Make it stop

Craaaaaaamp. Crammmmmmmmp. Uhhhh.

The State of Things

It is done. The procedure was quick, about fifteen minutes, but that entire time was spent with the speculum wrenching everything open and the nurse practitioner's face a mere inches from some very private parts. I am so glad I showered this morning.

The actual insertion of the IUD was painless, I just felt some mild pressure when she cleaned off my cervix and attached a frightening-looking metal thingie (as we medical professionals call it) to keep it still. Did you know that your cervix could move? I had no idea. Wiggly little buggers, apparently. On the way home I started to feel a little crampy, and it seems to be getting worse now, so I'm going to go lay down for a bit. So basically, things as they now stand are:

IUD: Inserted.

Dignity: Completely gone.

Uterus: Cramping into a wee little ball, presumably in order to squeeze itself out of my belly button.

Good times, good times.

I think it's going to hurt

Tomorrow at noon I am going to get an IUD.

For some reason, lying naked in the doctor's office while some random lady shoves a pointy piece of metal into my uterus just doesn't sound like very much fun.

I'll keep you posted.

Motherhood and Alchemy

My book club is reading "The Alchemist" this month, and I am so surprised that I've never read this book before. I just finished it yesterday, and I absolutely loved it. I was entranced through the entire book, a feeling that I've had before while reading my favorite book of all time, "The Little Prince." Both of these books present a spiritual and magical view of life, in which every little thing is important and connected and necessary to make life go on. "The Alchemist" really got me thinking about my own life, my "destiny", and my purpose here on earth. Thankfully, I felt reassured that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing.

People learn early in their lives what is their reason for being. (The Alchemist, p24)

As far back as I can remember, I have always loved caring for things. First my dolls and teddy bears, then my pets, my little cousins, and hundreds of children that I either babysat or looked after in a daycare setting. The nurturing role came so easily to me, and it has always felt so natural and comfortable. Before I had my own children, I worked as a caregiver for disabled children. I would bathe them, feed them, give them their medicine, do their physical therapy, even hold them through their constant seizures. It was hard, draining work, but it made me feel so good. I knew I was using my strengths to do something useful that contributed to this world in a special way. Above all, what I had to give was a patient and gentle love that these children felt and responded to. I have always felt that in some way, these strengths of mine could be used to change the world, even in a very small way.

People are afraid to pursue their most important dreams, because they feel that they don't deserve them, or that they'll be unable to achieve them. (p130)

I was lucky (blessed) to marry young and fulfill my dream of becoming a mother. It's been more difficult and challenging than I ever knew it could be, and a thousand times more fulfilling. My children have a way of nudging me in the exact direction I don't want to go, and therefore forcing me to learn and grow as a person every day. Even though I feel like my decision to be a young mother is the right one for me and my family, I sometimes feel judged by the rest of the world. Women have been mothers for millions of years so I'm in good company, but during this feminist and egalitarian day and age, choosing motherhood over a career is rare. Sometimes even looked down upon. A woman is supposed to strive for power and recognition, to prove that we are worthy of the place our fore-mothers achieved for us by fighting for women's rights. I think it is very important for women to continue to strive for equal rights, but I don't think that choosing to mother a child is any less important than choosing to be a doctor, lawyer, or politician. I feel like using my strengths to raise children with values that I think are important, I will be doing my part to influence the world in a positive way.

When you are loved, you can do anything in creation. When you are loved, there's no need at all to understand what's happening, because everything happens within you. (p147)

Feeling misunderstood and judged for my life choices is difficult, but it doesn't change what I know about myself. I am a nurturing, caring, patient person, and those are traits that are sadly missing from too many people I know. I want to give those to my children. I want to teach them that any doctor, lawyer, or politician would do better with these traits. I want to teach them that with love you can change the world. If you approach people with love they can feel it, even if they don't understand it. It impacts them and changes them, sometimes with nothing more than a smile. Even more important, I want to teach my children that if you love yourself, anything is possible.

Every search begins with beginners luck and ends with the victor's being severely tested. (p132)

Becoming a mother was the easy part. But staying true to myself and teaching my children with confidence and consistency will never be simple. Crazy things are thrown in my path all the time that force me to look at myself in new ways. I am faced with choices that will either strengthen me or throw me completely off course. Self-doubt and self-deprecation will always be struggles for me that I must constantly work through. In a world full of selfishness and cruelty, people who fight to be beacons of goodness and light will always have to overcome many hurdles, and I think mothers are the brightest beacons there are.

Listen to your heart. It knows all things, because it came from the Soul of the World, and it will one day return there. (p127)

I am grateful that I have had trust in myself to do what I think is right. By following my heart, I have found myself in the most wonderful of places. I am happy, I am fulfilled, I am growing, and I am teaching. I am using my strengths to be a positive force in this world, and I truly believe that good things will happen because of that. They already have.

The boy and his heart had become friends, and neither was capable now of betraying the other. (p134)

Self Portrait Tuesday- Reflections III

The internet has awoken! Welcome back to your computers, everybody! I'm going to ease back in with an easy Self Portrait Tuesday post. Here is the last picture in the "Reflections" series. Next month will be something new!

Christmas, Good and Bad

GOOD:
Everyone and their mother dropping off tasty treats on our doorstep. Fudge! Cookies! Candy! Bring it on!

BAD:
Staying up until one in the morning to frost the fifty-six jillion sugar cookies you're making to give in return.

GOOD:
That fresh, wonderful pine scent from the live tree (well, I guess it's dead now).

BAD:
When said tree decides to stop drinking water and becomes a brittle mass of flammable garbage.

GOOD:
Decorating the house, and making everything look so cheery and festive!

BAD:
Apparently it is in the constitution that two out of every three strings of lights you put away last year will not work this year. I'm sure it's there folks, look it up.

GOOD:
Telling your kids stories about Santa, and setting the stage for the main event on that magical Christmas morning.

BAD:
Trying to explain to your frantic preschooler how Santa will deliver presents to your house since you don't have a chimney. (He comes in through the window, by the way.)

GOOD:
Dropping the kids of with Grandma and Grandpa to go to your husband's fancy work Christmas party.

BAD:
Dressing for this stupid crap party when you have NO NICE CLOTHES THAT FIT AND YOU REALIZE THAT THE PINK MATERNITY SHIRT IS THE ONLY SEMI-APPROPRIATE ITEM OF CLOTHING YOU OWN AND DO YOU THINK ANYONE WOULD NOTICE IF YOU SHOWED UP SUDDENLY LOOKING EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT? Not that this happened to me, or anything.

GOOD:
Making cute, crafty gifts that are sure to impress all of your in-laws.

BAD:
Shoving your way through the angry herd of people at the post office who also forgot to send their packages early.

GOOD:
Shopping for last minute gifts at the mall WITHOUT THE KIDS! It's like a vacation!

BAD:
Nasty mall Santas who give you the "come hither" eye.

GOOD:
Listening to your favorite Christmas songs over and over.

BAD:
Remembering that Bing Crosby beat his kids, and how's that for some lovely holiday cheer.

and let's end on a positive note...

GOOD:
Reciting every word along with the narrator of "How The Grinch Stole Christmas"!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

Help Me, Bob Ross

I think ears should be banned. Nobody really needs their ears, all they do is cause problems, don't you think? I vote for no more ears.

This time last year, we were at the end of our fourth straight month of ear infections. E-- was eight months old, and she had either had simultaneous infections in both ears, or fluid buildup that was turning into an infection since she was four months old. Her eustachian tubes are extremely narrow (as well as her throat, which is why she is prone to bad bouts of croup) and they are unable to drain properly, so any fluid or infection just ends up festering for weeks. She was on antibiotics constantly, but eventually even those stopped helping. By last January, her pain was so constant and intense that she was waking up every forty-five minutes at night, all night long. This went on for a month, people. Ammon and I had long since lost our minds due to sleep deprivation, and the helplessness we felt being unable to ease our daughter's pain was overwhelming. We made the decision for her to undergo surgery to have ear tubes put in. Even though I knew this was the only option that would help her, I still agonized over this decision since it required putting her under a general anesthetic. Every doctor I spoke to reassured me what a simple and routine surgery it was, that no one ever had complications or adverse reactions. This made me worry even more, and I kept thinking about an article I had read once about a little girl who went in for a (very simple, very routine) cleft-repair surgery, and after several complications ended up dying. But I knew that E-- was miserable and suffering, and could even end up with permanent hearing damage if we didn't get those infections under control soon. So we did the surgery. It was very quick, and by the end of that day she was more perked up and happy than we had seen her in months. Her pain was finally gone.

Fast forward eleven months, and here we are in the same boat as last year. E--'s left ear tube fell out a few weeks ago (they are supposed to fall out on their own, but the children are usually old enough by that time to have outgrown ear infections) and since it's been out, she has had two infections in that ear. Her right ear tube is on its way out, as well. Next month we're meeting with a doctor from the audiology department of our local children's hospital to talk about the possibility of a repeat surgery. Even though we've been through this once before, and even a completely different surgery for her hand, I am still finding myself feeling extremely emotional and anxious over this decision. I am a perfectionist parent. I put immense pressure on myself to make the right decision the first time every time, and I have no tolerance for even the smallest mistakes. I blame myself when things go wrong, but I don't always give myself credit when things go right. As you can imagine, this is kind of a stressful way to live. I keep running through every horrible and frightening scenario that may happen during this "simple and routine" surgery, and every tragic outcome ends with my blame. I am her mother. I should therefore have super powers to see into the future and guide my children along the safest path. It sounds like a joke, but I seriously do expect that of myself.

The hardest part about trusting my daughter's medical care to her doctors is how helpless it makes me feel. I lose complete control when she is under the general anesthetic, I can't even be in the room to observe. I have to trust that they know what they're doing. Trust that they are focused, coherent, and that they have her best interests in their minds and hearts. After the surgery on E--'s hand, I wrote, "The absolute powerlessness of handing over your baby to people you've barely just met knowing they're about to cut her open is devastating."

I know we are so very lucky that these are the big medical issues we're dealing with. It could be so much worse, so much more frightening. And believe me, I thank God every day for the beautiful blessings in my life.

But I still worry.

I worry my brain into a useless smoldering lump some days. I actually don't allow myself to watch the news anymore, because when I do I end up worrying so much that it becomes too frightening to leave the house. Some worrying is good, I know this, but when it begins to consume you I think the benefits are buried under the disadvantages. I want to be able to make rational, informed decisions in my life without my emotions grabbing the wheel and sending me careening down a bumpy road filled with fear and uncertainty. I just want some kind of balance, but I have no idea how to get it.

Bob Ross is on TV right now, painting happy little clouds and streams. He calms me. He just said, "If anything ever goes wrong you can always make a bigger bush." This seems very profound, and I think it applies to this situation in some way. I'm just not sure how...

Self Portrait Tuesday- Refections II

For more reflective surfaces pictures, go to the Self Portrait Tuesday site.

The Brain and Mouth Show

My brain and my mouth have some communication issues. My brain is the sensible one, always coming up with practical solutions to problems and witty responses to things people say to me. My mouth, on the other hand, is a bumbling idiot whose sole purpose seems to be embarrassing me in front of important people.

Like the police, for example.

(Sit down Mom, it's not as bad as it sounds.)

The preschool we go to was recently burglarized. The thieves carted away a bunch of files containing personal information on the families enrolled in the school. Everyone is really worried, and e-mails have been flying back and forth on how to protect yourself from identity theft. You might say we are all in a bit of a tizzy. Because that's fun to say.

Well, today at school a truck drove into the parking lot and dropped a man off who proceeded to walk around the building, looking in windows and trying to open people's car doors. We locked the school's door and called the police. Just before they arrived, I saw a pick-up (presumably the same one) drive through the parking lot again, with the man back in the passenger seat. Before they were out of sight, I wrote the license plate down and tried to give it to the dispatcher we were on the phone with. "Tried" is the operative word here. My mouth was insolently refusing to obey my brain, apparently determined to make a fool of me. While my brain calmly read the license numbers from the piece of paper in my hand, my mouth scampered around like Alvin on crack.

A-3-2 read my brain.

"The first number is really a letter and it is A! As in ALICE!" Said my stupid mouth.

...3-2-6-N-1 my brain continued serenely.

"And here come some real numbers, 3, 2, 6, and then another letter! This one is N! As in... as in noodle? No, Nancy! N as in NANCY!" Yelled my deranged mouth. "And then 1. The last number is 1. No more letters. Did you get all that?"

You sound like a complete wacko, my brain told me reasonably. Tone it down a bit.

The dispatcher then asked me to relate my version of what happened. Off went my mouth, wandering randomly around the story and possibly speaking in strange tongues. I can't be sure, because at this point my brain abandoned me completely in an effort to distance itself from the embarrassment.

"I'm not sure I understand the sequence of events," the dispatcher said. My mouth tried again, still dancing the jitterbug on top of what should have been a simple narration.

I found my thrill... on blueberry hill... my brain hummed distractedly. (I guess it finds Louis Armstrong helpful during stressful situations.) On blueberry hill... when I found you...

"Please put the teacher back on the phone," said the dispatcher curtly.

You are such a dork my brain announced, back on the scene. "You just shut up," muttered my mouth, and clamped itself shut under the questioning stares of the other people in the room. Another humiliating moment brought to you by the Brain and Mouth Show!

The problem is, situations like this are just so typical. The one I find myself in most often is when someone compliments me on a piece of clothing or accessory. My ladylike and refined brain responds with a breezy Why, thank you so much! While my mouth goes on to describe in detail the shopping trip during which it was purchased, including price, location, and the current state of affairs in rural Indonesia. My complimenter takes a step back, stunned by the deluge of irrelevant information, and tries to decide whether running for their life would be a socially acceptable response.

As we can see in today's example, things are getting kind of out of hand. I'm considering sending my brain and my mouth to couples counseling so they can resolve their communication problems. I would just read a book, but I'm afraid my brain would do the serious reading while my mouth spouted off distracting and annoying comments. In the event that you and your partner are unable to reach any kind of consensus during your- "Hey, did you know that more than 90% of shark attack victims survive?"

Perhaps I should just go to the store for some duct tape and "A Couple's Guide to Communication" and hunker down for a long night.

The Best Question Ever

On the way home from Christmas shopping tonight, my daughter asked me the most wonderful question. Possibly the best question that has ever been asked in the history of the world...

"Mommy, what does green smell like?"

I told her I think it smells like freshly cut grass in the summer.

What do you think it smells like?

Self Portrait Tuesday- Reflections

The theme for this month's Self Portrait Tuesday is "Reflective Surfaces". This is my husband's shaving mirror in our shower.

Love Letters

Anyone out there who knows a preschooler, or has one of your own, knows what passionate and intense little people they are. Even though the bodies they inhabit are usually quite small, the opinions of these children are among the strongest you will ever encounter in your life. For example, the red shirt is fine, but you'd better not suggest that they wear the blue shirt or the fire of hell shall rain down upon your head! Or in my case, the string cheese must be pulled apart precisely according to her specific requirements, or else the gargoyle emerges.

Not only are preschoolers resolute in their opinions, but their loves and interests can also be astonishingly fierce. Alice's son Henry has much love for the Star Wars. Angela's daughter is enamored with... well, soap. And kitchen spices. Of course. My daughter is one of the bajillions of little girls out there who is infatuated with the Disney princesses. Oy, the princesses. It wouldn't be so bad if the princess love didn't spill over into the dreaded world of Barbies. I steadfastly refused to ever buy my daughters a Barbie, but I guess I forgot to send my family that memo. Last Christmas we were inundated with Barbies in all sorts of princess get-ups, and they soon became her favorite toys. They must be slept with, bathed with, taken on every outing... Basically she would be happy if we could find a way to surgically attach these princesses to her body so she would never be separated from them. The love for them is that great.

One fateful day back in September, one of my daughter's best friends came over after she got home from a family trip to Disneyland. This little girl brought a little book filled with pictures of her with every princess you can imagine, along with their autographs. And I have not stopped hearing about it since. My daughter had no idea that there was an actual place you could go to meet her beloved princesses! The fact that they all "live" together in one place, and she can actually go and see them all in person is almost too much for her sweet little brain to comprehend. It is so important to her to go and visit the princesses, that when we sat down to write her letter to Santa a couple weeks ago, she decided to write one to the princesses as well. Her letter to Santa was forgotten the moment it was sent, but she asked me every single day since then when the princesses were going to write back. I couldn't let those stupid princesses break her heart. So yesterday I wrote a letter (completely on their behalf!) and left it on our front porch. I rang the doorbell, and had her come answer the door with me. Here is the letter:



The letter was in an envelope with a picture of all of the princesses that I printed out and laminated with contact paper. You guys, you should have seen the look on her face. I wish I had taken a picture, because I have never seen her that excited. She was in a state of princess-induced bliss that I have never before witnessed. She was endlessly, enormously, surpassingly happy. It was such a special moment. I think she and I will both remember that day for a long, long time.

The One With the Meme

Ok, here's the thing with me and memes. They bug me. They really really do. And yet, I am always interested to read them because they reveal so much about the blogger. Since my darling friend the Daring Young Mom tagged me the other day I've been trying to figure out a way to get out of it, but none of my ideas seem very feasible. I thought of maybe calling her to say that my fingers were run over by a truck, so I can't type anymore. But I knew she'd figure that one out, because you can't dial a phone with smooshed fingers. I pondered hiring someone to kidnap me and send my friends and family a note that said I would only be released if I swore never to post a meme on my blog. This seemed overly dramatic, somehow, so I decided against that one. The only other thing I could think of was faking my death, but just thinking about the work involved in such a grand-scale deceit made me need to take a nap, so I decided to sit my lazy butt down in this chair and just do the dang meme. (It's just meme-ing cats and dogs in blogland, isn't it Jenn?)

Let's learn a little bit about me with the Seven Sevens meme:

Seven things I hope to do before I die:

1) Raise all of my children to be strong, moral, self-confident adults.
2) Spend a summer in Italy.
3) Publish a great work.
4) Reclaim my flat stomach (it seems to be missing... I've been looking everywhere).
5) Adopt a child.
6) Have my very own library room, complete with a wonderful rolling ladder.
7) Leave a legacy of love and compassion that outshines my life, and my death.

Seven things I cannot do:

1) Sing in front of anyone, even though I can TOTALLY rock it in the car!
2) Get a song out of my head once it sticks itself in there.
3) Fall asleep. I am a horrible faller-asleeper. I suck at it, and it always takes me forever. I usually lie awake for hours every night. I SO want this.
4) Watch scary movies. Oh, the nightmares.
5) Ski. Not one, tiny little bit. But I can fall really well!
6) Stop loving Ben Folds. The love for that genius musician man, it is everlasting.
7) Spank my children. I am adamantly opposed.

Seven things that attract me to my spouse (significant other, best friend):

1) His strength of character.
2) His dimples.
3) His loyalty.
4) His crazy smart brains.
5) His glorious bottom. Yeah I said it.
6) How much he believes in me.
7) What a loving and dedicated father he is to our girls.

Seven things I say often:

1) Dude.
2) Just a minute!
3) Do you have to go potty?
4) D'oh!
5) Oh fiddlesticks! (not really, but I think I'm going to start incorporating that one.)
6) Your turn to change her.
7) I love you.

Seven books or book series I love:

1) "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. My all-time favorite book ever.
2) "Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe" by Edgar Allen Poe. My all-time favorite poet ever.
3) "The Time Traveler's Wife" by Audrey Niffenegger.
4) "Dr. Seuss's ABC" by Dr. Seuss. (Young Yolanda Yorgensen is yelling on his back!)
5) The "Little House" series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. These books solidified my love for reading and literature when I was very young.
6) "Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child" by Dr. John Gottman. The best parenting book out there, my friends. No contest.
7) "The Giver" by Lois Lowry. So very thinky and symbolic.

Seven movies I could watch over and over again:

1) "Harvey" starring Jimmy Stewart, it's my favorite!
2) The new "Pride and Prejudice" as long as you don't mind a few tears.
3) "A Christmas Story". You'll shoot yer eye out, kid.
4) "Little Women" with Winona Ryder. I am such a girl.
5) Anything with Jerry Lewis. That guy invented funny.
6) "Mary Poppins". I love the Julie Andrews/ Dick Van Dyke combo. And also the penguin dance.
7) "Finding Nemo". The only movie my kids watch that I am not sick of yet. Knock on wood.

Seven people I want to join in this “Seven Sevens” meme:

1) Karen from The Big Trade-Off. Tag, you're it!
2) Kestrel from The Muttering Muse. Let's get those grad school brains working!
3) The illustrious Sarcastic Journalist, because we have so much in common it scares me sometimes.
4) Chris-daddy of Rude Cactus. C'mom, dude. I DARE you!
5) The lovely Leah from Life as Lou.
6) Cheese goddess Heather from Morceaux de Fromage.
7) Anyone else who feels the need to meme. Have at it.

So this is love

My new camera arrived in the mail yesterday! I feel so



and also a little bit



The best part of the camera is that it has a "sci-fi" sound setting, so when you take a picture it makes a little pchoo! sound, like you're shooting a lazer or something. I am deeply, deeply in love.

Fun With Your Three Year Old

"Mommy! I went to the store with Daddy and I'm not supposed to tell you about the plate we got! It's a surprise!"

"Mommy, that juice made me feel scrabbly. You know what scrabbly means? It's when it gets in your throat and makes you feel like spunkt."

"Mommy! Ask me where your plate is hidden! Want me to tell you? It's a surprise! Want me to tell?"

"Know what I like about Santa? When sometimes he... Sometimes, um... When sometimes... Sometimes he has a belt."

"Mommy we got you a plate but I can't tell you! It's a secret surprise!"

(Me: "A~ do you feel sick?") "No. Just a little. I just have a terrible cough. It will go away tomorrow."

Sundry Sunday: Christmas and Vinegar

1. Since I've been on the subject of searches people are using to come to my site, here's a good one from the other day: "farts are smelling really horrible." Whoever you are, I feel for you. Because I've been there.

2. WHERE THE HECK ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO HANG YOUR STOCKINGS IF YOU DON'T HAVE A FIREPLACE? I cannot figure this out. We have these beautiful monogrammed stockings from Land's End, and they MUST BE HUNG. I am at a loss.

3. That one Tom Waits song? When the robots are down in the underground metal-melting chop shop place? Coolest song ever.

4. What are you supposed to do when your kid grabs a glass ornament off the shelf at Target and chucks it across the aisle where it shatters into a jillion pieces? Is running away really fast ok?

5. Apparently Elle McPherson is an inattentive mother. This is strangely comforting to me.

6. Ok. What is it about Salt-and-Vinegar potato chips that make them so disgustingly irresistible? I mean, the taste is awful and it makes me shudder and yet I can't stop eating them. I can hear them calling to me in the middle of the night, begging me to partake of their sour, salty goodness. A conundrum.

7. AND OH MY GOSH why are tree skirts so flippin' expensive? $40 for a crappy little circle of fabric with a hole in the middle of it? Yeah, I don't think so.

8. I know it only cost $1.99, but still I was expecting my Glitter Snow Drape to look a little less like dryer lint.

9. Finally, and most importantly: our Tivo only recorded the first half of Lost and I think I will really, truly die if I don't find out what happened. It's a life or death matter folks. Help a poor girl out.