My brain is in a better place this week. My last post.... I almost deleted it because I felt so guilty putting those words out there. But I decided not to delete it.
The truth is that I would not change my life. The truth is also that some days I think I would. And the bigger truth is that I can't so there's no point even thinking about the "if I could"s.
I went back to see my councilor. I was starting to worry About my sanity. I was wondering if I was going to sink into the deep dark hole that I was in after Alpha Turns out I'm just tired. Really really deeply tired. I'm not crazy. I need sleep. But that's still a ways off.
I don't even really know what I'm posting or why.
I feel guilty these days over everything. And I guess I'm trying to erase some of that. Justify my thoughts. Fix the impressions I may have made.
I feel guilty for my last post. I feel guilty for complaining. I feel guilty for not being as sad as I used to be about Thomas. I feel guilty for being lazy at home. I feel guilty for being a mom, like I was given these four perfect and beautiful children and I am failing them and will seriously screw them up.
I live a good life.
The last week the four of us (while the littlest 2 are asleep) have been crawling into our bed and reading Frog and Toad and some chapter books. And in those moments..... It does not get better than that. They are perfect moments. And I can't wait until all 4 are old enough.
Another pointless post.
One day. One day I will have more time to write on here. One day I will have clarity and the ability to write what is in my heart. One day my brain will not be full of holes.
Sunday 25 November 2012
Thursday 1 November 2012
Some days. Am I the only one?
Motherhood. I'm not convinced its all it's cracked up to be. Or maybe the way "perfect mothers" are portrayed to not-yet mothers is really damaging. I'm not sure I knew what I was getting myself into. I pictured the hugs, the bike rides, the soothing sad souls when they skin their knees or hurt their feelings. I pictured making sweet treats for smiling faces. Tucking wee ones into their beds and watching them sleep. I even imagined colic. And somehow romanticized it. How I would be so tired but would hold my sweet baby and sleep leaning against a running dishwasher if I needed to. I pictured weathering temper tantrums, sibling rivalry, picky eating habits, messy houses.
what I didn't realize is that it's hard. And exhausting. And all-encompassing.
Constant bickering, food battles, 6 years of sleep deprivation, temper tantrums that require restraining your child, mess on top of mess on top of mess, constant un ending worry for the safety of small people, bad manners, bad attitudes, sometimes it's hard to want to continue for even one more minute.
Ok. So here goes. Here's my truth. And I'm not proud of it. But I can't be the only one. Please, tell me I'm not the only one.
Sometimes the snuggles and kisses and love doesn't make up for all the other stuff. Sometimes the scale tips so far to the side of exhaustion and fighting and the desire to have just a moments peace that I wish I could re-wind the clock, go back to December 2006, and tell myself that I'm not actually cut out for mothering and should really not have babies. It's not every day I think this. Some days though I do. Matt's sister and her husband are childless by choice. And sometime I'm thinking they got it right. They can go where they want when they want. They have more disposable income. They get to keep themselves and each other as their top priorities. And some days they sound like the smart ones.
Most days I am grateful for my crazy life and my crazy kids and I wouldn't trade it.
But some days.......
So there it is.
Please tell me other people feel this way.
what I didn't realize is that it's hard. And exhausting. And all-encompassing.
Constant bickering, food battles, 6 years of sleep deprivation, temper tantrums that require restraining your child, mess on top of mess on top of mess, constant un ending worry for the safety of small people, bad manners, bad attitudes, sometimes it's hard to want to continue for even one more minute.
Ok. So here goes. Here's my truth. And I'm not proud of it. But I can't be the only one. Please, tell me I'm not the only one.
Sometimes the snuggles and kisses and love doesn't make up for all the other stuff. Sometimes the scale tips so far to the side of exhaustion and fighting and the desire to have just a moments peace that I wish I could re-wind the clock, go back to December 2006, and tell myself that I'm not actually cut out for mothering and should really not have babies. It's not every day I think this. Some days though I do. Matt's sister and her husband are childless by choice. And sometime I'm thinking they got it right. They can go where they want when they want. They have more disposable income. They get to keep themselves and each other as their top priorities. And some days they sound like the smart ones.
Most days I am grateful for my crazy life and my crazy kids and I wouldn't trade it.
But some days.......
So there it is.
Please tell me other people feel this way.
Thursday 6 September 2012
acceptance and love
The last two months have been rough. And I finally feel like we're coming out of a deep and heavy fog.
I was having a really hard time with the fourth baby. I loved Delta and wanted her, but I really didn't want the fourth baby. I didn't want the stress, the cost, the responsibility, the worry, all of the "extra" that each baby brings, I didn't want that. I simply did not want the fourth child. And I was having a very hard time reconciling that with wanting and loving Delta. And the guilt that came along with that was enormous.
I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. Like I was spiralling into a dark hole. I was not a happy person and was not pleasant to be around. Getting one kid breakfast was some days more than I could handle. Thank goodness that Matthew is a teacher as was off for the summer and could shoulder a lot of the responsibility.
Then came Thomas day. And I'm not sure what changed that day.
After we let the duckies go down the river and the kids had their rest times we went to my parents for dinner. My mom was shockingly well-behaved. She was calm and good with the kids and good with me. So much so that I even shared that it was Thomas day. This is not normally and are of my life I let her in. She was wonderful with it and didn't make it about her and her losses. The kids ate supper and were really well-behaved throughout dinner. They gave me huge hugs when we left them there for an overnight and nobody cried.
Then Matt and I went to a neighbourhood block party and just visited with people and it was nice. It got us out of our heads and was a lot of fun. We came home, put Lucy to bed, and then just chilled for a while before going to bed.
I felt.... un-phase-able. Like the world was calm and peaceful and OK.
And as Delta drifted off to sleep in my arms I looked at her and something in me broke. My fear, my pain, my misgivings, my panic, my guilt, all of it. And I looked at her and I knew she was a huge blessing. And I am blessed to be a mom to 4 beautiful perfect children on earth. And you know what? I WANT four kids. I WANT the love and the joy and everything else that comes along with that fourth child, even the tough parts.
Since that day the fog lifted.
Thomas continues to change me. I though I was changed by him as much as I could be, but he continues to surprise me. And on our second Thomas Day I became a real mom to Delta.
I was having a really hard time with the fourth baby. I loved Delta and wanted her, but I really didn't want the fourth baby. I didn't want the stress, the cost, the responsibility, the worry, all of the "extra" that each baby brings, I didn't want that. I simply did not want the fourth child. And I was having a very hard time reconciling that with wanting and loving Delta. And the guilt that came along with that was enormous.
I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. Like I was spiralling into a dark hole. I was not a happy person and was not pleasant to be around. Getting one kid breakfast was some days more than I could handle. Thank goodness that Matthew is a teacher as was off for the summer and could shoulder a lot of the responsibility.
Then came Thomas day. And I'm not sure what changed that day.
After we let the duckies go down the river and the kids had their rest times we went to my parents for dinner. My mom was shockingly well-behaved. She was calm and good with the kids and good with me. So much so that I even shared that it was Thomas day. This is not normally and are of my life I let her in. She was wonderful with it and didn't make it about her and her losses. The kids ate supper and were really well-behaved throughout dinner. They gave me huge hugs when we left them there for an overnight and nobody cried.
Then Matt and I went to a neighbourhood block party and just visited with people and it was nice. It got us out of our heads and was a lot of fun. We came home, put Lucy to bed, and then just chilled for a while before going to bed.
I felt.... un-phase-able. Like the world was calm and peaceful and OK.
And as Delta drifted off to sleep in my arms I looked at her and something in me broke. My fear, my pain, my misgivings, my panic, my guilt, all of it. And I looked at her and I knew she was a huge blessing. And I am blessed to be a mom to 4 beautiful perfect children on earth. And you know what? I WANT four kids. I WANT the love and the joy and everything else that comes along with that fourth child, even the tough parts.
Since that day the fog lifted.
Thomas continues to change me. I though I was changed by him as much as I could be, but he continues to surprise me. And on our second Thomas Day I became a real mom to Delta.
Sunday 26 August 2012
Happy Thomas Day
I was hesitant to say Happy Thomas Day because I was unsure if "happy" was the right sentiment but you know what? It is.
Today is a day we get to celebrate Thomas as a family. That we get to spend together and be glad we have each other and celebrate that we had another perfect and beautiful boy, if only for a moment.
There were a lot of tears last night. The one and only plan I had for today was to get cupcakes and balloons and let balloons go for Thomas. When I called to order the balloons there was no helium. Anywhere in the city. None. I lost it. Full on ugly cry with tears and snot running freely down my face. Matt held me and then suggested a few other things. I didn't want plan b though. Matt pointed out that life, and especially parenting, IS a series of plan Bs.
So my plan b had me on a hunt for rubber duckies. At 8:00 at night. On a Saturday. When most stores were closed. I finally found some and the girl at the store joking asked if there was a rubber ducky shortage or if I was just stocking up. I teared up and said it was for a memorial for my son. She teared up and asked a couple questions and gave me a hug and told me she would be thinking of me. It was nice.
Today we went to the river. We wrote messages on our duckies and took pictures and said happy Thomas day to each other and threw the ducks in the water. We sent out a ducky each for two other babies gone too soon.
Then the boys ran around in the woods for a while before we went to the near-by playground and had cupcakes. It was really really nice. Laid back, peaceful, fun. I think plan b turned out better than plan a could have.
So happy Thomas Day. And if you see a ducky in a river, think of my Thomas.
Today is a day we get to celebrate Thomas as a family. That we get to spend together and be glad we have each other and celebrate that we had another perfect and beautiful boy, if only for a moment.
There were a lot of tears last night. The one and only plan I had for today was to get cupcakes and balloons and let balloons go for Thomas. When I called to order the balloons there was no helium. Anywhere in the city. None. I lost it. Full on ugly cry with tears and snot running freely down my face. Matt held me and then suggested a few other things. I didn't want plan b though. Matt pointed out that life, and especially parenting, IS a series of plan Bs.
So my plan b had me on a hunt for rubber duckies. At 8:00 at night. On a Saturday. When most stores were closed. I finally found some and the girl at the store joking asked if there was a rubber ducky shortage or if I was just stocking up. I teared up and said it was for a memorial for my son. She teared up and asked a couple questions and gave me a hug and told me she would be thinking of me. It was nice.
Today we went to the river. We wrote messages on our duckies and took pictures and said happy Thomas day to each other and threw the ducks in the water. We sent out a ducky each for two other babies gone too soon.
Then the boys ran around in the woods for a while before we went to the near-by playground and had cupcakes. It was really really nice. Laid back, peaceful, fun. I think plan b turned out better than plan a could have.
So happy Thomas Day. And if you see a ducky in a river, think of my Thomas.
Tuesday 21 August 2012
Two years
The two year mark is rapidly approaching. Sunday will mark the day.
I have mixed feelings about the anniversary. But mostly I'm sad that I am the only one here that remembers. I told Matt I had some ideas about what we could do on Sunday and he gave me a blank look. I said "august 26th?" and the blank look continued. I said "Thomas" and he immediately apologized and said we could do whatever I wanted. I know mothers aren't the only ones that hold grief, but it sure does seem like we carry it differently. And more prominently. I'm sad that nobody in Thomas' family other than me knows the date he died. Or rather, the date we found out he died.
Planning on celebrating Thomas' life now seems a bit more complicated. Delta will also know that she started out as a twin, but I don't know how to explain why her twin does not hold the same place or weight in my heart as Thomas. Her twin does not have a name, does not have a date, likely will not have a special remembrance. Or perhaps it should. I don't want her to feel like I love Charlie's twin more (and therefore Charlie himself) than I do her. Or perhaps I'm over thinking this.
I find I overthink things a lot just prior to these anniversaries.
I also have a hard time with believing everything else will be OK. I wonder if it's only a matter of time before Charlie goes to be with his twin. If Charlie sleeps in my mind jumps to worst case scenario. When in reality he was just really tired. Crappy things have happened in our family and I know we are not exempt from more crappy things.
I spent a lot of time in the middle of the night last night thinking about Thomas. I find my hand STILL goes to my belly when I think of him because that's the only place I ever held him. I wonder how our lives would be different. I wonder how Charlie would be different. I wonder if Delta still would have arrived.
So many what ifs. But they don't change anything. So I hug my babies and plan a remembrance for the babies I don't have. Maybe we will add Delta's twin into the day. Then Thomas can celebrate with his sister.
I have mixed feelings about the anniversary. But mostly I'm sad that I am the only one here that remembers. I told Matt I had some ideas about what we could do on Sunday and he gave me a blank look. I said "august 26th?" and the blank look continued. I said "Thomas" and he immediately apologized and said we could do whatever I wanted. I know mothers aren't the only ones that hold grief, but it sure does seem like we carry it differently. And more prominently. I'm sad that nobody in Thomas' family other than me knows the date he died. Or rather, the date we found out he died.
Planning on celebrating Thomas' life now seems a bit more complicated. Delta will also know that she started out as a twin, but I don't know how to explain why her twin does not hold the same place or weight in my heart as Thomas. Her twin does not have a name, does not have a date, likely will not have a special remembrance. Or perhaps it should. I don't want her to feel like I love Charlie's twin more (and therefore Charlie himself) than I do her. Or perhaps I'm over thinking this.
I find I overthink things a lot just prior to these anniversaries.
I also have a hard time with believing everything else will be OK. I wonder if it's only a matter of time before Charlie goes to be with his twin. If Charlie sleeps in my mind jumps to worst case scenario. When in reality he was just really tired. Crappy things have happened in our family and I know we are not exempt from more crappy things.
I spent a lot of time in the middle of the night last night thinking about Thomas. I find my hand STILL goes to my belly when I think of him because that's the only place I ever held him. I wonder how our lives would be different. I wonder how Charlie would be different. I wonder if Delta still would have arrived.
So many what ifs. But they don't change anything. So I hug my babies and plan a remembrance for the babies I don't have. Maybe we will add Delta's twin into the day. Then Thomas can celebrate with his sister.
Monday 30 July 2012
A sibling for Thomas
Delta is here at last! One of the bigger shocks is that she's, we'll, a she.
Delta has come with so many surprises. Her being here, her being a girl, her giving Thomas a sibling.
After deltas whirlwind of a birth (I think I preferred my 32 hour labour with Bravo over my rocket ship labour with delta) the placenta came out. And then the second placenta came out.
My suspicions were confirmed. The heavy bleeding and cramping very very very early in the pregnancy was another twin loss. The placenta for her twin developed, but the baby did not.
I'm still unsure how I feel about this. The emotions of losing this twin are very very different than losing Thomas. I think in large part that is because of timing. I have ultrasound photos of Thomas' tiny body while Charlie nuzzles into him. He was a fully formed and perfect little baby. Deltas twin, it's different.
Life seems so unfair though. Why did I conceive twins twice just to lose one both times? Why was my body not sufficient to carry those little lives? Why do I have 2 babies growing up without their twin? It's just not fair. Other people get the excitement of twins. I get the loss.
Shortly after delta was born, Matt went to get us some breakfast. While he was gone I was alone with delta. I started thinking about her as I snuggled her tiny body and smelled her perfect head. My thoughts drifted to the news of her twin and then settled on Thomas. Big moments in my life often have my thoughts drifting back to Thomas. I stared out the 3 floor window of my hospital room and watched as the sun was coming up. O
Out of nowhere two white birds came up from the ground, swirled and danced and intertwined around each other and flew up into the sky, twirling and dancing round each other until they were out of sight. And at that moment peace filled my heart. My two twin spirits were together, safe, dancing and happy. Delta lost her twin and Thomas has a sibling. Hoooo. Here come the tears.
Goodbye, my two perfect angels. Look after each other. And if you can, look out for us. And one day, when I meet you, I will hold you and squeeze you and give you a whole lifetime of love in one moment. You are my babies, and I love you with each and every beat of my heart, down to the depths of my soul.
Delta has come with so many surprises. Her being here, her being a girl, her giving Thomas a sibling.
After deltas whirlwind of a birth (I think I preferred my 32 hour labour with Bravo over my rocket ship labour with delta) the placenta came out. And then the second placenta came out.
My suspicions were confirmed. The heavy bleeding and cramping very very very early in the pregnancy was another twin loss. The placenta for her twin developed, but the baby did not.
I'm still unsure how I feel about this. The emotions of losing this twin are very very different than losing Thomas. I think in large part that is because of timing. I have ultrasound photos of Thomas' tiny body while Charlie nuzzles into him. He was a fully formed and perfect little baby. Deltas twin, it's different.
Life seems so unfair though. Why did I conceive twins twice just to lose one both times? Why was my body not sufficient to carry those little lives? Why do I have 2 babies growing up without their twin? It's just not fair. Other people get the excitement of twins. I get the loss.
Shortly after delta was born, Matt went to get us some breakfast. While he was gone I was alone with delta. I started thinking about her as I snuggled her tiny body and smelled her perfect head. My thoughts drifted to the news of her twin and then settled on Thomas. Big moments in my life often have my thoughts drifting back to Thomas. I stared out the 3 floor window of my hospital room and watched as the sun was coming up. O
Out of nowhere two white birds came up from the ground, swirled and danced and intertwined around each other and flew up into the sky, twirling and dancing round each other until they were out of sight. And at that moment peace filled my heart. My two twin spirits were together, safe, dancing and happy. Delta lost her twin and Thomas has a sibling. Hoooo. Here come the tears.
Goodbye, my two perfect angels. Look after each other. And if you can, look out for us. And one day, when I meet you, I will hold you and squeeze you and give you a whole lifetime of love in one moment. You are my babies, and I love you with each and every beat of my heart, down to the depths of my soul.
Friday 27 July 2012
Dear baby sleep gods
We have been through a relationship not once, not twice, not thrice, but FOUR times now, and I am beginning to think you don't really like me. If you did I would not currently be on the basement couch at 3:51am in the most uncomfortable position known to man reeking like baby barf because I have projectile vomit in my hair and all down my shirt while a baby sleeps on me for no more than 47 seconds at a time unless I sway my body and pat her bum aggressively.
Could we at least make a deal??? Do you deal??? I get through whatever it is you keep throwing at me and then at 6 months all my children sleep through the night each and every night??? Please????? How about you just say yes to give me hope do I don't plunge forks into my tired burning eyes???
Could we at least make a deal??? Do you deal??? I get through whatever it is you keep throwing at me and then at 6 months all my children sleep through the night each and every night??? Please????? How about you just say yes to give me hope do I don't plunge forks into my tired burning eyes???
Monday 11 June 2012
The next chapter
I am so ready to welcome this little baby into my arms and into this world.
I am so ready to start the next chapter.
This pregnancy has been hard. It started unexpectedly, nearly didn't make it, almost started pre-term labour, and is now overdue. The emotions of this pregnancy have been beyond overwhelming. After losing Thomas my optimism has been shaken. I used to sit in the baby room and dream. I now sit in the baby room and fight back tears, working very hard to convince myself that I WILL bring home a healthy baby.
I am looking forward to the next chapter because in this part the baby will always be wanted. I feel sad that the child was not planned. That when I found out I was not happy. I feel sad that I cried for 15 weeks about being pregnant. It hurts my heart that I couldn't and didn't cherish every second I knew about this sweet child.
In the next chapter, from the second it arrives, it will be wanted and loved and cherished. Delta will know nothing else.
I'm looking forward to the next chapter, knowing that delta will complete our family. I am thrilled to see how the older three react to the new one. I am beyond excited to watch them grow up together. I'm excited to have a newborn to snuggle ONE MORE TIME and then excited to leave the baby stage behind us.
I am SO excited to not ever be pregnant again.
So Delta, come on out. Please. I love you and can't wait to meet you and snuggle you. And you're late.
So bring on the baby, and say goodbye to the belly.
I am so ready to start the next chapter.
This pregnancy has been hard. It started unexpectedly, nearly didn't make it, almost started pre-term labour, and is now overdue. The emotions of this pregnancy have been beyond overwhelming. After losing Thomas my optimism has been shaken. I used to sit in the baby room and dream. I now sit in the baby room and fight back tears, working very hard to convince myself that I WILL bring home a healthy baby.
I am looking forward to the next chapter because in this part the baby will always be wanted. I feel sad that the child was not planned. That when I found out I was not happy. I feel sad that I cried for 15 weeks about being pregnant. It hurts my heart that I couldn't and didn't cherish every second I knew about this sweet child.
In the next chapter, from the second it arrives, it will be wanted and loved and cherished. Delta will know nothing else.
I'm looking forward to the next chapter, knowing that delta will complete our family. I am thrilled to see how the older three react to the new one. I am beyond excited to watch them grow up together. I'm excited to have a newborn to snuggle ONE MORE TIME and then excited to leave the baby stage behind us.
I am SO excited to not ever be pregnant again.
So Delta, come on out. Please. I love you and can't wait to meet you and snuggle you. And you're late.
So bring on the baby, and say goodbye to the belly.
Thursday 31 May 2012
random little things.
First... 3 posts in three days!!! Go, Chrissy, Go! Must try to make some pre-post ones for the 6 months when I enter the haze of new baby.
Second.. following yesterdays post I found this and it cracked me right up. Especially the part about the little messy lunatics. That pretty much sums up everything. As does competition. Getting them dressed usually happens to "who can find their socks first??" and it works. Go me!
Third... boys are strange wonderful little creatures. But why oh why oh WHY is everything more fun naked??? We brought out the water table today. And I left the big 2 outside while I put Charlie for a much-needed nap. And in the 3.5 minutes it took to do that I came outside to see 2 very naked boys scrubbing themselves with the freezing cold water. Yelling "scrubby scrubby scrubby!!" sigh. It seems that my frequent "penises belong inside pants and it's important that we don't share them with the neighbourhood" talks have yet to sink in. Do little girls have the same affinity for being naked?
Second.. following yesterdays post I found this and it cracked me right up. Especially the part about the little messy lunatics. That pretty much sums up everything. As does competition. Getting them dressed usually happens to "who can find their socks first??" and it works. Go me!
Third... boys are strange wonderful little creatures. But why oh why oh WHY is everything more fun naked??? We brought out the water table today. And I left the big 2 outside while I put Charlie for a much-needed nap. And in the 3.5 minutes it took to do that I came outside to see 2 very naked boys scrubbing themselves with the freezing cold water. Yelling "scrubby scrubby scrubby!!" sigh. It seems that my frequent "penises belong inside pants and it's important that we don't share them with the neighbourhood" talks have yet to sink in. Do little girls have the same affinity for being naked?
Wednesday 30 May 2012
"you poor thing"
Pre-note. This may have accidentally turned into a slight bit of a rant.
This post is dedicated to the idiotic woman I ran into at the grocery store the other day. After having a FANTASTIC day with the boys, we went to the grocery store to buy Popsicles. Charlie was in the kid part of the cart with a soother in one hand and a granola bar in the other, Bravo was in the grocery part of the cart watching all the people, Alpha was nattering away walking beside me, and Delta was making my belly huge and noticeable. Not one squawk, yell, run, or any other unruly behaviour from any child. We were, after all, there to get Popsicles. And if there was any sort of silliness I would have hauled them out. But they were being fantastic. The model of perfect children. This does not happen often, my friends. Hence, Popsicles.
Then came The Woman. Maybe early 50s, maybe late 40s. She took one look at my belly, saw my 3 wonderfully behaved boys, and said to me, I kid you not, "Oh, you poor thing. You sure have your hands full, don't you. You poor thing." She had such a look of pit in her eyes. And it both infuriated me and made me so sad. How dare she!! I could see it if all three were screaming or throwing things or running away (but again- we wouldn't have stayed had that been the case). What did she want me to say? "You're right. I hate my life."? I just forced a smile and said "I love it". And then turned around and ignored her.
I can see why some people want smaller families. I really can. More time for one or two kids. More attention for each of them. More activities. More focused-ness. More disposable income. More opportunities that rely on that disposable income. Less chasing small people. Less exhaustion (though I know moms of 1 or 2 can be just as exhausted- us moms of many don't have the monopoly on that one!), less time in diapers. Less 3 year olds. Not being out-numbered. Not taking 987 minutes to get shoes and coats and bags to get out the door for a 37 second outing. Being able to work within societies definition of the "right" family. qualifying for a family membership to something that has a limit of 2 or very rarely 3 kids. I have yet to see a family membership that allows for 4 children.
But, you know, there are a lot of advantages to having a bigger family. Is "more" for each child always better?
I think the biggest reason we have a large family is to make family. That sounds dumb, but wait. I grew up with 22 cousins. Matthew grew up down the street from his. Both Matt and I are youngest of 2 kids. And neither my brother nor his sister have or will have kids. And you know what that makes? No cousins for our kids. And that makes me sad. But they will have each other. And there's a pretty good chance that at least 2 of the kids will have kids of their own. We are building family. Building connections.
With the limited income comes increased creativity on entertainment. And more saying "no" to a child's every whim. I think there is far too little of parents saying "no" sometimes. The kids will learn we have to save for what we want, and that we have to really really want what we get. And that sometimes boring things like food and cheap t-shirts trump the exciting things. Needs over wants. I'm hoping they learn to be grateful.
They will have to learn to help out, because there are a lot of people with a lot of needs. Alpha already helps tons with his 2 little brothers. Simple things like helping Bravo to put on his medic alert bracelet in the morning or taking off Charlie's shoes. Bravo helps out Charlie quite a bit, too. Charlie just throws things on the floor. But whatever. He's 1. They have such love and empathy for each other. And slowly they are learning that their actions affect others. Bravo runs out of the park gates to stand on the road to watch the street sweepers? We all go home. Alpha flings sand at some unsuspecting child? We all go home.
They are growing up connected. Connected to us, connected to their siblings. And that's huge. I won't always be able to drop everything to give a hug or find something or help with a shoe. But there are 4 other people in the family with arms and eyes and hands.
While Delta was a very big surprise I can't wait to see how he/ she completes our family. And I'm so glad I am the very very blessed mom of 4 fabulous children. So what if I'm tired. Who isn't? I am lucky to have all my beautiful kiddos, I am lucky to live in my chaos-filled world of snuggles and tears, trucks and bedtime stories. I could do without the dinner time battles, but minor details.......
So dear stupid woman, poor you. Poor you that you can't look at my children and see the good in the world. That you don't have 3 perfect little boys to show you just how exciting a caterpillar is (and what colour its guts are) and just how much love can fit into one heart. Poor you that you can't see past whatever your definition of the "perfect" family is (I'm guessing one boy and one girl) to celebrate with someone else. Poor you that you can't see how exciting a new baby is, even if it's the fourth. Poor you that you so easily pass judgement and speak it out loud to a mother in a store.
But poor me? Nope. Blessed me.
This post is dedicated to the idiotic woman I ran into at the grocery store the other day. After having a FANTASTIC day with the boys, we went to the grocery store to buy Popsicles. Charlie was in the kid part of the cart with a soother in one hand and a granola bar in the other, Bravo was in the grocery part of the cart watching all the people, Alpha was nattering away walking beside me, and Delta was making my belly huge and noticeable. Not one squawk, yell, run, or any other unruly behaviour from any child. We were, after all, there to get Popsicles. And if there was any sort of silliness I would have hauled them out. But they were being fantastic. The model of perfect children. This does not happen often, my friends. Hence, Popsicles.
Then came The Woman. Maybe early 50s, maybe late 40s. She took one look at my belly, saw my 3 wonderfully behaved boys, and said to me, I kid you not, "Oh, you poor thing. You sure have your hands full, don't you. You poor thing." She had such a look of pit in her eyes. And it both infuriated me and made me so sad. How dare she!! I could see it if all three were screaming or throwing things or running away (but again- we wouldn't have stayed had that been the case). What did she want me to say? "You're right. I hate my life."? I just forced a smile and said "I love it". And then turned around and ignored her.
I can see why some people want smaller families. I really can. More time for one or two kids. More attention for each of them. More activities. More focused-ness. More disposable income. More opportunities that rely on that disposable income. Less chasing small people. Less exhaustion (though I know moms of 1 or 2 can be just as exhausted- us moms of many don't have the monopoly on that one!), less time in diapers. Less 3 year olds. Not being out-numbered. Not taking 987 minutes to get shoes and coats and bags to get out the door for a 37 second outing. Being able to work within societies definition of the "right" family. qualifying for a family membership to something that has a limit of 2 or very rarely 3 kids. I have yet to see a family membership that allows for 4 children.
But, you know, there are a lot of advantages to having a bigger family. Is "more" for each child always better?
I think the biggest reason we have a large family is to make family. That sounds dumb, but wait. I grew up with 22 cousins. Matthew grew up down the street from his. Both Matt and I are youngest of 2 kids. And neither my brother nor his sister have or will have kids. And you know what that makes? No cousins for our kids. And that makes me sad. But they will have each other. And there's a pretty good chance that at least 2 of the kids will have kids of their own. We are building family. Building connections.
With the limited income comes increased creativity on entertainment. And more saying "no" to a child's every whim. I think there is far too little of parents saying "no" sometimes. The kids will learn we have to save for what we want, and that we have to really really want what we get. And that sometimes boring things like food and cheap t-shirts trump the exciting things. Needs over wants. I'm hoping they learn to be grateful.
They will have to learn to help out, because there are a lot of people with a lot of needs. Alpha already helps tons with his 2 little brothers. Simple things like helping Bravo to put on his medic alert bracelet in the morning or taking off Charlie's shoes. Bravo helps out Charlie quite a bit, too. Charlie just throws things on the floor. But whatever. He's 1. They have such love and empathy for each other. And slowly they are learning that their actions affect others. Bravo runs out of the park gates to stand on the road to watch the street sweepers? We all go home. Alpha flings sand at some unsuspecting child? We all go home.
They are growing up connected. Connected to us, connected to their siblings. And that's huge. I won't always be able to drop everything to give a hug or find something or help with a shoe. But there are 4 other people in the family with arms and eyes and hands.
While Delta was a very big surprise I can't wait to see how he/ she completes our family. And I'm so glad I am the very very blessed mom of 4 fabulous children. So what if I'm tired. Who isn't? I am lucky to have all my beautiful kiddos, I am lucky to live in my chaos-filled world of snuggles and tears, trucks and bedtime stories. I could do without the dinner time battles, but minor details.......
So dear stupid woman, poor you. Poor you that you can't look at my children and see the good in the world. That you don't have 3 perfect little boys to show you just how exciting a caterpillar is (and what colour its guts are) and just how much love can fit into one heart. Poor you that you can't see past whatever your definition of the "perfect" family is (I'm guessing one boy and one girl) to celebrate with someone else. Poor you that you can't see how exciting a new baby is, even if it's the fourth. Poor you that you so easily pass judgement and speak it out loud to a mother in a store.
But poor me? Nope. Blessed me.
Monday 28 May 2012
Chrissy sucks at blogging
Yup. It's true.
But I have excuses!!!! Mostly that I have no brain. That's valid, right??
I have very little to say right now, but if I don't do this now it will be another 6 weeks before I get around to it. And at that point I will be even more sleep deprived and my post is likely to make no sense what-so-ever.
I have officially entered the last stage of my last pregnancy. This is the stage of pregnancy referred to in our house as the "chocolate pudding stage". Meaning I eat chocolate pudding. A lot of it. Often. It has happened with each child. I don't intend for it to happen, it just does. Right around now. And it's sooooooo goooooood. I think it's highly related to the "heartburn can kill and it's going to be the death of me" stage of pregnancy. Because while that smooth cold milky chocolaty goodness is sliding down my throat it fights back the heartburn for a solid 3.5 seconds.
The end of this pregnancy is very different than the others. With the first three by this point I wanted the baby OUT. I was done, thank you very much, and the baby needed to just be born. This time, not so much. As much as I am excited to never ever be pregnant again ever, I am loving the kicks and the wiggles and the knowing that there is a little person in there. I am relishing each last little jab and rib shattering kick. And if it's inside I can't forget it at the park. Nor can it yell.
Charlie is now 16.5 months old. And today he walked 10 feet!! He took his first steps about 2 weeks ago. He operates on his own time table. I'm hoping that he's walking reliably before this one makes its grand entrance.
Alpha and Bravo are so pumped to met this baby. Bravo has decided that the baby shall be a boy named Luke (which would be a possibility if Matthew wasn't crazy and didn't hate every good name left) but he can't say Ls very well, so it comes out Wook. Which was quickly changed to Wooky. Which is the cutest darn thing I have ever heard and was almost enough to get Matt to change his mind. Almost. Alpha has decided the boy shall be named Dino. After some large construction vehicle in mighty machines demolition site. Of course. They haven't really talked about girls names lately. Go figure.
Thomas has been on my mind again lately. But it's mostly a good kind of on my mind. Some days it still really stings, most days I am just so glad that I carried him and that he is a part of our family even if he's not here. I had a good cry because he went to a birthday party last week. And it made me sad that he was there and it made me sad that she had her first birthday in heaven. I also met a Dad at a soccer game who was one of 4 boys and he was the youngest and the last 2 were twins and his name was Charlie. And I was just shaken because it was like I was looking at who Charlie should be in the future. But instead Thomas will be missing from his story forever. I would not change Thomas though. If I could change anything he would be here. But since that's just not possible I would never wish him away. He has made me a better person. More compassionate, more careful with my words and questions, more empathetic, more caring. We are rapidly approaching the 2 year mark. It's crazy. If somebody had told me 2 years ago what this journey would be... I don't know. I don't know what I would have thought. I still have yet to see his face in a dream. And I still look forward to that. One day I will. One day I will hold him. And until then I hold Charlie and know he is there, too.
This post has no direction. I suppose that's because I haven't written in 37 years.
If I try really really hard I will post again this week. Hopefully with awesome results and pictures of some sort of chocolate chip cookie cake creation for Matt's 33rd birthday. No, 34th. Wait. How old is he?? 34.
But I have excuses!!!! Mostly that I have no brain. That's valid, right??
I have very little to say right now, but if I don't do this now it will be another 6 weeks before I get around to it. And at that point I will be even more sleep deprived and my post is likely to make no sense what-so-ever.
I have officially entered the last stage of my last pregnancy. This is the stage of pregnancy referred to in our house as the "chocolate pudding stage". Meaning I eat chocolate pudding. A lot of it. Often. It has happened with each child. I don't intend for it to happen, it just does. Right around now. And it's sooooooo goooooood. I think it's highly related to the "heartburn can kill and it's going to be the death of me" stage of pregnancy. Because while that smooth cold milky chocolaty goodness is sliding down my throat it fights back the heartburn for a solid 3.5 seconds.
The end of this pregnancy is very different than the others. With the first three by this point I wanted the baby OUT. I was done, thank you very much, and the baby needed to just be born. This time, not so much. As much as I am excited to never ever be pregnant again ever, I am loving the kicks and the wiggles and the knowing that there is a little person in there. I am relishing each last little jab and rib shattering kick. And if it's inside I can't forget it at the park. Nor can it yell.
Charlie is now 16.5 months old. And today he walked 10 feet!! He took his first steps about 2 weeks ago. He operates on his own time table. I'm hoping that he's walking reliably before this one makes its grand entrance.
Alpha and Bravo are so pumped to met this baby. Bravo has decided that the baby shall be a boy named Luke (which would be a possibility if Matthew wasn't crazy and didn't hate every good name left) but he can't say Ls very well, so it comes out Wook. Which was quickly changed to Wooky. Which is the cutest darn thing I have ever heard and was almost enough to get Matt to change his mind. Almost. Alpha has decided the boy shall be named Dino. After some large construction vehicle in mighty machines demolition site. Of course. They haven't really talked about girls names lately. Go figure.
Thomas has been on my mind again lately. But it's mostly a good kind of on my mind. Some days it still really stings, most days I am just so glad that I carried him and that he is a part of our family even if he's not here. I had a good cry because he went to a birthday party last week. And it made me sad that he was there and it made me sad that she had her first birthday in heaven. I also met a Dad at a soccer game who was one of 4 boys and he was the youngest and the last 2 were twins and his name was Charlie. And I was just shaken because it was like I was looking at who Charlie should be in the future. But instead Thomas will be missing from his story forever. I would not change Thomas though. If I could change anything he would be here. But since that's just not possible I would never wish him away. He has made me a better person. More compassionate, more careful with my words and questions, more empathetic, more caring. We are rapidly approaching the 2 year mark. It's crazy. If somebody had told me 2 years ago what this journey would be... I don't know. I don't know what I would have thought. I still have yet to see his face in a dream. And I still look forward to that. One day I will. One day I will hold him. And until then I hold Charlie and know he is there, too.
This post has no direction. I suppose that's because I haven't written in 37 years.
If I try really really hard I will post again this week. Hopefully with awesome results and pictures of some sort of chocolate chip cookie cake creation for Matt's 33rd birthday. No, 34th. Wait. How old is he?? 34.
Friday 20 April 2012
the things that I say
Do you ever hear yourself saying something and then question your own sanity as the words are coming out? And as the words escape your lips you think to yourself "what the heck am I saying???"?
I do. Regularly. Since becoming a mother I say really dumb things. Often.
Hear is this morning's breakfast conversation between Alpha, Bravo, and I. (Insert random dino roars from a 15 month old throughout the conversation.)
Alpha- "I turned you into a robot with my bagel remote control!"
Bravo- "No! No! I don't want to be a robot!"
"Alpha- "You are! I used my super bagel remote and turned you into a robot. Ha ha ha!!"
Bravo' "Moooom! (large tears streaming down his face at this point) Alpha turned me into a robot with his bagel remote".
Me- "Bravo, you are still a boy." "alpha, you need to ask permission before you use your bagel remote control to turn people into robots because you might hurt somebodies feelings."
What???
In no other time, place, or context would that even make a little bit of sense. I have lost my mind. It has been eaten by small people.
I do. Regularly. Since becoming a mother I say really dumb things. Often.
Hear is this morning's breakfast conversation between Alpha, Bravo, and I. (Insert random dino roars from a 15 month old throughout the conversation.)
Alpha- "I turned you into a robot with my bagel remote control!"
Bravo- "No! No! I don't want to be a robot!"
"Alpha- "You are! I used my super bagel remote and turned you into a robot. Ha ha ha!!"
Bravo' "Moooom! (large tears streaming down his face at this point) Alpha turned me into a robot with his bagel remote".
Me- "Bravo, you are still a boy." "alpha, you need to ask permission before you use your bagel remote control to turn people into robots because you might hurt somebodies feelings."
What???
In no other time, place, or context would that even make a little bit of sense. I have lost my mind. It has been eaten by small people.
Wednesday 11 April 2012
It broke.
My self protective mechanism broke. And I am both happy about this and deeply annoyed. Annoyed because the thing about self protective mechanisms is that they protect. And I need that.
As of tonight I realized how deeply and badly I want this baby that is growing rapidly inside of me.
I know that sounds dumb. Of COURSE I want my own baby. But I honestly thought that I didn't. For a really long time. I wanted Thomas back, not this "replacement baby". I mean, of course I wanted everything to be ok. I just didn't think I really wanted this child. And I was hoping that when it's born that the feeling would change.
And now I find myself here. Deeply in love with this little creature who is sticking its fist into my cervix and foot into my ribs at the same time. And deeply, badly, achingly wanting it.
And here's where the problem comes in. I'm TERRIFIED. what if Delta isn't ok? I know now all too well that it happens. That babies don't always make it. My heart is still so broken over Thomas. Things don't always go according to the "happily ever after" plan.
I went to the midwife last week and I was measuring 28 (at 30 weeks) which is the same as I was measuring at 28 weeks. So she had me come back yesterday. And I measured 27. So between 26 weeks and 31 weeks I went up 1. Likely it is because baby WAS head down and stretching up madly and is now sideways (allowing for the cervix punch rub kick ninja moves) so my uterus is being stretched more sideways and not up. But to be sure I'm off to fetal assessment next week.
I'm not REALLY worried. But this seems to have broken my mechanism. And I didn't realize the comfort that it was providing. Now I am left with sheer terror. Much less comforting.
So bring on the ninja moves, little baby. Because if you can make 4 spots hurt all at the same time chances are you are doing ok.
As of tonight I realized how deeply and badly I want this baby that is growing rapidly inside of me.
I know that sounds dumb. Of COURSE I want my own baby. But I honestly thought that I didn't. For a really long time. I wanted Thomas back, not this "replacement baby". I mean, of course I wanted everything to be ok. I just didn't think I really wanted this child. And I was hoping that when it's born that the feeling would change.
And now I find myself here. Deeply in love with this little creature who is sticking its fist into my cervix and foot into my ribs at the same time. And deeply, badly, achingly wanting it.
And here's where the problem comes in. I'm TERRIFIED. what if Delta isn't ok? I know now all too well that it happens. That babies don't always make it. My heart is still so broken over Thomas. Things don't always go according to the "happily ever after" plan.
I went to the midwife last week and I was measuring 28 (at 30 weeks) which is the same as I was measuring at 28 weeks. So she had me come back yesterday. And I measured 27. So between 26 weeks and 31 weeks I went up 1. Likely it is because baby WAS head down and stretching up madly and is now sideways (allowing for the cervix punch rub kick ninja moves) so my uterus is being stretched more sideways and not up. But to be sure I'm off to fetal assessment next week.
I'm not REALLY worried. But this seems to have broken my mechanism. And I didn't realize the comfort that it was providing. Now I am left with sheer terror. Much less comforting.
So bring on the ninja moves, little baby. Because if you can make 4 spots hurt all at the same time chances are you are doing ok.
Monday 9 April 2012
The un-expected side-effects of having a severely allergic child.
Obviously having bravo and his allergies in his life has changed me as a parent and as a person, in a lot of different ways. But I’ve noticed one change that I would never have thought about. And I’m not alone. Matt has the same problem now.
We cannot watch TV or see an add or go to a conference or see a new restruaunt without thinking of Bravo. And his inevitable death if he consumed whatever it is that is being promoted.
You know that stupid Philly Cream Cheese commercial? “spread a little love, today, spread a little happiness blah blah, something neener neener to remember” (I’m good at lyrics, can’t you tell?) wait… that’s the song. Not the commercial, but the real full song. And I just listened to it and I WOULD think it was a happy cute little song that I would add to my “bobby head music” playlist IF…..
if I didn’t think of stupid cream cheese every time and if in my head the words didn’t change to “spread a little death today, spread a little death to Bravo, make it a shitty day to remember”. But seriously, that’s what goes through my head. Every single time I see the commercial. Because yes, the food does look delicious. And I would LOVE to cook with cream cheese! But, and this is a big hhuge BUT, it would kill bravo. In about 12 seconds. So, um, they can keep their love.
I sit here at work and I just ate a cream egg (I keep hoping they’re going to be good like I remember from when I was a kid and then I just feel nauseated from far too much sugar in one mouthful. Which is saying something because I could eat a spoon of straight sugar and still think it’s not enough sugar) and as I bit into it and the gooey mess dripped down the side I thought “how many ingredients in this would kill Bravo?”. I can’t help it. It’s this automatic reaction I have.
Matt went to a conference the other week and there was the typical lunch buffet. He got to the first part with the fruit plate and the cheese platter and the meats and buns etc etc etc. And he made a random passing comment to his co-worker of “huh, Bravo wouldn’t be able to eat any of this” The co-worker, who knows all about bravo, asked why he couldn’t eat the fruit. Matt’s answer? “look at what you’re doing”. She had used the same pair of tongs from the cheese buns on the strawberries. Making the whole platter of fruit death-on-a-plate. A light went on int the coworkers head and she asked if there was ANYTHING that our boy would be able to eat. And the only thing there that would be safe would be a banana from the bruised basket of fruit at the end. Worst case is he would get a rash on his hand from cross contamination on the peel. He could eat the apple if he took it to the bathroom first and scrubbed it with soap. But anything else…. Nope. Milk, mayonnaise, cheese, soy, beans, nuts, peanuts, they lurk everywhere. They’re the buffet’s best friend. He would be able to do the plain salad if he talked to the hotel first and ensured proper preparation conditions and then he got to the salad before anybody else put dirty tongs into it. But that would be taking a big risk. Sad when eating lettuce could be the end of you. Or at least cause a lot of pain and drama and an ambulance bill.
I don’t like this change in me. I don’t like feeling bitter at all the yummy commercials. Campbell’s mushroom soup? Death. I hate food commercials.
I was watching some really crappy cooking show on Shaw TV or something lame like that and I watched the first 45 seconds. And in that 45 seconds they used 5 different ingredients that Bravo is allergic to. So I turned it off.
Every time I hear about something, like a family road trip, all that goes through my head is the logistics of that with a bravo-type kid. No starting the road trip with McDonalds drive through. Meals…. That terrifies me. The amount of research we would have to do first is insane. Where along the whole route could he eat? And where near that is the nearest emergency facility? How far is the longest stretch between hospitals that could care for a small child in anaphylactic shock? Divide the longest time by 15 minutes and that’s how many epi pens we would need to have on us. Is the break between hospitals 45 minutes? Then we need 3 epi pens at all times. Because if he somehow gets bad things into him, an epi pen may only last 15 minutes before he needs another shot or other emergent care.
I can’t go through normal life, seeing and hearing every day stories, without thinking of how scary this world is for a little tiny child with big huge allergies. And I worry for him when he is older if he doesn’t outgrow this. Band trips? Sport trips? Road trips with friends? TERRIFYING. And likely not possible.
I wish this wasn’t a constant presence in my head.
Or that at least the allergic community would start making and advertising affordable and safe foods for people with multiple food allergies.
And I also wish I lived in Montreal. For this one reason.
I would LOVE to take bravo out for supper.
A restaurant that bans all the major 8 food allergens. Amazing. That doesn’t count legumes aside from soy and peanuts, but I’m pretty sure they would take all precautions when informed. And they carry epi pens in case a diner has a reaction and doesn’t have their epi pen on them. That amazing!!
Maybe one day I’ll win a whack load of money and then get the people who made this restaurant to do a franchise in Winnipeg. If you do live in Montreal, you should go there and then tell me how it is. And if the food is good despite being made of all Bravo-friendly things.
Oh- My new answer to people when they find out about Bravo’s food allergies and then ask “so what DO you feed him?” It's “soylent green” And I’m delighted when I get the response back of “it’s people!” instead of the confused look I normally get.
What am I even talking about any more???
We cannot watch TV or see an add or go to a conference or see a new restruaunt without thinking of Bravo. And his inevitable death if he consumed whatever it is that is being promoted.
You know that stupid Philly Cream Cheese commercial? “spread a little love, today, spread a little happiness blah blah, something neener neener to remember” (I’m good at lyrics, can’t you tell?) wait… that’s the song. Not the commercial, but the real full song. And I just listened to it and I WOULD think it was a happy cute little song that I would add to my “bobby head music” playlist IF…..
if I didn’t think of stupid cream cheese every time and if in my head the words didn’t change to “spread a little death today, spread a little death to Bravo, make it a shitty day to remember”. But seriously, that’s what goes through my head. Every single time I see the commercial. Because yes, the food does look delicious. And I would LOVE to cook with cream cheese! But, and this is a big hhuge BUT, it would kill bravo. In about 12 seconds. So, um, they can keep their love.
I sit here at work and I just ate a cream egg (I keep hoping they’re going to be good like I remember from when I was a kid and then I just feel nauseated from far too much sugar in one mouthful. Which is saying something because I could eat a spoon of straight sugar and still think it’s not enough sugar) and as I bit into it and the gooey mess dripped down the side I thought “how many ingredients in this would kill Bravo?”. I can’t help it. It’s this automatic reaction I have.
Matt went to a conference the other week and there was the typical lunch buffet. He got to the first part with the fruit plate and the cheese platter and the meats and buns etc etc etc. And he made a random passing comment to his co-worker of “huh, Bravo wouldn’t be able to eat any of this” The co-worker, who knows all about bravo, asked why he couldn’t eat the fruit. Matt’s answer? “look at what you’re doing”. She had used the same pair of tongs from the cheese buns on the strawberries. Making the whole platter of fruit death-on-a-plate. A light went on int the coworkers head and she asked if there was ANYTHING that our boy would be able to eat. And the only thing there that would be safe would be a banana from the bruised basket of fruit at the end. Worst case is he would get a rash on his hand from cross contamination on the peel. He could eat the apple if he took it to the bathroom first and scrubbed it with soap. But anything else…. Nope. Milk, mayonnaise, cheese, soy, beans, nuts, peanuts, they lurk everywhere. They’re the buffet’s best friend. He would be able to do the plain salad if he talked to the hotel first and ensured proper preparation conditions and then he got to the salad before anybody else put dirty tongs into it. But that would be taking a big risk. Sad when eating lettuce could be the end of you. Or at least cause a lot of pain and drama and an ambulance bill.
I don’t like this change in me. I don’t like feeling bitter at all the yummy commercials. Campbell’s mushroom soup? Death. I hate food commercials.
I was watching some really crappy cooking show on Shaw TV or something lame like that and I watched the first 45 seconds. And in that 45 seconds they used 5 different ingredients that Bravo is allergic to. So I turned it off.
Every time I hear about something, like a family road trip, all that goes through my head is the logistics of that with a bravo-type kid. No starting the road trip with McDonalds drive through. Meals…. That terrifies me. The amount of research we would have to do first is insane. Where along the whole route could he eat? And where near that is the nearest emergency facility? How far is the longest stretch between hospitals that could care for a small child in anaphylactic shock? Divide the longest time by 15 minutes and that’s how many epi pens we would need to have on us. Is the break between hospitals 45 minutes? Then we need 3 epi pens at all times. Because if he somehow gets bad things into him, an epi pen may only last 15 minutes before he needs another shot or other emergent care.
I can’t go through normal life, seeing and hearing every day stories, without thinking of how scary this world is for a little tiny child with big huge allergies. And I worry for him when he is older if he doesn’t outgrow this. Band trips? Sport trips? Road trips with friends? TERRIFYING. And likely not possible.
I wish this wasn’t a constant presence in my head.
Or that at least the allergic community would start making and advertising affordable and safe foods for people with multiple food allergies.
And I also wish I lived in Montreal. For this one reason.
I would LOVE to take bravo out for supper.
A restaurant that bans all the major 8 food allergens. Amazing. That doesn’t count legumes aside from soy and peanuts, but I’m pretty sure they would take all precautions when informed. And they carry epi pens in case a diner has a reaction and doesn’t have their epi pen on them. That amazing!!
Maybe one day I’ll win a whack load of money and then get the people who made this restaurant to do a franchise in Winnipeg. If you do live in Montreal, you should go there and then tell me how it is. And if the food is good despite being made of all Bravo-friendly things.
Oh- My new answer to people when they find out about Bravo’s food allergies and then ask “so what DO you feed him?” It's “soylent green” And I’m delighted when I get the response back of “it’s people!” instead of the confused look I normally get.
What am I even talking about any more???
Friday 6 April 2012
Technology
Why is it that a 4 year old knows how to work things better than me?? He found an application on my iPod, saw it said free, asked me to "enter all those special numbers" and then took a picture of Bob the bear and Lego-ified it. In about 38 seconds. 
Wednesday 4 April 2012
It doesn't have to be right now
Do you ever have a moment that should have meant nothing but meant everything? A passing comment that was simply that, a passing comment, but it turns into a whole philosophical… thing?
I was at the grocery store the other day buying some random things. And I was at the checkout and had my debit card in the machine and punched everything and then went into la-la land in my head. The cashier had to tell me twice to take my card out of the machine I was staring at. I said something about “one day, one day I will have my brain back”.
And her response has been swirling in my head since.
“yes, but it doesn’t need to be right now”.
It doesn’t need to be right now. It doesn’t need to be right now. There is more wisdom in those 7 words than I have heard in a long long time. There are a lot of things I need to get to. A lot of things I want my heart and brain to rush to. A lot of things I wish were different about myself and a lot of things I’m working on.
I need to clean my windows. I need to clean my whole house, really.
I want to make crafts with the boys.
I work everyday to be OK with Thomas not being with us.
I struggle to find room in my life for Delta, I struggle to accept that chances are that Delta will be here, safe and sound in my arms, in 9.5 weeks.
I wish I had a clearer head. I wish I could be organized and planned and somehow laid back all at the same time.
I am striving towards growing and being a strong and confident and loving mother and wife and woman.
I really really really want to get on track with my schooling and reach out to other women in a new role.
One day I will have my brain back.
Yes, but it doesn’t need to be right now.
Right now I am a young (ish) mom to 3 very young boys and I am going on 31 weeks pregnant. And it is OK to just… be. To be where I am. To be spacey and tired and full of love for my three weird and wonderful little creatures. It is OK to still be sad about Thomas, it is OK to miss him like crazy as I watch Charlie grow and explore each day. It’s OK my house is dusty. And my windows are gross. It’s OK. These things will come. But it doesn’t need to be right now.
Maybe I’m over thinking this. (not that I EVER over think things….) maybe I’m putting too much into the cashier’s words. But they were what I needed to hear.
Be where you are, Chrissy. And see the beauty and love in the chaos. And in 9 weeks it will get even more chaotic and even more beautiful as you have another brand new life to snuggle and breathe in. This is what is right now, there is time later for everything else.
Tuesday 3 April 2012
Alpha's Prediction
A lot of funny things happen at supper times in our house. A lot of annoying things, too, but a lot of funny things. And now that Alpha is getting older the conversations are just getting funnier.
Alpha was telling me the 794th knock-knock joke of the day (knock knock, who’s there, banana Ben water face). Bravo was repeating everything Alpha said (which made for about 1588 super-time knock knock jokes) and Charlie was squealing in delight at himself as he made his entire face and head orange with spaghetti.
So looking at my totally sane and calm family, I asked Alpha a very serious question.
Me- “Alpha, what do you think are the chances of the new baby NOT being crazy?”
Alpha- “Not very good, mommy. All signs point to crazy.”
Yes. Yes, they do.
Tuesday 13 March 2012
Breaking the expectations
I’m not sure what I was expecting of this pregnancy. I mean, I wasn’t expecting the pregnancy, so how can I expect anything out of it? Or rather, how would I know what to expect out of my brain when I wasn’t planning this. I like planning. I’m a planner. I need to know what’s going on. And this has become more important to me since bravo and his allergies and since Thomas. Those two very unplanned things really threw (and continue to throw) me for big giant brain-breaking loops. So I really try to keep everything else orderly (as orderly as it can be with 3 very small kids) and planned and keep my life tidy. I don’t know why I haven’t accepted yet that life just isn’t tidy.
Add in another unplanned loop (baby icicle) and no wonder I feel like I’m going crazy.
I knew more or less what to expect with other pregnancies. I would get pregnant, have a baby, be unprepared (yes, I planned to be unprepared- see my problem??), land on my feet, repeat 2 more times.
And then the plan was to have an 18 month old and 3 year old and 4.5 year old for the summer and go to the beach and get on with life and find freedom that comes with no infants.
And then my plan was changed and I have since been knocked off my feet and am still struggling to get back on them. I don’t deal well with plans being changed for me. If I have some notice, fine. But with no notice…. I go a little crazy. Er.
I’ve been working the last bit at changing my expectations.
This baby was not expected.
This new family dynamic wasn’t expected.
Being pregnant with 3 other kids (which, by the way, is for the birds- what does that even mean??) was not expected.
(side note- how many idioms do I use in a day that I really don’t know why I use them or where they came from? I like idioms. They make things funny.)
So how do I be OK with this? I mean, I have no choice. But maybe it’s OK that I’m not doing cartwheels (metaphorical, not literal, I would land in bone breaking and uncomfortable positions if I attempted that right now and my pelvis may actually snap in half) over this pregnancy. Maybe it’s OK that I don’t know what to expect from this child and from my family. Maybe it’s OK that my life is not going according to plan (has it ever, though??) and that I am thrown for a loop with this.
Maybe it’s OK, maybe I should encourage myself even, to let go of expectations for this pregnancy and for this child and just feel what I’m going to feel and then get on with life. Because feeling guilt over not meeting my expectations for this pregnancy as I did for the previous ones is eating me up. And I’ve had just about enough of guilt. Now, it seems to not have enough of me, but maybe I can kick it to the curb for this pregnancy and baby and let myself revel in whatever experience this is shaping out to be. This is my LAST baby, so I would like to start enjoying the pregnancy (even the miseries of it- like peeing my pants because the 4 year old trumps the pregnant woman’s need for the toilet) despite not being prepared for it.
This baby was a surprise. And I have a feeling that the baby itself is going to be a surprise. Wait, I just repeated myself, didn’t I? I mean the existence of the baby was a shock, and maybe the whole parenting experience is just going to be a surprise with this one. The first 3 are radically different little people, so this one I’m sure is going to keep me guessing.
I have no idea anymore what this post is about.
So much for planning.
Monday 12 March 2012
Good jokes
Alpha is into trying to tell jokes right now. And Bravo is into copying anything Alpha does. Which makes for some pretty funny meal time conversations.
A-“knock Knock”
Me- “Who’s there?”
B- “Water Alpha!”
A- “No, knock knock”
Matt- “who’s there?”
A-“water”
Matt- “water who?”
B- “water Bravo!”
Me- “Bravo, let your brother tell the joke.”
B- “water Charlie!”
Matt- “not that brother, your other brother.”
A- “water new baby!”
Me-“you can’t water the new baby, it’s in my belly.”
B-“knock knock”
Me- “who’s there?”
B-“water new baby, Alpha, Bravo!”
A- “knock knock”
Matt- “Who’s there” B-(at the same time as Alpha now dividing the conversation at the table
into 2 sets of crazy) “knock knock”
A- “Water” me- “who’s there?”
Matt-”water who?” b- “water Alpha!”
A- “knock knock” me- “that’s a good joke.”
Matt- “who’s there?” B-“knock knock”
A- “Water.” Me- “who’s there?”
Matt- “water who?” B-“blahfgehbackaghwhacthshgjgyusa”
A- “Water banana!” me-“that makes no sense. Eat your fish.”
A- “Mom, how does the joke go?”
B- “knock knock poop!”
Sigh. Everything always comes back to poop.
After about ½ an hour of this same ridiculous conversation in which bravo (while declaring repeatedly that he does not like fish) ate about ¾ of a salmon fillet to himself and Alpha (while declaring repeatedly that he does not like rice and wasn’t hungry) ate very little, and Charlie went between laughing at his crazy brothers and flinging little bits of rice, salmon, and peppers all over the floor, the 2 jokes finally did come out in more or less the right order.
Knock knock
Who’s there?
Water
Water who?
Water you doing???
Knock knock
Who’s there
Banana
Banana who
Knock knock
Who’s there
Banana
Banana who
Knock knock
Who’s there
Orange
Orange who?
Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?
But at the end of the day it all came back to one joke.
Knock knock.
Poop.
Thursday 8 March 2012
Our baby has a name at last!!
We have been struggling to find a real actual factual name for Delta. A girls name we can swing. But if this is another boy, we’re screwed. The first 3 were hard enough to name. This fourth one? We got nothing. We have ONE name that both Matthew and I equally don’t hate. Poor fourth baby.
Until now. We have a name. Girl OR boy.
Alpha was helping (can’t you tell?) to come up with names. When pushed to decide on our list of 4 names that neiterh Matt or I like Alpha insited that those were not good enough.
A-“Oh Mommy, I have the prefect name!”
Me- “what’s that”
A- “Muffin!”
Me- “muffin”?
A- “yes! Muffin!”
Me- “why muffin?”
A- “because I like muffins and I like this new baby.”
Me- “what about a middle name?”
A- “I already told you, Bob. Because of my bob” (Bob is his little stuffed bear that has been with us since I was 32 weeks pregnant with Alpha and has become Alpha’s best friend)
Me. “so… Muffin Bob Jennings?”
A- “yes. It’s perfect.”
Yes. It is perfect. For a dog, perhaps, but still perfect.
Oh. Update.
We were playing outside and Alpha re-named the baby.
A- "muffin isn't the right name, mommy."
Me- "oh, no?"
A- "maybe for a middle name. But the first name is Icicle."
Me- "Icicle? Icicle Muffin Jennings?"
A- "YES!!"
And he has been calling my belly that since.
Muffin Bob, or Icicle Muffin
We are all excited to meet you. Especially your big big big brother. Your big big brother is, too, but he mostly seems concerned that your baby blanket isn’t finished yet. Your big brother has no clue that you’re on the way. So grow and grow and grow and then come on out when you’re ready, OK? We love you. And I’ll try really hard to come up with something more fitted to a baby human than “Icicle.” I promise.
Love Mommy.
Thursday 1 March 2012
In every tree there sits a bird
There are a few parts to my disjointed post today. The first part which won't make much sense until the end is about a dear dear friend who just said goodbye to her angel on Friday. Her heartbreak is huge and unbearable and one I feel deeply for her because I have had to say goodbye to my own sweet boy. When she left the hospital it was snowing. So much snow. Snowflakes all around her. No birds, no rainbows or sunshine, a lot of snow.
Now most of you know this wonderful mommy and her beautiful rainbow. She gave birth to her daughter at 38 weeks and had to say goodbye that day. One beautiful thing about this story is her rainbow. This mom sees more rainbows than I think I have ever ever seen in my entire life. And every time she sees a rainbow she thinks of Mackenzie. And every time I see a rainbow I think of Mackenzie. And every time a hundred people across the country see a rainbow, they think of her beautiful Mackenzie. And it's perfect and wonderful and fitting.
And I must say sometimes it makes me a little sad.
I never really talked about Thomas when I was going through it. It's only been since I started this blog that I really realised I needed to talk about him. But I was scared to. I was afraid that I would be dismissed, that my grief and pain and ultimately the life of my son would be dismissed and therefore unvalidated. I guess I’m still afraid to talk about my Thomas. Afraid that he will be discounted because he wasn’t a “real” baby. And I couldn’t bear anybody to think that because to me he was perfect.
When that little 2 inch one-dimensional vaguely baby-shaped white blob came out attached to the placenta, I knew that was the remains of my perfect baby. Squished by his larger brother from week 16-40, fluids drawn out, compacted, and grown into the placenta which provided life for Charlie, Thomas is still my baby. I carried him for 9 months. It just so happens that for 5 of those he wasn’t living. And I could not bare to take the chance that people would think these things about Thomas. But that just caused me to feel even more lonely. How could people think about him when they didn't know about him??
So I am posting this. I have had this in my head for a long time, but have never told a single living soul. Not even Matthew.
I sing a song to Paul every night before bed. And every time I sing it I think of my Thomas.
In every tree there sits a bird,
singing a song of love
In every tree there sits a bird,
and every one I’ve ever heard,
could break your heart without a word,
Singing a song of love
The song of love is a sad song,
Hi lily hi lily hi lo
The song of love is a song of woe,
don’t ask me how I know
The song of love is a sad song,
for I have loved and it’s so
I sit at the window and watch the rain,
hi lily hi lily hi lo
Tomorrow I’ll probably love again,
hi lily hi lily hi lo
And every time I see a sparrow I think of my baby. Sitting in a tree, watching over us, singing a beautiful but ever so sad song. And all the other sparrows in the tree are other lost babies singing away. Making the world cheerier. Strong, beautiful in their simplicity, cheery, tiny little birds.
I can never touch a sparrow. If I tried it would fly away. They sit in the tree, but remain forever out of reach. You can't hold a sparrow. And you can't touch a rainbow. They're beautiful and sparkly and full of joy and love. And they shine, out of reach, never touchable. And if you tried to hold a snowflake it would just... melt away. The snowflake is perfect and unique and beautiful and intricate, and fleeting. Sparrows, rainbows, snowflakes, each perfect, each beautiful, each cruel and heartbreaking in their fleeting and unreachable ways.
So when you see a little sparrow, maybe give a little thought for my boy. Let him know you love his song. And give a little thought of me, living without my boy, and of Charlie, living his life without his beautiful and perfect twin.
Tuesday 14 February 2012
living life with a highly allergic kid
I’m done. Me and bravo, we quit. No more allergies. No more reactions. No more stupid fucking allergies.
You hear me, allergy gods?
I’m done.
Too bad you don’t give a crap about us.
I’m angry right now.
And I’m sad.
And I’m heartbroken for my sweet bravo.
And I’m tired.
Wow, am I ever tired.
I hate allergies. I hate what they do to lives.
I hate that people don’t understand them.
I hate that they are seen as a “nuisance” for non-allergic families.
I hate that the word "allergy" is so over-used and is used to describe "my belly hurts" or 'my eyes are itchy". which, yes, it may be annoying, but every person complaining of their mild irritations from allergies really lessens the impact when you say your child is allergic to multiple foods. I'm not talking about a stomach ache. I'm talking about potential death.
I hate the worry that comes with them.
I hate the fear I live in.
I hate telling my beautiful boy that he can’t have what others are eating.
I hate having to pretend everything is fine.
I hate trying to be positive about it all.
I hate living like this.
I hate that it’s happening to my sweet tiny boy.
I hate that it’s happening to my sweet tiny boy.
I hate that at any second some benign particle could wind up in bravos system and take him away from me.
I hate that we will never have all the answers. Just when we think we have his allergies all pinned down he has yet another reaction to some new food.
I hate it when people tell me there are worse things that could happen to our family. Yup. I know that. There are much worse chronic medical conditions that bravo could have. Aren’t we lucky that we only have allergies. Because it’s easy and fun. And I’m not worried about him dying every single day.
I hate that kids with multiple anaphylactic food allergies are not covered under the disability act. They have no protection, no rights, no one fighting for them but their ill-equipped parents, no laws to protect them in school (unless you happen to live in Ontario where they have Sabrina’s Law which was passed because a child died of allergies in a school), no help for the insane costs associated with the grocery bill of multiple food allergy kids.
I went to the health food store yesterday. I bought 2 bags of allergy-free chocolate chips, 1 tub of soy free/ dairy free yogurt, 1 tub of bravo- safe margarine, and 2 small jars of sunflower seed butter. And it cost $68. If I went to walmart and bought the same items in a non-allergic form it would have been under $20. But according to the government having multiple food allergies does not present a financial challenge to families. Clearly nobody that’s in the decision making department has ever lived with this. The funny thing is that people with celiac disease can write off their food. BUT… if a person has an allergy to wheat and barley they do NOT get to claim the exact same foods. Even though it could cause anaphylaxis and death. Which apparently is not as bad as the stomach problems caused by celiac. (please anybody reading this that has celiac don’t take offense. You should be helped, I’m not mad at you. And I know it’s worse than a belly ache and it’s a serious disease. I just think the system is stupid and I’m angry right now.)
BUT.. on the good side, we don’t have to buy the $6 miniscule tub of soy free dairy free yogurt any more. Because, surprise, Bravo is allergic to it. I have no idea what in it caused the allergy. I need to study the ingredients and do some research on it. It might be coconut. So until we know otherwise, I guess we’re adding one more food to our Avoid List. Which, by the way, is getting really stupid.
oh- an update. I googled every single ingredient on the list and it's most likely locust extract, which is from the carob bean, which we had been avoiding. Stupid me didn't know that locust extract is another name for carob bean. Super.
I feel like I'm failing bravo. His poor little system just needs a break.
My first post today was much happier but i couldn't wait to post this becasue I'm just so sad and anrgy.
I love my boys.
a.b.c.d.e.f.g.h.i.j.k…….
l.m.n.o.POO!
Did you know that’s how the alphabet goes?? Ask Alpha or Bravo, they’ll tell you. Over and over and over. And shockingly it was Bravo who came up with this clever little gem, NOT Alpha.
We were sitting at the supper table having a normal conversation (well, as normal of a conversation as you can have with a 2.5 and a 4 yr old boy) and we were talking about what they should take for alphabet show & tell at nursery school. Bravo said he wanted to wear pajamas for show and tell, and I told him he had to wait until P day.
Do you see where this is headed?
“No, poo day!” ugh. Bravo, not THAT kind of p. Which led into a discussion about pee vs. pea vs. p. Which Bravo promptly ignored and then just started talking more about Poo Day. And L M N O Poo. And poo soup. And poo pancakes. And poo cake.
At that point Alpha joined in the fun and all I heard about for the remainder of the day was various words connected with the word “poo.”
And you know what Charlie was doing during this charming little supper? Killing himself laughing at his brothers.
Sigh. Welcome to your life, Chrissy. Want a poo pancake?
Thursday 9 February 2012
Move over, Keith Moon
If you know more about music than I do (which really is NOT a hard thing to accomplish) you will know about Keith Moon. The only reason I know about him is becasue Matthew is a music nerd with close to 600 cds wasting space on my bookshelf. And he talks about Keith Moon being the best drummer of all time ever. I think maybe he was in The Who? I might be wrong. Don't tell Matt. Anyways. Whenerb Matt says something about a drummer my answer is always "ya, but he's not as good as Keith Moon" pretending I know something about drumming. Or care. It usually gets me a slap on my behind.
So Matt has a little red drum kit that he loves but hasn't got to spend much time using the last 6 years. Becasue first we lived in a rental house that was 460 sq feet. I'm not kidding. No room in there to lie on the floor, let alone set up a drum kit. Then we moved and had a basement but then had kids. Alpha like the drums from about 1-3, but never really did that much with them. So Matt's been saying he's going to sell them (even though I know he REALLY doesn't want to, he just knows the space would be nice as would the money) and I (even though I would REALLY like to re-claim that basement space) keep telling him not to. And this is exactly why:
3 days ago Alpha had it in his head that he really really really wants to play the drums, so I said maybe Daddy would give him a drum lesson. Well, the second Matt came homw Alpha was on top of him begging for a drum lesson.So while I made dinner Matt gave Alpha a drum lesson. And I could hear the cuteness of it all. He was learning all sorts of actual techinacl things (that I know I can't do- Matt has tried to teach me and I'm just really really bad at understanding anything to do with rythem) and Alpha was doing great. And every now and then I'd hear the drums go crazy and Matt would yell "ya! Drum Solo!!" then it would be back to the lesson. After the third lesson Matt took Alpha into the living room and put on someloud annoying music music with lots of drumming and with Keith Moon. Alpha listened for a while making a comment every now and then about how it was really good and he really likes the drums and that the drummer is really really good at drums.... "but not as good as me." awesome. Move over, Keith Moon, here comes Alpha Jennings. Matt didn't have the heart to tell him that Keith Moon is in fact better at drumming but did say that with lots of practice that he has no doubt that could be true one day.
As an aside Alpha keeps saying that he and Bravo are in a band together. And that they have to go have band practice. I asked what the band was called. He looked at me like I was really stupid and said (and you could hear his eyes roll when he said it) "our band is called Rock, Mommy." Of course it is. Rock. At least you know what kind of music you're getting.
So Matt has a little red drum kit that he loves but hasn't got to spend much time using the last 6 years. Becasue first we lived in a rental house that was 460 sq feet. I'm not kidding. No room in there to lie on the floor, let alone set up a drum kit. Then we moved and had a basement but then had kids. Alpha like the drums from about 1-3, but never really did that much with them. So Matt's been saying he's going to sell them (even though I know he REALLY doesn't want to, he just knows the space would be nice as would the money) and I (even though I would REALLY like to re-claim that basement space) keep telling him not to. And this is exactly why:
3 days ago Alpha had it in his head that he really really really wants to play the drums, so I said maybe Daddy would give him a drum lesson. Well, the second Matt came homw Alpha was on top of him begging for a drum lesson.So while I made dinner Matt gave Alpha a drum lesson. And I could hear the cuteness of it all. He was learning all sorts of actual techinacl things (that I know I can't do- Matt has tried to teach me and I'm just really really bad at understanding anything to do with rythem) and Alpha was doing great. And every now and then I'd hear the drums go crazy and Matt would yell "ya! Drum Solo!!" then it would be back to the lesson. After the third lesson Matt took Alpha into the living room and put on some
As an aside Alpha keeps saying that he and Bravo are in a band together. And that they have to go have band practice. I asked what the band was called. He looked at me like I was really stupid and said (and you could hear his eyes roll when he said it) "our band is called Rock, Mommy." Of course it is. Rock. At least you know what kind of music you're getting.
Wednesday 8 February 2012
pregnancy
Oh pregnancy. How I love and loathe thee at the same time. Sometimes the love is stronger, sometimes the loathe.
Love:
1. Feeling a tiny little person moving around, doing summersaults, moving, playing with its fingers and toes, kicking in the ribs. I even love the painful movements of third trimester (though I grumble, I really do love it.) It’s a little less fun when ribs get moved because baby think s it’s awesome to stick his bum in there and then never move away (thanks, Alpha), but it’s just a wonderful feeling.
2. Watching my other kids love up the little baby. Alpha and Bravo regularly talk to my belly. Alpha has felt the baby kick him a few times now and then he over-reacts and rolls onto the floor saying “oooh, baby, you’re so strong, you knocked me all the way across the room”. Adorable.
3. knowing that I have life inside of me. It’s pretty incredible.
4. Feeling confident in my belly and body. Pregnancy is the one time of my life I’m not worried about my body image or how far my belly sticks out. It’s all good. The belly is SUPPOSED to be huge. And I seem to be one of the lucky pregnant women who simply look like they swallowed a beach ball and weight goes away from my face and legs and everywhere else and lands straight to my belly.
5. The fact that when it’s all over it ends with this incredible rush of joy and emotion and a tiny tiny perfect little wonderful-smelling new baby.
6. Pants without zippers. Handy. Just pull ‘em down and you’re good to pee! It always takes me a while to re-adjust to zippered pants.
7. Looking at tiny new-born clothes and going through the clothing in storage and washing and folding and sorting it and imagining the tiny person that will fill those tiny sleepers.
8. Naming small people. Coming up with all these names and trying them out with the other kids’ names and how they fit and what type of personality would come with the name. I guess it’s the dreaming part of pregnancy that I like. Dreaming of the name and the person and what they’ll be like and who they’ll turn out to be, and which sibling they’ll bond with the most as the years go on. Boy? Girl? It’s fun. Sure, it comes with heartburn (oooh, heartburn) but I love the dreaming.
Loathe:
1. Round ligament pain. It seems to be particularly bad this go-around. I woke up thinking I was dying and my belly was being torn in half. Then I recognized the agonizing pain of my too-big belly not being supported by a pillow and stretching these horrible round ligaments to the point of them screaming in my side. So bring on the body pillow. Today they were just so stretched out from last night that any time I move at all pain goes ripping down my side. Comfy.
2. Heartburn. Ooooh, heartburn. I would shake my fist at you but that would probably make you worse. Matthew thinks that copious amounts of Tums Is what makes our kids so darn cute.
3. The incredible instability of my emotions. Curse you, Pampers commercials! Why is your goal to make pregnant women cry? I’m still not buying your stinky smelly diapers, thank you very much. And now my face is red and blotchy. Jerks.
4. Not being able to take NeoCitran and other wonderful sick-relieving drugs. Though I suppose having a child born with all its appendages is worth the discomfort, but STILL.
5. The fact that pregnancy ends in labour and then post-partum. Yuck.
6. The worry of 40 weeks of pregnancy. Being terrified that something will go wrong. This is worse this go-around after Thomas, but it was bad with all of them. And then it leads to a life-time of worrying about your little person. That part I don’t mind so much. Worrying about them when they’re on the outside is easier because then at least you can hug them and smell their sweet little heads. But worrying about them on the inside is just so hard. How many times with the four of them have I poked and prodded my belly after drinking juice and laying on my left side just willing the kid to kick me in the ribs?
7. All the strangers who think that just because you have a cute belly means that you WANT to talk to them. I didn’t like people before I got pregnant, I certainly don’t like them now!
8. Trying to name small peoples. I am really out of names. And if this poor child is a boy it’s screwed. Alpha want to name him Bob after his teddy bear, and at this point it’s all we’ve got! Baby Bob. Named after a small brown bear. Either that or “Storm Trooper”. We’ve gotta get thinking on this…..
Tuesday 7 February 2012
Personal accomplishments.
Go Me!!
In the last bit, I, Chrissy Jennings, have:
A) Posted every single weekday starting last Tuesday. Truth be told I’m writing a few of them at work on Saturdays and them email them to myself and then post them all on delayed posts on Sunday night and then I don’t have to do anything for the rest of the week except to think of random stupid thing (like this) that I want to post! Yup- I’m awesome.
B) Stopped biting my nails. And mostly stopped ripping my nails. I have not had nails since…… I think I was 6? I have a vivid memory of my dad clipping my nails down to bleeding because I scratched y brother’s face (he totally deserved it, they just didn’t see that then) and I don’t really think they had to get cut after that. Right- this is about nails. I have them!! I went to itch my arm the other day and was shocked because it kind of hurt because I was scratching with nails and not finger tips. Yay me!! It’s been 3 weeks and I only worried one nail off because I was in a movie theatre and it snagged and then I had 2 hours that I tried to deal but couldn’t so I ripped it off and then filed at home. I must get a file for my pocket.
C) As mentioned in B., I went to a movie. Now, this may not seem like a personal accomplishment, but it is, my dear friends, it is. Because first- it was a grown up movie. No cartoons, no potty humour, no talking puppies, none of that crap wonderful stuff. Second- it was with my husband. It was a real date!! Grandma had the boys, we ditched for supper and then just went out the two of us. For three hours. Alone. Boo ya!
D) Had three showers this week. Granted 2 of them were because I had the stomach flu and being covered in sweat and vomit is gross, but still. 3 is pretty good.( Actually as I write this it’s Saturday and I’m planning on showering tonight so....) let’s change this to:
E) Speaking of really awesome… I spent a whole day in bed mostly sleeping. And I read a magazine and played on my iPod touch and really didn’t move out of bed. I think I rolled out of it at 2pm and was back in it at 8pm, and stayed in it until 8:15 the next morning. OK. In my fantasy this is really awesome. How many times have I said ‘I just don’t want to get out of bed today”? A lot. HOWEVER… in my day dreams of spending all day in bed I am not barfing into a Ziploc container. And I can move without barfing. And I’m not doped up on gravol. But whatever, I can’t have everything, right?? Matthew was a wonderful man and took the day off so I could die in bed all day. I’m not sure how I would have handled life that day if he had not done that. And then after the kids were in bed he went to buy me some soup because we had run out and it’s all I wanted to eat and he was worried about the child inside of me getting only 2 crackers and a tin of ginger ale.
F) I sat down and did crafts with the boys. This may also not sound like an accomplishment, but I felt like super mom. We made clouds out of a lot of glue, cotton balls, and cereal boxes. The clouds are now on their wall along with their name airplanes (red paint, white letters, and cereal boxes) to make their airplane room look amazing. Doing crafts with Alpha and Bravo is tricky. Because one paint brush is identical to the other way better than the other one, and one red crayon is bigger than the other, and one tinfoil plate has more glue on it and anyways, let’s race. Around the house. At top speed. Holding red paint brushes. Sigh……. But we did it!! And it was actually pretty fun and the world didn’t end and there was only a wee bit of bickering and the red paint came off the floor. Maybe as they get older I’ll get braver and do more. Thank goodness they go to playschool where they have somebody that has the energy to do crafts.
G) I made a menu plan for the next 2 weeks. Sticking to it will require more planning and time to do a real shop- but I did it!
Mmm, I think that’s it. I know this all sounds pretty mundane and boring, and I guess it is, but it’s life as Mom for Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and almost Delta, and I love it. Well, I could do with less puke (mine and everybody else’s) but other than that, I have a pretty awesome life. And I have nails!!!!!
Oh wait... one more to add.
Monday 6 February 2012
Friends
I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship lately. How they start, change, end, re-grow, all of that. Watching Alpha decide who his friends are is kind of funny. His favourite right now is a boy from playschool because we went to his house and he has the same Plo Koon Lego ship as Alpha. And, well, if you can’t base a friendship on Plo koon, what can you base a friendship on?? Alpha is really bad with names though, so this friend is referred to in our house as “my Plo Koon friend”. Which makes me laugh. At least it’s clear what this friendship is based on. Other of Alpha and Bravo's friends are only based on my friends and their children. And mostly that has worked out. Thankfully the Plo Koon friend has a really nice mom AND a child the same age as Bravo, too. And Charlie doesn’t really care yet, as long as there is a toilet to try to get into or stairs to climb.
Last year both Alpha and Bravo’s favourite friend is a boy who lives across the alley. Because we see him a lot and because he’s older than Alpha by 9 months so he’s SUPER COOL because he can do cooler things AND he’s in kindergarten.
Alpha also adores people littler than Bravo. About 18 months and under Alpha is just drawn to. He loves making other babies laugh or grab his face. He loves stroking their heads when they’re really little (but who doesn’t love stroking tiny newborn heads??)
So according to Alpha a friend is one of three things. 1: somebody who is smaller than you therefore looks up to you and adores you. Somebody who is not threatening and can’t take your toys. 2: somebody cooler and bigger than you that you can look up to and 3: somebody who you share something with.
Which really, that about sums it up. My heart is pre-breaking for when the boys have friendships fall apart. We’ve all been there and it sucks. Especially when you were the one that got dumped. Some friendships seem so solid and then just… go away. Some seem flakey and based on nothing, but those end up being the closest ones.
The beginning of my bestie friendship was when I was 8. That was 24 years ago. We were “I hate you, I love you” for a few years and then we went skiing together. We were on a t-bar and I said “my bum’s falling off” and she said “literally?” and it was the funniest darn thing and then that was that. No more “I hate you” swings in our friendship. And over the years we’ve drifted and come back. And then last 6 years we’ve grown super close because of joint experiences. We were there for each other when the rest of the world wasn’t. And now she’s married to my favourite cousin (boo ya!! She’s family now!) and we send each other stupid messages all the time and it’s funny. Her two year old (well, 3 in a month) told her this week that she has a stick up her butt. Because she wouldn’t let her have cookies for supper. Funny. But that has nothing to do with this post. It’s nice knowing that no matter what happens in my life or how dumb I get that she will be there and will be able to make me laugh in about two and a half seconds.
I had another friend (the besties cousin actually) that I was super close to. But then my life got messy and she couldn’t deal so she bailed. By sending me a letter covered in stickers. And then she never talked to me again. It broke my heart and really really confused and upset me for a long long time. We were friends for 17 years and then *poof* not friends. And I didn’t get to talk about it with her or ask her questions or explain my messy life or anything. She just… I don’t know. Got bored. Or busy. Or something.
Other friends we just drifted apart and nobody was hurt or anything. And I still have fond memories of them and if I ever ran into them I’d be thrilled and then it would probably fade away again.
I had 2 super close friends in high school. One has drifted in and out of my life (but mostly out- moving 2 provinces away does that) and one dropped off the radar and despite several attempts on my part to get in contact with her it just hasn’t happened. The one friend recently got a hold of me, and I’m loving it. It’s this weird link to my past, and now we have all these new things in common that we have yet to explore, but I’m hoping to. Because I’ve missed her like crazy. She was one of those friends that you could stay up until 5 in the morning with laughing the whole time. About things like tuna and meatballers. Because those are funny. At least they are to 15 year old sleep-deprived girls. She’s actually the one and only person who has met me in real life that knows this blog exists. And it’s kind of strange. 15 years ago she knew everything there was to know about me. All my secrets, all my faults, all my craziness, all the crumby and good things that happened. And then she didn’t. And now she does again. And it’s kind of comforting in a weird little way.
I miss when we were kids and finding friends was less complicated. It’s hard now to find friends. Good friends. Friends that I can talk to about more than my kids. (Although I do talk a lot about them because they’re what I do all day and all night and I love them like cake.) But it’s hard to find that connection. It’s harder than “Hey, you like star wars and I like star wars, wanna play chase??” There seems to be so many rules around friendships now. Share. But not too much. Talk about your family, but not too much. Ask questions, but not too many, be invested, but the right amount of invested. Over invested and you’re going to look needy and you’ll get hurt. Under invested and you look like a jerk. Call or make contact, but not too much. Put yourself about ¾ out there. Maybe a bit less. Do mathematical equations to figure out how much to share, and when and where.
Why do adults have to make things confusing? Hey, old friend, I’m gonna put it out there. I have missed you. And I think about you lots. And every time I hear “it’s that time again…” you know what the answer is. When I see kids painting on the sidewalk I think of you. When I see a tall girl and a short girl walking together I think of you. So at risk of being over-invested and too in-need of a re-kindled friendship, I’m glad you found me and I’d like to keep this up. K? By the way, old friend, I still can't listen to Bite the Dust without hearing "I'm adopted!" Turns out Freddy Mercury WAS adopted, so maybe there's something to our theory. At least he's proud of his birth heritage.
Friday 3 February 2012
Yay us!!
Charlie officially has weaned. Not even a nip in the last week. And shockingly, I'm not sad about it.
When Alpha was born I WAS GOING TO NURSE-THANK YOU VERY MUCH. And then I became his mom and it all went to hell in a hand basket. After his rough birth I had a rougher recovery and by the time we got home, 11 days post partum, and I tried to breast feed, he just wouldn't. We tried. A lot. For 8 weeks. Which I know doesn't sound like a lot. But oh, it is. He would cry when he got hungry, I would lift my shirt, get perfect positioning, hold him to my breast, and listen to him shriek like I was killing him. I tried and tried and tried. Then once he was purple and screaming and so hungry and I was bawling I would put my shirt back and get him the stupid bottle and give it to him, resenting the bottle that soothed him, resenting the crappy nurses I had, resenting my body. Then I would get him settled some where, pump, wash the pump parts, wash bottles, change him, and then he would cry because he was hungry and I would get a 20 minute break before doing it all again. And again. And again. So I gave up on nursing and felt like a total failure and then just cried for 6 months. Super healthy, I know. I wouldn't let anybody else feed him because I and I alone was SUPPOSED to be able to feed him. I let Matthew do it because I couldn't say no to him. And it gave me a bit of a chance to rest my poor brain. As soon as Alpha turned 1 I took the bottles away cold turkey and was so happy to not see them again.
Then Bravo was born. Oh cranky, high maintenance, difficult, sweet little Bravo. Carried in his sling for no less than 13 hours a day. He did eventually nurse but it took 17 weeks for him to figure it out. In the middle of the night he would scream for 2 hours instead of latching. But ooooh- I was determined. And I at last found the help I actually needed. My midwife sent me to the best baby chiropractor ever and to the GOOD lactation consultants in the city (we have some pretty bad ones). And finally he nursed. And I was so happy it was working. He self-weaned at 14 months because I was 11 weeks pregnant. And he was as stressed about weaning as he was about starting nursing. Even though it was his idea. Drove me nuts.
SO when Charlie came out and just latched with no effort and never looked back I was shocked. Floored. Delighted.
Which brings me to the point of this post (do I ever have a point though, really??). We nursed for 12 and a half months. I would happily keep going, but he decided he was done. Which makes me happy. I didn't force weaning, he chose it because he was ready. (And because I have no milk because I'm pregnant. Again.) And in that 12.5 months he had a small handful of bottles, like maybe 4 for a total of 10 ounces, and he had no Formula. Zero. Not even one drop. And I am so proud of us. Proud of myself. Not because formula is evil (although formula spit up in the house would make Bravo really sick) but because we did it. I nursed with no pain, no formula, no medications, no infections, no problems, until he peacefully decided to stop. And that is an amazing feeling after everything I've gone through trying to simply feed my babies. Hopefully Delta takes after Charlie. Delta, are you listening????
So yay us!!!
When Alpha was born I WAS GOING TO NURSE-THANK YOU VERY MUCH. And then I became his mom and it all went to hell in a hand basket. After his rough birth I had a rougher recovery and by the time we got home, 11 days post partum, and I tried to breast feed, he just wouldn't. We tried. A lot. For 8 weeks. Which I know doesn't sound like a lot. But oh, it is. He would cry when he got hungry, I would lift my shirt, get perfect positioning, hold him to my breast, and listen to him shriek like I was killing him. I tried and tried and tried. Then once he was purple and screaming and so hungry and I was bawling I would put my shirt back and get him the stupid bottle and give it to him, resenting the bottle that soothed him, resenting the crappy nurses I had, resenting my body. Then I would get him settled some where, pump, wash the pump parts, wash bottles, change him, and then he would cry because he was hungry and I would get a 20 minute break before doing it all again. And again. And again. So I gave up on nursing and felt like a total failure and then just cried for 6 months. Super healthy, I know. I wouldn't let anybody else feed him because I and I alone was SUPPOSED to be able to feed him. I let Matthew do it because I couldn't say no to him. And it gave me a bit of a chance to rest my poor brain. As soon as Alpha turned 1 I took the bottles away cold turkey and was so happy to not see them again.
Then Bravo was born. Oh cranky, high maintenance, difficult, sweet little Bravo. Carried in his sling for no less than 13 hours a day. He did eventually nurse but it took 17 weeks for him to figure it out. In the middle of the night he would scream for 2 hours instead of latching. But ooooh- I was determined. And I at last found the help I actually needed. My midwife sent me to the best baby chiropractor ever and to the GOOD lactation consultants in the city (we have some pretty bad ones). And finally he nursed. And I was so happy it was working. He self-weaned at 14 months because I was 11 weeks pregnant. And he was as stressed about weaning as he was about starting nursing. Even though it was his idea. Drove me nuts.
SO when Charlie came out and just latched with no effort and never looked back I was shocked. Floored. Delighted.
Which brings me to the point of this post (do I ever have a point though, really??). We nursed for 12 and a half months. I would happily keep going, but he decided he was done. Which makes me happy. I didn't force weaning, he chose it because he was ready. (And because I have no milk because I'm pregnant. Again.) And in that 12.5 months he had a small handful of bottles, like maybe 4 for a total of 10 ounces, and he had no Formula. Zero. Not even one drop. And I am so proud of us. Proud of myself. Not because formula is evil (although formula spit up in the house would make Bravo really sick) but because we did it. I nursed with no pain, no formula, no medications, no infections, no problems, until he peacefully decided to stop. And that is an amazing feeling after everything I've gone through trying to simply feed my babies. Hopefully Delta takes after Charlie. Delta, are you listening????
So yay us!!!
Thursday 2 February 2012
Allergies. How many hours have I spent thinking of them? Hating them, trying to figure them out, trying to understand them or explain them, worrying about them, trying to figure out how to meet the needs of all family members while keeping little bravo safe? I’m not sure how many hours, but it’s got to be getting up there by now. It was 2 years and 4 months since they came onto my radar. And it’s only gotten worse.
I’m tired of thinking about them, but I just don’t have the luxury of NOT thinking of them. If I didn’t spend so much of my time on them then my baby would not be here. The fun part is figuring out cooking challenges and discovering new non-allergic ways of doing things. The crappy part is, well, everything else.
I’m now losing hope that my boy will outgrow his allergies. Some of them, sure, but not the biggie. Not Milk. And almost for sure not peanuts, but that one is SO avoidable and the masses automatically think ‘peanut” when you say “allergy”.
We got bravo’s allergy results back. He had a RAST test done. Now- this test makes no sense to me.
Radioallergosorbent test. That’s the fancy name for it.
The simple part of it is that all we do is get some blood taken. And then some fancy laboratory voo-doo takes place. They take the allergen and bind it to a solid polymer and add it to the blood. Ok- I’m following so far. In people with allergies there is something called IgE in the blood. Or- immunoglobulin E. Each allergen has a specific IgE that will bind to it. Ok- I’m still mostly following. They watch the blood and the allergen and IgE clump together, they “wash” the blood and just leave the allergen and the specific IgE so that they can do the next part. Which is where they lose me completely. I was OK up to this point, but now…..
A serum of radioactive anti-IgE, which is derived from people who are known to be allergic to the allergen being tested for, is then added, allowing technicians to determine the concentration of allergen-specific IgE in the patient's blood.
Huh? So they take my kids blood, add some milk or soy or egg or whatever to it, swish it around, watch it clump together, get rid of the parts that aren’t clumped, add some radioactive blood from some other person that IS allergic to it and then count to see how much allergen specific IgE is in my kid’s blood to determine where on the scale of allergic he is. Right. I am SO not smart enough to understand this. They may as well be dancing over the vile of blood with an engraved wooden stick. I would understand it to about the same degree. But whatever- it’s not a skin prick test and they can test for a whole bunch of allergies from one blood sample which makes getting bravo tested SO much easier.
So once this scientific voodoo takes place they come back with numbers from 0- >100. Which is then broken down into a smaller scale of 0-6. 0 being “eat all you want, there are no allergen specific IgE present” 6 being “stay the hell away this will cause instant death and a lot of pain and suffering even if you don’t die”. Or something like that. That’s my vague interpretation anyway. Actually- all it says is that 6 is more than 100 of the IgE floating around in your blood. People can have this much and not have a reaction any worse than some hives or eczema. It’s kind of an incomplete test. It needs to be paired with a history and food challenges if the numbers aren’t crazy high and maybe a skin prick test. No allergy test is really all that helpful without a reaction history.
Allergies are SO well understood.
Here’s the really helpful chart.
RAST rating | IgE level (KU/L) | comment |
0 | < 0.35 | ABSENT OR UNDETECTABLE ALLERGEN SPECIFIC IgE |
1 | 0.35 - 0.69 | LOW LEVEL OF ALLERGEN SPECIFIC IgE |
2 | 0.70 - 3.49 | MODERATE LEVEL OF ALLERGEN SPECIFIC IgE |
3 | 3.50 - 17.49 | HIGH LEVEL OF ALLERGEN SPECIFIC IgE |
4 | 17.50 - 49.99 | VERY HIGH LEVEL OF ALLERGEN SPECIFIC IgE |
5 | 50.0 - 100.00 | VERY HIGH LEVEL OF ALLERGEN SPECIFIC IgE |
6 | > 100.00 | EXTREMELY HIGH LEVEL OF ALLERGEN SPECIFIC IgE |
You have to be at least a 3 (or an IgE of 10) for it generally to be considered life-threatening. If the IgE is under 2 (so a RAST level of mid 2 or under) they say that you’re unlikely to have a reaction and you’re good to go for trying a food challenge. For soy, typically the IgE has to be like 50 or something. I don’t remember but it was really high.
So Bravo. His old numbers were: soy- 0.6, milk- 29, egg- 29, peanuts- 8, chickpeas- not tested.
His new numbers are: soy- 1.9, milk- >100 (scary), egg- 19, peanuts- 19, chickpeas- I don’t remember but under 2.
So he has 2 #1s, 2 #4s and a 6. The 6 scares the crap out of me. That’s the one that causes him a reaction from tiny tiny amounts that we can’t see. The one that’s instant death if we don’t have 2 epi pens on us.
The other thing that can happen is a food intolerance. Allergies are immune based. Intolerances are gut-based. Too much of the food and you barf and have the trots and feel generally miserable for a few days (or however long for your particular system). Soy protein intolerance is pretty common in little guys and is virtually always outgrown by the age of 2. Bravo is 2 years and 9 months old.
So they told us that bravo wasn’t allergic enough to soy and chickpeas to be concerned and we could try some challenges. Which is when you go to the hospital allergy clinic and they give tiny amounts of soy milk (or whatever is being tried) in increasing amounts every 20 minutes or so. Good. They do it in the hospital setting so that there are emergency people there if needed. When we started Bravos challenge we were told that there was a 99% chance of there being 0 reaction. Ha!!
2 hours after Bravo’s first dose of soy (he had a total of 3 ounces spread out over 2 hours) he complained of a tummy ache. It rapidly escalated from there. He began throwing up and kept throwing up every 5-10 minutes for 4 hours. After about an hour of the throwing up he went grey and his eyes rolled back into his head and his heart rate went crazy. I picked up my boy, had him draped over my arms, and ran yelling into the hallway. They put him back on the bed and gave him epinephrine and checked his vitals every 5 minutes for the next hour. He was so tired. His little body was just exhausted. He kept falling asleep only to wake up heaving as the poison tried to escape his body. Only there was nothing left in the poor kid.
Once he was out of the really scary woods we had a chat with the allergist and this is what it boils down to for bravo. He’s special. Super duper special. He’s one of the exceptional rare kids who has BOTH a soy protein intolerance and a soy allergy. But his allergy levels are low and he’s too old for an intolerance. Neither should be an issue. So basically what happened is this: he had a reaction from the intolerance he shouldn’t have that triggered an anaphylactic reaction he shouldn’t have and the two combined to become life threatening. Our very very VERY old allergist who has been doing this for, I don’t know, about a million years, said he has seen this only once before. Fun. Isn’t it nice to be special.
The nurses and doctor there were amazing though and really kind and helpful. We’re not challenging chick peas any time soon because we’re just plain tired. And our ethnic background is just about as white as you can get (English, Irish, Scottish, and German) so it’s not like chickpeas are a big part of our diet and we’ve been avoiding them for the past 2 years. Another year or 2 will not really matter.
I’m just so discouraged right now. Until this week I really believed that he would out-grow the milk allergy by age 5. Because 95% of kids do. But it just seems so unlikely now. It’s gotten so much worse and he clearly doesn’t follow the “most kids” rules. Maybe soy will eventually be fine. Maybe chickpeas. Maybe even eggs. At least that one is going in the right direction. Never peanuts. But milk. That’s the impossible one. That’s the one that breaks my heart. Not only because it’s SO dangerous for him, but because he can’t have all these yummy kid things that are served at every party and picnic and play-place. And milk and its products are in EVEYRTHING. I had a vegan once tell me that it wasn’t a big deal. I tried so hard to not beat them in rage. They CHOSE to not eat eggs and milk. And they didn’t also have to avoid most legumes including (but so not limited to) nuts, peanuts, soy, and chickpeas. There are so many legumes we just haven’t tried out of sheer terror. He did outgrow peas, but the rest of it just scares me.
Whoops. This post was supposed to be about de-coding allergies a little bit and it became more discouraged ramblings from a very tired allergy mom. And it got long.
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