Breathing Easy

I'm breathing mostly without pain today. This is significant because it's the first time in weeks.

I started taking Zoloft for post partum depression when McCloud was a few weeks old. PPD was a difficult thing to admit to, but life got better. I smiled more and snapped at the kids less. After a few months, I thought I didn't need the chemical assistance anymore, so I cut back on the Zoloft, then quit all together. It was ok for a while. At least I thought so.

Dan asked me one day if I was still taking it, and he looked dissapointed but not surprised when I told him no. My attitude had gone down hill, and he'd noticed. I thought I had it under control. I was wrong.

I tried to stick it out without the meds, tried to just pay attention to myself and how I was acting. Then one day I realized that I couldn't feel my teeth.

In the early stages of hyperventilation, you can lose feeling in your lower gums and teeth. Most people don't notice, because they don't spend a lot of time in the early stages of hyperventilation. They move right onto the poor breathing. I have a cronic condition that can make it very painful to breath. My body often compensates by modifying my breathing to shallow breaths only. So I basically spend a lot of time in the early stages of hyperventilation before I notice a problem.

Catching this attack when I was loosing feeling in my teeth wasn't enough this time. Even though I was downing regular doses of ibuprofen, the pain wasn't getting better. It was getting worse. When the pain radiated through my shoulders and all the way down to my wrists, and then into my hips, I knew something else had to be done.

I finally made the connection that this was my body's reaction to stress. When all other home remedies failed, I finally made the connection that I needed to start taking Zoloft again. 7 days in, and I'm mostly pain free. It's nice to smile freely at my husband and children again. It's a relief not to have flashes of the horrible things I could do to my children when they are screaming and yelling.

As much as I hate to admit it, antidepressents may have to be a regular part of my life. I'm not happy about it, but I'm happy with the change its made in my family.

Blop-a-dee-do-da

Ok, so I missed a couple days. Let's move on.

I am a bit of a fanatical coupon clipper. But I've been a combination of too busy and too tired and then I started this whole selling stuff business that I've fallen behind. Also, haven't been to the grocery store in like 3 weeks. We stopped at Target to pick up milk, but that's about it. I'm hoping to make it out for a big trip tomorrow night.

Pink eyes

All three kids have pink eye. Ugh. Also, I think Busby has either a bladder infection or a urniary tract infection. He keeps complaining that his butt hurts. He hasn't learned (in spite of what I keep telling him) that it's actually called a penis. I'd settle for any of the usual nick names. At least he's not still calling it his belly.

Today I accomplished ordering my new business cards. They should be here in a week.

Also, I sang to all three of my kids. I love doing that. Busby and Janet make requests. Janet's favorite is "THE BABY SONG!!" (Baby Mine) Busby only wants to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Most of the time they sing along with me. Love it Love it Love it.

Tomorrow's voting day. I'll be there, with or without bells on.

First steps

The only thing I really did from yesterday's to-do list was promoting my Thirty One business. I sent out an email to just about everyone I know last night. So far, no hate emails telling me to shove it. :)

I did manage to get the family room cleaned up, and the sofa is no longer covered with an obscene amount of laundry in need of folding. The kids all have clean, folded, but not yet put away, clothes to wear to daycare tomorrow. Yeah!!!

I'm perpetually tired, but find myself unable to get to bed before 10:00 p.m. I don't want to believe I have over-booked myself, because I really think NaBloPoMo is going to be good for me. There is no other way for me to get myself to consistently blog unless I commit to something like NaBloPoMo.

Ok, so tired, but still must put my own clothes in the dryer...

A to do list

So much to do....

1. Clean my house.
2. Wash the laundry
3. Formulate some kind of weight loss plan
4. Promote my new business as an Independent Consultant for Thirty One.

A word from Big Kahuna

I find it funny that Greenpeace has a hot air balloon that says "Stop Global Warming." Isn't that a little ironic?

***
He said I had to put that he was surfing for stupid stuff. I think he found some.

Tradition

There are lots of stories among my husband and his friends of burning things. VCRs, gas grills, 5-gallon water jugs, front yards. I know it's just a matter of time before I come home to a mysterious burning smell and craters in my yard.

For the last four mornings on the way to work, my son has told me "When I grow up, I want to be a fire man." (He says the words independently – fire man, not fireman.) Lots of parents tell their kids they can be whatever they want when they grow up, but secretly hope their child doesn't enter into a dangerous profession like snake charming, lion taming, or fire fighting. I'm not one of those parents. You see, my grandfather was a volunteer fire fighter. So was my father. Which was cool, because back in the day, your kid got to ride in the fire truck during parades and throw candy at the spectators.

My husband was a volunteer fire fighter when we were dating and engaged. When we got married, we did the local department tradition of riding on the back of the engine to Main Street, where the groom wheels the bride down one block in a wheelbarrow.

(Want to make your wedding photographer really excited? Tell him he can ride on the hose bed of a fire truck after the ceremony.)

If Busby wants to be a fire man, I'm not going to stop him. After all, fire setting is in his blood. Shouldn't fire fighting be as well?

In the last 24 hours

My maternal grandmother's sister died. From cancer.

My husband's best friend's father died. From cancer.

One of the lawyers I work with gave notice, then left the building. Forever.

This has been a weird day to say the least.

This evening...

...I removed a giraffe from Cinderella's hair.

Making time

When you're pregnant for the first time, people always tell you to enjoy them when they're little because it goes so fast. And you kindly nod. Because you really don't know what they're talking about, even if you're pretty sure they haven't figured out how to make time go faster.

Then it happens. You have this wonderful little baby in your arms. Busby was all red and sleepy and cuddly and small when he was born. Now he's almost 4. He says things like "This is serious, mom," and "you need to be nicer to people," and "I need to tell you something mommy." And I'm all like, WHOA!!! Who are you, and where is my little baby? He proudly tells me his full name, and tells me that McCloud is playing on the floor. Hmmm.

When you're pregnant with your second child, people tell you that you'll really have no time now, and that you're crazy for having your kids so close together, and to kiss clean laundry goodby. And you vow that you will make time for your husband, and you will still see your friends, and that in the name of all that is holy, you will wear clean clothes every day.

But then I had a 17 month old and a newborn. Egads! And my newborn was not nearly as small as her brother. Janet was a ferocious eater that had me thinking I may never be without a Boppy pillow around me again. But, of course, she's grown. And according to my father, she is a Mini Me. She's plump, blond, and opinionated. She throws fits and cries until she pukes. And when you put her pj's on her, she says "I'm the princess!" She loves to have ponytails and barretts in her hair. She carries a purse and almost always has a plush kitten with her. She's fiercly loyal to her brother, and will not hesitate to knock him down for the toy she wants.

When you're pregnant with your third child, people tell you that it's no longer man-to-man, it's time for a zone defense. And they question how you will pack three kids into that Jeep Grand Cherokee. Are you going to buy that minivan you've been coveting? They ask if you are going to build onto your house, so that none of the kids will have to share a room. And they question your ability to give this child as much attention as the first or second.

So, McCloud arrives. Small and red and squinty-eyed the day after her sister's 2nd birthday. She's calm. She observes. She lights up when someone smiles at her. She is zealously watched over by her brother and sister. She goes to bed at 7 p.m. and sleeps 12 hours.

So I don't get to shower every day. And I'm often wearing clothes that have been spit-up on, but deemed good enough to wear again before washing. And no, I don't get to give her as much attention at this stage of the game as I would like. But I do go in her room while she's sleeping. I touch her face and hold her hand and tell her all about her family. When she stays awake longer, I'll get to read to her more, and sing to her more, and get to hear her stories. But for now, watching her sleep is enough.

Next she'll be driving

Go figure. I'm trying to find something that is not cereal for my family to eat for dinner. I put the baby on her back on the Baby Einstein mat...the one that plays the same annoying music over and over but the kids all seem to love it. But not tonight. She's crying. And I'm scrambling to find dinner. She's still crying. I go to soothe her and discover the problem.

She's on her stomach.

She rolled over, and I totally missed it.

Play ball

Busby has a piggy bank with decals of baseballs, footballs and basketballs. It plays "Take me out to the ballgame" when you put money in it.

Janet has a Precious Moments piggy bank that is smaller than Busby's bank. It doesn't sing at all.

This evening Busby said to me, "My mommy piggy has balls on it."

Call me juvenile, but that was funny.

No Words

My husband's best friend's father was just diagnosed with cancer. Pancreatic cancer. That has metastasized to his liver.

The only thing I can think of is, "I have no response to that."*

*I stole that line from a co-worker, who stole it from "Joe vs. The Volcano."

Revelations

In a matter of seconds, I threw caution to the wind and exposed myself.

My name and picture are now on this blog. Even though the picture also features the very beautiful McCloud, I'm still conflicted about posting pics of the kids.

Hold Me Tight

I was recently called to appear for jury duty. Blech. I figured that I had two really great outs: 1. I'm a paralegal; 2. I'm breastfeeding. Turns out, I was wrong.

This was a criminal matter that was being tried. I don't do criminal law. So I have no real knowledge of criminal procedure. (Civil procedure I'm pretty good at. I can even do bankruptcy procedure - but I don't really care for it.) This wasn't just any criminal matter, though. This was a case of (Count I) Child Molest and (Count II) Sexual Misconduct with a Minor. This was an ugly case, with a shocking lack of familial support for the victim.

The jury was 7 women, 5 men, variety of ages and experience. We also had a variety of children/grandchildren that we could claim.

Day one consisted of 6 hours of jury selection, then we began the trial. We heard testimony for about 1 1/2 hours. Day two consisted of 8 hours of testimony/lunch/attorneys-duking-it-out-while-the-jury-was-told-to-wait and so on. The case was given to the jury at about 4:30 p.m. We finally returned the verdict(s) at 9:30 p.m. All the while, the court accommodated my need to pump.

The defendant was guilty on both counts.

The jurors were invited to stay and speak with the judge if we wished. My wish was to high-tail it out of there ASAP. I was delighted to learn that representatives of the Sheriff's department were available to escort us to our vehicles if we so desired. I did. This is a rural community, and people have guns in their cars. I was not going to hang around and risk running into family members.

Why do I tell you this? Because it made me hold my children closer. It helped remind me of the kind of man my husband is, and why I married him. And, it made me cry.

I don't cry much these days. 25 days after McCloud was born, I couldn't stop crying. I didn't realize it was a problem until Big Kahuna said I needed to do something about the constant tears immediately. I discussed it with my doctor, and he determined that an anti-depressant was in order.

This was a possibility I had discussed with my OB before McCloud's birth. I strongly suspect that I suffered from undiagnosed post-partum depression when both Busby and Janet were infants. Also, I have emotionally struggled with breastfeeding with each child. Actually, I have hated it, time and again. But I always kept doing it because it's the best thing for baby.

I mentioned holding my children closer. When I got home at 10:00 p.m. after the trial concluded, I got into bed with my sleeping son and whispered in his ear. I told him that his mommy and daddy love him, and we will always be there for him, and we are his biggest fans. I've told this to both of my daughters as well. I have crawled into bed with Janet and held her until she has drifted off to sleep. Two nights ago I picked up a sleeping McCloud and took her to bed with me, so that I could hold her to me while she slept. Tonight, Busby needed some cuddling. So I laid down with him and rubbed his feet. The only problem is that he tosses and turns. A lot. Eventually I got up, but offered to let him sleep with the one stuffed animal I kept from my childhood - a baby fawn that was made for me by my grandmother. He looked absolutely delighted. And he promised to stay in bed and go to sleep.

The point of this rambling post? Maybe it's a reminder to be the kids' biggest cheerleader and to hug them a lot.

Home Again

I grew up in a small town about 85 miles north of the metropolitan area I live in. For a lot of my life, whenever I had been away from my hometown, that place was still my home. And it wasn't when I arrived at my mother's house that I was home, it was when I entered the county. All of the landmarks along the highway were part of "home." There are the grain towers where my granddad used to take me as a child for caramel candies. The community building in the smaller town to the south where I've attended birthday parties and wedding receptions. The factory where my mom worked for ages and ages, and where I spent a miserable (but well paying) summer. Then there's the Dairy Queen, the county Courthouse, the old grocery store, and the roads that take me to the places of my childhood. That was home.

Yesterday, we visited my hometown to go to a festival that I knew would be loads of fun for my kids. It was great. Although, the pork burgers were severely sub-par. Pork producers, why did you sell out? We also took a lap through the neighboring state park to pick out our spots for an upcoming camping trip. Then we headed home.

We live in a "small" town outside of the state capital. It's quickly becoming a suburb as this town and the capital grow into each other. But it still has a "small town" feel, which I love.

As we arrived in town last night, and we drove around the golf course to the road that leads to our house, I said, "This is home." Even though BK and I have been married for almost 8 years, and have resided in this house for 5 years, last night was the first time that I consciously understood that this is where I live. There is a new road and new landmarks that lead to my home now. The home where my husband and children are.

I know that may not make a lot of sense. Sadly, my mother recently lost her home as part of the mortgage/foreclosure problem that is currently plaguing the country. Up until my mom had to move, there was always a place to go in my hometown that was my "home."

The loss of a house that holds so many important memories of my early years had such a large impact, but I didn't realize it until last night. And as we approached this house - the one that BK's grandparents built, with their own hands - I truly began to appreciate the place my heart calls home.

*****

After reading this post, BK encouraged me to send it to the Vinyl Cafe Story Exchange. I hope Stuart likes it.

If the hat fits

Mommy, can I wear this Lightening McQueen (winter sock) hat (from 2 winters ago)?

Sure! (It's only 85 degrees outside. A winter sock hat from w winters ago it totally appropriate.)

Mommy, will you tie the strings on my (winter sock) hat (from 2 winters ago), please?

Sure! This hat is too small for you.

No it isn't.

Yes, it is.

No it isn't. It fits fine.

Um...ok.

Who's your Daddy?

Conversation this morning in the car on the way to work:

Busby: I need to call Daddy's Mom and Dad.
Me: Oh really? Who are Daddy's Mom and Dad?
Busby: mmmmm.....
Me: Well, who are Daddy's Mom and Dad?
Busby: Papaw and Grandma.
Me: Very Good! Who is Mommy's Daddy?
Busby: Pop!
Me: That's right. And who is Mommy's Mommy?
Busby: Aunt J.
Me: Ummm.....
Busby: No! Your Mommy is Grammy! Aunt J is your sister. I was making a joke. hahahahaha.
Me: That's funny!
Me: Aunt J is mommy's sister. Who is mommy's brother?
Busby: Daddy.
Me: Ummm.....No. Daddy is Mommy's husband.
Busby: Daddy is your husband? Who is Mommy's wife?

Old School

My thought train is back on track....

As I started to tell you the other day, BK was taming the wild jungle of our yard. And a door-to-door salesman stopped by.

Not just an ordinary d-t-d salesman. No. This guy is selling UVerse. My version of the conversation goes like this (and it's only slightly exagerated):

UVerse Guy: Hi, can I talk to you about your television?
BK: Umm...Ok.
UVerse Guy: What are you paying for your television?
BK: You mean what did we pay for the TV? Nothing, it was free. (Which it was. Got it as a wedding gift)
UVerse Guy: No, I mean your TV service?
BK: Nothing. We're using rabbit ears.
UVserve Guy: Really? (With a look of shock and disbelief.)
BK: Yes.
UVerse Guy: And you're happy with that? (Still shocked.)
BK: Yes.
UVerse Guy: How many televisions do you have in the house?
BK: Two.
UVerse Guy: [Looks even more shocked.] Have you already bought your digital converters?
BK: Sure have.
UVerse Guy: Can I ask where you get your phone service?
BK: From you.
UVerse Guy: And what do you pay for that?
BK: Something like $20/month.
UVerse Guy: Ok, and what about internet?
BK (and here's where he was less than truthful): We have dial-up. It's about $20/month.
UVerse Guy: And you're happy with that?
BK: Yes.

UVerse Guy did fill BK in on the "benefits" of paying AT&T $99/month, but in the end conceded that if BK was happy, he had nothing to sell us. I image he'll be talking about Mr. Satisfied for weeks.

Off track

So...Big Kahuna was out on his monster tractor attempting to tame the wild jungle that came about after not mowing for 8 or 10 months.

Ok, that's an exaggeration. It's only been 2 weeks, and with very, very good reasons. Which I mostly don't want to discuss.




Just now, there was a loud crack/boom outside. And my train of thought totally derailed. I have entirely failed to remember what I was going to blog about.