade 4. A pack of purple halls. What a lame thing to steal!! I felt so guilty though that I went to a different store, bought a pack of purple halls, and reverse shoplifted at the red rooster. Once I also ate half an ice cream sandwich at the back of the store before putting it back in the case. Also- grade 4. Not a good time of life for me apparently......
Since becoming a parent I have stolen: electrical tape, a 2L of ginger ale, and most recently a family size Rice Krispies and a large box of pepperoni pizza pops.
The electrical tape was shortly after Alpha was born. He was maybe 4 months and I had to run down the the local home improvement box store and buy some paint and other things. Alpha was getting cranky, I let him play with the electrical tape, he fell asleep, the tape fell to the bottom of his car seat bunting bag thingy and wasn't discovered until the next day. Whoops. The ginger ale was when Charlie was about.... lets say 3 months old. Matthew had a brutal flu, it was so bad that he refused to watch even one kid while I ran to the store to grab a few things. I was cranky, also sick, feeling overwhelmed, and had 3 super miserable 4:00 kids with me. I grabbed what I needed and didn't discover the ginger ale tucked into the top of the cart beside the car seat until Alpha and Bravo were in and buckled in their car seats. And Charlie was having an apocalyptic meltdown. I was NOT going back in. I've been meaning to pay for that ginger ale since, but never remember when I'm there.
Then there was last week. The older two were and Granny's. I just had the baby (and Delta who has officially made me stupider than I've ever been in my entire life). I rushed around, spent a remarkable $362 on who knows what and then rushed to the car because it was 20 minutes past Charlie's nap time and past his lunch time and he was MAD. it didn't help that we had a dumb and exorbitantly slow cashier. Then after Charlie was in his seat and I had unloaded the top of the cart I noticed the pizza pops and Rice Krispies. Shoot. Seriously though, the line took me 45 minutes to get through. And those people are crazy about checking to see if you have anything on the bottom of the cart (and now I know why...) but not this time. So I guiltily put them in the car, returned my cart, seriously thought about leaving my dollar inside for penance (but didn't) and then drove home. And ate pizza pops for lunch. I would tell myself that i would tell them next time that I forgot to pay, but chances of that happening are about -12%.
Sigh.
I SWEAR I used to be a good person. Watch out: I'm one stop short of cocaine and guns.
Wednesday 23 November 2011
thankful- for a really good day
Alpha and bravo woke up on the happiest side of bed this morning. They both came down smiling and singing then sat at the table and Alpha made his own jam toast and both just sat calmly and nicely and ate. Charlie woke up shortly after and sat in his chair with jam toast that Alpha made him and a grated pear the bravo picked out for him. Then the two older ones went and picked out their clothes and got dressed as independently as they each know how and put their dishes in the sink and clothes in the laundry with no prompting. Then they watched cartoons for 5 minutes (and got along!) until we were ready to go to playgroup. And at playgroup they were perfect little angels who said please and thank you and they shared and took turns and washed their hands and ate snack like humans and then left as soon as I said "time to go". We were off to the chiropractors, where they sat calmly and coloured (let me insert here that Alpha has NEVER EVER EVER sat calmly and coloured in his whole entire life) and didn't even fight over who got to sit in the red chair. Then after Charlie and I got adjusted (Delta is doing a number on my poor tired back) they left again super calmly and easily then we got take-out from burger king and sat in the basement and watched smurfs and ate super calmly and neatly and not spilly-spilly disasters while the merry maids that my mom gifted us cleaned my kitchen (feeling weird and guilty about somebody else cleaning my mess, but whatever). Then they played "hide the penguin" (not actually, for once, a game about penises, but a game involving hiding the toy penguins from BK) and then promptly went to their rooms because it was rest time. Charlie was also calm throughout the morning, though a bit POd because I messed up his nap time.
holy crap.
Who replaced my children with.... humans?? Who know how to behave?? And don't freak out over nothing??? Today I feel like a fourth baby will be OK.
But probably don't talk to me tomorrow when my good kids are replaced by crazed monsters. Because for each action there is an equal and opposite reaction, right??
Anyways- I've been feeling pretty low and down and run dry. So it was super great that this morning I had the perfect children. SO today I am thankful for the days when all ducks (children, whatever) line up and the day goes well.
holy crap.
Who replaced my children with.... humans?? Who know how to behave?? And don't freak out over nothing??? Today I feel like a fourth baby will be OK.
But probably don't talk to me tomorrow when my good kids are replaced by crazed monsters. Because for each action there is an equal and opposite reaction, right??
Anyways- I've been feeling pretty low and down and run dry. So it was super great that this morning I had the perfect children. SO today I am thankful for the days when all ducks (children, whatever) line up and the day goes well.
Tuesday 15 November 2011
About me
So I'm going to write things about me. Chrissy jennings. Not that anybody (at all) cares but just because I feel like it.
1. My name is not Chrissy Jennings, but we've covered that before. I like having a fake name. It makes me feel..... special. Or really dorky. And really sneaky when I tell the too skinny girl in the store that my name is Chrissy but it's totally not. And then I just get my happy "I'm so sneaky" smile on and the chick thinks I actually like the dress that makes me look terrible and washed out and 75 pounds heavier than I actually am.
2. I'm awkward and shy and stupid around people and don't know how social skills work. I make comments to little old ladies who are being... interfering.... like "oh go stuff it you old bat" before realizing that my mouth actually opened and words actually came out instead of it being the inside thought it was supposed to be. I try to hide that I'm awkward and shy and don't know how to be around people, but it's really really hard. And sometimes I fail. Badly.
3. I like to knit. And I especially like to knit things that have to do with food. Because it's funny. I think most food things are funny.
4. Linked to number three is the person I am most jealous of in this world, Saxton Freyman whose job it is to make stupid things out of food and then take pictures of them.
Like those. And I own every book he put out plus some playing cards and I think 4 years of his calendars. Because I love him. And i wish I had done that first.
5. I know lots of people think their husbands are the best. And maybe they're right. but Matthew is the very very best for me. I don't know why he loves me, but he does. He loves me like cake, and that's a lot. And I love him like cake, too.
6. I also know everybody thinks their kids are the cutest. And they're wrong. Because mine are. Well, I've seem some freaking cute little girls at Alpha's play school. And they're the cutest girls I've ever seen. But mine are the cutest boys. Maybe because they all look ecaxtly the same and there's extra cutenss involved when there are duplicates- especially three little tiny people that have heads shaped kind of like lego men.. I love them more than bacon. And that's a lot, too. Because cake and bacon are probably my two most favourite foods in the whole world.
7. My first love is George Clooney, circa Return of the Killer Tomatoes and Sisters.
He's still freaking hot now. I love him ALMOST as much as bacon and have since I was 12. And now I'm 32. I think 20 years classifies as true love. He broke my heart when he got in that car and died from the car bomb. Poor Falconer.
8. I regularly watch Top Gun and I regulalry cry while doing so. You think after all this time Goose would know about the jet wash and STAY AWAY. But nope, into the jet wash they go, spin spin crash and then he dies. Oh- who's up there? (the only correct answer is Cougar and Merlin adn Maverik and Goose.)
9. I like car racing movies. and heist-y movies. And for some reason people have not figured out that Edward Norton is evil. NEVER TRUST EDWARD NORTON, PEOPLE!!!! He is just trying to get all the loot for himself.
10. My fvourite time of day is nap time when all three babies are in their rooms and I get to do nothing. My least favourite time of day is 4:30 when everybody goes crazy and make me want it to be bedtime.
11. I like fall the best. It smells good, has no bugs, has crunchy leaves, doesn't make my face swell all gross, lets me wear sweaters and sneakers, and is just the pretiest.
12. I used to like winter becasue I have a nice warm home and hot choclate and books and baths and I can watch the cold world from my warm blanket on the couch. But then I had kids and now I am burried in a huge heap of mis-matched mittens (seriously, where are all the left hand mittens????) and snow pants and parkas and boots and toques and socks and scarves and some how I'm supposed to find time in the day to dress three small people in all of it to get outside at the time of year when the days are shortest. It's cruelty. It now takes an hour to get all of my small people peed and dressed and booted and out the door. And that's when I usually realize I'm still wearing pajamas and haven't brushed my hair. Or teeth. I hate winter now. And I can't wait for the day when my small people can put on their own snow suits and I can get back to liking it.
13. I don't care about salt but I am a sugar junky. Matthew though loves him some salt and I've started to veer ever so slightly to that side, but not too far.
14. If I got to eat any take-out food I wanted it would be Chinese food every single time. But that's not often becuase it would kill Bravo, and well, I like him even more than Chinese food. And again, that's saying a lot.
Ok. 14 things seems like a nice round number. The end.
wait.
15. I'm really really bad at spelling and even worse at typing. I mean really bad. And right now spell check isn't working so it's not my sault... see?? Fault that this post is going to be hard to read. Not my fault at all. Blame it on the few year period in Alberta that the school division I went to decided to try a new approach to spelling "let's not correct kids spelling... just teach them to read and write and we'll woryy about the spelling later". Then in grade 4 I switched divisions and they expected me to already know how to spell so it just never got dealt with. The sheer amount of times I don't write the word I want to because I don't know how to spell it and then I settle for a less appropriate word is astounding. And computers weren't mandatory in school- so I seriously suck at typing.
Ok. That's all now. 15 is a nice round nuemerhb (see???) too.
1. My name is not Chrissy Jennings, but we've covered that before. I like having a fake name. It makes me feel..... special. Or really dorky. And really sneaky when I tell the too skinny girl in the store that my name is Chrissy but it's totally not. And then I just get my happy "I'm so sneaky" smile on and the chick thinks I actually like the dress that makes me look terrible and washed out and 75 pounds heavier than I actually am.
2. I'm awkward and shy and stupid around people and don't know how social skills work. I make comments to little old ladies who are being... interfering.... like "oh go stuff it you old bat" before realizing that my mouth actually opened and words actually came out instead of it being the inside thought it was supposed to be. I try to hide that I'm awkward and shy and don't know how to be around people, but it's really really hard. And sometimes I fail. Badly.
3. I like to knit. And I especially like to knit things that have to do with food. Because it's funny. I think most food things are funny.
4. Linked to number three is the person I am most jealous of in this world, Saxton Freyman whose job it is to make stupid things out of food and then take pictures of them.
Like those. And I own every book he put out plus some playing cards and I think 4 years of his calendars. Because I love him. And i wish I had done that first.
5. I know lots of people think their husbands are the best. And maybe they're right. but Matthew is the very very best for me. I don't know why he loves me, but he does. He loves me like cake, and that's a lot. And I love him like cake, too.
6. I also know everybody thinks their kids are the cutest. And they're wrong. Because mine are. Well, I've seem some freaking cute little girls at Alpha's play school. And they're the cutest girls I've ever seen. But mine are the cutest boys. Maybe because they all look ecaxtly the same and there's extra cutenss involved when there are duplicates- especially three little tiny people that have heads shaped kind of like lego men.. I love them more than bacon. And that's a lot, too. Because cake and bacon are probably my two most favourite foods in the whole world.
7. My first love is George Clooney, circa Return of the Killer Tomatoes and Sisters.
He's still freaking hot now. I love him ALMOST as much as bacon and have since I was 12. And now I'm 32. I think 20 years classifies as true love. He broke my heart when he got in that car and died from the car bomb. Poor Falconer.
8. I regularly watch Top Gun and I regulalry cry while doing so. You think after all this time Goose would know about the jet wash and STAY AWAY. But nope, into the jet wash they go, spin spin crash and then he dies. Oh- who's up there? (the only correct answer is Cougar and Merlin adn Maverik and Goose.)
9. I like car racing movies. and heist-y movies. And for some reason people have not figured out that Edward Norton is evil. NEVER TRUST EDWARD NORTON, PEOPLE!!!! He is just trying to get all the loot for himself.
10. My fvourite time of day is nap time when all three babies are in their rooms and I get to do nothing. My least favourite time of day is 4:30 when everybody goes crazy and make me want it to be bedtime.
11. I like fall the best. It smells good, has no bugs, has crunchy leaves, doesn't make my face swell all gross, lets me wear sweaters and sneakers, and is just the pretiest.
12. I used to like winter becasue I have a nice warm home and hot choclate and books and baths and I can watch the cold world from my warm blanket on the couch. But then I had kids and now I am burried in a huge heap of mis-matched mittens (seriously, where are all the left hand mittens????) and snow pants and parkas and boots and toques and socks and scarves and some how I'm supposed to find time in the day to dress three small people in all of it to get outside at the time of year when the days are shortest. It's cruelty. It now takes an hour to get all of my small people peed and dressed and booted and out the door. And that's when I usually realize I'm still wearing pajamas and haven't brushed my hair. Or teeth. I hate winter now. And I can't wait for the day when my small people can put on their own snow suits and I can get back to liking it.
13. I don't care about salt but I am a sugar junky. Matthew though loves him some salt and I've started to veer ever so slightly to that side, but not too far.
14. If I got to eat any take-out food I wanted it would be Chinese food every single time. But that's not often becuase it would kill Bravo, and well, I like him even more than Chinese food. And again, that's saying a lot.
Ok. 14 things seems like a nice round number. The end.
wait.
15. I'm really really bad at spelling and even worse at typing. I mean really bad. And right now spell check isn't working so it's not my sault... see?? Fault that this post is going to be hard to read. Not my fault at all. Blame it on the few year period in Alberta that the school division I went to decided to try a new approach to spelling "let's not correct kids spelling... just teach them to read and write and we'll woryy about the spelling later". Then in grade 4 I switched divisions and they expected me to already know how to spell so it just never got dealt with. The sheer amount of times I don't write the word I want to because I don't know how to spell it and then I settle for a less appropriate word is astounding. And computers weren't mandatory in school- so I seriously suck at typing.
Ok. That's all now. 15 is a nice round nuemerhb (see???) too.
Monday 14 November 2011
Bravo's allergies
I'm both excited and terrified to have Charlie's and Bravo's allergy appointments coming up in a month. I'm excited because I'll get to find out if Bravos allergies are decreasing even a little bit. I KNOW he hasn't outgrown them, but to just see the numbers on the RAST test go down would be a huge joy. I'm terrified of that not happening though. And I'm nervous as... I don't know as what, but I'm super nervous about Charlie's testing. I've been a crazy paranoid crazy person with worrying about him having allergies so he hasn't had a single bite of anything Bravo is allergic to. Not because I think that's a GOOD thing to do, but because a)allergy people have no idea what the best response is to avoid allergies in a child with a strong family history and b)I'm NOT learning the hard way again. The hard way sucked.
Which leads me to this post. The long over due post about how we discovered Bravos allergies. A lot of you know most or parts of the story. But I've never really gotten into all the details. Because it's hard to write out, it's hard to talk about or think about. That day was a bad one. And when I think about it I remember just how close we were to losing him and then my head spins and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I can't help but think of the "what ifs". What if we hadn't gotten there in time, what if we were that 5 minutes later, what if they couldn't get the IV in, what if there was a super long wait at triage like there normally is, what if he didn't make it- our lives would be so much worse.
So.
Allergies.
Bravo was a rough nurser. Well, lets be honest. Bravo was a rough baby. It took FOREVER for him to learn how to latch like a normal child. I think it was 12 weeks before he latched properly and stayed there. It was pretty bad. But he had finally started to latch and nurse properly. And then my supply started to decline. and then it entered a full crash. And he was hungry and screaming and freaking out. And I was out of pumped milk to give him in a bottle. He INSISTED in having a bottle before bed. So I gave him some formula, just normal enfamil. And he got gassy and miserable. He happened to have a doctors appointment so I mentioned it to her and she gave me a can of soy formula and said some babies just don't tolerate normal formula.
So that night he had 2 ounces of it. And he threw up and threw up and threw up. I thought it was odd. He had some pink in his diaper. I thought that was odd. The next day I took him to the children's ER and they said it was "just a common stomach bug" They seemed annoyed that I was there. I questioned them, saying that he had never had soy formula before and asked if it could have been that. They said no, it was a stomach bug. So we went home.
It took a few days for his appetite to return. He had massive soupy poops for the next few days. I had lots of time to build up my stash of pumped milk. But my supply was still crashing so it didn't last long. September 23rd 2009, 10 days after I gave him the bottle of soy formula I went grocery shopping while Matt fed Bravo his nightly bottle and put him to bed. I was out of pumped milk and had already nursed him and he then had a 9 ounce bottle of soy formula. While I was at the store Matthew called. Bravo was REALLY throwing up. It was about 8:30. I paid and booked it home. By 9:00 the boy had thrown up all over me, his dad, his room, the walls, the floor, his bed, the couch, every possible surface was covered in endless amounts of vomit. And he was still throwing up. We called Matt parents and asked them to come over to watch Alpha while we took Bravo in. We were bracing ourselves for a long night of waiting for 6 hours before being told it was a stomach bug and to go home. But He was just throwing up SO much I wanted to take him in. Matt's parents got to our house and Bravo had finally stopped throwing up. But he wasn't looking so hot and was still dry heaving and coughing and looking odd. SO we went to the hospital. Thinking the whole way there that the trip was a waste of time, that we would be there waiting forever. We got into triage and thankfully the line wasn't too big. We put him in his bucket seat on the counter and the nurse looked at him for a bit and had a strange look on her face. That's when I REALLY looked at Bravo. He was turning kind of grey. He was lethargic. He was wide awake but no crying came out of him (which was odd- if that boy was awake, he was screaming). I asked the nurse how long the wait would be to see a doctor. She said "hmmmnow. They said it with urgency and told us to follow them. We did none of the normal triage paperwork. We went through the first set of double doors then we went through this huge set of double doors with RESUSCITATION written in huge letters across the doors. Oh. My heart sank. That word alone implied that life was in danger and needed to be saved, life needed to be brought back to the person quickly or they would die. Why on earth were we in that room??? I don't think I can describe the fog that was in my head at that point.
From this point on it went into a blur. I remember scenes, not the whole event. Like there are just snapshots in my head of it, not rolling movie.
They put Bravo on this bed. There were about 15 or more people in the room all trying to help my tiny baby. This tiny lifeless body on this huge table. He was 4.5 months old. They poked him and poked him and poked him, needle after needle,IV attempt after IV attempt. Matt and I kind of squished to the side and each had a finger on Bravo. Bravo was staring at us. I think I was singing to him. His eyes were lifeless, not a cry squeaked out of him despite all the poking. A doctor came in and said "you need to come with me NOW." More urgency in his voice. I told him that Matt was staying. If this was going to be Bravos last moments he wasn't leaving this world not being touched by a parent. Hooo. Now the tears are coming. The doctor wanted both of us but I refused. Bravo was NOT going to be alone. Daddy was staying.
The doctor took me to "that" room. The room with a million tiny boxes of Kleenex and couches and chairs. It was the room the doctor took you in to give you really bad news. The room the doctor tells you something is seriously wrong with your baby- or worse. Wow- do I not want to go into that room ever again. He asked me what was going on, what had happened. I described everything including the last ER visit. he said I was probably right about it being a soy allergy. Then he said it was a good thing we got there when we did. I asked if he meant that Bravo would have died. He simply said "It's a good thing you got here when you did and not 5 minutes later." 5 minutes later? That's being stuck at 1 train or a couple more lights or not finding a parking spot or talking with my in-laws a bit longer or... 5 minutes is not a lot of time. I got back to the room and they had stabilized Bravos heart and he was breathing better but on oxygen. They had finally got 3 IVs in him. He was still not good, but he was out of immediate danger. They were going to admit him but a room wasn't ready. Another family was coming into resuscitation though and they didn't want us to see that so they were getting one of the private ER rooms ready for us until we could be admitted. I left the room because I had to go to the bathroom and I walked out back into the ER waiting room full of kids and I started to lose it. Tears started streaming down my face, hiccup sobs started coming out of my mouth and I had zero control over it. I had been OK up to this point, but now I was losing it. I walked to one of the bathrooms and some guy was about to go in it. He took one look at me and held the door and said "go ahead". I went in and I sobbed. And then I got it together and washed my face and went back to Matt and Bravo. We were just about to be transferred to the other ER room. We got in and Bravo made a little face- like a tiny pushing face. I checked his diaper and it was full, and I do mean FULL of pink runny stool. He was pooing blood. I showed the nurse and there was another flurry of activity. We were sent to ex ray to check out... something. I don't even know what. And then I was told I was not allowed to nurse him. That his insides needed a break. His intestines were bleeding from all of the poison in his belly. Then Bravo cried. You know that first cry a newborn makes where you're just so relieved to hear the baby make a noise, any noise? It was reliefe like that times... a lot. He was so tired and needed to sleep and I knew that I could get him to sleep in seconds if I could just nurse him. Or put him in his sling- but he was a mess of wires and tube so I couldn't do that, either. My heart ached, my breasts ached, I wanted nothing more than to comfort him the way he wanted. But I couldn't. We finally got admitted. I stayed with him in the hospital never leaving for 3 days. He wasn't allowed to leave until he would eat the super gross formula, nutramigen. Man, that stuff is nasty! And he need to stop pooing blood and not be dehydrated. I missed Alpha's second birthday on the 25th. I cried when there was the little girl just down the hall and her parents never once visited her. She sat in the swing by the nurses station for most of the day. Bravo and I went over and sat with her and talked with her often. I couldn't imagine leaving a 4 month old baby there and not visiting. It broke my heart.
We finally came home and eventually got allergy teasing and he is allergic to soy (surprise surprise), milk protein, peas, peanuts, and egg. He has since outgrown peas (wahoo!) and has also since had anaphalactic reactions to small amounts of milk. It's been a roller coaster and full of ups and downs, but that day will never be out of my head.
Sometimes Bravo will be having a really funny and sweet day. One of the days that really melts your heart. And those are the days that it hits me more. Bravo was having a day like that on Saturday and Matt's eyes welled up with tears and all he could say was "I'm so glad he's here". I don't think we as parents will get over that horrible horrible day. It will always be there that we were this close to missing out on everything he's doing. On everything that he is. The world would be a worse place without him. My world would be a worse place without him. Milk, I could do without. Bravo, not so much.
So that's the beginning of that story.
Which leads me to this post. The long over due post about how we discovered Bravos allergies. A lot of you know most or parts of the story. But I've never really gotten into all the details. Because it's hard to write out, it's hard to talk about or think about. That day was a bad one. And when I think about it I remember just how close we were to losing him and then my head spins and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I can't help but think of the "what ifs". What if we hadn't gotten there in time, what if we were that 5 minutes later, what if they couldn't get the IV in, what if there was a super long wait at triage like there normally is, what if he didn't make it- our lives would be so much worse.
So.
Allergies.
Bravo was a rough nurser. Well, lets be honest. Bravo was a rough baby. It took FOREVER for him to learn how to latch like a normal child. I think it was 12 weeks before he latched properly and stayed there. It was pretty bad. But he had finally started to latch and nurse properly. And then my supply started to decline. and then it entered a full crash. And he was hungry and screaming and freaking out. And I was out of pumped milk to give him in a bottle. He INSISTED in having a bottle before bed. So I gave him some formula, just normal enfamil. And he got gassy and miserable. He happened to have a doctors appointment so I mentioned it to her and she gave me a can of soy formula and said some babies just don't tolerate normal formula.
So that night he had 2 ounces of it. And he threw up and threw up and threw up. I thought it was odd. He had some pink in his diaper. I thought that was odd. The next day I took him to the children's ER and they said it was "just a common stomach bug" They seemed annoyed that I was there. I questioned them, saying that he had never had soy formula before and asked if it could have been that. They said no, it was a stomach bug. So we went home.
It took a few days for his appetite to return. He had massive soupy poops for the next few days. I had lots of time to build up my stash of pumped milk. But my supply was still crashing so it didn't last long. September 23rd 2009, 10 days after I gave him the bottle of soy formula I went grocery shopping while Matt fed Bravo his nightly bottle and put him to bed. I was out of pumped milk and had already nursed him and he then had a 9 ounce bottle of soy formula. While I was at the store Matthew called. Bravo was REALLY throwing up. It was about 8:30. I paid and booked it home. By 9:00 the boy had thrown up all over me, his dad, his room, the walls, the floor, his bed, the couch, every possible surface was covered in endless amounts of vomit. And he was still throwing up. We called Matt parents and asked them to come over to watch Alpha while we took Bravo in. We were bracing ourselves for a long night of waiting for 6 hours before being told it was a stomach bug and to go home. But He was just throwing up SO much I wanted to take him in. Matt's parents got to our house and Bravo had finally stopped throwing up. But he wasn't looking so hot and was still dry heaving and coughing and looking odd. SO we went to the hospital. Thinking the whole way there that the trip was a waste of time, that we would be there waiting forever. We got into triage and thankfully the line wasn't too big. We put him in his bucket seat on the counter and the nurse looked at him for a bit and had a strange look on her face. That's when I REALLY looked at Bravo. He was turning kind of grey. He was lethargic. He was wide awake but no crying came out of him (which was odd- if that boy was awake, he was screaming). I asked the nurse how long the wait would be to see a doctor. She said "hmmmnow. They said it with urgency and told us to follow them. We did none of the normal triage paperwork. We went through the first set of double doors then we went through this huge set of double doors with RESUSCITATION written in huge letters across the doors. Oh. My heart sank. That word alone implied that life was in danger and needed to be saved, life needed to be brought back to the person quickly or they would die. Why on earth were we in that room??? I don't think I can describe the fog that was in my head at that point.
From this point on it went into a blur. I remember scenes, not the whole event. Like there are just snapshots in my head of it, not rolling movie.
They put Bravo on this bed. There were about 15 or more people in the room all trying to help my tiny baby. This tiny lifeless body on this huge table. He was 4.5 months old. They poked him and poked him and poked him, needle after needle,IV attempt after IV attempt. Matt and I kind of squished to the side and each had a finger on Bravo. Bravo was staring at us. I think I was singing to him. His eyes were lifeless, not a cry squeaked out of him despite all the poking. A doctor came in and said "you need to come with me NOW." More urgency in his voice. I told him that Matt was staying. If this was going to be Bravos last moments he wasn't leaving this world not being touched by a parent. Hooo. Now the tears are coming. The doctor wanted both of us but I refused. Bravo was NOT going to be alone. Daddy was staying.
The doctor took me to "that" room. The room with a million tiny boxes of Kleenex and couches and chairs. It was the room the doctor took you in to give you really bad news. The room the doctor tells you something is seriously wrong with your baby- or worse. Wow- do I not want to go into that room ever again. He asked me what was going on, what had happened. I described everything including the last ER visit. he said I was probably right about it being a soy allergy. Then he said it was a good thing we got there when we did. I asked if he meant that Bravo would have died. He simply said "It's a good thing you got here when you did and not 5 minutes later." 5 minutes later? That's being stuck at 1 train or a couple more lights or not finding a parking spot or talking with my in-laws a bit longer or... 5 minutes is not a lot of time. I got back to the room and they had stabilized Bravos heart and he was breathing better but on oxygen. They had finally got 3 IVs in him. He was still not good, but he was out of immediate danger. They were going to admit him but a room wasn't ready. Another family was coming into resuscitation though and they didn't want us to see that so they were getting one of the private ER rooms ready for us until we could be admitted. I left the room because I had to go to the bathroom and I walked out back into the ER waiting room full of kids and I started to lose it. Tears started streaming down my face, hiccup sobs started coming out of my mouth and I had zero control over it. I had been OK up to this point, but now I was losing it. I walked to one of the bathrooms and some guy was about to go in it. He took one look at me and held the door and said "go ahead". I went in and I sobbed. And then I got it together and washed my face and went back to Matt and Bravo. We were just about to be transferred to the other ER room. We got in and Bravo made a little face- like a tiny pushing face. I checked his diaper and it was full, and I do mean FULL of pink runny stool. He was pooing blood. I showed the nurse and there was another flurry of activity. We were sent to ex ray to check out... something. I don't even know what. And then I was told I was not allowed to nurse him. That his insides needed a break. His intestines were bleeding from all of the poison in his belly. Then Bravo cried. You know that first cry a newborn makes where you're just so relieved to hear the baby make a noise, any noise? It was reliefe like that times... a lot. He was so tired and needed to sleep and I knew that I could get him to sleep in seconds if I could just nurse him. Or put him in his sling- but he was a mess of wires and tube so I couldn't do that, either. My heart ached, my breasts ached, I wanted nothing more than to comfort him the way he wanted. But I couldn't. We finally got admitted. I stayed with him in the hospital never leaving for 3 days. He wasn't allowed to leave until he would eat the super gross formula, nutramigen. Man, that stuff is nasty! And he need to stop pooing blood and not be dehydrated. I missed Alpha's second birthday on the 25th. I cried when there was the little girl just down the hall and her parents never once visited her. She sat in the swing by the nurses station for most of the day. Bravo and I went over and sat with her and talked with her often. I couldn't imagine leaving a 4 month old baby there and not visiting. It broke my heart.
We finally came home and eventually got allergy teasing and he is allergic to soy (surprise surprise), milk protein, peas, peanuts, and egg. He has since outgrown peas (wahoo!) and has also since had anaphalactic reactions to small amounts of milk. It's been a roller coaster and full of ups and downs, but that day will never be out of my head.
Sometimes Bravo will be having a really funny and sweet day. One of the days that really melts your heart. And those are the days that it hits me more. Bravo was having a day like that on Saturday and Matt's eyes welled up with tears and all he could say was "I'm so glad he's here". I don't think we as parents will get over that horrible horrible day. It will always be there that we were this close to missing out on everything he's doing. On everything that he is. The world would be a worse place without him. My world would be a worse place without him. Milk, I could do without. Bravo, not so much.
So that's the beginning of that story.
Friday 11 November 2011
Food Friday
Ok- I've seriously sucked at putting up new recipes. And this week is not going to be any better. But next week I'll do my dairy-free cream and mushroom sauces.
This week is the pregnant edition of food friday. Also known as
Everything I wish I was eating RIGHT NOW.
1. popcorn chicken form KFC
2. Sushi rolls
3. Chocolate cake
4. double pepperoni and mushroom pizza
5. cinnamon buns with icing
6. Hot dogs
7. A big mac
8. Mashed potatoes with gravy- but not gross gravy. Really really good gravy.
9. Poutine
10. nachos
11. Apple pie
12. Chicken pot pie with yummy crust and lots of sauce all piping hot.
13. Popcorn twists (you know those melty things that have no resemblance to real popcorn what so ever? those things. And maybe some hickory sticks.)
Hmmm. It seems like sweet or savory all I really want to eat is cmofort foods high in simple carbs. mmmmm, simple carbs. How I adore thee! It's a good thing I'm broke and too lazy to make these things or I'd be up 58 pounds 10 weeks in!
This week is the pregnant edition of food friday. Also known as
Everything I wish I was eating RIGHT NOW.
1. popcorn chicken form KFC
2. Sushi rolls
3. Chocolate cake
4. double pepperoni and mushroom pizza
5. cinnamon buns with icing
6. Hot dogs
7. A big mac
8. Mashed potatoes with gravy- but not gross gravy. Really really good gravy.
9. Poutine
10. nachos
11. Apple pie
12. Chicken pot pie with yummy crust and lots of sauce all piping hot.
13. Popcorn twists (you know those melty things that have no resemblance to real popcorn what so ever? those things. And maybe some hickory sticks.)
Hmmm. It seems like sweet or savory all I really want to eat is cmofort foods high in simple carbs. mmmmm, simple carbs. How I adore thee! It's a good thing I'm broke and too lazy to make these things or I'd be up 58 pounds 10 weeks in!
Thursday 10 November 2011
I was not expecting this.
The grief is subsiding. And I feel so guilty about that.
I have still thought about Thomas every single day, but it's lessening. And the grief is easing. After nearly 15 months the grief is lessening. And I feel so so so guilty about it. It feels like I'm forgetting him. Or that this new baby is replacing him. And because of this new baby the grief has eased in frequency and intensity. I know grief ebbs and flows. I've had so many times of it flowing that I'm well over due for an "ebb".
I feel like if I'm not sad about him then I've forgotten him. Or that I'm passing on the message that I don't miss him. I feel like if I'm not in the thick of grief with him then maybe he didn't mean that much after all. I KNOW all this is ridiculous. And I can only hope it's normal. I've never really lost anybody THIS close to me before. I've lost grandparents I was very close to, I've had friendships fall apart suddenly and that felt like a friend died, but I've never lost a child. And I don't know how the journey is "supposed" to go.
I miss Thomas, but it isn't the raw emotional loss and grief that I felt so intensely even a month ago. There's a lot on my brain and heart lately, and there's a lot of getting used to the idea of Delta and it makes me sad that the first thing to go in my brain was the Thomas spot. That his spot has been taken up by thoughts over the new baby.
I was not prepared for the guilt to kick in when the grief finally starts to ease even a little.
This is a long journey. And I'm tired. I'm tired of traveling it, and I'm tired of looking backwards to see where I was, and I'm tired of trying to figure out what comes next and I'm tired of trying to be OK and I'm tired of the guilt and I wish...... I don't even know. I wish I could sleep for 2 months and give my poor brain and heart and body a break. I wish this had happened to not me. Not that I wish it had happened to somebody else, and not that I wish him away, but I wish Thomas was here and I didn't have to grief for him. I wish he didn't need to be grieved at all. And I wish I could give myself permission to be OK with everything, and be OK with "replacing" him. Geeze- maybe that's why I'm having a hard time still with Delta is maybe I feel like I am trying to replace Thomas.
Bah! I need out of my brain.
Now, how's that for a completely non-flowing, everywhere, no-real-point post??
I have still thought about Thomas every single day, but it's lessening. And the grief is easing. After nearly 15 months the grief is lessening. And I feel so so so guilty about it. It feels like I'm forgetting him. Or that this new baby is replacing him. And because of this new baby the grief has eased in frequency and intensity. I know grief ebbs and flows. I've had so many times of it flowing that I'm well over due for an "ebb".
I feel like if I'm not sad about him then I've forgotten him. Or that I'm passing on the message that I don't miss him. I feel like if I'm not in the thick of grief with him then maybe he didn't mean that much after all. I KNOW all this is ridiculous. And I can only hope it's normal. I've never really lost anybody THIS close to me before. I've lost grandparents I was very close to, I've had friendships fall apart suddenly and that felt like a friend died, but I've never lost a child. And I don't know how the journey is "supposed" to go.
I miss Thomas, but it isn't the raw emotional loss and grief that I felt so intensely even a month ago. There's a lot on my brain and heart lately, and there's a lot of getting used to the idea of Delta and it makes me sad that the first thing to go in my brain was the Thomas spot. That his spot has been taken up by thoughts over the new baby.
I was not prepared for the guilt to kick in when the grief finally starts to ease even a little.
This is a long journey. And I'm tired. I'm tired of traveling it, and I'm tired of looking backwards to see where I was, and I'm tired of trying to figure out what comes next and I'm tired of trying to be OK and I'm tired of the guilt and I wish...... I don't even know. I wish I could sleep for 2 months and give my poor brain and heart and body a break. I wish this had happened to not me. Not that I wish it had happened to somebody else, and not that I wish him away, but I wish Thomas was here and I didn't have to grief for him. I wish he didn't need to be grieved at all. And I wish I could give myself permission to be OK with everything, and be OK with "replacing" him. Geeze- maybe that's why I'm having a hard time still with Delta is maybe I feel like I am trying to replace Thomas.
Bah! I need out of my brain.
Now, how's that for a completely non-flowing, everywhere, no-real-point post??
Wednesday 9 November 2011
Friday 4 November 2011
Thankful- for the sweetest thing
Every night before I tuck my self in I go check on my boys (well, not Charlie because his feeding schedule demands that i still hang out with him eleventy times a night) and I sneak in their rooms and give them a kiss. And sometimes they stir and sometimes they don't. And sometimes Bravo wants me to sing him Winnie The Pooh as he drifts back to sleep. And that time of the day is my favourite. Becasue I truely don't think there is anything sweeter than sleeping little kids. Alpha gets all sweaty and I flip his pillow over more nights than not. And Bravo twists himself into the strangest little positions. And they both heave these heavy sighs and mash their mommy-knitted blankets into their faces. And it warms my heart. And I love them.
Thursday 3 November 2011
Thankful... for my family
Ok. Time for a happy post!
Especially in light of my friend's husband just up and leaving, I am so so so thankful for Matt.
He is strong and brave and caring and helpful and wonderful and handsome to boot. The poor man can't cook (unless you count instant oatmeal as cooking- He does, I don't) but that's about his only fault. And he cleans up my giant cooking mess, so that's a fair trade-off.
Matt puts 2 of the 3 kids to bed each night. He does bath time often, he reads books and sings songs and cleans potties and kisses owies and deals with temper tantrums and teaches sharing and referees and tells endless stories about Winnie the Pooh eating toast. He sweeps the floor, does 97% of the laundry in the house (maybe closer to 98%.), rakes, does garbage, cleans the eaves and the furnace filter. He tells me he loves me every day, he showers the kids with attention, he's fantastic with even the teeny baby stage.
He really is the ideal made-up type of husband and father. And when I thank him or tell him that he's wonderful he just shrugs it off and thinks that all men are like this. I really really did luck out with him. And he (although he strongly disagrees) is too good for me. But he loves me to death. And I am so thankful for him.
Especially in light of my friend's husband just up and leaving, I am so so so thankful for Matt.
He is strong and brave and caring and helpful and wonderful and handsome to boot. The poor man can't cook (unless you count instant oatmeal as cooking- He does, I don't) but that's about his only fault. And he cleans up my giant cooking mess, so that's a fair trade-off.
Matt puts 2 of the 3 kids to bed each night. He does bath time often, he reads books and sings songs and cleans potties and kisses owies and deals with temper tantrums and teaches sharing and referees and tells endless stories about Winnie the Pooh eating toast. He sweeps the floor, does 97% of the laundry in the house (maybe closer to 98%.), rakes, does garbage, cleans the eaves and the furnace filter. He tells me he loves me every day, he showers the kids with attention, he's fantastic with even the teeny baby stage.
He really is the ideal made-up type of husband and father. And when I thank him or tell him that he's wonderful he just shrugs it off and thinks that all men are like this. I really really did luck out with him. And he (although he strongly disagrees) is too good for me. But he loves me to death. And I am so thankful for him.
Wednesday 2 November 2011
too much grief
Every where I turn people are grieving. People who have lost babies, people whose husbands are leaving them, people who in secret had a baby 40 years ago and gave it up for adoption because of family shame and still regret it. People who lost jobs, a friend whose 14 month old baby died. They knew it was coming and were waiting for the day when sweet baby Rachel wouldn't be with them, and then poof. She's gone and their grief entered a whole new world. There is big grief and little grief, long term grief and "get over it fast" grief. But every where I turn people are hurting. And that makes me sad.
My good good friend's husband just left her and their 2 beautiful boys. And I can't stop thinking about her and feeling so sad for her. I've been telling Alpha and Bravo all day that Daddy and I love them and that Daddy and I love each other. All last night after we found out Matthew and I just kept touching each other's leg or arm or whatever and telling each other "I love you".
I seem to be more touched by people's grief since losing Thomas. I mean, I had empathy before. I hated to see people sad, I would (usually) try to do something to help, but I wasn't grieving, I was OK, so it just didn't affect me as much.
Since losing Thomas I weep when I hear about a baby dying or a pregnancy not ending happily, or even a child getting recoverably sick. I feel so deeply sad for people when they are hurting. Because I don't want people to hurt. I want to get big colourful emotional bandages and stick them on people and kiss them and make them feel better. But life doesn't work that way.
One phrase that has started driving me a little crazy is "you'll never get more than you can handle". I don't believe that. Not even for a second. I know some people deeply believe that. I don't. Just because you come out the other end doesn't mean you can handle something. I think of Matt's Grandpa who was an old-time war vet. I have tried to think about what it would be like to be in that war. To have bullets zooming all around, to be spraying bullets yourself. To be covered in your own blood and your friend's blood. And I can't even begin to imagine what that does to your heart, soul, and brain. And then like so many others, when he finally came home 5 years later he was an alcoholic. Clearly, it was too much for him to handle.
people do what they can to cope. And sometimes it turns out that they can cope in good and healthy ways, and sometimes they can't. We don't have a choice but to "handle" something. It doesn't make us strong, it doesn't make us brave, there was no choice given. It just is. And these events change us. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the better. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the worse. If people were never given more than they could handle there would be no suicide, no alcoholism, fewer cases of true depression, fewer heart aches. Less crying and more joy.
I have had a few things in my life, 3 events actually, that have honestly been too much for me to handle. One event led to me never speaking to my brother again. The last time I spoke to him was 10 years ago, and I will never speak to him again. At least not until my parents die and then he's my "responsibility" But even then I will try to talk to the workers involved and not him. That event, or rather culmination of events, was far more than I could handle. And it changed me. It made me bitter, it made me me cynical. I changed from the happy-go-lucky sweet, laughs easily, innocent girl that I was. And I miss that person.
Another event just changed me. Not in any way that I can articulate, but it changed me.Although since then I am far more careful. With people and with things, with words and with wielding my emotions. And Thomas changed me. Both for the good and for the less-good. I am more empathetic. I am more caring. And I am far more sad. I appreciate life more, but I am overly cautious. I no longer jump into life with both feet.
I don't even know what this post is really about. I am strong. And I know I will survive whatever things life throws my way, even really awful things, because I have no choice. And most people are the same way.
I guess I just miss being a kid, miss life before my heart was so broken I could hardly see through tears to put it back together. And it breaks my heart to know that other people have pain and grief and are trying to put their souls, hearts, brains, and lives back together through a wall of tears. And though I have had grief, I know that it has never touched the level of grief that others have. And that makes me even sadder.
wah wah.......(you know the sound effect, right?)
My good good friend's husband just left her and their 2 beautiful boys. And I can't stop thinking about her and feeling so sad for her. I've been telling Alpha and Bravo all day that Daddy and I love them and that Daddy and I love each other. All last night after we found out Matthew and I just kept touching each other's leg or arm or whatever and telling each other "I love you".
I seem to be more touched by people's grief since losing Thomas. I mean, I had empathy before. I hated to see people sad, I would (usually) try to do something to help, but I wasn't grieving, I was OK, so it just didn't affect me as much.
Since losing Thomas I weep when I hear about a baby dying or a pregnancy not ending happily, or even a child getting recoverably sick. I feel so deeply sad for people when they are hurting. Because I don't want people to hurt. I want to get big colourful emotional bandages and stick them on people and kiss them and make them feel better. But life doesn't work that way.
One phrase that has started driving me a little crazy is "you'll never get more than you can handle". I don't believe that. Not even for a second. I know some people deeply believe that. I don't. Just because you come out the other end doesn't mean you can handle something. I think of Matt's Grandpa who was an old-time war vet. I have tried to think about what it would be like to be in that war. To have bullets zooming all around, to be spraying bullets yourself. To be covered in your own blood and your friend's blood. And I can't even begin to imagine what that does to your heart, soul, and brain. And then like so many others, when he finally came home 5 years later he was an alcoholic. Clearly, it was too much for him to handle.
people do what they can to cope. And sometimes it turns out that they can cope in good and healthy ways, and sometimes they can't. We don't have a choice but to "handle" something. It doesn't make us strong, it doesn't make us brave, there was no choice given. It just is. And these events change us. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the better. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the worse. If people were never given more than they could handle there would be no suicide, no alcoholism, fewer cases of true depression, fewer heart aches. Less crying and more joy.
I have had a few things in my life, 3 events actually, that have honestly been too much for me to handle. One event led to me never speaking to my brother again. The last time I spoke to him was 10 years ago, and I will never speak to him again. At least not until my parents die and then he's my "responsibility" But even then I will try to talk to the workers involved and not him. That event, or rather culmination of events, was far more than I could handle. And it changed me. It made me bitter, it made me me cynical. I changed from the happy-go-lucky sweet, laughs easily, innocent girl that I was. And I miss that person.
Another event just changed me. Not in any way that I can articulate, but it changed me.Although since then I am far more careful. With people and with things, with words and with wielding my emotions. And Thomas changed me. Both for the good and for the less-good. I am more empathetic. I am more caring. And I am far more sad. I appreciate life more, but I am overly cautious. I no longer jump into life with both feet.
I don't even know what this post is really about. I am strong. And I know I will survive whatever things life throws my way, even really awful things, because I have no choice. And most people are the same way.
I guess I just miss being a kid, miss life before my heart was so broken I could hardly see through tears to put it back together. And it breaks my heart to know that other people have pain and grief and are trying to put their souls, hearts, brains, and lives back together through a wall of tears. And though I have had grief, I know that it has never touched the level of grief that others have. And that makes me even sadder.
wah wah.......(you know the sound effect, right?)
Tuesday 1 November 2011
Thomas- part 4 -the name for the child who didn't quite make it.
When Charlie was born without his twin we gave him the middle name "Thomas" which means twin. Well, that's one of his middle names. Alpha and Bravo have 1 middle name, but Charlie got 2. I wanted to honour Charlies twin that he started his life with, so we gave him the name Thomas. Had the twin been born then he would have been called Thomas. Or Amelia had the baby been a girl. Here's the thing: we never actually got to find out what the gender of the twin was. And for a long long time that really really really bothered me. Matt called the twin Thomas but I just couldn't. What if the baby had been a girl? I couldn't give the baby a name and I was saddened by that. I don't care for any of the boy/girl names, so it just didn't feel right to give the child a name I wouldn't give a living child. When the twin was first seen at my 20 week u/s the baby was in a position that they couldn't see gender parts. And it had already started deteriorating, so even had it been in a better position there is no guarantee that they could have told me one way or the other. The twin likely died between 14 and 16 weeks, so that's a little early to tell in the best of circumstances.
After Charlie was born I prayed every night to see my baby in a dream, to know if it was a boy or a girl, Thomas or Amelia. And every morning I awoke heartbroken. Matthew stopped out-loud referring to him as Thomas because it really upset me.
Then the end of August started creeping up on me. The one year anniversary of that horrible day. And it was deeply deeply affecting me. One day I just woke up and had the clearest feeling that the baby had been a boy. I had been so back and forth and back and forth on if I thought it had been a girl or a boy, but I just felt like he was a he. And it started to mean more to me that the twin had a name and not "dead baby" That started getting to be a really bad name in my head. That's how I thought of my sweet twin was "dead baby". So One morning I just woke up and started calling him Thomas. The first time I did so in front of Matthew he just looked at me surprised and didn't make mention of it. I think Matthew is sometimes a little afraid to really talk about everything with me. And now Thomas is just Thomas. He has a name that his big brother's can call him, a name that i can call him, a way to refer to him in a healthy way.
Thomas. My sweet baby not here with me, Charlie's missing twin, Delta's angel. Still, as it is, if Delta is a girl I no longer can use the name Amelia as we had been planning (it was Matthew's Grandma's name) just because on the off chance it had been a girl she would have been Amelia.
I still wait and look forward to the day when I see my Thomas in my dreams. I long to see his sweet face, even if only for a moment in a fleeting dream.
After Charlie was born I prayed every night to see my baby in a dream, to know if it was a boy or a girl, Thomas or Amelia. And every morning I awoke heartbroken. Matthew stopped out-loud referring to him as Thomas because it really upset me.
Then the end of August started creeping up on me. The one year anniversary of that horrible day. And it was deeply deeply affecting me. One day I just woke up and had the clearest feeling that the baby had been a boy. I had been so back and forth and back and forth on if I thought it had been a girl or a boy, but I just felt like he was a he. And it started to mean more to me that the twin had a name and not "dead baby" That started getting to be a really bad name in my head. That's how I thought of my sweet twin was "dead baby". So One morning I just woke up and started calling him Thomas. The first time I did so in front of Matthew he just looked at me surprised and didn't make mention of it. I think Matthew is sometimes a little afraid to really talk about everything with me. And now Thomas is just Thomas. He has a name that his big brother's can call him, a name that i can call him, a way to refer to him in a healthy way.
Thomas. My sweet baby not here with me, Charlie's missing twin, Delta's angel. Still, as it is, if Delta is a girl I no longer can use the name Amelia as we had been planning (it was Matthew's Grandma's name) just because on the off chance it had been a girl she would have been Amelia.
I still wait and look forward to the day when I see my Thomas in my dreams. I long to see his sweet face, even if only for a moment in a fleeting dream.
Monday 31 October 2011
Monday- back from my brain leave
I am so done with the last few weeks. I miss my brain. I miss the emotional stability that I worked so hard for in my life- it's been snatched away by the evil first trimester gods. I shake my fist at them!
So since we told Alpha about Delta on the way, he's been so excited but also really struggling with Thomas. We have always said we didn't want the boys to remember the first time they ever heard about Thomas, we didn't want it to be a shock or a big secret or a huge discussion that they would remember. We just wanted the to always know about it. Alpha every now and then brings up Thomas with statements like "I wish Thomas was here. I wish I could hold him and play with him." I just answer "me, too, buddy" and give him a huge hug.
This last week I was playing with Alpha in his room and he had a snack of snap peas, carrots, crackers, a cheese stick, some water and a pizza pop (well, OK- it was more lunch than snack) and Alpha kept asking me if I wanted a bite of whatever food he had in his hand. If I said "no" then he would say "well, the baby really wants some, so you open your mouth and eat it and it will go into your belly and then the baby will open his mouth and eat it!" which led to a long discussion about what eventually came to be called "stomach food hoses" (the umbilical cord- duh!).
Then Alpha picked up his pizza pop. And stared at it. And looked at me. And stared at it some more. Then he said "pizza pops would make Bravo really sick, right?" I said yes. Then he said "I don't think you should eat a pizza pop because it will make the baby really really sick and then he might not come out." After some discussion he started talking about Thomas. And how he couldn't come out because he got sick and couldn't be with us. And maybe he was allergic to foods that I ate and that's what made him sick. And he didn't want this baby to get sick because he misses Thomas so much and he wants this baby to grow big and pop out.
Wow. Clearly this kid has a lot going on in that little 4 year old brain of his. When I said that it wasn't anything I did or didn't do, or did or didn't eat that made Thomas sick he sat in my lap and hugged me and said "sometimes sickness just happens and he made his own sickness and then couldn't come out, mommy?" I think all I could choke out without crying was a weak little "yup. Sometimes sickness just happens and it's nobody's fault."
Which I think is also the first time I've said (out loud OR in my head) that it isn't my fault that Thomas died.
Since then Alpha just keeps kissing my belly and saying hi to the baby and giving my belly his bear and feeding me things he thinks the baby would like from the food hose.
I'm so glad that Alpha is who he is. He's compassionate and empathetic and really deeply caring. Even if he is sometimes destructive and crazy. I hope that I can take care of the sweet gentle little heart that he has.
I really hope this baby makes it. For me, yes, for the baby, yes, but especially for Alpha. He is so excited about his new baby in mommy's belly and tells it every day to "grow, grow, grow, and then pop out in the summer!"
So Delta, if you're listening, grow grow grow and then pop out healthy in the summer, OK?
So since we told Alpha about Delta on the way, he's been so excited but also really struggling with Thomas. We have always said we didn't want the boys to remember the first time they ever heard about Thomas, we didn't want it to be a shock or a big secret or a huge discussion that they would remember. We just wanted the to always know about it. Alpha every now and then brings up Thomas with statements like "I wish Thomas was here. I wish I could hold him and play with him." I just answer "me, too, buddy" and give him a huge hug.
This last week I was playing with Alpha in his room and he had a snack of snap peas, carrots, crackers, a cheese stick, some water and a pizza pop (well, OK- it was more lunch than snack) and Alpha kept asking me if I wanted a bite of whatever food he had in his hand. If I said "no" then he would say "well, the baby really wants some, so you open your mouth and eat it and it will go into your belly and then the baby will open his mouth and eat it!" which led to a long discussion about what eventually came to be called "stomach food hoses" (the umbilical cord- duh!).
Then Alpha picked up his pizza pop. And stared at it. And looked at me. And stared at it some more. Then he said "pizza pops would make Bravo really sick, right?" I said yes. Then he said "I don't think you should eat a pizza pop because it will make the baby really really sick and then he might not come out." After some discussion he started talking about Thomas. And how he couldn't come out because he got sick and couldn't be with us. And maybe he was allergic to foods that I ate and that's what made him sick. And he didn't want this baby to get sick because he misses Thomas so much and he wants this baby to grow big and pop out.
Wow. Clearly this kid has a lot going on in that little 4 year old brain of his. When I said that it wasn't anything I did or didn't do, or did or didn't eat that made Thomas sick he sat in my lap and hugged me and said "sometimes sickness just happens and he made his own sickness and then couldn't come out, mommy?" I think all I could choke out without crying was a weak little "yup. Sometimes sickness just happens and it's nobody's fault."
Which I think is also the first time I've said (out loud OR in my head) that it isn't my fault that Thomas died.
Since then Alpha just keeps kissing my belly and saying hi to the baby and giving my belly his bear and feeding me things he thinks the baby would like from the food hose.
I'm so glad that Alpha is who he is. He's compassionate and empathetic and really deeply caring. Even if he is sometimes destructive and crazy. I hope that I can take care of the sweet gentle little heart that he has.
I really hope this baby makes it. For me, yes, for the baby, yes, but especially for Alpha. He is so excited about his new baby in mommy's belly and tells it every day to "grow, grow, grow, and then pop out in the summer!"
So Delta, if you're listening, grow grow grow and then pop out healthy in the summer, OK?
Saturday 22 October 2011
Food Friday a day late- ham leftovers
OK, so do you remember this ham recipe? I made it for supper last night and again was surprised by just how good it really is. Matt saw we were having ham and made a face. Then he tried a bite and remembered that it's actually really good! He even told me I could make it once a month. Thanks, Matt!
The downfall with ham (for some, but not me because I love love love ham) is that it leaves a lot of leftovers. And there's only so many ham sandwiches one can eat.
SOOOOO.
What To Do With Left Over Crock Pot Ham.
1. after you cook the ham there will be a pile of wonderful juices in the bottom of the crock pot. Don't throw it out!! After you cut up the ham and take all the meat off, throw the bone back into the crock pot and stick it in the fridge over night (bonus! less dishes to wash!)
2. the next day add a big tin of tomatoes, some chopped up carrots, some mushrooms, some diced onion (I prefer mine to be cooked first- but it doesn't matter), some water, half a bag of barley, some chopped celery, and whatever else you want to add. Like pepper or some extra grainy mustard. Important: don't add anything else with salt!! The first time I used some broth instead of water and the thing was so darn salty I almost died. The ham is salty enough so don't add anything else with salt. And don't add the chopped up left over ham yet. That part comes later. Otherwise all the hammy-ness is lost and it's just not as good.
3. there should be enough water/ liquid to make it look a little like soup. This will all absorb as the barley cooks and it will turn into a delicious ham stew type of dish. Freezes well so you can cook it and make a few meals to save for the "I just don't want to cook" days. Turn on crock pot on low for the day.
4. When you're about to server it add a bunch of chopped up leftover ham. and mix well. For the small people in my life I add in a bunch of frozen veggies to add veggies and to act as ice cubes.
yummy yummy yummy!
The downfall with ham (for some, but not me because I love love love ham) is that it leaves a lot of leftovers. And there's only so many ham sandwiches one can eat.
SOOOOO.
What To Do With Left Over Crock Pot Ham.
1. after you cook the ham there will be a pile of wonderful juices in the bottom of the crock pot. Don't throw it out!! After you cut up the ham and take all the meat off, throw the bone back into the crock pot and stick it in the fridge over night (bonus! less dishes to wash!)
2. the next day add a big tin of tomatoes, some chopped up carrots, some mushrooms, some diced onion (I prefer mine to be cooked first- but it doesn't matter), some water, half a bag of barley, some chopped celery, and whatever else you want to add. Like pepper or some extra grainy mustard. Important: don't add anything else with salt!! The first time I used some broth instead of water and the thing was so darn salty I almost died. The ham is salty enough so don't add anything else with salt. And don't add the chopped up left over ham yet. That part comes later. Otherwise all the hammy-ness is lost and it's just not as good.
3. there should be enough water/ liquid to make it look a little like soup. This will all absorb as the barley cooks and it will turn into a delicious ham stew type of dish. Freezes well so you can cook it and make a few meals to save for the "I just don't want to cook" days. Turn on crock pot on low for the day.
4. When you're about to server it add a bunch of chopped up leftover ham. and mix well. For the small people in my life I add in a bunch of frozen veggies to add veggies and to act as ice cubes.
yummy yummy yummy!
Thursday 20 October 2011
the dissapearing mom
Some days I find it hard not to just.... disappear. *Poof*. There's just so much to do. So many things to get caught up on. Laundry (dear me, the laundry), unloading the dishwasher for the 38th time in a day (how do 5 people go through THAT many dishes? Seriously?) feeding small people, putting small people to sleep, then getting them up and feeding them again just in time to bathe them and put them back to sleep. I figured out that I put small people to bed 7-8 times a day. Which will only get worse come June. And I don't think I could count the number of times I give small people food. Probably around 784. Then there's the playing (fun) and the refereeing (less fun) and the wiping and the cleaning and the tidying and the sorting and the shoe-putting-on-ing that consumes the remaining minutes of the day.
Some days I remember to get dressed at 3:55 (Matthew gets home shortly after 4) or realize that I haven't brushed my teeth in the entire day. I mean, gum is great, but that gets gross. My shirts are a disaster and my jeans have at least 3 different kinds of bodily fluid on them at any given time, even if they JUST got washed (which is only marginally better than the yoga pants that I change out of at 3:55) and I can't remember the last time I straightened my hair and did something nice with it other than stuff it in a pony tail. Wait- yes I can. It was our anniversary- September 15th. That was a month ago.
And some days I get so bogged down in this. I forget who I am, why I'm here, what I was doing with my life before my small people came into the world. I have become Mom. I have been swallowed whole by parenthood. I know one day I'll be spit back out the other end, but not for the foreseeable future.
And some days I forget that I WANT this. I know I chose it, I know I love my small people more than anything ever but it's easy to lose sight of that when somebody is squishing somebody else because the weapon made out of blocks got hit on somebody's head and broke and hit-ee is upset because, well, he got hit, and the hit-er is upset because in his eyes the hit-ee broke theblock stack light saber and all three small people are screaming because they're hungry/ tired/ and grouchy all at the same time.
Some days I want to skip the next 5 years and get to the part past really little kids. And I feel terrible writing that. But it's true. But I KNOW I'll miss this. The stories that Alpha tell me now are so very adorable. And I know there will come a day when I can't fix everything in Bravos life with a hug and a heart-felt round of "you are my sunshine". And little Charlie- that kid would smile and laugh at the wall, he's that easily amused. And it's beautiful. And I am so thankful that he's not yet walking and talking and that he's still my baby.
I guess I'm still really reeling from this new small person coming into my life and bringing me back to first trimester (seriously- I forgot how much first trimester sucks monkey balls) and then to newborn and it feels like I will be immersed in small-people-ness for an eternity now. I know it won't be like that. I know it will fly by in a blink. That it will seem like next week when Delta is turning 1. I just have to get past monkey-ball-sucking first trimester first.
I guess I'm still coming to terms with this and figuring out how my life will (or really in some ways won't) change. It was supposed to start going back to me being a little bit more "me" now that the youngest is almost one.
But this is OK. I had a dream last night that they were going to do a c-section at 24 weeks (they told me while I was on a foot ball field, but whatever) and I curled into a fetal position and clutched my belly and screamed and cried. I woke up in the fetal position clutching my belly and crying. I didn't want this pregnancy, but I so deeply want this baby to be healthy and come at the proper time (are you listening, delta? Not too early and NOT LATE) and even though my emotions are still everywhere I love this little person and am excited to see a new member of our family and how (s)he fits in. If it's a he though he will not have a name. Seriously. We were stumped with the third boy, we're down right OUT of boy names.
Alpha wants to help.....
RHHJFHDFHDFGFGHFDGGFGHFGSJFS HGGGHFFGFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFGFG.
I guess I just wasn't prepared for the true cost of children. Not the money (though that's pretty significant) but everything else. At the end of the day though I wouldn't have changed this, even had I known. I might have gone on a fancy vacation before conceiving, but that's about it.
One day I will re-appear as me. Or as the new me. The post-kid, got her life together, hair is brushed new me. And I look forward to meeting that person. And I sure hope she's loved by all her small people because I adore each and everyone of them, even little delta who has thrown me for a big ol' loop. And maybe, just maybe, the new me will have clean pants and brushed teeth. Maybe. A girl can dream.
Some days I remember to get dressed at 3:55 (Matthew gets home shortly after 4) or realize that I haven't brushed my teeth in the entire day. I mean, gum is great, but that gets gross. My shirts are a disaster and my jeans have at least 3 different kinds of bodily fluid on them at any given time, even if they JUST got washed (which is only marginally better than the yoga pants that I change out of at 3:55) and I can't remember the last time I straightened my hair and did something nice with it other than stuff it in a pony tail. Wait- yes I can. It was our anniversary- September 15th. That was a month ago.
And some days I get so bogged down in this. I forget who I am, why I'm here, what I was doing with my life before my small people came into the world. I have become Mom. I have been swallowed whole by parenthood. I know one day I'll be spit back out the other end, but not for the foreseeable future.
And some days I forget that I WANT this. I know I chose it, I know I love my small people more than anything ever but it's easy to lose sight of that when somebody is squishing somebody else because the weapon made out of blocks got hit on somebody's head and broke and hit-ee is upset because, well, he got hit, and the hit-er is upset because in his eyes the hit-ee broke the
Some days I want to skip the next 5 years and get to the part past really little kids. And I feel terrible writing that. But it's true. But I KNOW I'll miss this. The stories that Alpha tell me now are so very adorable. And I know there will come a day when I can't fix everything in Bravos life with a hug and a heart-felt round of "you are my sunshine". And little Charlie- that kid would smile and laugh at the wall, he's that easily amused. And it's beautiful. And I am so thankful that he's not yet walking and talking and that he's still my baby.
I guess I'm still really reeling from this new small person coming into my life and bringing me back to first trimester (seriously- I forgot how much first trimester sucks monkey balls) and then to newborn and it feels like I will be immersed in small-people-ness for an eternity now. I know it won't be like that. I know it will fly by in a blink. That it will seem like next week when Delta is turning 1. I just have to get past monkey-ball-sucking first trimester first.
I guess I'm still coming to terms with this and figuring out how my life will (or really in some ways won't) change. It was supposed to start going back to me being a little bit more "me" now that the youngest is almost one.
But this is OK. I had a dream last night that they were going to do a c-section at 24 weeks (they told me while I was on a foot ball field, but whatever) and I curled into a fetal position and clutched my belly and screamed and cried. I woke up in the fetal position clutching my belly and crying. I didn't want this pregnancy, but I so deeply want this baby to be healthy and come at the proper time (are you listening, delta? Not too early and NOT LATE) and even though my emotions are still everywhere I love this little person and am excited to see a new member of our family and how (s)he fits in. If it's a he though he will not have a name. Seriously. We were stumped with the third boy, we're down right OUT of boy names.
Alpha wants to help.....
RHHJFHDFHDFGFGHFDGGFGHFGSJFS HGGGHFFGFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFGFG.
I guess I just wasn't prepared for the true cost of children. Not the money (though that's pretty significant) but everything else. At the end of the day though I wouldn't have changed this, even had I known. I might have gone on a fancy vacation before conceiving, but that's about it.
One day I will re-appear as me. Or as the new me. The post-kid, got her life together, hair is brushed new me. And I look forward to meeting that person. And I sure hope she's loved by all her small people because I adore each and everyone of them, even little delta who has thrown me for a big ol' loop. And maybe, just maybe, the new me will have clean pants and brushed teeth. Maybe. A girl can dream.
Thursday 13 October 2011
Thankful for boys
I had no idea what I was missing in my life before I had a house of boys. I sometimes feel really really "out-of-the-loop" in my own house. Like every other member is part of some other culture and I'm on the periphery trying to figure it out.
Top 10 Thing I Have Learned From Boys
1. Penises are awesome. I mean really really awesome. And fun to talk about. And yell about. And be weird with. I don't think I can count the number of times in a day I bark a command about penises. "Bravo! Stop touching your brother with your penis!", "Alpha, don't chance Bravo with your penis!" "Bravo, get your penis out of the pot, I need to cook with that!" "argh! Penises are NOT weapons. They're penises. Go put on some underpants!" And the more I bark about them the more they're toys.
2. Love is best showed by sitting on, beating, burping on, farting on, squishing, or otherwise annoying and bothering the person you are showing love for.
3. There is a BIG difference between a front end load and a back hoe digger and a bulldozer and an excavator and a bunch of other machines that I don't care about. And if you get the name wrong you WILL be corrected and have the difference explained to you. So listen and learn or this will happen tomorrow, too. And when I'm old and grey and have lost my mind I will still know the names of all these machines.
4. Little boys are gross. Boys being gross does not start "later". It is not learned from school mates or TV or anywhere else. They just are. And it's wonderful. Usually.
5. Rocks in the dryer are loud. Especially when there's 27 of them.
6. Mommies are better than anybody else in the whole wide world.
7. It is inherient in little boys to torture people. Maybe this is closly related to #2. Alpha already tortures Bravo with dangling spit (he's 4!!!) and Bravo has been told repeatedly that Charlie does NOT want to suck on his toe.
8. If there's a choice between calm and destruction, always always always choose destruction.
9. Rain and mud and puddles and dirt is not a deterant for going outside. It is a wonderful bonus. And if you've lost a boy look for the nearest puddle. He will be in it.
10. If nobody else is watching then snuggling is actually pretty awesome. But not as awesome as penises.
Top 10 Thing I Have Learned From Boys
1. Penises are awesome. I mean really really awesome. And fun to talk about. And yell about. And be weird with. I don't think I can count the number of times in a day I bark a command about penises. "Bravo! Stop touching your brother with your penis!", "Alpha, don't chance Bravo with your penis!" "Bravo, get your penis out of the pot, I need to cook with that!" "argh! Penises are NOT weapons. They're penises. Go put on some underpants!" And the more I bark about them the more they're toys.
2. Love is best showed by sitting on, beating, burping on, farting on, squishing, or otherwise annoying and bothering the person you are showing love for.
3. There is a BIG difference between a front end load and a back hoe digger and a bulldozer and an excavator and a bunch of other machines that I don't care about. And if you get the name wrong you WILL be corrected and have the difference explained to you. So listen and learn or this will happen tomorrow, too. And when I'm old and grey and have lost my mind I will still know the names of all these machines.
4. Little boys are gross. Boys being gross does not start "later". It is not learned from school mates or TV or anywhere else. They just are. And it's wonderful. Usually.
5. Rocks in the dryer are loud. Especially when there's 27 of them.
6. Mommies are better than anybody else in the whole wide world.
7. It is inherient in little boys to torture people. Maybe this is closly related to #2. Alpha already tortures Bravo with dangling spit (he's 4!!!) and Bravo has been told repeatedly that Charlie does NOT want to suck on his toe.
8. If there's a choice between calm and destruction, always always always choose destruction.
9. Rain and mud and puddles and dirt is not a deterant for going outside. It is a wonderful bonus. And if you've lost a boy look for the nearest puddle. He will be in it.
10. If nobody else is watching then snuggling is actually pretty awesome. But not as awesome as penises.
Wednesday 12 October 2011
wordless wednesday- things on the interweb that crack me up
I saw this on Ellen and it made me smile.
Tuesday 11 October 2011
changed-worry
I've been thinking about this question a lot lately: How has being a parent changed you?
There's the obvious answers. Change in priorities, limited ability to get out without small people hanging off of you and crying for juice boxes, sleep deprivation, relationship changes, friendship changes, etc etc etc. And all that is true. But I think the biggest change for me is the worry.
Everybody worries. I did before I was a parent. Will I have enough money? Will my living accommodations work out? Will my job be stable? What will happen if I need to leave my job? Is my relationship going to make it? Funny how those things seemed big to me then. And now I yearn for the days when those were my worries. I still worry about many of the things on that list, but those are some small potatoes.
And most of my new worries are also still probably small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. But to me they are huge. And some are all consuming.
When I found out I was pregnant the beginning of the "will I be a good mom?" started. And it's never ended. I question constantly if I am doing right by my children. I worry I am scarring them if I lose my cool. I worry I am teaching them bad habits. I worry I don't hug them enough, have the right blanace of help/ independance, or spend enough 1-on-1 time with each child.
I worry about when Alpha goes to kindergarten. Will the other kids like him? Will he find friends? Will he be invited to birthday parties? Will the teachers like him? Will he be able to sit still long enough to do anything? Will he be behind?
When Bravo almost died at 4 months and 2 weeks old my life changed. I was now Allergy Mom. Watching your baby on a table, grey and lifeless, having 15 people try to stabilize his heart, putting breathing tubes in his throat, put IV after IV after IV into him, strapping monitors onto him and yelling at you trying to figure out what is happening to this incredibly small person while the whole time that small person stares at you unable to cry, unable to do anything but stare, that changes a person. Being Bravo's mom has introduced a whole new level of worry to my life. I am terrified of the day he goes to school. When I can't keep him in his allergy-free bubble. I am terrified of others being in contact with his food. I am terrified of other kids and other parents. What if the really friendly child shares a goldfish cracker. Bravo knows to not eat it, but what if the friendly kid then touches Bravos juice straw. What then? Will there be a teacher on the play ground that knows that when he starts throwing up there is only a matter of a minute or two to get that epi pen into him? The worry that holds my gut about my sweet boy is immense.
When I was pregnant with Charlie yet another set of worries was born. Would my baby make it? Would he live past a couple of hours old? And if he did will he always know some where deep inside that his twin is missing? Does he not sleep because he's lonely?
Will my boys get along? Will they look after each other? Will Matthew and I be around to watch our kids grow up? What if something happens to us? Or to one of the kids? What if schizophrenia rears it's ugly head and chooses one of my sweet boys like it did to my brother, 2 cousins (male), an uncle, and a grandfather? What will I do then?
If I let the worry run wild I would not be able to get out of bed in the morning. Some days it's all I can do to keep the worry at bay. And those days I hug my kids a little harder, tell them I love them a little more, and check on them one extra time while they lay sweetly sleeping.
And I know that this worry will never leave. It may shift and change as the boys grow into their own and become young men in charge of their own lives and (hopefully) some allergies are outgrown, but the worry will always be there. When I peed on that stick in January 2007 my life was changed. And even to erase all the worry in the world I would not change it back. Not even for one second.
There's the obvious answers. Change in priorities, limited ability to get out without small people hanging off of you and crying for juice boxes, sleep deprivation, relationship changes, friendship changes, etc etc etc. And all that is true. But I think the biggest change for me is the worry.
Everybody worries. I did before I was a parent. Will I have enough money? Will my living accommodations work out? Will my job be stable? What will happen if I need to leave my job? Is my relationship going to make it? Funny how those things seemed big to me then. And now I yearn for the days when those were my worries. I still worry about many of the things on that list, but those are some small potatoes.
And most of my new worries are also still probably small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. But to me they are huge. And some are all consuming.
When I found out I was pregnant the beginning of the "will I be a good mom?" started. And it's never ended. I question constantly if I am doing right by my children. I worry I am scarring them if I lose my cool. I worry I am teaching them bad habits. I worry I don't hug them enough, have the right blanace of help/ independance, or spend enough 1-on-1 time with each child.
I worry about when Alpha goes to kindergarten. Will the other kids like him? Will he find friends? Will he be invited to birthday parties? Will the teachers like him? Will he be able to sit still long enough to do anything? Will he be behind?
When Bravo almost died at 4 months and 2 weeks old my life changed. I was now Allergy Mom. Watching your baby on a table, grey and lifeless, having 15 people try to stabilize his heart, putting breathing tubes in his throat, put IV after IV after IV into him, strapping monitors onto him and yelling at you trying to figure out what is happening to this incredibly small person while the whole time that small person stares at you unable to cry, unable to do anything but stare, that changes a person. Being Bravo's mom has introduced a whole new level of worry to my life. I am terrified of the day he goes to school. When I can't keep him in his allergy-free bubble. I am terrified of others being in contact with his food. I am terrified of other kids and other parents. What if the really friendly child shares a goldfish cracker. Bravo knows to not eat it, but what if the friendly kid then touches Bravos juice straw. What then? Will there be a teacher on the play ground that knows that when he starts throwing up there is only a matter of a minute or two to get that epi pen into him? The worry that holds my gut about my sweet boy is immense.
When I was pregnant with Charlie yet another set of worries was born. Would my baby make it? Would he live past a couple of hours old? And if he did will he always know some where deep inside that his twin is missing? Does he not sleep because he's lonely?
Will my boys get along? Will they look after each other? Will Matthew and I be around to watch our kids grow up? What if something happens to us? Or to one of the kids? What if schizophrenia rears it's ugly head and chooses one of my sweet boys like it did to my brother, 2 cousins (male), an uncle, and a grandfather? What will I do then?
If I let the worry run wild I would not be able to get out of bed in the morning. Some days it's all I can do to keep the worry at bay. And those days I hug my kids a little harder, tell them I love them a little more, and check on them one extra time while they lay sweetly sleeping.
And I know that this worry will never leave. It may shift and change as the boys grow into their own and become young men in charge of their own lives and (hopefully) some allergies are outgrown, but the worry will always be there. When I peed on that stick in January 2007 my life was changed. And even to erase all the worry in the world I would not change it back. Not even for one second.
Friday 7 October 2011
Food Friday- best ham ever cooked
Matt hates ham. I love ham. We were at ham odds. But I always won because I cook and he doesn't, so if I want it I cook it. But I really prefer it that people eating my cooking actually LIKE it and don't just take their "thank-you portions". So I went on a ham recipe hunt. I know I know.... how hard is it to cook a ham???
But if you follow this then even ham haters may change their mind. Matt loves this ham, which is saying a lot. If my parents ever make ham now he just leans over and says oh so quietly "your ham is way better."
Plus- it's cooked in a crock pot which takes away so much of the hassle of cooking- like doing it during my every so precious triple threat nap time.
Crock Pot Ham Even Ham-Haters Will Like
5 lb-ish ham.**Not one of those little pretty pre-cooked hams. A real ham with the bone in. But don't forget to take the plastic thing off the end of the bone** try to not buy one so big it won't fit in your crock pot. Because then you have to cut chunks off and stuff it in the sides. Not that I've done that before.
1/2 cup apple juice
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 Tablespoon honey
1 Tablespoon mustard (I use grainy- but normal will do if you don't have it)
1/8 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon cloves
Score ham with a knife
Put it in your crock pot
Mix all the dark purple ingredients in a bowl
pour juice over ham
rub the sugar mixture over the ham with your hands
cover and cook on low for about 8 hours. Could be a bit more if you're out of the house and aren't home for 9.
yummy yummy yummy!
But if you follow this then even ham haters may change their mind. Matt loves this ham, which is saying a lot. If my parents ever make ham now he just leans over and says oh so quietly "your ham is way better."
Plus- it's cooked in a crock pot which takes away so much of the hassle of cooking- like doing it during my every so precious triple threat nap time.
Crock Pot Ham Even Ham-Haters Will Like
5 lb-ish ham.**Not one of those little pretty pre-cooked hams. A real ham with the bone in. But don't forget to take the plastic thing off the end of the bone** try to not buy one so big it won't fit in your crock pot. Because then you have to cut chunks off and stuff it in the sides. Not that I've done that before.
1/2 cup apple juice
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 Tablespoon honey
1 Tablespoon mustard (I use grainy- but normal will do if you don't have it)
1/8 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon cloves
Score ham with a knife
Put it in your crock pot
Mix all the dark purple ingredients in a bowl
pour juice over ham
rub the sugar mixture over the ham with your hands
cover and cook on low for about 8 hours. Could be a bit more if you're out of the house and aren't home for 9.
yummy yummy yummy!
Thursday 6 October 2011
Thankful... for Surprises
Or at least I'm trying to be. You know when you have your life mapped out and planned and you think you know what's going on and that you're in control? And then you know the feeling when you get knocked off your once cute firm pre-baby little bum? That's where I am.
Next summer I was going to have an 18month old and a 3 year old and an almost 5 year old. And I was really really looking forward to that. I was so excited to be out of baby-mode. To see my kids getting older and to move on with the next phase of my life.
Then on Tuesday I peed on a stick. For about the millionth time in my life.
And now I will have a newborn and a 17 month old and a three year old and a not-yet-5 year old. It was never in my plans to have 4 kids under 5.
But plans have a way of changing and surprises have a way of, well, surprising.
SURPRISE!
So I'm trying really hard to be thankful. And I'm trying really hard to wrap my brain around this. And I am thankful for sweet baby Delta surprise. It's just going to take some time to get used to this. Thank goodness pregnancy is 9 months! I have some time.
If Delta doesn't make it, I will be both sad and relieved. Probably in equal measure. And I feel sad about that. I have only ever been thrilled for pregnancies, so this is new. I keep coming back to the thought that Thomas is giving us this gift. And if the baby doesn't make it, then Thomas will have somebody to play with, hang out with, love, and steal toys from (are there toys in heaven?? there must be!) until Matt and I are there to hold them.
Come on, brain. Hurry up and process because I just want to get to excited.
SO I'm thankful that my life is not under my control. I'm thankful that there are surprises in life, I am thankful for babies, even unplanned ones, I am thankful for being blessed with this child, and I am thankful that there is time before this child is here.
oh- one more thing. I re-read my last post and then I laughed at the line about "your pregnancy was unplanned?" Hmmm. Looks like Karma came to call. Again. Lesson learned. All babies are blessings. Planned or not. The unplanned ones take the same time to implant in our wombs, they just take a little longer to implant in our hearts.
Next summer I was going to have an 18month old and a 3 year old and an almost 5 year old. And I was really really looking forward to that. I was so excited to be out of baby-mode. To see my kids getting older and to move on with the next phase of my life.
Then on Tuesday I peed on a stick. For about the millionth time in my life.
And now I will have a newborn and a 17 month old and a three year old and a not-yet-5 year old. It was never in my plans to have 4 kids under 5.
But plans have a way of changing and surprises have a way of, well, surprising.
SURPRISE!
So I'm trying really hard to be thankful. And I'm trying really hard to wrap my brain around this. And I am thankful for sweet baby Delta surprise. It's just going to take some time to get used to this. Thank goodness pregnancy is 9 months! I have some time.
If Delta doesn't make it, I will be both sad and relieved. Probably in equal measure. And I feel sad about that. I have only ever been thrilled for pregnancies, so this is new. I keep coming back to the thought that Thomas is giving us this gift. And if the baby doesn't make it, then Thomas will have somebody to play with, hang out with, love, and steal toys from (are there toys in heaven?? there must be!) until Matt and I are there to hold them.
Come on, brain. Hurry up and process because I just want to get to excited.
SO I'm thankful that my life is not under my control. I'm thankful that there are surprises in life, I am thankful for babies, even unplanned ones, I am thankful for being blessed with this child, and I am thankful that there is time before this child is here.
oh- one more thing. I re-read my last post and then I laughed at the line about "your pregnancy was unplanned?" Hmmm. Looks like Karma came to call. Again. Lesson learned. All babies are blessings. Planned or not. The unplanned ones take the same time to implant in our wombs, they just take a little longer to implant in our hearts.
Tuesday 4 October 2011
changed- the good in the world.
The question "how has being a mom changed you? has been one I've been thinking a lot about. And I wrote one post but haven't put it up yet because the more I think about it, it has changed me in many ways. The post I wrote is about worry, but I'll save that for another day.
One of the other ways that I have changed: kindness. I've never been a "mean" person, but I have my share of judgments. Or I did. Before I was a mom I looked down my nose at those bottle feeding (seriously- did these women never hear that breast is best???) or at the mom with kids freaking out in the store. Or the moms freaking out on their kids. I mean- they're just kids and even if they're not behaving well a 4 year old yelling isn't cause to lose your cool. Um, you're not potty trained?? and your almost 3??? and a whole host of things. You didn't have a "natural" birth? You had an unplanned child??
Then I because a mom. And everything changed. I changed. And Karma Came To Visit. SURPRISE CHRISSY! you're the mom bottle feeding because breastfeeding went to hell in a hand basket (what, by the way, does that even mean??) and my first wasn't fully potty trained until after 3. He was day trained earlier, but he was over 3 until we got the hang of nights. Oh- and yesterday? I nearly throttled my 4 year old at the park because he was poking some day care kid with a stick and then when I told him to go wait by the stroller so I could gather up his brothers he threw his shoes at me. And then slapped me in the face. And then ran away. So the daycare providers of 12 kids had a nice little show of me losing it on a 4 year old and that 4 year old freaking and flailing and the 2 year old shrieking because the 4 year old was shrieking and the baby was sobbing because he was past his nap.
And now, I just seriously don't care how other people raise their kids. I mean, I care that the kids are loved and cared for and cherished and played with and probably fed, but the rest? None of my bees wax. Because parenting is hard. And we do what we can. And sometimes we lose it. And sometimes we are superstars who handle temper tantrums with grace and perfection. If I see a mom who could use some help and I've got a spare hand, then sure I'll ask if I can jump in. And if somebody asks what I've done when, or is searching for opinions, then I'll share what has worked for my family. But that's all I know. What works for my family. I don't know what works for yours.
When I see other kids my heart just warms because I see good in the world. Even if that child is having "a day", they are the good in the world, just as my kids are the good in the world. They have wonderful stories to tell, wonderful dreams to live, wonderful things to share with us and teach us, and life just glistening in their sweet little eyes. And seeing the good in this world makes me a kinder, gentler, nicer person. And that's a good thing.
One of the other ways that I have changed: kindness. I've never been a "mean" person, but I have my share of judgments. Or I did. Before I was a mom I looked down my nose at those bottle feeding (seriously- did these women never hear that breast is best???) or at the mom with kids freaking out in the store. Or the moms freaking out on their kids. I mean- they're just kids and even if they're not behaving well a 4 year old yelling isn't cause to lose your cool. Um, you're not potty trained?? and your almost 3??? and a whole host of things. You didn't have a "natural" birth? You had an unplanned child??
Then I because a mom. And everything changed. I changed. And Karma Came To Visit. SURPRISE CHRISSY! you're the mom bottle feeding because breastfeeding went to hell in a hand basket (what, by the way, does that even mean??) and my first wasn't fully potty trained until after 3. He was day trained earlier, but he was over 3 until we got the hang of nights. Oh- and yesterday? I nearly throttled my 4 year old at the park because he was poking some day care kid with a stick and then when I told him to go wait by the stroller so I could gather up his brothers he threw his shoes at me. And then slapped me in the face. And then ran away. So the daycare providers of 12 kids had a nice little show of me losing it on a 4 year old and that 4 year old freaking and flailing and the 2 year old shrieking because the 4 year old was shrieking and the baby was sobbing because he was past his nap.
And now, I just seriously don't care how other people raise their kids. I mean, I care that the kids are loved and cared for and cherished and played with and probably fed, but the rest? None of my bees wax. Because parenting is hard. And we do what we can. And sometimes we lose it. And sometimes we are superstars who handle temper tantrums with grace and perfection. If I see a mom who could use some help and I've got a spare hand, then sure I'll ask if I can jump in. And if somebody asks what I've done when, or is searching for opinions, then I'll share what has worked for my family. But that's all I know. What works for my family. I don't know what works for yours.
When I see other kids my heart just warms because I see good in the world. Even if that child is having "a day", they are the good in the world, just as my kids are the good in the world. They have wonderful stories to tell, wonderful dreams to live, wonderful things to share with us and teach us, and life just glistening in their sweet little eyes. And seeing the good in this world makes me a kinder, gentler, nicer person. And that's a good thing.
Monday 3 October 2011
Thomas- part 3- my missing peice
There's the facts about my pregnancy with Thomas and there's the facts about the birth.Those are the easy parts to tell. Well, "easy" I guess would be more accurate. But they just are what they are. Facts. It doesn't change. August 26, 2010 will never change. January 13, 2011 will always be Charlie's birthday- the day he was born without his twin. The facts of what happened just are, they're not fluid, they don't change depending on who's telling them, they don't change day-by-day, they just are.
But then there's everything else. Things I don't talk about. There's life after Part 1 and Part 2. And that's the hard part. Facts are easy. The rest changes and every time it changes the pain and grief and longing find a new place of my heart and soul to move in to.
I was talking with Matt last night about Thomas. We don't talk about it very often, only when I can't hold in my grief and it bubbles out. We grieve differently. And because he never really talks about it I often feel like I am the only one who remembers Thomas, the only one that misses him this much, the only one who notices that he's missing. I know I'm not, I know Matt feels that way too, but it's often just very lonely. There is a Walk To Remember here on October 15th. That I so very much want to take part in, take Thomas' brothers to say goodbye and let balloons go for him. But I will be in Edmonton saying goodbye to my grandma who will not be here much longer. When I told Matt that I wished I had known about the walk sooner so I could have booked flights on a different day, he said that though I couldn't go to the walk to remember and say goodbye to Thomas, I was going to say goodbye to Grandma. And my first thought was "I wish that she were the one that was dead and not him". And I know that's a terrible thing to think. But the more I thought about it there are only 4 people in this life that i would not trade- Matt, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. Anybody else in my life, even people I am very close to, I would trade in a heartbeat if it meant Thomas could live.
There are some days I wonder if I had known earlier if something could have been changed and all this would have ended differently. What if I had pushed the midwife to send me for an ultrasound when I had a bright pink gush of liquid at 13w5d? Would they have been able to do anything? I know probably not, but I still wonder. There is one thing that I deeply regret. And that's not bringing home the placenta to bury in the summer. I wish I had thought that through further, had the foresight to know I would regret that. Instead of Having Thomas' remains respected and lovingly placed in the ground I chose to have the hospital dispose of them. To throw my sweet little Thomas out with the other garbage. And I hate that I let them do that. And I wish that I had thought about that.
I keep waiting for the grief to lessen. And some days it does. But it's always there. And a year later I think I'm coming to the realization that this grief will always be here. That it will always be a part of me and will never fade into the background like I thought it would. And some days it's hard to accept that. And some days I'm glad for that because even if I'm the only one who remembers, Thomas will never ever be forgotten.
Dear Thomas,
Not a day has gone by that I don't think of you. Long for you. Wish that you were here. Some days it's fine, you're in my thoughts and life carries on. Some days it's with every breath in and every breath out that I think of you. And some days, like this weekend, you not being here hits me so hard that I am knocked to my knees and I can't breath and all that can come out are body-shaking sobs. Those days are less than they were before, but they still happen. I wasn't prepared for this. I thought that by now I would "be over it". Not that I would have forgotten you, but that the grief would be in memory and wouldn't be so raw, wouldn't some days feel so new and fresh.
I watch your brothers and I think about how they are also missing you from their lives. I watch Charlie without you and I miss you even more. I know what you would be doing and what stage you would be in, because Charlie is doing it, too. And I just wish (wish seems like such a weak word compared to what I do- but I don't know what word to use) that you were beside him, sucking on his fingers and him sucking on yours. Pulling at each others faces and laying beside each other. Starting to try to crawl, doing all these things with your brother instead of watching over him. Charlie misses you. He doesn't sleep well and I think he's lonely. I think he knows that somebody is missing. And you are, you're missing from every part of our lives and you are missed.
What I wish for you my sweet boy is that you're happy. And loved and warm and taken care of and held when you need it. Please look out for us. And when I come to meet you I will give you that never-ending hug that I wish I could give you now. You have touched my life and touched my heart and not even for a second do I wish that you had never happened. I want for you to be here with us instead, but since you can't be, I need you to know I wouldn't change you out of existence.
I love you forever and ever and ever,
Mommy.
But then there's everything else. Things I don't talk about. There's life after Part 1 and Part 2. And that's the hard part. Facts are easy. The rest changes and every time it changes the pain and grief and longing find a new place of my heart and soul to move in to.
I was talking with Matt last night about Thomas. We don't talk about it very often, only when I can't hold in my grief and it bubbles out. We grieve differently. And because he never really talks about it I often feel like I am the only one who remembers Thomas, the only one that misses him this much, the only one who notices that he's missing. I know I'm not, I know Matt feels that way too, but it's often just very lonely. There is a Walk To Remember here on October 15th. That I so very much want to take part in, take Thomas' brothers to say goodbye and let balloons go for him. But I will be in Edmonton saying goodbye to my grandma who will not be here much longer. When I told Matt that I wished I had known about the walk sooner so I could have booked flights on a different day, he said that though I couldn't go to the walk to remember and say goodbye to Thomas, I was going to say goodbye to Grandma. And my first thought was "I wish that she were the one that was dead and not him". And I know that's a terrible thing to think. But the more I thought about it there are only 4 people in this life that i would not trade- Matt, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. Anybody else in my life, even people I am very close to, I would trade in a heartbeat if it meant Thomas could live.
There are some days I wonder if I had known earlier if something could have been changed and all this would have ended differently. What if I had pushed the midwife to send me for an ultrasound when I had a bright pink gush of liquid at 13w5d? Would they have been able to do anything? I know probably not, but I still wonder. There is one thing that I deeply regret. And that's not bringing home the placenta to bury in the summer. I wish I had thought that through further, had the foresight to know I would regret that. Instead of Having Thomas' remains respected and lovingly placed in the ground I chose to have the hospital dispose of them. To throw my sweet little Thomas out with the other garbage. And I hate that I let them do that. And I wish that I had thought about that.
I keep waiting for the grief to lessen. And some days it does. But it's always there. And a year later I think I'm coming to the realization that this grief will always be here. That it will always be a part of me and will never fade into the background like I thought it would. And some days it's hard to accept that. And some days I'm glad for that because even if I'm the only one who remembers, Thomas will never ever be forgotten.
Dear Thomas,
Not a day has gone by that I don't think of you. Long for you. Wish that you were here. Some days it's fine, you're in my thoughts and life carries on. Some days it's with every breath in and every breath out that I think of you. And some days, like this weekend, you not being here hits me so hard that I am knocked to my knees and I can't breath and all that can come out are body-shaking sobs. Those days are less than they were before, but they still happen. I wasn't prepared for this. I thought that by now I would "be over it". Not that I would have forgotten you, but that the grief would be in memory and wouldn't be so raw, wouldn't some days feel so new and fresh.
I watch your brothers and I think about how they are also missing you from their lives. I watch Charlie without you and I miss you even more. I know what you would be doing and what stage you would be in, because Charlie is doing it, too. And I just wish (wish seems like such a weak word compared to what I do- but I don't know what word to use) that you were beside him, sucking on his fingers and him sucking on yours. Pulling at each others faces and laying beside each other. Starting to try to crawl, doing all these things with your brother instead of watching over him. Charlie misses you. He doesn't sleep well and I think he's lonely. I think he knows that somebody is missing. And you are, you're missing from every part of our lives and you are missed.
What I wish for you my sweet boy is that you're happy. And loved and warm and taken care of and held when you need it. Please look out for us. And when I come to meet you I will give you that never-ending hug that I wish I could give you now. You have touched my life and touched my heart and not even for a second do I wish that you had never happened. I want for you to be here with us instead, but since you can't be, I need you to know I wouldn't change you out of existence.
I love you forever and ever and ever,
Mommy.
Saturday 1 October 2011
food friday- chocolate oreo cupcakes
So, I suck and I had already posted this recipe but a week later I accidentally deleted it but I still want it on here. So I'll post it again, but without whatever smart and witty and clever and well-written banter it had before (I can pretend because it's now deleted out of existence). Lesson learned: don't try to change the title of the entry to make it more clear because then you push the wrong buttons and the whole thing disappears into the air.
Allergy Friendly Chocolate Cupcakes with Oreo Icing.
I made close to a billion of these last week for Alpha's fourth birthday party. Which turned out awesome.
Cupcakes:
4 1/2 cups flour
3 cups sugar
1 cup cocoa powder
1 cup canola oil
3 cups rice milk (or water, or normal milk- whatever you use)
3 teaspoons baking soda
3 tablespoons vanilla
Pre-heat oven to 350
mix dry ingredients together with a fork.
mix wet ingredients in a separate bowl.
add wet to dry and mix well with a wooden spoon for 2 minutes or until well blended
pour into prepared cupcake tins (or minis, or a 9 x 13 cake pan or 2 round cake pans)
***let sit for 5 minutes before putting in oven for the soda to activate***
bake for 25 minutes or until a tester comes out clean. (1 hr for a 9x13 cake)
this recipe both halves and doubles easily and is very yummy. yields: about 30 large-ish cupcakes
Oreo cookie icing
4 cups icing sugar
1 cup shortening or lard or whatever. you could use butter, but shortening makes it taste more like oreos.
pinch of salt (cuts the sweetness a bit)
1/2 package of crushed oreos (I used my food processor so it would go through my piping bag)
1 1/2 -3 tablespoons of rice milk (or whatever milk or cream you want). Start with the smaller amount of milk and add until you have the right consistency.
These came out really well, that's the first time I tried to add oreos to the icing. I served with a mini Oreo on top (cute) and for the kids at the party I put a cupcake in the back of a cheap plastic dump truck. It looked great and the kids loved it!
Allergy Friendly Chocolate Cupcakes with Oreo Icing.
I made close to a billion of these last week for Alpha's fourth birthday party. Which turned out awesome.
Cupcakes:
4 1/2 cups flour
3 cups sugar
1 cup cocoa powder
1 cup canola oil
3 cups rice milk (or water, or normal milk- whatever you use)
3 teaspoons baking soda
3 tablespoons vanilla
Pre-heat oven to 350
mix dry ingredients together with a fork.
mix wet ingredients in a separate bowl.
add wet to dry and mix well with a wooden spoon for 2 minutes or until well blended
pour into prepared cupcake tins (or minis, or a 9 x 13 cake pan or 2 round cake pans)
***let sit for 5 minutes before putting in oven for the soda to activate***
bake for 25 minutes or until a tester comes out clean. (1 hr for a 9x13 cake)
this recipe both halves and doubles easily and is very yummy. yields: about 30 large-ish cupcakes
Oreo cookie icing
4 cups icing sugar
1 cup shortening or lard or whatever. you could use butter, but shortening makes it taste more like oreos.
pinch of salt (cuts the sweetness a bit)
1/2 package of crushed oreos (I used my food processor so it would go through my piping bag)
1 1/2 -3 tablespoons of rice milk (or whatever milk or cream you want). Start with the smaller amount of milk and add until you have the right consistency.
These came out really well, that's the first time I tried to add oreos to the icing. I served with a mini Oreo on top (cute) and for the kids at the party I put a cupcake in the back of a cheap plastic dump truck. It looked great and the kids loved it!
Friday 30 September 2011
Food Friday- the best ever most perfect chocolate chip cookie
What's better on a chilly fall day then homemade chocolate chip cookies? Nothing- that's what.
For a few years I was on the hunt for the perfect chocolate chip cookie. You know the ones, flat, chewy, addictive, perfect. Nothing "cake-y", nothing crispy. Then after a good 2 years of trying endless recipes I FOUND IT. Or rather, I almost found it. It just needed to be a bit softer, have a slightly different sweetness, and have wonderful chocolate chunks instead of cheap-o chocolate chips. So I tweaked and Found perfection.
THEN.... allergies came into my life in the form of an adorable little Bravo. Who wanted chocolate chip cookies. So I tweaked again and came up with the perfect allergy cookie. It still uses wheat, but it's soy, egg, and dairy free. warning: both the normal cookies and the allergy cookies taste better when cold. I think they're the only chocolate chip cookies that aren't all that tasty when warm. But they're really only warm for like 12 seconds, so I'd rather they taste best when cold. Actually- they taste best the next day. And the allergy ones smell gross when cooking. Something about eggs makes cookies smell better. Who knew??? The allergy cookies are still really good but not quite as good as the regular ones.
So without further delay
The perfect chocolate chip (chunk) cookie
Non-allergy bits will be in parentheses.
1 1/2 cups lard or spectrum shortening or Crisco (don't use the butter flavoured one- it ruins the cookies.)
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
3 teaspoons egg replacer powder + 6 tablespoons rice milk (OR 3 eggs, beaten)
1 tablespoon vanilla or a bit more- I just dump and don't measure.
3 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 package of enjoy life chocolate chips or 3 cups of whatever choc chips *** for the non-allergy best ever choc chip cookies this is the most important part. Get three of the big dairy milk chocolate bars and chop up fairly finely instead of chocolate chips. Don't skimp on other bars or on plain baking chocolate. Trust me. They're so good!- YUM!****
Pre-heat oven to 350 and prepare cookie sheets (I love parchment paper- but do what you do)
Cream sugars and fat
add egg choice and vanilla and beat mixture
mix dry ingredients (but not the chocolate) and add to wet ingredients. Mix well. Add chocolate and stir. I usually end up using my hands.
Drop onto cookie sheet by teaspoon- they grow.
Bake 10-12 minutes *** this is super important. They will still look uncooked. If they look brown and like cooked cookies then when they cool they will be harder and will still taste good but like normal choc chip cookies and not the best ever ones. This is the most important part of the whole recipe- DON'T OVER BAKE****
cool on trays for a few minutes until they can be lifted by metal spatula onto wire racks. Let cool completely then store in air tight container. These stay great on the counter for a few days and freeze really well.
Makes about 3 1/2 dozen. Which in my house lasts all of 14 seconds.
For a few years I was on the hunt for the perfect chocolate chip cookie. You know the ones, flat, chewy, addictive, perfect. Nothing "cake-y", nothing crispy. Then after a good 2 years of trying endless recipes I FOUND IT. Or rather, I almost found it. It just needed to be a bit softer, have a slightly different sweetness, and have wonderful chocolate chunks instead of cheap-o chocolate chips. So I tweaked and Found perfection.
THEN.... allergies came into my life in the form of an adorable little Bravo. Who wanted chocolate chip cookies. So I tweaked again and came up with the perfect allergy cookie. It still uses wheat, but it's soy, egg, and dairy free. warning: both the normal cookies and the allergy cookies taste better when cold. I think they're the only chocolate chip cookies that aren't all that tasty when warm. But they're really only warm for like 12 seconds, so I'd rather they taste best when cold. Actually- they taste best the next day. And the allergy ones smell gross when cooking. Something about eggs makes cookies smell better. Who knew??? The allergy cookies are still really good but not quite as good as the regular ones.
So without further delay
The perfect chocolate chip (chunk) cookie
Non-allergy bits will be in parentheses.
1 1/2 cups lard or spectrum shortening or Crisco (don't use the butter flavoured one- it ruins the cookies.)
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
3 teaspoons egg replacer powder + 6 tablespoons rice milk (OR 3 eggs, beaten)
1 tablespoon vanilla or a bit more- I just dump and don't measure.
3 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 package of enjoy life chocolate chips or 3 cups of whatever choc chips *** for the non-allergy best ever choc chip cookies this is the most important part. Get three of the big dairy milk chocolate bars and chop up fairly finely instead of chocolate chips. Don't skimp on other bars or on plain baking chocolate. Trust me. They're so good!- YUM!****
Pre-heat oven to 350 and prepare cookie sheets (I love parchment paper- but do what you do)
Cream sugars and fat
add egg choice and vanilla and beat mixture
mix dry ingredients (but not the chocolate) and add to wet ingredients. Mix well. Add chocolate and stir. I usually end up using my hands.
Drop onto cookie sheet by teaspoon- they grow.
Bake 10-12 minutes *** this is super important. They will still look uncooked. If they look brown and like cooked cookies then when they cool they will be harder and will still taste good but like normal choc chip cookies and not the best ever ones. This is the most important part of the whole recipe- DON'T OVER BAKE****
cool on trays for a few minutes until they can be lifted by metal spatula onto wire racks. Let cool completely then store in air tight container. These stay great on the counter for a few days and freeze really well.
Makes about 3 1/2 dozen. Which in my house lasts all of 14 seconds.
Thursday 29 September 2011
Thankful- for other moms who know they don't get it.
There are some moms who make me want to scream. Or run the other direction. Or throat punch them. Or seclude myself in my house and never ever leave just so I don't run into them or anyone like them ever again.
But then there are the other moms. The good other moms. Sometimes I click with them, sometimes I don't. But there are some moms who I am thankful for. With Bravo's allergies going into any public space is terrifying. And some moms make it worse.
Yesterday a mom at play group brought me to tears. Good tears. The "there is good in this world and I can't believe how kind you are" tears.
I always pack a separate snack for Bravo even though snack is provided. Yesterday the mom in charge of snack (I had only met her once before and we don't really get along) came up to me and clarified Bravos allergies and then pulled out of her pocket the label from the bread she used and she had brought a box of crackers she had seen me feed him from before just in case. She also packaged everything separately (fruit away from cheese and vegetables) and told me she used a clean knife and a sterilized cutting board for the fruit and it did not come in contact with any other product in her house.
I was floored. Her children do not have allergies, she knows no kids with severe food allergies, but she made sure Bravo was included and safe. She know she has no idea the fear of your child accidentally getting a trace of cheese on their fruit and then having a life threatening reaction. She knows she has no idea how hard and stressful it is to keep him safe. And she knows that despite all of my diligence and my preparing Bravo (don't EVER eat anything unless me or Daddy say you can) that all of the adults involved have a responsibility to keep all kids safe, even those with allergies.
And for the moms that "get it" and for the moms who have never had to live this and know they don't "get it" but do their very very best to keep my sweet baby safe I am so very thankful. It's kindness like this that makes being Allergy Mom a little bit easier. And reminds me that it's OK to leave my house and It's OK to send Bravo into the world. Even if it does contain far too much cheese for my liking.
But then there are the other moms. The good other moms. Sometimes I click with them, sometimes I don't. But there are some moms who I am thankful for. With Bravo's allergies going into any public space is terrifying. And some moms make it worse.
Yesterday a mom at play group brought me to tears. Good tears. The "there is good in this world and I can't believe how kind you are" tears.
I always pack a separate snack for Bravo even though snack is provided. Yesterday the mom in charge of snack (I had only met her once before and we don't really get along) came up to me and clarified Bravos allergies and then pulled out of her pocket the label from the bread she used and she had brought a box of crackers she had seen me feed him from before just in case. She also packaged everything separately (fruit away from cheese and vegetables) and told me she used a clean knife and a sterilized cutting board for the fruit and it did not come in contact with any other product in her house.
I was floored. Her children do not have allergies, she knows no kids with severe food allergies, but she made sure Bravo was included and safe. She know she has no idea the fear of your child accidentally getting a trace of cheese on their fruit and then having a life threatening reaction. She knows she has no idea how hard and stressful it is to keep him safe. And she knows that despite all of my diligence and my preparing Bravo (don't EVER eat anything unless me or Daddy say you can) that all of the adults involved have a responsibility to keep all kids safe, even those with allergies.
And for the moms that "get it" and for the moms who have never had to live this and know they don't "get it" but do their very very best to keep my sweet baby safe I am so very thankful. It's kindness like this that makes being Allergy Mom a little bit easier. And reminds me that it's OK to leave my house and It's OK to send Bravo into the world. Even if it does contain far too much cheese for my liking.
Wednesday 28 September 2011
Wordless Wednesday- things on the interweb that crack me up
I was looking for the basic ratios to make strawberry pancakes and this is the first match in the google search. (well- the real one was- this is the youtube version)
Helpful.
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