Monday, April 25, 2011

It's a Monday

Today, I sported my flip flops. ALL DAY. It was only after I got off, and finished my dentist appointment, and was headed to my sister's to pick up a weed eater with the hubs that I realized... They didn't match.

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Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Um, hello?

Dear maker of Moose Tracks ice cream,

You are a current favorite. That is a very coveted position, you should know. However, I feel I must inform you that you may soon no longer be invited to the party in my freezer.

It is not acceptable to have only 2 peanut butter cups in one night's serving, and 6 in the next night's. Same number of scoops. Should mean the same number of yummy peanut butter filled bits of chocolate goodness.

I'm nearing the end of this carton, and if your performance does not impress me, it's back to my good friends B&J.

Consider yourself warned.

Monday, April 18, 2011

It's time

I've made a little bit of a mention of some of our recent events.

From my upswing from my last anxiety attack, to a seizure Ansley had just a few weeks ago. Things are starting to fall back into place. I think.

I can't fully explain what I experienced with that text message from Paul. Before you get all "He told you over a text message that your daughter was in the ER" hate on, that's not what happened.

I was teaching. About 45 minutes from home. Paul had a meeting for work, and was unable to find a baby sitter, so he took Ansley in for the meeting with him.

While teaching, I got a message from Paul. It said "Call me when you can." Doesn't seem like much of a big deal. But, in fact, it was. Because that is unlike any message he has ever sent. Normally, the messages say "Call when you get a chance." Seems like the same thing, but I knew there was something different about this message.

When we decided  Paul got rid of his blackberry, he went back to a super old phone. I'm talking, the first one he got after we got married- 5 years ago. No camera, no color screen, and really, REALLY bad reception. So bad that when we are talking, I kinda just make up his end of the conversation because I have no idea what he is saying.

So, picture me as I walk down the hall of the middle school with kids saying "Bye sex lady!" (my students love me, what can I say) It is probably important to note here to the new readers that I'm actually a risk avoidance educator, and we do talk about avoiding risks- alcohol, drugs, and sex before marriage. My students lovingly refer to me as "sex lady."


Anywho, I'm walking down the hall trying to get all the information together that Paul is giving me. I manage to  understand that he is telling me that he is at the ER with Ansley because she had a seizure during his meeting. And, I freeze. I literally felt like my brain stopped communicating with my body. My legs wouldn't move even though I knew that's what had to happen if I was going to even get more information.

I stood there, at the middle school bathroom, while the world continued to blaze around me. Stoic. Unmoving. And I didn't know what to do.

A parent never feels as worthless as when their child needs them, and there isn't a thing they can do to get there in time.  My parents have never let me down. When I nearly lost a finger, they drove over an hour to get to the hospital, just to arrive as I was being discharged. When I was in labor, and they were half a country away, they skipped had someone pick them up at another airport 2 hours outside of where they were to fly in because their flight was canceled. And they came straight to the hospital. Even though they couldn't get in to see Ansley.

And several times, just in Ansley's short life, I haven't been there with her when I felt like she needed me the most.

Even if I had left straight away from where I was and headed to the hospital, they would have already been on their way home.

I got home to a confused little girl, in socked feet, a ponytail, and just about the cutest hospital gown I have ever seen. But, it was obvious that something was off.

She stumbled. Words that she used on a regular basis she couldn't come up with. When Nana and Poppa came over, that usual toothy grin didn't spread across her face. My little piggy didn't want to eat.

As happy as I was to see her and have her home, the mommy cat kicked in, and I was sure that the doctors had not checked her well enough. In my mind, all those scans should have been in order. Check her brain, her blood, her heart, anything. Just make sure she's ok.

The hubs informed me that the docs were not concerned about the event. They figured she just spiked a fever quickly and it caused the seizure.  But that wasn't good enough for me. Before I even saw her, I had made an appointment with her doctor for the next day. I wanted answers.

Turns out, those were the answers. Her lungs sounded good. Her heart sounded fine. Her ears looked good. Her temperature was normal. And she was back to herself. And I still don't know why.

Apparently, this happens more commonly than people think. But I can assure you, it didn't say that in any of the books I read. It said what to do in the event that a child have a seizure, but it didn't say anything about them being "common." Ultimately, it was determined that she had a cold that turned into an upper respiratory infection that cause the fever to spike quickly.

And, that's that. But, here we are, several weeks out, and I'm still checking her temperature. Regularly. Not with the thermometer. At least, not every time.

The hubs has admitted that he debated not telling me at all, because he knew how I would respond. I tell him that it is much better for him to have told me than for me to have found the bill from the ER in the mailbox.

Every day is a new day. One thing about being the first of your friends to have kids means that you get to experience everything first. The first NICU stay. The first bloody nose. The first serious boo-boo. The first ER trip. Maybe one day, I'll be able to comfort one of my friends if they experience this. But I just hate that I had to be the first to feel like a total failure as a parent.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Every day is an adventure

Each and every day brings something new, even when I'm doing the same things every day.

Wake up, work, play, dinner, bath, bed, clean-up and bed for me.

Every once and a while I can squeeze in a little something extra.

Like tonight. It only took 2 attempts to put Ansley to bed. So, what does that mean? Well, I've cleaned up, took the pups out and I've managed to find some time to sit down at the computer and pound out a post while enjoying some chocolate chips cookies and a glass of milk.

Today I enjoyed some girl time with some very dear girl friends I don't get to spend nearly enough time with.  It surprises me that despite being so shy normally, Ansley just seemed to open up tonight. She was playing with the girls, and, a total shock to me, she gave them all hugs when we left!

It's crazy to see how much of her own person she is becoming, even at the ripe ol' age of 19 months. She likes having tea parties. And pushing around her doll stroller. And though an actual conversation is still a little while away, she will answer yes or no questions. Now, most of the time, the answer is no, but she's just being honest. She doesn't want her diaper changed and she isn't ready for bed.

Ah, bed. It seems that is new every few weeks. She got back to sleeping about 12 hours without waking up. What a dream. But then, after a little scare we had a few weeks ago that I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about (not a baby scare, as in "like, I'm scared I may be pregnant" but an "OMG my daughter is having a seizure" kinda scare), she was back to waking around 4 a.m. and sleeping in our bed.

But, the past two nights (and I know I'm asking for it by talking about it), she slept ALL NIGHT in her bed WITHOUT waking up.  It was blessed.

I know this wasn't a colorful post. Not funny, or witty. But sometimes, I just have to detox. Like I need to go do with my feet. Flats? No socks? Stinky feet.

Monday, April 11, 2011

9:52- Rascal knocks baby gate over. Mommy cringes, waiting for the cry from the hall...

Seal knew what he was talking about. Time keeps on slippin' into the future.


It is such a great way for me to unwind, but I don't even feel like I have time to do that anymore.

I fly solo in the evenings and can't seem to make any time for myself. I know there are other moms out there there that also don't get the joy of working the same shift as their hubs. And they seem to be able to find time to write, to read books, to shop online, to clean house and actually make a dinner.

How did my evening go? Minute by minute breakdown:

5:05- Leave the office and head to pick the kiddo up
5:20- Kiddo in the car, heading home
5:30- Squeeze in a walk before the rain hits
6:00- Return from walk, turn the oven on preheat for our frozen pizza we shared for dinner. Go outside to play.
6:10- Mommy runs inside to put the pizza in the oven.
6:11- Back outside. Ansley is helping me weed the flower beds. Really, I'm weeding and Ansley is taking the pulled weeds to the "pile," which happens to be in the other flower bed.
6:30- Mommy gathers up Ansley and both head inside. Take pizza off pizza pan, let cook for last 5 minutes on rack.
6:32- Change Ansley's diaper
6:36- Take pizza out of oven. Cut and let cool. Fix Ansley a drink. Cut her pizza into bite size pieces. Look at the window for the storm. Still not there.
6:40- Ansley and Mommy sit and enjoy pizza.
6:55- Prepare for bath (Ansley sitting on new potty chair while Mommy repeated says "C'mon Ansley! Go pee-pee!) Unsuccessful
7:10- Ansley in the tub. Mommy wets, lathers, rinses. Ansley plays.
7:25- Still playing
7:40 Ansley out. Jammies, brushed hair, milk cup, blocks
8:15- Talk with Dada on phone
8:20- Calm down time in Ansley's room. Rocking, swaying, GT and the Halo Express playing. Mommy singing.
8:25- Ansley in bed. Mommy finally takes a potty break. Return to living room to start clean-up
8:35- Rufus starts barking, Ansley wakes up. Crying. Mommy goes out to bring Rufus in.
8:37- Mommy arrives. Ansley clicks wanting a drink. Kid has already had three sippy cups since dinner. Mommy rocks a little more
8:38- Ansley back down. Mommy back to cleaning
8:41- Bunker barks at Rufus. Rufus barks back. Ansley cries. Mommy returns.
8:42- More rocking. More singing.
8:47- Ansley back down. Mommy back to cleaning. All blocks put away.
8:57- Ansley cries. AGAIN. Mommy arrives. Kid starts clicking. Mommy gets cup of water. Rocking.
9:05- Mommy puts Ansley back down. Starts raining. Mommy closes all the windows, turns the AC on, remembers she needs laundry for tomorrow, but doesn't want to wake the kiddo up, so decides to just wear business clothes tomorrow.
9:10- Yup. Ansley cries.
9:13- Ansley back down.
9:15- Mommy starts to order Proactiv. Doesn't like that they will automatically charge my card. Decides to return to Proactiv vending machine this weekend.
9:22- Checks facebook.
9:23- Decides to write blog post
9:24- Internet crashes. Total reboot

And now? It's 9:33 and I haven't written anything of substance. The kiddo is finally asleep. The living room is partially clean, and all I want to do is go to bed. And, this breakdown? Very similar every night of the week. Normally Ansley does go down a little easier, though that is becoming less of common event.

I know that stay at home moms work. They are on the clock every minute of the day. Working moms may put in 8 hours outside of the home, but they aren't off at 5 p.m. when they get home. Because then, they are responsible to the big boss. And with the hubs gone at night, I get a taste of what single moms go through. It isn't easy. Parenting in general isn't easy.

And with all the things that I can't seem to get done, I feel like a failure on so many levels. My house is rarely clean, even though the hubs does an excellent job of helping out while he is home and I'm at work. But I feel that because I can't juggle being a mom AND being my own person, maybe I wasn't ready for a kiddo. Maybe that urge I have just to draw a warm bath and grab a book means that I should have postponed Mommyhood a little.

But, ultimately, even at the end of the day, when I'm exhausted and my teeth are fuzzy because I haven't had a chance to brush them and I'm trying to figure out if I can get away with not ironing my dress pants tomorrow and I'm struggling to hold my eyes open even at 9:41 (which, in college, was when the fun was just starting), I know that just a few steps down the hall is a kiddo who thinks I'm something special, even if my pants are wrinkled. And just a few miles away is a man that will be home in a few hours, find me asleep on the couch, and love me despite the mega blocks and plastic food that is littering the floor.

And, that does make me my own person. Because those two people love me for who I am, not how many books I read or how many witty facebook statuses I come up with. But because I love them both so much, I pour myself out day in and day out.

Besides, who needs to read Water for Elephants when there's Dr. Seuss anyway?