Making changes for the sake of my kids

I've read a few blog posts recently about how we, as a society, have become so wrapped up in our handheld technology that we have been neglecting our relationships with our kids. My cousin even went so far as to get rid of her smartphone after realizing she didn't want to miss out on one bit of her daughter's childhood by falling into the habit of "staying connected".

As I read "How to Miss a Childhood," I found myself nodding here and there, but mostly thinking that getting rid of my Windows phone (I am pretty much the only person I know without an iphone) was something I could never do, simply because I mostly use it to take pictures and video clips of the kids, not to play games or surf Facebook while pushing my child on the swings at the playground, as the author described. And yet, as I read a similar post by a different blogger, it started to hit me.

In "Dear Mom On The iPhone," a mother of four wrote about how if we are not careful, our kids will remember us as having been more connected to our smartphones and ipads than we were to them as they grew up.

That is NOT how I want my children to remember their childhood.

She went on to describe in detail how important she feels it is for us as parents to always, and I mean always, give our kids their full attention. Even if that means listening to your 5-year-old daughter tell the same silly joke five times in a row. Because kids remember.

I felt empowered after reading these posts. Not that I was about to toss my smartphone out the window. Please. If I did that I would never be able to drive anywhere other a three-mile radius from our house, I use it's GPS that much, really. But I was ready to make some much needed changes to the way I utilize technology in our household. Yesterday afternoon I tried it, with limited success. You see, I also recently discovered the Vine app and it's slightly addicting, as you'll notice by my Twitter feed. But I guess that is the root of this story now, isn't it? I digress.

On Sunday afternoon, I made sure to look my Little Man in the eyes, each and every time he said, "Mommy! Mommy, I want to tell you something." I snuggled with my Baby Girl and we sung the ABC's at least fifteen times. I played games with them and helped my Sweet Pea work on her color identification. These are simple things that I used to do with my son all the time when he was little, back when we didn't own smartphones, an ipad, and an ipad mini.

I truly listened to my kids and I heard their voices in a way I hadn't in a long time. I noticed how Baby Girl skips the "H" in her ABC's and how she perfectly and emphatically pronounces the "X" the same way her big brother did when he was her age. I felt her smooth, soft baby skin and noticed, when she decided to strip down to her diaper, that she's starting to lose some of her adorable baby rolls. Her pudge is being replaced by a more slender version of herself. And her brother. His imagination is running wild in all sorts of directions and his stories of what his monster trucks and firemen are up to are just fascinating. I never tire from seeing how his eyes light up when he tells a story. His eyelashes practically touch his forehead, they are that long.

I noticed such an impact, such big differences in just one day of slight changes in my behaviors. From now on I'm going to do my best to make even more of these important changes. Slowly, I think. Because I've never really been a cold turkey kind of gal.

I'm not going to turn on my laptop/ipad/phone first thing in the morning. Instead, I'm going to kiss and hug each member of my family before engaging with an electronic device. Because my family deserves that kind of respect. I'm only going to log onto Twitter/Facebook/blogs/email in the evening after the kids are in bed or during nap time. My friends and family know how to reach me in an emergency, and if something is urgent, then a person can call me rather than email me. Email can wait. I will no longer make calls while driving, hands-free earpiece or not, unless it is an emergency. This is precious time that I can spend talking to my kids about their day, having conversations. And I'll do my best to pull out my DSLR to take pictures of my family instead of clicking snapshots of them with my phone.

On Saturday while the kids were at swim lessons, out of annoyance from all the other parents who were on their phones while their kids swam fifteen feet in front of them, I refrained from taking out my phone to take videos of my kids. Instead, I waved excitedly at my two little fish and beamed with pride as my son did his best few freestyle strokes yet, complete with a strong kick. I may have missed that moment had I been checking out my Facebook news feed like so many of the other parents.

I share this with you not because I am planning on becoming a model parent when it comes to limiting technology in the home. Lord knows I still have a great deal of work to do in this arena. I share because my eyes were opened by what two other women had written. And maybe you haven't read their posts, but you are reading mine. And maybe this may help you make some changes that will allow you to capture so many more memories of your kids as they grow.

I know I grabbed a ton this weekend that I'll hold in my heart forever now.

Which is much, much more important than time spent on any so-called smart technological device, don't you think?

{Just in case you are wondering, I wrote this post last night in my journal, after the kids were in bed, hubby snoring happily beside me while I wrote. I edited and am posting it this morning from the guestroom office, while my Mother-in-law is spending time with the kids downstairs.}

On angel's wings

She was gone in a second. My post last week was unintentionally appropriate. My mother-in-law called that evening to tell us that my husband's grandmother had been in the hospital with pneumonia and now she wasn't eating or drinking. Things did not look good. We starting looking at travel plans.

It was decided that my father-in-law would fly out the next day, and my husband and sister-in-law would join him in Wisconsin on Thursday evening and would stay the weekend. My mother-in-law, the kids and I would stay back and wait for an update.

Unfortunately, the update we were hoping for never came. Instead we got the call telling us she had passed away.

My father-in-law missed saying goodbye in person by one hour. A mere sixty minutes. 3600 seconds.

In my heart I know that she peacefully entered into heaven. I am absolutely positive she knew how much every member of her family loved her. I know that my husband's grandfather and cousin who left this Earth before her were there to hold her hand. And I believe that Jesus wrapped his loving arms around her and told her he was so proud of her for a life well lived.

And I was grateful for our last trip out to Wisconsin to see her this past May. I wrote about how I was sad that I forgot to take certain pictures, but that I was so glad to have had the time together to make memories that would last longer than the pictures I would have taken.

I spoke at her funeral service. I spoke about one of those memories we made during our last trip. It's my favorite memory of Grandma. After dinner one night, I suggested we pile all the great grandkids onto the couch around Grandma (6 of the 10 great grandchildren were there) to take some pictures. It was silly and challenging to get all the kids smiling and looking at the camera, but we got some great pictures. The five boys toppled off the couch and resumed their play, while Baby Girl climbed over to sit right next to her Great Grandma.

What happened next was the highlight of my eulogy. Baby Girl stood up and started patting her Great Grandma's beautiful white perfectly curled hair, as if to say, "Pretty, Grandma! So pretty!". Only our little lady wasn't talking quite yet. So it was just an adorable exchange of giggles, smiles, and high-fives. Such a special moment that I did catch on camera. Although I didn't even need the photo to remember the moment. It was that memorable.

Grandma was laid to rest on Saturday. That evening, the ladies of the family went through her (many) jewelry boxes to decide who would keep which pieces. We reminisced on the times we saw her wearing various bracelets, earrings, and necklaces. My little princess sat on my lap the entire time and would open up one of the wooden boxes, and then slip bracelet after bracelet on her tiny wrists. Everyone agreed that she should keep that bracelet box. Her brother later enjoyed "decorating himself" as he referred to donning the baubles on his arms.

In the end I chose one simple necklace that reminds me of how dainty, elegant, and pretty my husband's grandmother was. She was a gentle, loving woman who is now an angel who will always watch over her family from heaven.

Her necklace reminds me of angel's wings.

Rest in peace, Grandma.

I love you.

Getting back into the swing of things

Been busy in our house lately. So busy that I've decided we're going back to basics around here these days.

After the craziness of the holidays and our post-holiday holiday celebration mid-month with my family who lives in Florida, we settled back into our normal routine. Well, sortof.

This week Mister Man had off from school on Monday for Martin Luther King, Jr Day and the Inauguration, we had a mini snow event on Wednesday night causing a 2-hour delay on Thursday, and then yesterday the schools is our county closed an hour early due to more snow and therefore afternoon preschool was cancelled. It's been a tough week to get anything done for this work-from-home mama! But I'm not complaining. Even though I cannot stand the frigid winter temperatures, I do love how beautiful everything looks the morning after a snowfall. I made the kids pancakes and oatmeal with strawberries this week to shake off the chilly feeling we woke up with. We stayed in our jammies longer than we usually do and just had fun doing inside stuff like coloring in our new coloring books with markers and crayons and watching Disney movies cuddled under fuzzy blankets on the couch.

We are trying to eat dinner as a family together at the table as often as we can. In the past we've had the kids eating together at the small table in the kitchen while my husband and I eat sitting at the island bar stools or standing which we both know isn't ideal. So whoever is cooking now takes care of preparing the meal while the other sets the table and keeps the kids happy until the meal is served. We're cooking using recipes from our new vegan cookbook, Veganomicon, and have loved almost every one we've tried so far. The kids are being very open to trying new things and have found that they really like eating vegan and vegetarian meals. I'm thinking we may transition them from cow's milk to almond milk in the new few months, but I'm not going to force anything on them if they decide they would rather not make that switch.

When I found myself feeling terribly unmotivated this morning, I made the decision not to dwell on it and just got up and started moving. An hour later I was amazed at how much I got done. Once I dug in and got started it wasn't so hard to forget about those negative thoughts. I was able to unload the dishwasher of clean dishes, reload it with the dirty breakfast dishes, clean up the rest of the kitchen, put away all the kid's clean clothes, tidy up their rooms, and rally the troops to get ready to head to swimming while my husband relaxed with a cup of coffee on the couch. I appreciated the fact that I could get that housework done while he kept the kids occupied, and we all made it out the door on time for swim lessons.

My husband and I booked a 10-year anniversary trip to the Riveria Maya in June with friends of ours who are also celebrating their 10-year anniversary. The guys were each others' best men and we always have such a fun time with them reminiscing on old times and making new memories whenever we have the chance to get together. (They live in Texas now so we only get to visit once every other year or so.) I didn't want diamonds or a new kitchen to celebrate this milestone, just time alone with my better half. It's going to be heavenly and I am counting the days. (139 to be exact.)

I loved every minute of the holidays and spending time with family and friends. Now that January is almost over I'm getting excited for February because it is the month of birthday parties (my best friend's, her son, mine - 34 - eeek!, my Grandma's, my good friend from highschool, my hubby) and then Valentine's Day when I get to spoil my loves.

So yeah, we're getting back to our old routines but with lots of exciting stuff coming up. Therefore, here's to a new year of appreciating all the craziness that life throws our way!

Praying silently for Sandy Hook

My insecurities & a birthday wish for my daughter

I'm struggling lately folks. And since it's on my mind, I feel the need to write about it here. My place to type things out, to figure things out, to vent things out. I hope you don't mind that it won't be all neat and pretty. Just probably my rambling and not making much sense, but I have a feeling I'll feel a whole lot better once I get it all off my chest. A blogger I follow calls it the root of blogging: uninterrupted narcissistic rambling.

So here goes. Bear with me.

My daughter turned two yesterday. Two whole years old. My precious baby girl who just recently spent eight days in the hospital fighting pneumonia and Kawasaki disease, celebrated her second birthday with a play-date party at our house where six little friends - all boys! - and her brother, spoiled her and showered affection all over her cute little blond pigtail head. (Literally. One of the little guys just couldn't get enough of her - by the end of the morning she was practically in tears when he came near her to give kisses - it was hilarious and I have the pictures for when they're older.)

I had gingerbread sleighs for the kids to decorate with icing and candy, and wooden snowmen ornaments that they colored with crayons and markers. For lunch I made them peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, cut in a triangle to make a reindeer face (my friend's idea - I'm not that creative), complete with pretzel antlers and maraschino cherries for noses. I had hastily cut up fresh veggies that morning, which I served with Ranch dip, and I had leftover fruit salad from a brunch we had been to the day before.

Leftovers. This is where it started.

I had intended to order a pizza for us moms - the four of us could have easily polished off a medium pizza. But with all the craziness of 8 kids running around, I just didn't have the energy to deal with it. And since my husband the amateur chef had baked up to gourmet-like pizzas from scratch the night before when his parents came over to celebrate baby girl's birthday, I offered that as an alternative, not even thinking how terrible it made me look as a hostess. The salad my mother-in-law had brought over to go with the pizza had gone untouched, and so I had that to go with the pizza I served heated up from the toaster oven.

We supervised the kids eating first, then we adults took our turn. After everyone had lunch, we sang Happy Birthday to the birthday princess, and the kids ate strawberry cake that I had actually thrown in the oven an hour before when I realized I had almost forgotten to bake her cake. For us moms, there were the cupcakes my in-laws had brought over the evening before - a dozen in all - so we had six remaining and I had the moms pick one of those as dessert.

The girls all brought gifts for the birthday girl, even though I had said "please no gifts" on our casual email invitation. They are my two old roommates from college and my best friend from college who is like a sister to me. I love how our boys are such good friends and my daughter loves running around with them too. Watching our kids play brings us all such joy, I know this because we always talk about it.

I am sure that all the kids had a fantastic time and I'm sure the moms probably did too. I had a fun too. But after everyone left, and I had dropped my son off at preschool, tucked my daughter in for her nap and cleaned up after the little party, I kept thinking about my crummy hostessing skills and how I wished I had put more effort into the Mommy side of the play-date menu.

I wish I would have done a better job of de-cluttering and cleaning up in general before our guests arrived. I wish I would have made some sort of special sandwich or salad for my friends who drove a half hour or more to get to our house for the party. I wish I would have made little goodie bags for the kids. I wish I wouldn't have forgotten to offer the girls drinks during lunch.

I wish, I wish, I wish. I find myself saying those words a lot lately.

I could barely sleep last night. I know it probably sounds so ridiculous. After tossing and turning for nearly two hours I finally caved in to my sleep meds and took an Ambien so that I could get some shut-eye.

I woke up today still upset about it. Embarrassed, even. I called my mom on the drive home from dropping the kids off at daycare. I was quickly in tears and she was very sympathetic. Apparently, she said, this is something she and I both suffer from. We say or do something, or forget to do something all together that we regret very soon after, and then subsequently beat ourselves up about it for several days.

"It's a hormone thing honey," my mom explained.

Definitely a trait I wish I would not have inherited.

It's not just this incident though. Lately I've been feeling so torn. Reminded me of this post I wrote back in September about balance. I've been wondering how other moms do it all. How do they do ALL THE THINGS? And they do them SO DAMN GOOD TOO.

I just feel so inadequate sometimes.

I should be writing a post about how unreal it feels to have such a smart, beautiful, funny, independent, social, happy little girl who adores her big brother and has a passion for learning and all things art. How her perfect blond curls make me smile at the sight, especially when they're tied into those cute pigtails that fit her personality so well. She has a fierce determination to do things her way most all of the time, and does the back arching thing if you're holding her and she wants to get her way so much so that you have to put her down for fear of dropping her on her head. Her eyes are an perfect blend of blue and the lightest green. They sparkle with mischief pretty much every hour of the day. She loves bedtime the most and will never protest when we say it's time to go upstairs for bath. Strangers find it incredibly adorable that she still signs - Thank You most often, but also Milk and Please a lot - even though she is talking more and more these days. The pacifier is still one of her best buds and the dentist said it is perfectly acceptable for her to continue using it until her remaining four molars come through, since it is such a comfort to her. You hardly ever see her without her pink giraffe lovie blankie held tightly in her fist, corner knots usually being poked into her baby ears as her own soothing mechanism.

I love that I keep this bipolar blog, and also my private family one with photos and videos, as an everlasting journal of my life, my family, and my journey living with mental illness. Because I hope one day my kids will grow up and learn that their mom is trying the best she can. And even though she may compare herself to others, and she may wish she could be the perfect mom who has it all together all the time, all she'll ever be is theirs.

This will never change. Just the same as how my love for them will always be as strong as our hearts beating life through our bodies.

Except unlike hearts which will eventually stop one day, my love for them will go on forever.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Baby Girl. Mommy loves you with all her heart.

And more.

xoxo

Life changing

When your almost-2-yr old daughter is sent to the Emergency Room for suspected pneumonia and dehydration, your entire world stops.

Nothing else matters but figuring out how to make her better. How to make her stop crying from the pain.

More screams. More tears. More kisses from Mommy who was trying to make it better.

The stabs and jabs from the phlebotomist trying to get a vein to start an IV while two nurses held her down didn't help things.

Neither did my conscience telling me I should have pushed fluids more, should have taken her temperature so that I knew exactly how high her fever was. I should have just done more.

Her cries pierced my heart. Poor baby girl didn't have much fight in her since she was so sick. She was admitted to the hospital and I practically let out an audible sigh of relief. She had already been sick for three days. By the time we were wheeled up to her room on the pediatric floor, she had fallen fast asleep and I was equipped with a bag of clothes and toiletries which my husband brought from home so that I could stay with her. There was no way I was leaving her side while she was sick.

When I washed my hands, the mere smell of the medicinal hospital soap brought back memories of the previous hospital stays I had endured.

We were there for two nights and then they decided to send us home, thinking it was viral pneumonia and it would just have to run its course. So even as the fever lingered, she was deemed fully hydrated and that was good enough to send her home.

We got to spend Thanksgiving Eve and Thanksgiving Day together as a family at home. That was the silver lining. The fact that baby girl was so obviously not getting better was the dark cloud that lingered over the yummy holiday meal. She only ate two tiny bites of apple pie. And barely drank anything, as much as I tried to encourage fluids. She was lethargic and still in a great deal of pain. We were worried, to say the least.

A call to the pediatrician was made at 7pm, as awful as I felt about disrupting a holiday evening, I was much more concerned about our daughter to think twice before dialing the number I have memorized for just these situations.

We didn't get a call back for almost 30 minutes, which is twenty-five more minutes than usual for an after-hours call. A sure sign that we most likely did interrupt our pediatrician's Thanksgiving meal.

She was sympathetic and gave us instructions for the evening, asking us to follow up first thing in the morning and get her in for her ER follow-up appointment. And if things became worse overnight, we were to immediately go back to the ER.

Luckily that didn't happen, and we were all able to get a decent night's sleep. However, at her appointment the next morning we were sent back to the Emergency Room, this time for suspected appendicitis since her abdomen seemed to be the source of the pain she was in and the doc was concerned it could have ruptured.

Another day, another ER visit. In the back of my mind I was hoping it actually was the appendix. That way, they'd act fast and remove it and within a day she would feel so much better. Simple x-ray to determine if it was, surgery to get it out. Done and done, right?

Wrong.

Back in the ER she was taken for an x-ray, then ultrasound, then a CT scan to triple check. Turned out it wasn't her appendix at all, but a possible constipation issue. Now, I know my daughter better than anyone in that department given the fact that I am the one who changes 97% of all of her diapers and I must tell you - she has never had a constipation issue. Ever. But having eaten so little over the previous 6 days, I had to trust the doctor and follow her direction.

She was admitted again since her fever was still persisting and because they had not yet been able to solve the issue of her abdominal pain. Again my husband had brought me an overnight bag when he and Little Man came to visit while we were still in the ER triage room. It was kindof an unspoken thing that I would be the one to stay with her. It is blatantly apparent that she favors her Mommy right now at this stage of her life and I am soaking it all up while I can. If her teenage years are anything like mine were, she and I will fight more than we get along, and so I want to enjoy every single second of these baby years when I hear, "Mommy! Mommy!" a hundred times a day coming from my toddler's mouth, head tilted back looking up at me with outstretched arms yearning for me to pick her up.

I always pick her up.

The next morning the doctor came by our room in the early afternoon to speak with us about our daughter's case. She was a different doc from the one who had seen us earlier in the week. She took the time to review our daughter's history, starting from when she became sick up until that point. She then went over her theory on what was going on, what could be the cause of the pain and how she wanted to go about treating her. She was so thorough and detailed, we were confident that our daughter was receiving the absolute best care available.

The nurses were wonderful. They were so gentle with our baby who just cried every time someone came in to check on her. The doctor prescribed a new antibiotic, so on top of the two she was already on, there was now a third sent in via IV to try to kill the infection. We would offer sips of juice, water, or milk, but she rarely drank. The IV was keeping her nourished so we didn't need to push too hard.

The doc watched her fever. They even brought in the Pediatric Infectious Disease Physician. I liked him well enough, but when her fever spiked to 103 on our fourth day and he wanted to "wait one more day" before looking outside the initial diagnosis of pneumonia, I hit my breaking point.

I wanted to scream. I couldn't believe he could possibly say "let's wait and see" while observing my little girl in such heart-wrenching pain. Weren't doctors supposed to act when their patient is sick and even getting worse? Not sit back and wait. My blood was boiling. But I managed a weak smile back at the doctor to cover my anger.

I called my best friend, a nurse for eleven years. I called my cousin, an ER doctor. And then I called my daughter's pediatrician. My question to each of them was something my dad wanted me to ask: should we have her transferred to a better hospital? Even though I knew in the back of my mind that she was at a very good hospital and she was in the hands of extremely skilled doctors and nurses who were doing what they thought was the best course of treatment for her condition.

My pediatrician offered to call the doctor at the hospital. Just knowing that I had advocate on our side was a relief. Maybe they'd put their super duper intelligent doctor brains together and figure out exactly what to do to cure our daughter. I could only hope.

The doctor on our case spoke with our daughter's pediatrician and immediately afterwards came in the room to speak with us. I had gone home to shower and get clean clothes for the next day, so she began talking with my husband about the new plan of action. She, in combination with our daughter's pediatrician, and the pediatric cardiologist on staff, thought they should go ahead and treat her for Kawasaki disease. She had mentioned Kawasaki to us back on the day when she went over our case. It is an autoimmune disorder that sometimes arises when the body has an infection. She was watching for it and now that it had been ten days of fever and baby girl also had several other symptoms of the disease but not all the classic signs. The doc explained that there is no definitive yes or no test for Kawasaki and that as a team they decided it was in her best interest to go through the treatment because if left untreated, it could hurt her heart in the long run.

I was on my way back to the hospital when she called on my cell and began explaining the treatment. It would be a 12-hour IV bag of gamma globulin, a highly purified blood product. They would basically be infusing her with antibodies so that she could effectively fight the infection which was persisting inside of her. It was started very slowly so that if she had any kind of allergic reaction, they could stop the treatment. They would give her a dose of aspirin at the beginning, in the middle, and at the completion of the procedure since it was an inflammatory process which could cause stress on the heart. One potential risk was a coronary aneurism. The whole discussion of what would take place scared the living daylights out of me. With my cell to my ear, deep into the conversation of how things would play out, I walked into the hospital room where our daughter lay sleeping and my husband and the doctor were discussing things in person. Hanging up the phone to continue the discussion face-to-face, we were given plenty of time to ask as many questions as we needed.

Then it was go time.

First they had to put in a new IV for the IVIG treatment. The original IV they had put into her right hand had started leaking a tiny bit. So yeah, after they put a new on in her left had for the new treatment, they had to put another one in her right hand (higher up from the original spot) so they had a tube to run her antibiotics and fluids through. My kid was a ROCK STAR for the phlebotomist. Lots of crying, but that was to be expected. Poor baby isn't even two yet.

The nurse had me give baby girl the first dose of aspirin since she tended to do better taking medicine from me versus one of the nurses. She went right back to sleep and her nurse hooked up the gammaglobulin bag and started the drip. They watched the clock meticulously and were in the room every 15 minutes checking blood pressure and vitals. The process was started at 9:20pm. My husband and I stayed up until 11pm at which time I walked down the hall to the "parent sleep room" so that I could get a solid stretch of sleep since the procedure was going so well. I asked him to wake up at 4am so that he could give the next dose of aspirin.

He slept through it. I woke up at 4:15am to the sound of my daughter screaming down the hall because the nurse had just given her the second dose of aspirin. Baby's got some pipes on her.

We all were able to go back to sleep until 6:30 when I woke up since she was stirring a bit. I couldn't sleep any longer. I couldn't wait to see if the treatment worked. I sat in the rocking chair beside her bed with my computer on my lap, emailing friends and family updates on how she was doing. Luckily for me, I didn't have to wait much longer.

Around 10am our baby girl was sitting up, eating breakfast and there were actually some smiles being flashed around! I was so happy to finally have my daughter back. She started talking and I felt a rush of emotion at hearing her voice again since she had been so quiet during the week she was sick. Hearing her words again was almost like hearing her talk for the very first time.

I gave her kisses. I nuzzled her neck. She let me comb the bed head out of the back of her hair with detangler spray and a soft brush. We put on a clean hospital gown and fresh socks and walked down to the playroom to play. She chose paints, my little artist. Just like her mama.

Two days later, 48 hours after her last fever, we were going home. It was the sweet taste of freedom I tasted as I drove us home to her Daddy and big brother who were eagerly awaiting our arrival. The fresh air smelled so crisp I wanted to breathe in every last whiff of it that blew through my hair. Familiar feelings to me since these were the emotions I felt when I was released from my last two hospitalizations.

Spending a week in the hospital with your toddler really does change your perspective on life. I now can appreciate what a family goes through when their child is battling a disease or even the early stages of cancer. The not knowing what is wrong, the time spent discussing options with the doctor, the tears that fall because you want so badly to be the one who can make it all go away for your child. What we went through wasn't anything close to cancer or a highly complicated childhood disease, but it was enough for me to count our blessings. Over and over again.

Life seems to stop when you or someone you love is in the hospital.

And I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. At least it wasn't for me.

XOXO

As a mother of two

As a mother of two...

• our day starts at 7am sharp (or 5am if Mister Man decides he just can't wait until the sun is completely up to go downstairs and play - I pull him into bed with us until the sun is actually up or else I can't function).
• breakfast is usually filled with lots of urgent requests for milk, fruit, napkins, mommymommymommy!!! (Is it 8pm yet?).
• then we're either home for the morning while I try to put a few hours in of work while they watch educational children's shows (Pinky Dinky Doo, anyone?) or I drop them off at the Mom's Morning Out program up the street where they play for 3 hours.
• lunchtime is just as urgent as breakfast. Baby Girl has been demoted to sippy cups for her recent cup dumping incidents.
• three days a week the boy goes to afternoon preschool for 3 hours, so that's another 10-minute drive across town with both kids to drop him off, while on the way home I have all the windows down and the radio blasting to keep the princess from falling asleep before we get home. otherwise, her nap will be much shorter than I need it to be.
• she's in her crib by 1pm every day for her nap, which rarely goes past 2:30. if the little guy is home with me, he'll always go in his room for quiet time but if he's not asleep after 30 minutes, I let him come downstairs and play quietly. so I don't have to listen to him romp around in his room while I'm trying to work blog.
• by 4pm when we're home from preschool pick-up (thank God for car lines, sooo much easier), we're ready for Daddy to be home. Unfortunately for us, we have another two hours to kill. So we have snacks, got to the playground, or head to the library. Or, if on the off-chance I'm attempting to cook that night, the kids watch another show or play on the ipad (Toca Tea Party is AWESOME, btw) while I try to put together a meal that the whole family will actually eat.
• The hubby gets home around 6pm each night, sometimes earlier, but never later. I'm a very lucky girl in that regard, I do know this and am incredibly thankful for his family-friendly work schedule. The kids play with him for an hour, we all eat, and then do bathtime.
• After bath, we each take a kid. For a few months, our daughter only would let me put her to bed, now she's much better about giving Daddy a chance too.
• By the time 8pm rolls around, both kids are in bed and the hubby and I have our time together.
• We need to get back into working out together at night, but travel schedules lately have gotten in the way and we're too exhausted to think of putting on a 90-min P90x DVD. Maybe we'll do it again in January, but for now we're just relaxing and trying to get to bed earlier (I joined the "10pm & earlier bedtime club" this week).

I love our kids and the routine we have. This town we live in is so family-oriented and I am so grateful to live 3 minutes away from my best friend. Sometimes, like today for example, I can take a moment and sit back and take it all in and in my heart I feel one thing: content.

Except for one little notion that lingers in my mind and tugs at my uterus.

I think I want one more baby. I just don't know when.

What I do know is that right now I am content with the two beautiful babies I do have in my arms. I am content with getting a solid 7-8, or sometimes even 9 on the weekend, hours of sleep each and every day. Sometimes I can even nap on the weekends if I want. I am content in being able to work part-time from home and get paid a decent salary, while at the same time, enjoying being able to be with my kids during the day.

I don't think I'm ready for a newborn again.

Not anytime soon.

So we'll see. The gap between the Little Man and Baby Girl is 2 & 1/4 years and at the rate we're going, it would likely be a 3 year gap between the Little Miss and a new baby if we started trying soon. That would be nice, but the more I think about it, the more I think that I'd be okay with a bigger gap.

Guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Thoughts for a friend getting help

I "met" Kim of Make Mommy Go Something Something online in the months following the launch of my blog. She had several years of experience under her belt, so I reached out to her for help and she responded immediately. We began chatting over email and even talked via Facetime a few times. Kim, like me, also has bipolar disorder. But hers is Bipolar II while mine is Bipolar I, meaning her moods tend to swing to the lower end of the spectrum and mine are the opposite - I tend to have higher mood swings to the extent of becoming manic if I do not get enough sleep. We connected right away, both being young moms who enjoyed blogging about the struggles we faced with our condition, our kids, and our home life. Kim is such a cool person. So funny, smart and kind. I started joining in on her Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturdays series, a fun link-up party on her blog that she created. With this part-time job (that I should be putting hours into right now, but I'm blogging instead - much more imortant right now than work, imo), I've lost touch with my friend. And I miss her.

She's going through a lot right now. I know exactly what she's going through and it's gut-wrenching.

Reading that she recently entered the hospital to get help for the deep depression, suicidal thoughts, and anxiety she's been battling of late takes me back to my last two hospitalizations. My heart breaks for her, but at the same time, I'm so incredibly proud of her for seeking the help that she knows in her own heart that she needs to get well. To be there for her husband and son. To feel human again.

I was there too. Those times were the lowest lows of my life. I missed out on almost two full week's of my son's life because I was so sick I needed medical intervention to bring me back to reality. And although I may not have wanted to go at the time, being forced into going to the hospital was just what I needed to re-start my life.

I got do-overs. I learned how to take care of myself so that I hopefully won't have to go back to the hospital again. But, in the end, if I do have to go back at some point, I know from experience that it's not the end of the world. It's so that I can get well. And getting well and staying well are the most important things when you're living with a mental illness.

Kim will get there. She's getting her do-over right now. And I know in time she'll be well because she's doing what she needs to do, however hard it might be right now.

She inspires me. Not only her writing, but her personality and her sheer determination. She's a true warrior.

Get well, my friend. Miss you and thinking of you every day. Sending love and hugs via the interwebs.

xoxo

Life and the sweetest moments in photos

My husband and I just got back from a five-day trip to sunny California to see one of my childhood friends get married. My mom and dad agreed to stay with the kids so we could have a nice, relaxing trip. A chance to recharge our batteries, so to speak.

It was so incredible. Being able to do what we wanted and not have to worry about the kids was so nice. It took me back to our first five years of marriage. Plus, we got to hang out with my best friends at the same time as a bonus. The weather was amazing - bright sunshine and perfectly warm days followed by crisp evenings with a slight nip in the air.

I thought about the kids, don't get me wrong. My parents texted pictures of the kids so we wouldn't miss them too much. But the moment I saw my mom's number pop up on my phone as we were sitting out by the pool having cocktails before dinner the second night, I knew something was wrong. They had to bring her in to Urgent Care because when my mom was lifting her out of the bathtub, the little princess felt she needed to exert her authority by sitting down as my mom was pulling her up by her hands. My immediate thought was that her shoulder popped out of the socket. But the doctor determined it was her elbow and after reviewing the x-rays, the little lady turned out to be just fine.

Her mom on the other hand, was a little shook up. But I knew she was in good hands with her Grandma and Poppy. After finding out everything was fine and her arm was doing much better the next day, I was able to relax for the remainder of the trip and enjoy the time with my friends and hubby. We did sightseeing in Los Angeles (saw Rodeo Drive!), went out to eat at some trendy restaurants, and witnessed our friends tie the knot on a gorgeous ranch property overlooking Malibu beach. Dinner and dancing followed and we took tons of photos, so as to capture the perfection of the day in frames that we could cherish forever.

On the flight home I started to feel melancholy. I love the times I have with my friends, but I get so choked up when I sit down and think about how little time I actually get to spend with them each year. We all have families and careers and other responsibilities that seem to fill up our calendars so that when we do all eventually get together, we usually start planning our next get-together. One of my friends coined it our own special "bucket list" of things we want to do together. On the list so far is a camping trip, a sailing trip, and the wedding of the last of the six of us to get married.

Then I get home late Sunday night and the next morning I start feeling anxious and teary. I couldn't put my finger on it as to why, other than I had read an excerpt from a book of a woman who had lost her husband in the 9/11 attacks and it made me so scared and sad. I've always been afraid of death, afraid of whether I've done enough in my life before I die. It didn't help that my mom joked that she doesn't think she'll be around for her granddaughter's wedding (she'd be in her 80's).

I'm even more scared of losing someone I love, than I am of actually dying myself. The only people who I've lost who I was close to were my dad's two college friends and I didn't have day-to-day contact with them, just lots of memories from growing up. I worry about what will happen to me when my Grandma passes, or if I ever lost a close friend. I don't know if I could handle the hurt.

For now I am thankful to have an appointment with my therapist tonight. I'm going to discuss this all with her to see what she thinks. I'm sure she'll have some ideas for me on how to cope. In the meantime, I'm looking back over all the pictures we took this past weekend and am smiling at the memories with friends whom I love dearly.

4 years ago he changed my life forever

I'll never forget the moment I became a mom. 

Even though I was manic beyond belief by the time I finally got to hold him for the first time and for the entire four weeks following his birth, I still somehow knew how incredibly different my life was going to be now that he had arrived.

He made me want to be a better person. He gave my life purpose. He made us a family. He made my heart explode with love every time I held him to my chest.

Little Man, your Mama loves you more than anything in the whole world.

Over these past four years you have become such an inquisitive fire-cracker of a preschooler who challenges me to the core each and every day.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Your laugh makes me smile and within seconds I am laughing right along with you.

Your energy keeps me motivated to run along with you.

Your eyelashes make me so incredibly jealous.

I love the way you protect and love on your baby sister.

I get goosebumps when I see how happy you are when you're in the water. You are such a fish.

You are so passionate about fire trucks and fire fighters that I wouldn't be surprised at all if you become one someday.

Having you in my life is one of the most magical miracles I have ever experienced.

Singing you Twinkle, Twinkle every night these past four years is my favorite way to end the day.

In one hour you turn four.

Happy 4th Birthday, Little Man. I love you to the moon and back.

Love,

Mommy

xoxo

An honest letter to my babies {2}

Dear Mister Man and Sweet Pea,

The past few weeks have been filled with a bunch of new changes. With the change of seasons comes changes in schedules, and it always stresses me out even though it really shouldn't.

Last week was really rough. First off, you both had croup so it made for an extremely long week of lots of tears, moping around and general whining about not feeling good and being stuck in the house. It wore me out to the core. So much so, that I practically forgot your Grandma's birthday.

Luckily for you, Mister Man, although you had to skip your "Meet the Teachers" day at school, you were well enough to start school on time and last Friday was your first day. You ROCKED it. And I was very impressed with myself for not crying.

You made me so proud when your sister and I walked you into your new classroom and you gave me a quick hug goodbye, walked right up to your new teacher, smiled and jumped right into your day with your classmates. It went so smoothly.

When we picked you up later in the afternoon and I asked you to tell me all about your day on the way home, you got annoyed easily with me because I was asking for too many details. Whenever you get that scrunched up tight-lipped smile and cross your arms, I know you're overtired. I was worried about it because you do still nap sometimes, but the afternoon program was the only spot that we were offered since it is such a popular, well-regarded program in our area.

I've been having some mommy-guilt. I feel like I've been missing out on things lately because I'm trying to juggle this part-time job and also be totally present with you two. There were times last week when I would need to put in an hour or two in the morning and Sweet Pea you would come toddling over to me with a sad smile because you knew I couldn't play at that moment. You'd tug at my hand as if the weight of your little body could pull me out of my chair and into the family room where you had some blocks sitting in a pile ready to build a tower.

It was breaking my heart. I wanted so badly in that moment to just ignore my work emails that were waiting in my inbox to be answered so that I could take your hand and walk over and build tower after tower until we went on to the next toy or book or puzzle. Sometimes I am torn up inside because your brother had that from me and you aren't getting that undivided attention from your mommy because I have to split my time between work, your brother, housework, errands, and your daddy who I feel as if I don't get enough time with either.

But I need to stop thinking like the pessimest that I am and start thinking about the many blessings that we have.

We live in a beautiful house, eat nutritious food every day, have wonderful friends and family around us, and I get to see you both throughout the day, every day.

I love that you said you missed me today, Mister Man, when we were driving in the car. You said you missed me when you were at preschool the other day. I missed you too, bud. But the best thing about being a stay-at-home-mom with a part-time, work-from-home-job is that I get to pick you up from school every. single. day.

And I wouldn't trade that for the world. I'm going to make the most of the hours and minutes we do have together, when I'm not putting in the work hours.

Sweet Pea, you are amazing me more and more these days. You are constantly wanting to do exactly what your big brother is doing, whether that be climbing the big ladder at the playground or climbing the bar stool in our kitchen to have breakfast in the morning. And when I decided three days ago to add a Mom's Morning Out for you and your brother on Mondays and Wednesdays to your busy schedules, you didn't blink an eye. I dropped you both off and I barely got a hug and kiss goodbye before you ran into the room to meet your new teacher and friends. You started playing immediately and I headed home to work for three hours, uninterrupted.

Uninterrupted, if you don't count the couple of times that I stopped what I was doing to wonder exactly what you two were doing at that moment. Were you coloring or playing dress-up? Maybe play-doh or enjoying snack time with your new friends?

Again, I was so proud when I picked you two up and your teachers said you did so well and they loved having you in class.

I know I'm packing your schedule with Mom's Morning Out, preschool in the afternoon, and a swim class for each of you, and I sometimes worry that it's too much. We'll see how September goes and will make changes in October if we need to. But I know in my heart that you love all the activity. You both are so social and outgoing and it makes me so incredibly happy to see you making friends and playing and learning every day.

Your little hearts are so open to new things, meeting new people and learning about the world.

Stay that way always, my loves.

The seasons are changing, and there are so many good times ahead.

All my love and hugs,

Mommy

xoxoxo

Balance and lack there of

Wow. What a week it's been. Lately I find myself wondering: why it is so hard to balance the various curveballs and uppercuts life throws at us? Why can't I just magically make everything WORK? Speaking of work. That is something I did very little of this week. But I'll get to that.

Little man came down with a fever on Monday morning which landed us in Urgent Care that evening at 9:30pm when he could barely catch his breath. He slept okay after a nebulizer treatment and some Children's Motrin, but by the next afternoon he sounded like Darth Vader so we ran over to the pediatrician to find out he had croup, which I had suspected by that point. The doc put him on an oral steroid to keep his airway from swelling shut.

It worked really well. By Wednesday morning he was much better, but Baby girl had contracted his lovely virus. Luckily (I thought at the time) her airway sounded fine and I thought she'd escape with just a cold.

Yeah. Not so much.

She had a fever off and on all day yesterday and her breathing started sounding worse and worse. Last night I had my husband stop at Target on his way home from work to buy a new humidifier and she slept fine with it running to steam up her small room. But I knew right when I picked her up this morning that she needed that same med that the doc gave her brother. I didn't even bother to take a shower. Instead I threw on clothes, brushed my teeth and asked my husband to stay home with our son while I rushed her over to the pediatrician (so thankful to live within 3 minutes driving distance from the office and for their established patient walk-in sick hours from 7:30-8:30am).

There was a line 8 patients long by the time I arrived at the office at 7:30. A kind mother in front of us who heard my daughter's Darth Vader breathing let us go ahead of her and her son.

We didn't have to wait long at all, which was such a blessing. And all the excess activity in the waiting room actually distracted baby girl, so that was helpful.

The P.A. took a quick look at her and put her on the same med just in a liquid form. They even gave her the first dose (along with a dose of Children's Motrin) in the office to get her feeling better ASAP.

We headed home to give her breakfast. Hubby left for work. Little Man was still in jammies. At least he was eating, that was a start.

I gave her a breathing treatment after she ate while the kids watched an episode of Super Why. Then it was upstairs for mommy to have a quick shower before we rushed out the door again.

We had to drop off her prescription at the pharmacy and luckily there was a Starbucks in the strip mall because my head was about to start throbbing from my lack of my usual 2 cups. Then we hit the barber so that Little Man could get a haircut before his big first day of preschool.

After that we had plenty of time to make it to my eye doctor appointment across town. The kids were amazingly well-behaved while we waited the extra 15 minutes before the doctor was ready to see me to check if the trial lenses she had set me up with were working (they weren't). She said she'd order me a new pair to try and sent us on our way.

Back home we ate lunch and got Little Man ready for school. Baby Girl was jealous of his new backpack, so I found his old butterfly backpack which satisfied her for a little while when I told her she could pick out some toys to stuff in it. We got his snack together to take to school and took some pictures (okay, a lot of pictures) at the front door before hitting the road for what felt like the tenth time today. At this point, Baby Girl is starting to tear up at the mere sight of the car.

Drop off at his new preschool went so well! The only thing that is tough about it is the timing - he starts school at 12:45, which is usually the time his sister is napping. So I'm hoping over the next couple of weeks she'll get used to napping later. For now, she fell asleep on the way to school, woke up when we had to get out and walk him to his classroom, and was up on the drive home. I prayed she would go back to sleep in her crib once we got home. Little Man was so excited and jumped right into meeting his teachers and new friends. It was really cute.

Now if I could have just let her sleep until I had to pick him up, it wouldn't have been that bad. But, of course that's not what happened today. She was asleep in her crib from 1pm while I worked, until I realized I had my psychiatrist appointment at 2pm (thankfully, she's in the same building at the pedi) so I let her sleep until the very last minute I could and we made it to the appointment on time.

All the running around today was not very conducive to Baby Girl resting to kick this damn croup.

We were back home from 2:45pm (when I gave her a dose of Children's Tylenol because she was so uncomfortable) until we had to leave to pick up her brother at 3:30. Thank heavens for carline pickup!! Seriously, it's so convenient. Five cars line up at a time, the teachers walk those 5 kids (radioed from the Directors whose parents were there to get them) to their parent's cars. Baby Girl got to snooze on. Little Man had such a fun day, but got annoyed with me that I kept asking him to tell me more. He gets such an attitude sometimes when he skips his nap, but we could only get PM preschool, so he'll have to just make up for those M/W/F naps on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

I treated the kids to McDonald's strawberry milkshakes for the rough day we had.

The worst part about this crazy, hectic, so-over-my-kids-being-sick-and-cranky day? I completely forgot to call my mom and wish her a happy birthday.

I suck.

My phone rang at 6:58pm and when it was my Dad on the caller ID I didn't even think of it then. Not until I answered and heard my mom's voice instead.

"Hi honey! How was your day? Little Man feeling better?" she asked, cheerily.

"Okay. Yeah, he's better, but I was at the pedia-OH MY GOSH! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I AM SOOOO SORRY, MOM!!!"

My heart sank. I wanted to cry, but instead spewed off all the things we did today only to feel even worse that I was making excuses for why I almost forgot.

Oh, and her card is also running a day late. Daughter-of-the-year over here.

I'm so sorry Mom. Please know that I'm still trying to figure out how to balance it all.

I know that things will never be perfectly aligned, that there will always be kids that get sick, work hours to put in, a house to clean, etc, etc. I just hope that I don't ever potentially  forget another birthday in the future. (I like to think that I would have realized my mistake tonight after the kids were in bed, so let's just give me the benefit of the doubt to make me feel a smidge better, okay?)

I love you to pieces and can't wait for our beach trip in November where you'll have a luxurious, relaxing facial at the spa to enjoy as your birthday gift from me. Thank you for being my mom. You mean the world to me.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

xoxo