Why…

I hear “why” a lot.  Mostly from Bug.  It’s generally never a why like “why is the sky blue mama?”  No his why’s are all weirdly specific and complicated things.  Like “why did they paint that house blue?”  Short of walking up to the door of said house and asking the people living there the reason for their color choice I have no way to answer that question.  Of course this isn’t acceptable to Bug.  No if I try and tell him they choose that color because they liked it he’ll continue down the why road.  “Why do they like the color?”  “Why don’t they like another color?”  “Why that blue?”  Begging doesn’t stop this incoming cross examination.  Crying only makes him ask why you’re banging your head into the wall.  I mean, the kid is smart and he looks for loop holes in everything and he must have every last tiny detail of whatever has caught his fancy, but I may be the first mom who can’t wait for her kid to realize she’s not as smart as he thinks.

 

I do envy him though.  I’d love to be able to just keep saying why to get answers to questions that drive me batty.  Like, why is it when I finally sit down to eat my lunch my work phone and personal phone blow up?  And for the record, my personal phone is used a lot for work which means I can’t just ignore it.  Or why can I find the one small patch of mud in a parking lot, step in it and have it splash all over my pants leg?

 

Or why can’t I beat the first frigging boss in my video game when I’ve conquered far harder tasks in the video game world without breaking a sweat?  And please, why for the love of whatever God you believe in, can I download a book to my Kindle, read it a few times only to open it up again to find the smallest type setting is now large enough for  a person with limited sight to see every word?

 

I’d also love to know why my son never moves at a slower speed than coked up long distance runner until he’s right in front of me and I’m carrying his sister a bag, a purse and a coffee mug.  Oh, and how is it someone can know me for years and totally miss my addiction to coffee?  It’s not like I hide it.  I almost groan with joy with the first sip each morning and the first thing I do when walking into the office is switch the coffee pot on, which was prepared before I left the day before because I do not have time, patience or the ability for upper level thought to make it in the morning.

 

Why does the baby want to sleep later than the 4 year old?  And why does the 4 year old require me to wake up and speak with him?

 

Why can’t little elves break into my house and do my laundry while I sleep?

 

Why can’t I stop eating this 3lb bag of Hersey’s Candy Cane Kisses?

 

So, I envy Kyle and his complete lack of worry as he asks whatever why that pops into his head.  Because he refuses to accept a non answer to his machine gun fire why’s he always gets an answer of some sort.  I, on the other hand, have to just keep wondering why a size L from one store fits just fine while a L from another store fits as if it were made for pygmies .

 

And why the hell I just told the interworld my clothing size.

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Sometimes you don’t even know you need it.

It’s been almost a year since I went back to work after my maternity leave.  I know this because Ivy has just turned a year old.  I spent three weeks doing my job then got farmed out to a clinic.  Just as I was seeing the light at the end of the clinic time the manager at another clinic quit so once again I was still not going back to my job.

My time at that clinic began to seem like this never ending series of odd happenings.  No one to hire, then an internal person, but to move her someone had to be hired to replace her.  That person then taking longer than needed to train.  Then, just after things seemed to settle we lost our Jamie, and I was back in the car driving through the city to get to work, only this time I knew I wanted to put myself out there.

Then another person taking the job and then just not showing up. Well all of these things and the five months I’d already spent at that clinic, cleaning it, organizing it, caring for the patients, getting to know so many of them and them getting used to me.  The providers getting used to me and our routines, then figuring out I actually loved being there and I would miss it lead to a talk where I told the doc who owns the clinics if he would find someone to take later parts of the hours so I didn’t work 45 hours a week and seeing my kids lead to me getting, well I suppose it was a promotion(?) and a new chair.  The chair is something everyone who walks into my (!) clinic must sit in.  It’s legendary mostly because I’d only had to ask for it once and got it with out a blink.

Turns out, I didn’t even know I needed to do what I’m doing now.  Is it stressful?  Yes.  Are the hours long?  Sure.  Does the fact that I’m in charge of a clinic, that all the problems (and yes the joys) are on my head and my head alone scare the living daylights out of me?  Many days.  But going into work and solving these problems, seeing and hearing people when I’ve helped them is a joy.  I get embarrassed when I’m thanked because I’ve done what I see as the right thing, or just flat out my job.

I’ve been told the clinic now has my vibe, homey, welcoming and fun and a little quirky.  The providers all like me and enjoy working with me.  They know I care about their patients and will always work to do what I can to make sure their care is the best they can get.  Even the doc who is known as a bit, erm, fussy.  We joke, he teases.  He thanks and he trusts me.

I’ve also learned some very important things.  After Jamie died I saw without a doubt that the people I work with and for really are a family.  We pulled together, helped each other and put ourselves out to each other to hug, talk and support each other.  After the last several months I know, without a doubt, I work with a group of people that will, without stopping to even think, step up when the people they work with need it.

I would be missed if I left.  I am appreciated and liked by the people around me.   They also know I would miss them if they left.  That I would step up for them and their patients.  If I get a funny feeling, I step up and I get them.  If there is a problem, I solve it and I’m thanked for it.  A person can look for their whole lives and never find the satisfaction at their jobs I have.   It’s a drive, it’s stressful, there is a lot of work and a lot of responsibility on my shoulders but the satisfaction at the end of my day when I know that for at least one person I’ve made a difference is well worth it.  Even when Bug tells me to let dad help people so I can stay home and play with trains.

Me and ADHD, or My ADD. Whichever you prefer.

While discussing options for Kyle and his ADHD with on of the docs I work with he mentioned that ADD/ADHD runs in family groups.  Well, I was sure I didn’t have it, despite some questions on my part, because surely someone would have said something to me.  And I know Jason doesn’t have it so I was stumped and figured Kyle was a one off.  Not so much.

 

I told my mom about what the doc had said to me and she casually, like it was nothing, told me that, yep, I’d been tested and I had it.  “But a low level of it, so it really shouldn’t be an issue.”  Well, knock me over with an acronym.  When I began telling friends and co-workers about it their reaction was “no shit.”  My primary doctor figured I knew and never brought it up because it wasn’t causing issues.  Well, ok then.  

 

Looking back it explains a lot.  Like why I had trouble focusing on details, how I didn’t manage to finish college or how despite how smart people kept telling me I was I struggled with school.  I have a hard time focusing on my work and would find my self frequently needing a distraction.  I would get a great idea on a story and not be able to finish it.  Hell this blog.  I started it and update it only once in a blue moon.  

 

I’m going to be going back to school in the fall and realized if I wanted to succeed in not only obtaining my Bachelor’s much less a Master’s I would need to address it.  So, I talked with the docs I worked with and then went to my primary care doc and began with Ritalin.  To say I noticed a difference would be an understatement.  I’d never say I was a bad employee who didn’t get her work done but now I can see and react to situations further out, I’m able to recall important details quickly and balance the demands of managing an office with far more ease.  Low level or not it was impacting my life in far more ways than I realized.  

 

It’s more important to me now that we help Kyle with his ADHD, give him the tools and knowledge he’ll need to cope and figure out what works for him.  He has so much in him, creativity, fun, mechanical skills and joy I don’t want to see it compromised because he cannot work in a group setting.  I don’t want him as socially isolated as I was, as unable to cope as I was or as confused as I was.  

 

Every good parent wants better for their child than they had.  The better depends on the parents idea of what that is of course, and what better I want for my son is reaching the goals he wants to whatever they may be.

When I think about you I punish myself.

Last night I finally had time to go to the gym for the first time since I was put on restriction with Ivy and since my membership began being charged again.  I was pleasantly surprised with myself.  2.1 miles in 30 minutes on the elliptical is not far off my normal mark.  Tomorrow I am going to go to the yoga class.

 

See, I’ve never liked working out.  Sweating and breathing heavy does not make me feel endorphin’s or whatever else those work out nuts feel.   Jason has said a few times that he knows how much I enjoy my work outs, no I just enjoy not having to grease doors to fit through them.

 

That’s not to say I don’t look forward someday’s to my work out.  When I’ve been stressed and the irritation and urge to maim burn deep hitting the gym really does help.  Instead of venting on those around me I punish myself.  That cookie?  10 minutes of running!  A whole cheeseburger?  Girl get your ass into the pool and swim extra laps!  Finally had it with having to send back charges for correction?  Yoga baby yoga!

 

That’s my secret to staying with my work out.  My motivation is a sort of self punishment system.  Really, I’m my own personal trainer.

I admit it, I like it when you do manual labor.

As some of you may be aware, or as most of you are about to find out, I’m a member of the MOPS group at my church.  MOPS meaning Mothers of Preschooler’s.  As by member I mean I just joined the steering committee.    And yes, I do belong to a church and we do attend.

 

I bring this up because this last meeting was about the 5 Languages of Love.  In case you haven’t heard of it, the 4 Languages of Love is the idea that each of us has different ways we express love to those around us.  Some people like gifts, others physical touch.  Some people like compliments or quality time.  Or you could be like me.  You like people showing you love with manual labor.
Ok, not manual labor but as we watched a bit of a video about how we show others love or how they show us love I heard the angels sing and there was a light flowing into the room.  That might not have happened, but at one pointed the speaker said “If you wonder what your love language is think about what upsets you most.”  I realized that my love language isn’t presents or being kissed or held (though that is nice), it’s when people do things for me.  And in this house it’s picking up.

 

I realize that we all have different things we may or may not be ok living with, clean wise, but to be blunt, clutter makes me insane.  When I was on strict bed rest the hardest thing for me wasn’t the staying in bed and not playing with Bug, although that was very, very hard.  The hard part for me was when I had my few moments I could get up and go into the kitchen to get something to eat or drink was walking past the clutter.  I didn’t even lie on the couch like I was allowed because I knew seeing Bug’s toys all over would drive me up a wall.

 

I also realize that Jason has extremely different ideas of what is and isn’t clutter.  I’ve really worked hard to come to terms with the fact that things cannot be as tidy and organized as I’d love them to be because, frankly, this is his home too and he needs to be able to enjoy it without feeling like I’m going to go crazy white girl if there is something on the floor.

 

Knowing that I perceive my value to him by how he picks up after himself or cleans his bathroom  makes me more aware of how my husband does try and tell me he loves and values me.  I admit tonight it didn’t stop me from wanting write up a check list for how the kitchen is actually cleaned.  It did; however, stop me from actually doing it.

 

I’ve asked him to sit down and take the quiz too.  I actually don’t know what his love language actually is and I know if I guessed I’d get it wrong.  Besides, I don’t want to guess, I want to know what it is so that I can use it to tell him how much he means to me.

And Mouse makes four.

My doctor called an end to the game of chicken with my blood pressure at week 37.  This meant that Mouse would be full term and hopefully avoid my BP blowing while in labor and delivery again.   So that meant I was scheduled to be induces on Wednesday November 9th.  Dr. Suk told me to be at the hospital by 7am that morning.

Knowing what I know now I would have insisted that we stop at McDonald’s and get the the largest breakfast I could get my swollen hands on.

I got suited up in the hospital johnny and into bed while Jason put my things away and scoped out the comfy chair.  Dr. Suk arrived and decided my BP was low enough that I could walk so she decided to break my water.  After messing around for a few moments and testing my ability to not slap her when she’s causing me pain, Suk wasn’t sure she’d gotten the job done so she ordered the Pitocin.

They got the IV started and after spending the better part of 2 months doing not much of anything I wanted to get up and walk so my nurse hooked me up to the portable monitors and Jason and I did out laps in the hallway.  Being who he is he timed my laps and was impressed with my split times.  Labor started slow and I was actually impressed with how I was doing and enjoying a far different labor than with Kyle.  I could speak and move without vomiting.  I even labored in the tub for a while.

During our walk we noticed something very important.  The room I was given was the same room I had Bug in which was really odd because we passed more than a few empty rooms on the way down.  It would be tempting to have another baby just to see if I got the same room again.  Jason doesn’t think that’s funny.

It really wasn’t until mid-afternoon when I was starting to wonder if this was going to go as we’d planned and Ivy would be born by dinner time.  It turns out she decided she wouldn’t make her debut until breakfast the next day.

I’d get into a pattern of really great and strong contractions and then it would fall apart and there just wasn’t much pressure on my cervix to open it up.  By 10pm Suk  was ready to call it and have an OB come in for a c-section.  By then labor had gone on for 13 hours and I wasn’t going past a 4.  Of course now when the OB checked I’d progressed to a 5.

My doctor decided to let me labor another two hours and see if I got any further.  If not, c-section.  If I did we’d let it go on.  Well I did progress, but, of course, I didn’t get too far.  Just far enough that she didn’t want to go to a c-section but not far enough for me to feel like the end was anywhere near.  That’s when I had my first break down.  I was getting no where fast and I knew I’d still have to actually push.  I also hadn’t eaten since 5:30 am the now previous day and because a c-section was looming I was also not allowed even ice chips anymore.

I napped on and off, rolled over when the nurse came in to help and had to have my epidural upped once.  My Pitocan was being adjusted on a regular basis to keep me contracting harder in the hopes Mouse’s head would finally drop more and put more pressure on my cervix.

It took another eight and a half hours and by that time I was beyond tired, frustrated, hungry and mentally exhausted.  I finally had it, I broke down sobbing and pretty much told Suk I was done with labor.   I had decided either I was going to push this baby out or she was calling the OB to do a c-section if I wasn’t fully dilated.     Jason was sure I wasn’t going to have enough in me to push.  I was pretty sure he was right but I was at a 10 so I had to at least try.

Somehow I managed, after 21 hours of labor, almost 24 hours in the hospital and 23 hours since eating, to push.  In between pushes I napped and 45 minutes, just past 24 hours after I was admitted Ivy was born.

When the nurses went to weigh her they realized that she wasn’t breathing.  I wasn’t sure how serious it was until my doctor left me in the hands of the floor resident and she began to do chest compressions on my daughter.  Then I heard them call for a crash cart.  There were people flooding into the room, including the NICU doctor and they were all around my daughter with looks of concern on their faces.  All I could do was hold Jason’s hand squeeze.

I don’t know that I breathed until I heard a nurse say “I got it.”  And I didn’t move until I saw my doctors face.  She’s a damn good poker player in a lot of ways but once I saw the relief on her face I knew that, while Ivy might be sick, she wasn’t in danger anymore.

They bundled her up and put her in my arms and Jason and I spent time saying hello to her before they took her to the NICU.

It seemed like forever before the doctor came back but the news was fantastic.  Ivy was pink and breathing.  Her vitals were great and unless there was a problem she was only going to stay in NICU for 8 hours.

I, on the other hand, was not doing well.  I wasn’t able to keep any thing down and when I got out of bed I came extremely close to passing out and also ended up with an emergency team in the room.  I was put back into bed and slept.

A few hours later I was ok enough to have an aid take me to NICU to see my  baby girl who was doing fantastic and she was with me in my room again by dinner.

When she’s 16 and I tell her she can’t have the car I’m going to make her read this.

Next up the TARDIS

Like most kids his age Bug likes to try to get out of going to sleep by asking to go potty, for a drink or a  story.  He’s getting somewhat creative in his requests though.  Like the night he kept bobbing and weaving his way around Geekdad finally crawling into my lap to announce he could not go to sleep because he had to “Watch The Doctor with mama”.

 

Yes, at the time I was watching Doctor Who.  He did sit and watch it with me.  The best part?  He knows Chris, David and Matt are all The Doctor.  Just the other night Geekdad was on the desk top and was reading something.  Bug went around the corner and I heard him say “That’s The Doctor!”.  Geekdad asked him if I’d put him up to it.

 

I think as a parent we all enjoy it when our kids show interest in our interests.  It’s something we can share and enjoy together.  Geekdad and Bug watch a lot of sports together and Bug seems to really be starting to like football.  He also watches daddy play Batman on the Xbox 360 and he now loves Batman, or so he tells me.

 

We all know we pass our genetics on to our kids.  Just watching Bug I can see a lot of his dad and me in him but he doesn’t choose those things.  He’s choosing to ask to watch sports with his daddy or to Star Wars with us.  It’s the start of a child showing something  beyond the parroted please and thank yous are sinking in.  We are shaping this tiny person for better or worse.

 

By Christmas I hope I can get him to say Time And Relative Dimensions In Space.