Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Postpartum.... stuff
Excuse the personal, journal-ish nature of this very long post. Today, it's part of my therapy.
Sunday morning I woke up at 4-something-A.M., fed the baby, and finally got back to sleep around 5-something, bringing her into bed with me so she'd fall asleep. I turned off my alarm when it rang and went back to sleep. Man woke me at 7-something and asked if I was going to church. I said no, I have a sore throat. Then I felt guilty. I did, indeed, have a sore throat but I knew that my real reason was I just didn't want to see other humans. I should have recognized that sign for what it was.
We got to church, through church, and home from church. We had Ramen and berry smoothies for a snack and I picked up around the house, did some dishes, changed some diapers, broke up some rough-housing, and generally puttered. I was tired but wanted to "get things done" while I had Man here with me. It's the same attitude I had while both my mother and mother in law were here. I spent a lot of time torn between "getting things done" and letting my body recover from giving birth. By 10-something-P.M., I was falling asleep in my seat but had an hour to go before Frieda would putter out. Man hit the hay an hour before I did so I sat, crying, trying to stay awake while feeding the baby for the 6th hour of our nightly nursing marathon. She's going through a growth spurt and is desperately trying to pork up for it. Rest that night was broken from the need for more porking.
I woke up finally at 8:30, drug myself out of bed to feed again, and told Princess to get ready for school since late is better than never, right? By 10, I had been crying for over an hour and told her never mind, she can just go the next day. I cried some more, feeling guilty that I couldn't even take my child to school, that the house was already dirty again, and I started to hate nursing. I hated building my milk supply, I hated being yelled at for not having enough milk on demand, I hated never being able to leave the house without some little person coming with me, I hated not being able to help Princess as much and asking so much of her that this very morning she cried and said that being an older sister is too much work. I ask Tag for a lot too, but he has a tendency to be more resilient about helping as long as it doesn't involve cleaning up a mess he made. I despaired over my lost Saturday morning sleep ins, my unbroken 8 hours, my ability to put the kids in bed and go walking with a friend for as long as I desired without worry, and my ability to take a shower without keeping a wary ear out for the sounds of the kidlets in distress.
Then it hit me: this is the baby blues.
Alright, so I looked that up. No, not the baby blues.
It's postpartum depression.
I called my doctor's office and couldn't keep from crying some more as I pleaded for help before my 6 week visit this coming Friday. The nurse said to take a warm bath, get a friend to come over so I could nap, have the husband help more...
My heart sank. A warm bath? All four kids were awake and running around. Well, of course Frieda wasn't running but she was attached to my hip while I ran around. A friend to come over? All of my friends are pregnant, have new babies, or full time jobs. In fact, I had one sweet friend over who wanted to provide me with company but to make that long story short, it wasn't helpful. Have the husband help? When he's already pulling 18 hour days? Right.
So I thanked the nurse, considered her recommendation to take the mini pill (progesterone only birth control) to help smooth out my frazzled hormones, and told her I'd see her Friday. The last time I took the mini pill I cried for two weeks straight and considered radical self-harm. Not an option.
But then...
My good friend M called. That conversation perked my spirits tremendously. My visiting teachers came over and one of them has offered to bring dinner tonight. My mom called which also perked my spirits. Man came home, I tried to put on a brave face while being honest about my day and he forsook some of his homework to help with the kids. I took vitamins in earnest, threw out all of the sugary things in the house, and made a real dinner. Man helped me get Frieda to sleep earlier in the evening and let me cry on his shoulder for several minutes even though I knew he was sacrificing sleep to do so.
I felt cared for. I know enough now to be able to force my way through this. I won't quit nursing just because it's hard. I swallowed my pride and accepted the offer of dinner. I swallowed more pride and called people who I know love me (guys, don't worry, I didn't make it all the way down my list before I was overwhelmed with loving attention both over the phone and in real life) to help shake the funk. Tag enjoyed answering the phone for me and chatting with people before I got to them.
By the time I crawled into bed, sniffling a little still but grateful to lay down, I realized how much of an introvert this sort of depression makes me. It was painful to make myself stay open and reach out. But I believe that doing so right away has made a big difference in my ability to deal with this whole wretched affair.
This would be the third time I've faced crippling postpartum depression. There isn't a whole lot I can do about various extremely stressful elements of my life except to give them to God. I'm driving myself so thoroughly crazy that I'm being forced to empty myself of self to even function. But in emptying myself of self, I'm also being forced to realize that I simply must take care of myself if I'm going to survive this and get over it quickly.
So, today, when I took my shower, I used my nice conditioner. I bought a bottle over a year and a half ago and use it when I want to pamper myself. I also got dressed instead of staying in pajamas and had a good breakfast full of protein and fruit. I have yet to steel myself for the pills since lately they make me ill, but they helped yesterday. If I can sit on my kids and force them to take medications that resolve their illnesses, I can at least be mature enough to swallow my own medicine. But this medicine also includes things like taking time to type out my feelings, going outside (maybe back to that beach parking lot), opening my windows, and soliciting lots of love from the kids who are so willing and generous with their hugs and kisses.
Most of all, I need to remember to take time for God. And remember the valuable love of my husband. Last night I was once again astounded to realize that just a few minutes with him cleansed me of so much sadness.
And remember that it's all one day, one moment, one deep breath at a time.
(unless I take too many deep breaths too quickly, in which case I'd pass out and not have a care in the world for at least a little while so that works, too)
Sunday morning I woke up at 4-something-A.M., fed the baby, and finally got back to sleep around 5-something, bringing her into bed with me so she'd fall asleep. I turned off my alarm when it rang and went back to sleep. Man woke me at 7-something and asked if I was going to church. I said no, I have a sore throat. Then I felt guilty. I did, indeed, have a sore throat but I knew that my real reason was I just didn't want to see other humans. I should have recognized that sign for what it was.
We got to church, through church, and home from church. We had Ramen and berry smoothies for a snack and I picked up around the house, did some dishes, changed some diapers, broke up some rough-housing, and generally puttered. I was tired but wanted to "get things done" while I had Man here with me. It's the same attitude I had while both my mother and mother in law were here. I spent a lot of time torn between "getting things done" and letting my body recover from giving birth. By 10-something-P.M., I was falling asleep in my seat but had an hour to go before Frieda would putter out. Man hit the hay an hour before I did so I sat, crying, trying to stay awake while feeding the baby for the 6th hour of our nightly nursing marathon. She's going through a growth spurt and is desperately trying to pork up for it. Rest that night was broken from the need for more porking.
I woke up finally at 8:30, drug myself out of bed to feed again, and told Princess to get ready for school since late is better than never, right? By 10, I had been crying for over an hour and told her never mind, she can just go the next day. I cried some more, feeling guilty that I couldn't even take my child to school, that the house was already dirty again, and I started to hate nursing. I hated building my milk supply, I hated being yelled at for not having enough milk on demand, I hated never being able to leave the house without some little person coming with me, I hated not being able to help Princess as much and asking so much of her that this very morning she cried and said that being an older sister is too much work. I ask Tag for a lot too, but he has a tendency to be more resilient about helping as long as it doesn't involve cleaning up a mess he made. I despaired over my lost Saturday morning sleep ins, my unbroken 8 hours, my ability to put the kids in bed and go walking with a friend for as long as I desired without worry, and my ability to take a shower without keeping a wary ear out for the sounds of the kidlets in distress.
Then it hit me: this is the baby blues.
Alright, so I looked that up. No, not the baby blues.
It's postpartum depression.
I called my doctor's office and couldn't keep from crying some more as I pleaded for help before my 6 week visit this coming Friday. The nurse said to take a warm bath, get a friend to come over so I could nap, have the husband help more...
My heart sank. A warm bath? All four kids were awake and running around. Well, of course Frieda wasn't running but she was attached to my hip while I ran around. A friend to come over? All of my friends are pregnant, have new babies, or full time jobs. In fact, I had one sweet friend over who wanted to provide me with company but to make that long story short, it wasn't helpful. Have the husband help? When he's already pulling 18 hour days? Right.
So I thanked the nurse, considered her recommendation to take the mini pill (progesterone only birth control) to help smooth out my frazzled hormones, and told her I'd see her Friday. The last time I took the mini pill I cried for two weeks straight and considered radical self-harm. Not an option.
But then...
My good friend M called. That conversation perked my spirits tremendously. My visiting teachers came over and one of them has offered to bring dinner tonight. My mom called which also perked my spirits. Man came home, I tried to put on a brave face while being honest about my day and he forsook some of his homework to help with the kids. I took vitamins in earnest, threw out all of the sugary things in the house, and made a real dinner. Man helped me get Frieda to sleep earlier in the evening and let me cry on his shoulder for several minutes even though I knew he was sacrificing sleep to do so.
I felt cared for. I know enough now to be able to force my way through this. I won't quit nursing just because it's hard. I swallowed my pride and accepted the offer of dinner. I swallowed more pride and called people who I know love me (guys, don't worry, I didn't make it all the way down my list before I was overwhelmed with loving attention both over the phone and in real life) to help shake the funk. Tag enjoyed answering the phone for me and chatting with people before I got to them.
By the time I crawled into bed, sniffling a little still but grateful to lay down, I realized how much of an introvert this sort of depression makes me. It was painful to make myself stay open and reach out. But I believe that doing so right away has made a big difference in my ability to deal with this whole wretched affair.
This would be the third time I've faced crippling postpartum depression. There isn't a whole lot I can do about various extremely stressful elements of my life except to give them to God. I'm driving myself so thoroughly crazy that I'm being forced to empty myself of self to even function. But in emptying myself of self, I'm also being forced to realize that I simply must take care of myself if I'm going to survive this and get over it quickly.
So, today, when I took my shower, I used my nice conditioner. I bought a bottle over a year and a half ago and use it when I want to pamper myself. I also got dressed instead of staying in pajamas and had a good breakfast full of protein and fruit. I have yet to steel myself for the pills since lately they make me ill, but they helped yesterday. If I can sit on my kids and force them to take medications that resolve their illnesses, I can at least be mature enough to swallow my own medicine. But this medicine also includes things like taking time to type out my feelings, going outside (maybe back to that beach parking lot), opening my windows, and soliciting lots of love from the kids who are so willing and generous with their hugs and kisses.
Most of all, I need to remember to take time for God. And remember the valuable love of my husband. Last night I was once again astounded to realize that just a few minutes with him cleansed me of so much sadness.
And remember that it's all one day, one moment, one deep breath at a time.
(unless I take too many deep breaths too quickly, in which case I'd pass out and not have a care in the world for at least a little while so that works, too)
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Thing 1: Growing taller all the time. She celebrates her 100 day at school (their 100th day of actual school) and they all are bringing in projects that some how involve the number 100 to share, and they will be sharing snacks consisting of 10 pieces of each of 10 different kinds of foods, which they all get to count. Princess made a rainbow necklace with 100 beads on it.
Thing 2: Just can't get enough of his tooth hole still. He loves his new class in Sunday School with the new year. He's still really into aliens (he puts anything his head and asks if it makes him look like an alien -- boxes, noodles, shoes, you name it. I'm no help though. I tell him "yes" every time. "Yes, you look like a super-cute alien."), cars, games involving sticks or spinning in the computer chair, and we've recently started having him jump on the trampoline to a count of 100 over and over since it's been too rainy to take them out much.
Thing 2: Just can't get enough of his tooth hole still. He loves his new class in Sunday School with the new year. He's still really into aliens (he puts anything his head and asks if it makes him look like an alien -- boxes, noodles, shoes, you name it. I'm no help though. I tell him "yes" every time. "Yes, you look like a super-cute alien."), cars, games involving sticks or spinning in the computer chair, and we've recently started having him jump on the trampoline to a count of 100 over and over since it's been too rainy to take them out much.
Thing 3: This is her "cheeeeeeeese!!" pose. She turns 2 in just a couple of weeks but in some ways is going on 12. She's so happy to be an older sister now which means that she plays more with the older kids since she's now their peer. She goes to nursery without complaint now and does most of the actions for the Popcorn song.
Thing 4: She's looking like her own person more and more all the time. She's lost her baby tan and her skin is starting to clear up quite a bit after a bout of eczema. She's starting to give me 6-7 hour stretches at night, has burping down to a science, and is already exhibiting a huge range of vocal expression (as opposed to being either on or off).
Thing 4: She's looking like her own person more and more all the time. She's lost her baby tan and her skin is starting to clear up quite a bit after a bout of eczema. She's starting to give me 6-7 hour stretches at night, has burping down to a science, and is already exhibiting a huge range of vocal expression (as opposed to being either on or off).
Love the photos, people. I unwittingly sacrificed a whole batch of homemade tapioca for them. Oh, well. The kids still like the "bubble pudding" even if it was a little brown in places and had curdled egg white bits. haha!! I love this age of innocence.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
To be...
It's been recently impressed upon me that I have to be what I want my children to become.
Tall order, eh?
I havn't yet decided if that means I want to relax my standards and hopes for them, or if I should straighten out more.
That talk on Sunday keeps reverberating in me. "Sisters, your offering is acceptable to the Lord." When Cain and Abel made offerings it wasn't what they offered that was important. It was the spirit in which they offered that mattered.
I'm finally starting to be at peace with a "line upon line, here a little and there a little" approach. On day, one room, one problem, one task at a time.
Yesterday I took Things 2, 3, and 4 out to get Frieda registered with our insurance and to go to a store real quick. Tag showed me something he wanted (a Lighting McQueen place setting) and when I told him no he proceeded to be an absolute pill for the rest of our time there. I sighed, checked out, got everyone in the van, then drove 2 minutes to the ocean and sat in the parking lot where I could see the waves and hear the surf. Tag ranted some more but I sat silent, letting the rhythm of the ocean carry my thoughts and reactions. Pebbles and Frieda both fell asleep, Tag fell quiet, and we went home in peace. He had some residual pill-ish-ness going on but generally kept it to himself. Later that evening, after refusing to eat a delicious dinner a friend brought over, he tucked himself in bed and went to sleep early. We heard not peep nor weep from him until the next morning.
What gave me the strength to ignore the temper? What gave the other girls the peace to ignore it, too? It could be that we're reading scriptures regularly now. It could be that I'm too tired to fight with him. It could also be that I'm just done being reactive now, since it never gets us anywhere and only feeds his rage.
He's a good kid. The tempers are now by far the exception and usually just happen during times of great change or fatigue.
Some day he'll eat dinner. Some day not getting what he wants won't destroy his day. Some day Princess won't fret over having to shower herself or tie her own shoes. Some day Pebbles will choose to not push every button the older two kids possess. Some day they'll have problems that are significant to adults, and these kid problems will seem light years away.
And that's ok, too.
One line.
One day.
One moment at a time.
Tall order, eh?
I havn't yet decided if that means I want to relax my standards and hopes for them, or if I should straighten out more.
That talk on Sunday keeps reverberating in me. "Sisters, your offering is acceptable to the Lord." When Cain and Abel made offerings it wasn't what they offered that was important. It was the spirit in which they offered that mattered.
I'm finally starting to be at peace with a "line upon line, here a little and there a little" approach. On day, one room, one problem, one task at a time.
Yesterday I took Things 2, 3, and 4 out to get Frieda registered with our insurance and to go to a store real quick. Tag showed me something he wanted (a Lighting McQueen place setting) and when I told him no he proceeded to be an absolute pill for the rest of our time there. I sighed, checked out, got everyone in the van, then drove 2 minutes to the ocean and sat in the parking lot where I could see the waves and hear the surf. Tag ranted some more but I sat silent, letting the rhythm of the ocean carry my thoughts and reactions. Pebbles and Frieda both fell asleep, Tag fell quiet, and we went home in peace. He had some residual pill-ish-ness going on but generally kept it to himself. Later that evening, after refusing to eat a delicious dinner a friend brought over, he tucked himself in bed and went to sleep early. We heard not peep nor weep from him until the next morning.
What gave me the strength to ignore the temper? What gave the other girls the peace to ignore it, too? It could be that we're reading scriptures regularly now. It could be that I'm too tired to fight with him. It could also be that I'm just done being reactive now, since it never gets us anywhere and only feeds his rage.
He's a good kid. The tempers are now by far the exception and usually just happen during times of great change or fatigue.
Some day he'll eat dinner. Some day not getting what he wants won't destroy his day. Some day Princess won't fret over having to shower herself or tie her own shoes. Some day Pebbles will choose to not push every button the older two kids possess. Some day they'll have problems that are significant to adults, and these kid problems will seem light years away.
And that's ok, too.
One line.
One day.
One moment at a time.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Child Actors
Child actors are so interesting to me. It seems that there are four categories that they fall into:
1. Was in one or two movies then willingly dropped out of the running. (Charlie Korsmo comes to mind)
2. Was in a whole bunch of stuff and then dropped out. (Macaulay Caulkin, though he is starting to do a few more things as an adult)
3. Was popular then went on to have a very mediocre film career as an adult. (Fred Savage, anyone?)
4. Was popular and managed to make it as an adult as well.
How many #4's do you know of? Drew Barrymore... and.... oh, what's that one guy's name? Riiiight. Makes me wonder what Dakota Fanning and Haley Joel Osment will end up being... wise ups or wash outs? Osment's cute wore off a while ago but he's still making movies. Only time will tell if he should have kept making movies.
Anyway, I bring it up because I was curious one day what ever happened to that kid who played Siggy in What About Bob (one of my Dad's fav movies) and found that that Charlie Korsmo ended up graduating from MIT (physics) and then Yale (passed the bar). So, no longer acting hasn't hurt him a whole lot.
Having recently watched Mr. Hobbs Goes on Vacation (old Jimmy Stewart/Maureen O'Hara flick) and looking up Fabian, the teen heart throb sensation is also very interesting. He was a total hunk at the time (not my type, though) who couldn't sing worth beans. They tailored his image to what tween girls wanted to scream over, doctored his voice on his albums, and then trusted that the sweet young things were screaming too loudly during his concerts to notice his lack of talent. It worked for a while. Poor guy got caught on a payola scandal and was disgraced. I hadn't even heard of him until watching this somewhat obscure movie. Turns out he still appears every now and then for a musical event. Poor guy was just an ill-used pawn.
Pop culture, thou art cruel.
1. Was in one or two movies then willingly dropped out of the running. (Charlie Korsmo comes to mind)
2. Was in a whole bunch of stuff and then dropped out. (Macaulay Caulkin, though he is starting to do a few more things as an adult)
3. Was popular then went on to have a very mediocre film career as an adult. (Fred Savage, anyone?)
4. Was popular and managed to make it as an adult as well.
How many #4's do you know of? Drew Barrymore... and.... oh, what's that one guy's name? Riiiight. Makes me wonder what Dakota Fanning and Haley Joel Osment will end up being... wise ups or wash outs? Osment's cute wore off a while ago but he's still making movies. Only time will tell if he should have kept making movies.
Anyway, I bring it up because I was curious one day what ever happened to that kid who played Siggy in What About Bob (one of my Dad's fav movies) and found that that Charlie Korsmo ended up graduating from MIT (physics) and then Yale (passed the bar). So, no longer acting hasn't hurt him a whole lot.
Having recently watched Mr. Hobbs Goes on Vacation (old Jimmy Stewart/Maureen O'Hara flick) and looking up Fabian, the teen heart throb sensation is also very interesting. He was a total hunk at the time (not my type, though) who couldn't sing worth beans. They tailored his image to what tween girls wanted to scream over, doctored his voice on his albums, and then trusted that the sweet young things were screaming too loudly during his concerts to notice his lack of talent. It worked for a while. Poor guy got caught on a payola scandal and was disgraced. I hadn't even heard of him until watching this somewhat obscure movie. Turns out he still appears every now and then for a musical event. Poor guy was just an ill-used pawn.
Pop culture, thou art cruel.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Many updates!
First, Princess has had another birthday and now she's so old she can't hold her age in one hand. She now requires the assistance of one digit from the other hand. She asked what happens when you run out of fingers. I told her that that's the age where many young people think it's funny to show people their toes anyway. By the time you run out of toes, you no longer tell people how old you are.
Next, a friend of mine (who I mentioned several posts ago, the one doing laps around the park to get her labor going) is in need of some serious prayer, positive thought, meditation, whatever your belief system is. Her little 2 month old boy, Ricky, is failing to thrive. He has spent time in the hospital here but they can't do any more for him. He can't keep any food down at all and hasn't gained any weight since birth. As of a couple of hours ago, he and his dad were on their way to San Francisco where they hope to stabilize him. This hospital is his last hope of survival. These parents lost their first baby as well and have one healthy child. Any prayers are appreciated.
I'm exercising again. The grand kickoff was 45 mins of DDR followed by 14 situps. 14!! Oy, I have a ways to go.
Baby Frieda was blessed this past Sunday. I forgot to get pics of that.
Mother in law came to visit! We had a really great visit and her help was very much appreciated. We all miss her.
Someone posted the method whereby one might lay one's blog out all on one webpage, making it much easier to format. She credits her brother in law, Andy, with showing her how to do it. Here's how:
1. Copy and paste this url into your browser: http://[yourblog@blogspot.com]/search?updated-min=1999-01-01T00%3A00%3A00Z&updated-max=2009-01-01T00%3A00%3A00Z&max-results=999 Except change the bit in brackets [yourblog@blogpot.com] to your desired web address and get rid of the brackets. However, you have to adjust the date the in address as well to include the dates of all of your posts.
2. Save the webpage by going to file and save. I used openoffice at first (shareware office program) and had to save it as text only to get it to work, but Man pointed out that we do, indeed, have Microsoft Office which handled the document very well. I went through and put all original pics in my blog posts rather than just leaving in the smaller versions.
3. You can print this out or save on a disk. I'm going to save on a disk for now since it's a huge file.
Here are some stats on the entirety of the document:
39 megabytes
411 pages
115,891 words
I havn't even counted the pictures and Word has no function to do so automatically.
It's been fun to go through and flash it out a bit when anonymity isn't a problem. I've put full names in places, put in the text of several recipes added pictures of Man and additional pics I didn't think to put in the first time around, etc. I've thought about printing it, since even that is cheaper than scrapbooking or ordering a bound book online, but for now with space considerations digital is just fine. Maybe some day down the road I'll make hard copies for the kids.
Now I'm all excited about personal history again and want to write down all my Dad's stories from college and mission, gather all of Grandma and Grandpa's recipes, get recordings of everyone's voices, etc.
Man and I are now released as Primary Teachers. I'm guessing he won't get another calling before leaving and I probably won't either. Who knows when we'll be leaving and how long I'll get to me a single mom before that next big move.
Having been released, I got to go to Relief Society this past Sunday! We had ward conference so the Stake Pres came and spoke to the sisters. What I remember of his message: "Sisters, I know that when you're counseled to do better with your lives that you really take it to heart and can sometimes despair over that eventual goal of perfection. I want to tell you today, sisters, that your offering is acceptable to the Lord. He understands that there are times when one ball must fall in favor of taking care of that which is needful. All is well." I sighed in relief and enjoyed the spirit of his message tremendously. He talked about simplifying and, rather than exercising so much psychological behavior modification on our children to simply treat them with love, consistency, and in short to treat them how Christ would.
Poor little Frieda with evidence of eczema. It's starting to clear up a bit today.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Nap time
What happens when you take a nap while the 2 year old is still awake?
Powdered sugar.
I wish I had taken pictures.
Powdered sugar.
I wish I had taken pictures.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
New Year's resolutions
I was reading the other day that betting someone regarding a resolution gives people the greatest chance of success. In other words, put money down and if you slip up, a portion of it goes away, never to return. A deposit toward a better you, as it were.
I wonder if that's a Lent sort of idea, giving something up for a brief time to acquire a greater reward.
What would you give up to get what you want?
For instance, I'm interested in getting in shape. I don't want to be a slave to my scale, but I do want to feel better, have more energy, all that garbage people talk about when they decided to get in shape. So what would I give up or at least put at risk in order to create an adequate incentive to actually accomplish what I set out to do?
I always seem to go through a slump after giving birth, then I do really well with exercise until I get pregnant again.
My current arrangement is something we did a while ago before Christmas: Man is forbidden from bringing junk food in the house, and I will simply not buy it at all. Got a craving? Grab the baby carrots or a tall drink of water. I'm a food addict and an emotional eater. I'm not currently interested in that whole 12 step thing for addicts (sorry, my dear sweet woman who has grown and learned from that great program) but I will settle for forced abstinence while I get back into the habit of intentional, unforced, consistent, bodily locomotion.
Anyone want to move out here and be my walking buddy? I have one week left before my medical excuse for not exercising is lifted and I will once again be accountable for working out.
KM, look for my blog crashing about then. ;) And I'll start with my current weight, not my about to deliver weight (I lost 32 pounds of baby, water, and miscellaneous in 2.5 weeks).
I wonder if that's a Lent sort of idea, giving something up for a brief time to acquire a greater reward.
What would you give up to get what you want?
For instance, I'm interested in getting in shape. I don't want to be a slave to my scale, but I do want to feel better, have more energy, all that garbage people talk about when they decided to get in shape. So what would I give up or at least put at risk in order to create an adequate incentive to actually accomplish what I set out to do?
I always seem to go through a slump after giving birth, then I do really well with exercise until I get pregnant again.
My current arrangement is something we did a while ago before Christmas: Man is forbidden from bringing junk food in the house, and I will simply not buy it at all. Got a craving? Grab the baby carrots or a tall drink of water. I'm a food addict and an emotional eater. I'm not currently interested in that whole 12 step thing for addicts (sorry, my dear sweet woman who has grown and learned from that great program) but I will settle for forced abstinence while I get back into the habit of intentional, unforced, consistent, bodily locomotion.
Anyone want to move out here and be my walking buddy? I have one week left before my medical excuse for not exercising is lifted and I will once again be accountable for working out.
KM, look for my blog crashing about then. ;) And I'll start with my current weight, not my about to deliver weight (I lost 32 pounds of baby, water, and miscellaneous in 2.5 weeks).
How can they tell?
In addition to babies now coming with glow in the dark or karate chop action, I've noticed that mine all have these incredible gyroscopic sensors that can tell not only how high off the floor they're being held, but they can intuitively sense where you're taking them. How can they tell that you're no longer standing and doing the soothe-the-baby slow dance, and you're now sitting very tall doing a soothe-the-baby chair slow dance instead?
Last night Frieda woke up around 3, was done eating by 3:30, but I could hear a burp sloshing around in there that just wouldn't come out. Going down the list of 67 different ways to burp an infant one by one (standing or sitting) the clock rolled around to 4am but that burp just wouldn't come out. But what happens when you put a baby down with a burp in there? Sad baby, much spitting up, general distress. I finally gave up, stood to head for bed, and immediately that big, stubborn burp came up. So now I know the secret: just head for bed. I coulda saved myself 25 minutes of concentrated effort. lol
Speaking of whom, she's definitely over her weight slump. This past Tuesday she weighed in at 9 pounds 10 ounces, having gained a pound in just 5 days. Making up for lost time, for sure, and filling out like the gorgeous cherub she is.
Last night Frieda woke up around 3, was done eating by 3:30, but I could hear a burp sloshing around in there that just wouldn't come out. Going down the list of 67 different ways to burp an infant one by one (standing or sitting) the clock rolled around to 4am but that burp just wouldn't come out. But what happens when you put a baby down with a burp in there? Sad baby, much spitting up, general distress. I finally gave up, stood to head for bed, and immediately that big, stubborn burp came up. So now I know the secret: just head for bed. I coulda saved myself 25 minutes of concentrated effort. lol
Speaking of whom, she's definitely over her weight slump. This past Tuesday she weighed in at 9 pounds 10 ounces, having gained a pound in just 5 days. Making up for lost time, for sure, and filling out like the gorgeous cherub she is.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
One less tooth at this cuckoo's nest
I like pediatric dentists. Or, at least the one I took the crew to see today. Pebbles had her very first cleaning (she hated it, but oh well) and Tag finally got his tooth taken care of. An x-ray revealed that he did, indeed, have a fairly good-sized abscess messing from the root of his dead tooth and getting in the way of his developing adult tooth. Out it must come to protect the permanent tooth. No spacer needed, since apparently front teeth don't behave like back teeth and won't crowd. The dentist said that we could put a fake tooth in for aesthetics, but they could be very high maintenance things that I didn't look like someone who wanted something high maintenance (once again, all four kids came with me). So, out it came and nothing had to go back in. No root canal, either, since it's a freaking baby tooth for Pete's sake.
Anyway, the two older girls have eye drops and antibiotics for their conjunctivitis which necessitates a 4 times daily for 5 days ritual of sitting on them, prying their eyes open, and dripping an innocuous-looking but apparently lethal-feeling substance on their pretty and terrified orbs.
And now I will descend into my cave and not go out with four kids ever again. I will hide from the world, make no appointments, invite no company, and become a disagreeable ogre so everyone will leave me alone.
Anyway, the two older girls have eye drops and antibiotics for their conjunctivitis which necessitates a 4 times daily for 5 days ritual of sitting on them, prying their eyes open, and dripping an innocuous-looking but apparently lethal-feeling substance on their pretty and terrified orbs.
And now I will descend into my cave and not go out with four kids ever again. I will hide from the world, make no appointments, invite no company, and become a disagreeable ogre so everyone will leave me alone.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
What a girl wants
Recently Man has suggested that, in order to spend time together while he's away on training, we start playing an online role-playing game called Guild Wars.
Interesting idea. I love spending time with him and it's a fun game to play... when you have the time. As we hashed out the pros and cons of keeping in contact with this medium I realized that I still have some blocks concerning expressing what I really want if it contradicts what he really wants and is convinced is a good idea.
There's nothing wrong with disagreeing, and I had to keep reminding myself of that. Neither of us got defensive, or felt like our ideas and feelings were minimized, but we simply disagreed. I had a vague feeling of disloyalty which I realize is more a result of a lifetime of doing everything I could to avoid making waves as opposed to any guilt tripping on his part.
I was going through some sale ads tonight and just happened to stumble across an entertainment set up that I really liked at the local Cost Plus. Oooooh, I thought, if the kids weren't so young I would just love to have this. It's tasteful, partially concealing (some doors, some open shelves) and solid wood which I think is beautiful. So I've decided to keep a "things I've seen that I want" diary. Sample pictures of different pieces of furniture, notes on features my dream house would have, things I've just plain enjoyed, experiences I'd like to plan for.
It's kind of a thrill to think about the things I want in terms of actually working to have them. It's also kind of a thrill to know that I already have many things I legitimately want. The idea of shedding everything but the things I truly love and use is so very liberating but one I've had such a difficult time realistically embracing. Dipping one's toes into this idea is refreshing and a bit terrifying but I think it's finally time.
Interesting idea. I love spending time with him and it's a fun game to play... when you have the time. As we hashed out the pros and cons of keeping in contact with this medium I realized that I still have some blocks concerning expressing what I really want if it contradicts what he really wants and is convinced is a good idea.
There's nothing wrong with disagreeing, and I had to keep reminding myself of that. Neither of us got defensive, or felt like our ideas and feelings were minimized, but we simply disagreed. I had a vague feeling of disloyalty which I realize is more a result of a lifetime of doing everything I could to avoid making waves as opposed to any guilt tripping on his part.
I was going through some sale ads tonight and just happened to stumble across an entertainment set up that I really liked at the local Cost Plus. Oooooh, I thought, if the kids weren't so young I would just love to have this. It's tasteful, partially concealing (some doors, some open shelves) and solid wood which I think is beautiful. So I've decided to keep a "things I've seen that I want" diary. Sample pictures of different pieces of furniture, notes on features my dream house would have, things I've just plain enjoyed, experiences I'd like to plan for.
It's kind of a thrill to think about the things I want in terms of actually working to have them. It's also kind of a thrill to know that I already have many things I legitimately want. The idea of shedding everything but the things I truly love and use is so very liberating but one I've had such a difficult time realistically embracing. Dipping one's toes into this idea is refreshing and a bit terrifying but I think it's finally time.
The fray
Ill mark the day
When we can meet beyond the fray
Don't lose the will to see your home
You'll find a way
So we can meet beyond the fray
Ill fight to see that you get home
It seems like a fray lately. Thankfully, the girls' conjunctivitis seems to have largely cleared up, though I'll have to examine Pebbles' eyes closely this morning to make sure. Princess is still fighting her cough. Tag came down with diarrhea and high fevers yesterday so I'm going to make an emergency appt with a dentist at the crack of 8 am this morning to either get a root canal or just pull the darn thing and get a spacer installed.
After that I get to drive to the pediatrician for the two little girls to get checked out (Pebbles' eyes, Frieda needs a follow up on the jaundice and a weight check), then I must stop to get prescriptions filled followed by a dr appt for Princess for her cough which may be a strep relapse.
I believe dinner tonight will be a Costco pizza.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Overheard from Tag:
"Mom, if I don't drink water a lot, it'll be harder for my head to melt."
And no, I have no idea what the heck he was talking about.
So don't ask.
And no, I have no idea what the heck he was talking about.
So don't ask.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Bad weather!
Our first case of bad weather since we moved here: wind. It was so strong yesterday that Man and his fellows got sent home. One soldier on post had a branch land on him, so they weren't taking any chances. Here at the home front we watched the great out doors for most of the day, counting our blessings that all of the major drops from our eucalyptus tree managed to fall away from the house.
The kids were outside were looking at this branch:
The kids were outside were looking at this branch:
When this fell a mere couple of yards away. They were summoned and then forbidden to go outside for the rest of the day. The branch below is larger than both children together.
This came down over by a friend's house.
And it came down in pieces. The top is on the right and landed like a spear.
Mom, aren't you glad you missed the show? :) I was grateful to have Man home -- the longer we can delay reality around here, the better. Christmas break wasn't long enough for anyone.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Church dress and photo therapy machine
Oma just couldn't resist: Frieda now has an adorable church dress. 
Also, here are a couple of shots of the photo therapy machine.
The belt goes around her stomach and chest, taping in the front. The hose sticks out of clothes that snap up the front. Nursing her with this contraption was a pain, and so was transporting her around the house. I slept on the couch so I wouldn't have to keep unplugging and plugging for all of those nightly feedings.
A pic of the actual lights.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Because you just can't get enough pics of the baby...
I know I can't.
Mom said tonight that people are telling her to get pics of us to take home, so she snapped a couple of shots with our camera while F was awake this evening. I'm not even going to kid around with photo shopping software. I'm just going to crop and say that she and I had opposite degrees of cuteness in any given pic, so I'm giving them to you seperately. Ha!
How tired am I? Let me count the ways. I don't know what I would have done without Mom this whole time! One of these days I need to take a glamor shot and just leave the rest a mystery.
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