Love in the Time of Covid

I have eight eggs in my refrigerator. No, this is not a plea for more eggs, but I have always had the luxury of not knowing precisely how much food I have on hand. Needless to say, it does cause anxiety. If nothing else comes from this, I hope more Americans understand the plight of those who have food insecurity.

My anxiety was really bad yesterday. When I get anxious, it manifests as irritation and anger. I had to give myself a time out last night. The kids are ALWAYS here now, omnipresent. I cannot get a break from their physical proximity. But I went into my room, turned off the lights, and laid down and did one of the breathing exercises on my fitbit for the first time. I apologized to the kids. A lot. We discussed better ways of living with each other. I made up "Kindness Cards" for them to earn when they do something especially thoughtful for one another. The cards can be traded in for 5 minutes of device time, they can use a bunch at once or one at a time. It DOES seem to be working.

 We came inside from being outside for over an hour. The kids had been riding their scooter and bike around for 50 minutes. I really needed a break. Luke, of course, barged into the bathroom to ask for help with our Lego balloon car experiment. I was done. So, instead of becoming impatient, I set him a timer, told him that I needed a few minutes to do things for myself, wash my face, take some meds and get a drink. When the timer went off, I'd be ready to help him. It worked for him. He knew that I WAS going to get back to him and that it would only be a few minutes. So I do recommend it.

I'm having trouble thinking about the future and what may yet come. I have no idea. I'm planning more curriculum for the kids. Doug and I both have a passion for early American history, so I'm actually looking forward into digging into that with him. But, it's lots of waiting. How are you and yours coping?

Things I Care Passionately About

So, being pregnant I've discovered some things that I apparently care very passionately about, to the point of tears:

1. Raspberry Lemonade. I was trying to kick my soda habit and looking forward to making some raspberry lemonade and having a glass in the evening. I had bought two cans of mix at the store a few days ago in preparation. Fast forward to that evening, I could not find the cans of mix. I tore the house apart, looked in the car, everywhere. I'm guessing that pregnancy brain took over at the store and I left the bag with the mix in it there. Jeff comes in and tells me he'll get some tomorrow. I naturally began bawling because I had been looking forward to it ALL DAY. Jeff ended up making an 11 o'clock trip to WalMart to get some more. Life was good again.

2. Clean sheets. Every week of our marriage, on Sunday nights, Jeff and I always have the same discussion; "It's time to change the sheets, Jeff." "But we just changed them last week.". Every week for 7 years. It gets old. Anyway, the previous week we had to change the sheets on Wednesday. Doug had come in our room in the middle of the night because he had wet his bed. His shorts were wet and he was leaning up against the side of the bed. So the next morning, I changed our sheets too. I was willing to let the sheets stay on longer than normal because they were changed midweek. And I was tired as hell. So the next Saturday the sheets had been on our bed for a week and a half now. It was late and we had to get up early for church the next day, but I was really looking forward to sleeping on nice, clean sheets that night. Jeff, as usual, shared his resistance to the idea of changing the sheets. Being tired and hormonal, I couldn't take it anymore and burst into tears. Over sheets. It was one of those situations in which you're crying about something, but at the same time you know it's absolutely ridiculous. So naturally I start laughing while I'm crying. Anyway, it was effective, because we got the damn sheets changed.

3. Infant carrier car seats. After yesterday's ob appointment, I dragged Jeff to the baby supply store to check  out infant car seats. I hated Doug's with the fire of 1000 suns. It was heavy, clunky, awkward. My legs looked like bananas gone bad they were so bruised from the damn carrier knocking into them. I had seen these carriers when Doug was an infant with different shaped handles that allowed the parent schlepping the baby to hold the carrier in a more natural position. I don't know why, but no one seems to make them like that anymore. Anyway, the store had one model like this and the buckle was made out of plastic, not metal. We were disappointed. Then I started looking at all the carriers, trying to find one that weighed the least in the hopes that that would be helpful. They all weighed between 8 and 9 lbs. So, last night we dug out the old carrier and weighed it. It weighed 7.4 lbs. LESS than all the 'light weight models'. I burst into tears. It was like being told that the thing that felt like an Albatross around your neck was actually a Cardinal, so you should be grateful. The thing of it is is that because I have fibro, I tire easily. I get sore more easily and it takes longer to recover. So being told that the thing I already thought was unmanageable is actually lighter than any of the others was a bit crushing.

Jeff managed to calm me down. Part of it was that I was started to get sick when Doug was two months old, and it was just so hard to leave the house. He reminded me that this time we know what we're dealing with so I can get the meds to treat my fibro faster this time. He also reminded me that it took me a while to realize that I'd save energy by getting a combo diaper bag purse instead of carrying one of each. I have my eye on a Vera baby bag that also converts into a backpack. I'm also thinking of getting one of those snap and go dealie strollers for the car seat. So I have options, we just need to be creative about them.

I can't wait, and I'm sure Jeff agrees, for this hormonal roller coaster to be over!

Ps, Sarah Mclachlan, if I see your face on tv, consider the channel being switched!

There Are No Merit Badges For Motherhood

       There are no merit badges for mothering. Really, there aren't. Unless there's some super secret underground Mommy Cult that I don't know about, and if there is, thank God I don't know about it.

       The other day I read the most ridiculous article about a drug free birth (I refuse to call it 'natural childbirth'). I don't think the idea of a drug free birth is ridiculous, indeed to each her own. It was the tone of the article that rankled. Three out of the four reasons the author gave that drug free birth was superior were plausible. Not ironclad reasons or only found in natural childbirth, but possible. Her fourth reason that drug free childbirth was 'awesome' was that it afforded the mom 'bragging rights'. Really? If you're bragging about something, you clearly feel superior to someone. If you feel superior about a drug free birth than you are suggesting that any other kind of birth is inferior. All kinds of things happen in a delivery room and the best laid plans can go to hell in a matter of minutes, trust me, Doug was an emergency c-section. The point is that my doctor and I made the best plan we could based on the situation at hand to get Doug out ALIVE. That is the goal of any birth.  A healthy mother and child. Period. Once Doug was born, I only felt insane relief and gratitude that he was alive. That's it. No regrets. I did not get a 'I Survived An Emergency C-Section' badge.

     Mothers beat up on each other for a variety of other reasons too. You have your breastfeeders who look down on formula feeders (and vice versa). Your stay-at-home moms who look down on those who work. Your cloth diaperers who radiate smugness to those who use disposables. The list can go on and on, wherever there are different parenting paths to take, there will always be tension.

    I'm going to let you in on a little secret here: Moms are making the best choices for themselves and their children that they can. Some mom's can't breastfeed. Some moms need medication. Some moms just plain don't want to. Some moms can't afford to stay at home. Some moms (gasp) love their careers. And I think we can all agree that people who cloth diaper are insane. Just kidding.

   No college is going to ask your kid how they were born. If they were bottle or breast fed. If they had a stay-at-home parent. Why? It doesn't matter by the time they're that age. You've already done a fabulous job of raising the child. So can we please stop tearing each other down for the choices we make?

Douglas James, International Sensation

On Saturday night we decided to go to a local Chinese buffet for dinner. Buffets with Doug are fantastic. Because of his age, we rarely have to pay and he gets to eat a ton of food. I'm pretty sure we're ripping restaurants off when we take him.

When we got there, we could see a large tour bus in the parking lot, but it didn't seem to be too crowded otherwise. We went in and got a table right next to the entrance. Doug was already clamoring for food, so it seemed our choice of a buffet was inspired. I took Doug up with me and had him pick out food (he picked out veggies!) and then dropped him off at the table to get my own plate. After we'd been eating a while, Doug stood up in the booth and flirted with the people standing in the foyer behind us. After a few times, I looked over my shoulder to see that Doug was flirting with some older Asian women. Once in a while they'd smile or wave at him. A few minutes later, one of the ladies was playing peek-a-boo with him and then tickling him suddenly. Doug was enjoying this and he didn't seem to be bothering them, so I let it continue. The very next thing we knew, we were surrounded by at least a dozen Asian people, all smiling and waving at Doug. None of them spoke English. It was slightly over whelming. They gave Doug high fives, held up fingers to see how old he was and pinched his cheeks. Doug was a bit staggered by his sudden audience, but seemed to take it all in stride. They gave Doug kisses and candy, he sent kisses there way too. It was kind of an awkward 'well, now you've said hello, we're eating, but you're still here' sort of thing that lasted waaay longer than it should have. Finally one of the tourists who spoke English came over and was telling us that they were saying that Doug was cute and wanted to take a picture of him. We consented and after a couple more high-fives they went on their way. Hopefully they were able to see that not all American children are brats. Possibly the oddest experience we've ever had as parents.

Quirk?

So this was the scene the other day in Doug's room. I was putting away his laundry and he was moving around his room like a small tornado. He came upon his book shelf and systematically started ripping every book off the shelves. This 'activity' , lets call it, (I don't want to use the word 'behavior', it makes me squeamish) actually started a few months ago. He had started to become very difficult on the changing table, constantly reaching behind himself to get into the diaper organizer to grab things. I initially thought that he just wanted to play with something while he was being changed. A few weeks later I observed him with some of his toys in the basement. He has a toy pot with vegetables in it. Every time some one puts the veggies in the pot, Doug pours them out. The same with his ring stacker toy, he rips them off. He also tries to empty his toy box and the laundry baskets. I started flipping through our copy of The American Academy of Pediatrics book and only found that this emptying thing is a skill to master. I was like, um, check! I also have no idea how one year olds are supposed to 'play', other than in an investigation sort of way. He can roll a truck back and forth and turn on many of his toys. He's starting to kick a ball. I am just flummoxed. I don't know if this is atypical behavior, a phase or a personality quirk. Any ideas?

Disrupted?

This morning I was watching the news with Doug. They were discussing the hostage situation yesterday at the Discovery building. Evidently the police had been sweeping the building all night looking for explosive devices (apparently we don't call them bombs anymore). The police told reporters that they had found several packages and 'disrupted' them (evidently we don't 'detonate' things anymore either). I have to say, the whole thing kind of made me laugh. First the mental image of an officer 'disrupting' a package; did he shake it up? tear it open?. And then I realized it was probably some unfortunate employee's lunch, briefcase or backpack and I felt very sorry for that person. Their poor lunch was probably disrupted, but luckily not detonated. The officers were still combing the building at 6 this morning. I really hope all the employees got the day off, I think they deserve it after yesterday.

Enough incoherent ramblings, I'm going back to bed.

You're Fired!

Monday was the last straw for this camel. When I saw my primary doctor a few weeks ago she gave me two referrals, one for a more extensive gout work up and another for radiology.

The radiology referral was to get my legs checked for clots. I can't remember if I've mentioned it before, but I have pain in my legs (as well as everywhere else) but my doctor heard pain in my calves and jumped to clots. It's kind of become a running joke between Jeff and I lately. If I have pain in my arms or shoulders we declare that the clot has moved. If Jeff has pain in his ankle that he broke, then the clot has become contagious. You get the idea. There is no clot. If there was I'm fairly sure I would have had a stroke by now. Anyway, I had actually requested a referral for physical therapy. Imagine, getting actual relief for my pain! Is that done? Unfortunately my doctor had an "oh no, but if it's a clot I could get sued if I don't look for it" moment. Again, she declined to notice that I said it hurts everywhere and that there was never any swelling, redness or warmth in the area. Seriously, my nose and eyes are just about the only thing that doesn't hurt. So, I did the stupid gout test and found out that I don't have gout. Duh. I didn't say my joints hurt, just my muscles. She really has issues listening. But I refuse to do the blood clot test, because well, that's SO not the problem. When you're sick, tired and sore you don't want to go lugging the baby to an appointment in which you will have to wait an hour anyway to just have it come back with nothing. Negative test results are the only kind I get.

Anyway, last week I was really hitting a wall with the pain and decided to call in to get the physical therapy referral. I left the information and shortly after some one called me back form the office to get more information. This was about Wednesday. So I made an appointment for physical therapy for this past Tuesday. So a few days go by and no referral in the mail. Monday comes, so I call about it. Not only did they not have a record of the referral, but they didn't even have one of my request! So, after spending 30 minutes of the phone with some one, I thought we'd gotten it straightened out. She swore that she would fax one to the physical therapy office so I could keep my appointment for the next day. I knew better and I canceled my appointment. Yesterday Jeff went to get the mail, he comes inside and opens it. He reads a letter and then looks up at me. "What?" "You won't like this..." Sigh from me. "Just let me see it.." It was the radiology referral again. I'm not sure if my doctor is super adamant about the non-existent clot, or if the office just really can't follow directions. I just tore it up and trashed it. I did call the office that was supposed to receive this mythical referral by fax this morning. No fax. I am not surprised.

Here's another gem from my doctor's office. This, again, is one of those "this only happens to Katie" sort of thing. I have chronic pain (have I mentioned that enough yet?). Tylenol and rx strength Advil don't do anything and neither does regular Aleve. When I saw my doctor a few weeks ago she gave me a prescription for Aleve. It works out that rx strength Aleve is a little over two of the regular tablets (and also pretty worthless to me). She wrote a script for ten Aleve. Ten. Five days worth. Boy, was I relieved to know that I was going to be better in 5 days! Ahahaha. Not hardly. I don't know what she thought I was going to do with more Aleve. Grind them up and snort them? Sell them on the black market to stupid people? I know you shouldn't take some OTCs for more than a week, but chronic pain kind of gets a free pass there. She also didn't set up a contingency for when the Aleve ran out, you know, for something like physical therapy.

Other than a few good (or bad, really) stories, I haven't gotten much out of this practice. Needless to say, Monday I called around and made an appointment for a new practice for a few weeks away. I'm seeing the rheumatologist next week, and I'm sure, if nothing else, he'll give me a referral for physical therapy. Until then I guess I just got to deal.

Just Say "No!"

I really should stop watching the news, it just makes me yell at the tv. There is some sort of watch dog group, The Center for Science in the Public Interest, that is suing McDonald's over the toys in the Happy Meals. No, the toys aren't full of lead or cadmium and they don't pose a choking hazard. They're suing McDonald's because the toys are included in the Happy Meals.

The Center for Science in the Public Interest claims that the presence of toys in the Happy Meals entices children to eat them, to want them and demand them. There is probably a good deal of truth to that. They claim that since the toys lure children to the Happy Meals that children therefore are eating unhealthy meals. This also makes sense, McDonald's meals aren't the most nutritious things out there.

Here's the problem with their claims. What they are essentially telling Americans is that they are too stupid to parent, that they can't make good, smart and nutritious meal choices for their children. Yes, Happy Meals aren't fabulous for you, but if you avoid the soda and the fries, you've made some good steps in the right direction. Also, who is getting their kids Happy Meals on a daily or weekly basis? I know we only had them once in a while growing up and when we did they were a great treat. You can also by pass the meal entirely and just purchase the toy.

Here's the biggest part of the problem. People seem to forget that parents can just say "No" when a child asks for something. You don't have to, nor should you, give into a child every single time he or she makes a request. Granted, Doug isn't old enough to know what McDonald's is or to want it, but when I taught I used "No" frequently. Children don't know what's good for them all the time. It's our job as parents to teach them, and saying "No" to an unhealthy meal on occasion will help them learn.

That's my two cents.