It is 8:35am, and already my day has involved multiple time-outs, tiny bits of toilet paper scattered throughout the house, flying books, a huge circle of spiteful pee on the couch, ear-splitting screams, and substantial quantities of tears.
After Ben tried to put me on time-out for taking his books and dinosaurs off the couch so I could actually sit down (and not in a puddle of pee), my own tears started to fall. Too much. It had been too much. Ben stopped his tantrum abruptly.
"Mommy, are you sad?"
"Yes, baby, I'm sad."
"Why are you sad?"
"Because you're being so naughty. You keep throwing things and screaming and disobeying. It makes me sad when you do those things."
(B rummages through his toy box and emerges with a motorcycle.) "I got this for you. It will make you happy."
Some days are like this...even in Australia.
Even so, it's a good thing my mom's coming to take him today so I can take a break with my friend. Me and the B need some time.
I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life...to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. ~Henry David Thoreau
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Hometown Tourists: Zoomars Petting Zoo
Finally!!! We are Summer Adventuring!!!
Destination: Zoomars Petting Zoo, San Juan Capistrano
This one has been on my list for a while, but because I hate driving, Capo is like an international destination (never mind that it's in the same county--shut up). Ben loved every second of it. Matt and I were mixed. I should start by saying that originally I wanted to go to the SD Zoo that day, but I had to drop off my jug 'o pee at 9:30, which meant no drive to San Diego for us (I'm not driving 3-4 hours round trip to spend two hours at the zoo--or anywhere, for that matter; we go first thing in the morning or we don't go at all).
First off, it's not just your standard petting zoo with a dirt patch of goats. Not that my animal-lover kid would not gladly spend an entire day with a pen of goats. But I will not drive a thousand miles (fine, 22 miles) and pay real money to pet them without also getting something else for my money (like a real zoo or Disneyland or a fair). Zoomars was appealing because it offered more than the free farm down the street, and it was cheaper and closer than the real zoo. It was a pretty cool little place. One of the things I liked that differs from most petting zoos is that you can get a little basket of veggies and feed the animals. Ben really loved that, and it was a nice change to just being able to pet or maybe brush goats. There was a big area with loads of bunnies and guinea pigs, which was hands-down Ben's favorite. They were small enough to pick up and hold, and there were tons of them. And they were huge--I'm guessing because of the constant food. Whatever--B was in Heaven. It took an enormous amount of coaxing to eventually get him to leave the bunny area to see the rest of the animals.
In addition to the bunny/guinea pig area there was, of course, the dirt patch with goats and a few sheep. Always a fan favorite.
There were also horses, ponies, cows, llamas, a donkey, an emu, turkeys, chickens, and possibly others that I didn't notice. Most of those you could pet and/or feed through the fence, but you couldn't run among them like the goats and bunnies, which makes sense. Ben didn't care about these guys as much, probably because he couldn't manhandle and harass them.
Finally, there was a little train to ride and pony/horse rides, which Ben super loved and did by himself, which was really fun for us to see. He's done a little mall train ride by himself before, but reluctantly, and he's done a horse-ride before with me walking next to him. But these he gleefully did independently. My baby is growing up! Someone hold me.
The Journey: Shockingly easy and short. Just a quick trip down the 5, and it's just a couple of minutes off the freeway, which I like. Parking tip: There is a parking lot, although I use that term very loosely. It's a patch of gravel that fits maybe 20 cars. My recommendation is to park on the street; the parking lot was a little challenging to get in and out of.
The Price: $6 for adults, $5 for kids; $2 for a basket of food for the animals; $4 each for the train ride and pony rides. All small numbers, but if you really want to do the whole shabang, it ends up being a bit on the pricey side, especially considering that while it's fun, it's not much. We did everything, including a wardrobe change, in less than 90 minutes. Sure, $30ish isn't much for a family of three to enjoy some time at the petting zoo together. But considering your "admission" price essentially allows you to pet some goats and bunnies and that's it--everything else costs more money--I feel like maybe that $6 was more money than I'd originally been thinking. But still--it's a pretty cheap thrill.
The Highlights: I think the best part for us was that there were more options than just goats to pet and play with. Ben's favorite, by a long shot, was the bunnies. So much so, in fact, that he cried when we left, not because we were leaving, but because he wanted one and we didn't take one home with us. He seriously talked the whole way home about how much he wanted "a bunny in our house." He liked the guinea pigs, too, but seriously, I grew up with those--never again. He also really loved the horse ride.
The Downsides: The biggest drawback for me was the bathroom situation. There weren't bathrooms. There were three outhouses. Now, I'm a small-town mountain girl who moved to the beach. I'm no stranger to outhouses. This is something I probably should have asked when we first arrived, seeing as I've got a newly potty-trained almost-three-year-old in tow. But I didn't think to ask because I just assume that a business that caters to the preschool crowd and has a website and takes credit and debit cards would have a restroom. Nothing extravagant, but something. Part of what went down was my own fault for not asking about the bathrooms to begin with, and for getting so caught up in Ben's excitement that I forgot to ask him if he needed to go. But seriously--there was no indication on the website that the only "bathrooms" were three outhouses in the corner of the parking lot (which meant actually leaving the petting zoo to use them and relying on the cashiers to recognize us so we could get back in, since we didn't get tickets or stamps or anything). And the website clearly states they cater to toddlers and preschoolers, who are high-maintenance potty-ers. There was a random diaper changing table right next to the bunny corral, which I thought was kind of weird. That made sense once I discovered the lack of restroom. At any rate, while we were walking to the front to get tickets for B to ride the train and the pony ride, I looked down to see wet pants. Sigh. Our first public accident. I walked him over to the front to ask where the bathrooms were, and she pointed to the outhouses. So we went to our car in the parking lot, and I changed his clothes out there. Man--I thought changing a diaper in a car was a challenge. Changing underwear is harder, in part because it requires standing up, which an underwear-wearing kid is much taller than a diaper-wearing infant. Anyway, we got it all taken care of and enjoyed the rest of our time. But it was inconvenient.
Destination: Zoomars Petting Zoo, San Juan Capistrano
This one has been on my list for a while, but because I hate driving, Capo is like an international destination (never mind that it's in the same county--shut up). Ben loved every second of it. Matt and I were mixed. I should start by saying that originally I wanted to go to the SD Zoo that day, but I had to drop off my jug 'o pee at 9:30, which meant no drive to San Diego for us (I'm not driving 3-4 hours round trip to spend two hours at the zoo--or anywhere, for that matter; we go first thing in the morning or we don't go at all).
First off, it's not just your standard petting zoo with a dirt patch of goats. Not that my animal-lover kid would not gladly spend an entire day with a pen of goats. But I will not drive a thousand miles (fine, 22 miles) and pay real money to pet them without also getting something else for my money (like a real zoo or Disneyland or a fair). Zoomars was appealing because it offered more than the free farm down the street, and it was cheaper and closer than the real zoo. It was a pretty cool little place. One of the things I liked that differs from most petting zoos is that you can get a little basket of veggies and feed the animals. Ben really loved that, and it was a nice change to just being able to pet or maybe brush goats. There was a big area with loads of bunnies and guinea pigs, which was hands-down Ben's favorite. They were small enough to pick up and hold, and there were tons of them. And they were huge--I'm guessing because of the constant food. Whatever--B was in Heaven. It took an enormous amount of coaxing to eventually get him to leave the bunny area to see the rest of the animals.
In addition to the bunny/guinea pig area there was, of course, the dirt patch with goats and a few sheep. Always a fan favorite.
There were also horses, ponies, cows, llamas, a donkey, an emu, turkeys, chickens, and possibly others that I didn't notice. Most of those you could pet and/or feed through the fence, but you couldn't run among them like the goats and bunnies, which makes sense. Ben didn't care about these guys as much, probably because he couldn't manhandle and harass them.
Finally, there was a little train to ride and pony/horse rides, which Ben super loved and did by himself, which was really fun for us to see. He's done a little mall train ride by himself before, but reluctantly, and he's done a horse-ride before with me walking next to him. But these he gleefully did independently. My baby is growing up! Someone hold me.
The Journey: Shockingly easy and short. Just a quick trip down the 5, and it's just a couple of minutes off the freeway, which I like. Parking tip: There is a parking lot, although I use that term very loosely. It's a patch of gravel that fits maybe 20 cars. My recommendation is to park on the street; the parking lot was a little challenging to get in and out of.
The Price: $6 for adults, $5 for kids; $2 for a basket of food for the animals; $4 each for the train ride and pony rides. All small numbers, but if you really want to do the whole shabang, it ends up being a bit on the pricey side, especially considering that while it's fun, it's not much. We did everything, including a wardrobe change, in less than 90 minutes. Sure, $30ish isn't much for a family of three to enjoy some time at the petting zoo together. But considering your "admission" price essentially allows you to pet some goats and bunnies and that's it--everything else costs more money--I feel like maybe that $6 was more money than I'd originally been thinking. But still--it's a pretty cheap thrill.
The Highlights: I think the best part for us was that there were more options than just goats to pet and play with. Ben's favorite, by a long shot, was the bunnies. So much so, in fact, that he cried when we left, not because we were leaving, but because he wanted one and we didn't take one home with us. He seriously talked the whole way home about how much he wanted "a bunny in our house." He liked the guinea pigs, too, but seriously, I grew up with those--never again. He also really loved the horse ride.
The Downsides: The biggest drawback for me was the bathroom situation. There weren't bathrooms. There were three outhouses. Now, I'm a small-town mountain girl who moved to the beach. I'm no stranger to outhouses. This is something I probably should have asked when we first arrived, seeing as I've got a newly potty-trained almost-three-year-old in tow. But I didn't think to ask because I just assume that a business that caters to the preschool crowd and has a website and takes credit and debit cards would have a restroom. Nothing extravagant, but something. Part of what went down was my own fault for not asking about the bathrooms to begin with, and for getting so caught up in Ben's excitement that I forgot to ask him if he needed to go. But seriously--there was no indication on the website that the only "bathrooms" were three outhouses in the corner of the parking lot (which meant actually leaving the petting zoo to use them and relying on the cashiers to recognize us so we could get back in, since we didn't get tickets or stamps or anything). And the website clearly states they cater to toddlers and preschoolers, who are high-maintenance potty-ers. There was a random diaper changing table right next to the bunny corral, which I thought was kind of weird. That made sense once I discovered the lack of restroom. At any rate, while we were walking to the front to get tickets for B to ride the train and the pony ride, I looked down to see wet pants. Sigh. Our first public accident. I walked him over to the front to ask where the bathrooms were, and she pointed to the outhouses. So we went to our car in the parking lot, and I changed his clothes out there. Man--I thought changing a diaper in a car was a challenge. Changing underwear is harder, in part because it requires standing up, which an underwear-wearing kid is much taller than a diaper-wearing infant. Anyway, we got it all taken care of and enjoyed the rest of our time. But it was inconvenient.
Prayers for Pee
Sorry about the proliferation of urine-related talk on here lately. Between my kidneys and Ben's potty training, it's pretty much the focal point of my life right now. Oh the joys of being pregnant and having a pre-schooler. Or of parenting in general. You pick.
Last night I found myself sitting in church praying desperately for pee, on multiple accounts. On Monday we started potty training. It has been going really well, but since the underwear phase began we've had a couple of accidents. To be expected, and there have been few. On Friday I went for a check-up with my doctor and was requested to do a 24 hour reunion tour with Hall and Oates. Needless to say, I had some pee needs. The numbers in my jug 'o pee need to, at the very least, stay the same. My blood pressure is down, and all other tests are coming up negative. Which apparently means if protein continues to be showing up in my urine, I probably had an infection at some point that cleared up on its own but put my kidneys on the DL. So the protein count needs to not go up. It can go down or stay the same, but it can't go up.
So Saturday night found me sitting in my chair, praying fervently that a) my kid would not pee his pants at church; and b) that my pee would test well.
When we picked Ben up, he was wearing the same dry clothes, and he was ecstatic. So was I.
Who says God does not answer the ridiculous prayers?
Last night I found myself sitting in church praying desperately for pee, on multiple accounts. On Monday we started potty training. It has been going really well, but since the underwear phase began we've had a couple of accidents. To be expected, and there have been few. On Friday I went for a check-up with my doctor and was requested to do a 24 hour reunion tour with Hall and Oates. Needless to say, I had some pee needs. The numbers in my jug 'o pee need to, at the very least, stay the same. My blood pressure is down, and all other tests are coming up negative. Which apparently means if protein continues to be showing up in my urine, I probably had an infection at some point that cleared up on its own but put my kidneys on the DL. So the protein count needs to not go up. It can go down or stay the same, but it can't go up.
So Saturday night found me sitting in my chair, praying fervently that a) my kid would not pee his pants at church; and b) that my pee would test well.
When we picked Ben up, he was wearing the same dry clothes, and he was ecstatic. So was I.
Who says God does not answer the ridiculous prayers?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Summer Lovin'
So outside of the having a baby thing, I'm pretty excited about this summer. At least, that's what I'm telling myself right now. I decided to do potty training this week to just get it done and out of the way. So I'm slowly losing my mind. It's been two days, and I sort of feel moments away from curling up in fetal position and rocking myself to sleep. Not because it's not working--it's going perfectly (fingers crossed). Two days in and I have yet to touch the Resolve. Tomorrow should be (fingers crossed) the end of it. But the cabin fever is setting in. Sunday was Father's Day, and Monday is Matt day (which means I cook and clean and take Ben out while Matt takes a break), then today...which means it's been the Me Show for three days, and it's starting to wear on me. But right now the boys are doing puzzles, so I'm hiding at the computer and telling you all about my impending Super Summer while Bon Iver plays in the background. This leads me to The Stuff I'm Looking Forward To List.
1. The new Bon Iver album. Matt's got a streamed version or whatever. I'm in love with it. I want to make out with it. I want to frolic through fields of daisies while it plays in the background. Friggin' amazing.
2. My new fancy pants camera. One time when I was in middle school I took a picture of some cool clouds in the sky. Hooked for life. I love photography. My brother is the family photographer, and I in no way plan to usurp that. But I have had a deep and passionate inner love affair with being on the viewfinder end of a camera, and I've long suppressed it in favor of other (read: cheaper) hobbies. But enough of that crap. I can't really act anymore (something about dependents), and I haven't the time or energy to do real writing, and my pathetic apartment in an unnamed "low socioeconomic" city precludes the possession of a piano. Then I ended up with the most photogenic child ever born. Alas, alack, his face begs to be on the lens end of a camera. So I've been saving and saving and saving. With Matt's trip to Kansas and a big pile of overtime, I was able to accumulate enough money to buy a real camera, one that I spent hours upon hours researching to find. Only I grew up in a frugal home; not a cheap one, mind you--just one where money was not spent on non-essentials. Then there was the matter of me putting myself through college, then living as a sub to put myself through grad school...I'm not good at spending money. I'm good at budgets and allowances and shopping sales, but not so good at discretionary money. So I've been sitting on this money, which I intentionally saved over time for this exact purpose, completely unable to push the button and buy the dang thing. But then I did it--I bought my camera. And I'm in love. Like I want to run through fields of daisies with Bon Iver playing in the background while I take delicious shots of the sky, a haystack, and my absurdly gorgeous children. It arrived while I was in the hospital--like it was my prize. Since I had to spend the next 24 hours peeing in a jug, there was some delayed gratification. But we did sneak away to the farm to take it for a spin during the Hall and Oates period. Then we took it to Disneyland for Father's Day. I am in no way a pro, and I will never be. But I'm not too shabby for a novice, if I may say so myself. Of course, it helps that I live in one of the most beautiful places in the country, and I have one of the most adorable subjects ever. But still--I'm going to take a little slice of credit.
3. My new fancy pants yarn. My knitting skills are pathetic for how long I've been at it, but I don't really care. I enjoy it. My mom has a friend that I've known only from afar my whole life (she lives in another state). She reads this silly little blog, and she wanted to bless me. So she got me some incredible yarn from her incredible daughter who owns an incredible yarn site. So I have a pile of high quality yarn that I am allowing to sit and speak to me. This is not Two Buck Chuck--this is the real deal. So I can't begin until I find the perfect project. I want to make a good blanket for Miss Emma--I just need to wait for the pattern to come to me. Mmmmm.....the Bon Iver song playing right now is helping....
4. New Adventures. Once this potty training business is done, we're hitting the road (but not for long, because I don't like driving). I've got a list of new destinations, and this camera is just begging for some work. I could pee I'm so excited. Part of that could be the cabin fever. Part of it could be the Bon Iver. Part of it could be the M&Ms I've been snacking on (it's MY reward for Ben going potty). But at any rate, it'll be fun. Until, of course, Miss Emma comes. Then my adventures will involve changing diapers, doing laundry, and nursing 27 hours a day. But I'm good with that. As long as she's cute. And if, like her brother, she has colic, do you know who will get me through it? Yep, you guessed it. Death Cab for Cutie (they have a new album out too...mmmmmm....).
5. Heathyr comes!!! My friend and sister for life, Heathyr, who abandoned me and moved to Kansas, is coming out for a visit. Next week!!!! I think I just peed a little.
But first, potty training, day three.
Hold me, Bon Iver.
1. The new Bon Iver album. Matt's got a streamed version or whatever. I'm in love with it. I want to make out with it. I want to frolic through fields of daisies while it plays in the background. Friggin' amazing.
2. My new fancy pants camera. One time when I was in middle school I took a picture of some cool clouds in the sky. Hooked for life. I love photography. My brother is the family photographer, and I in no way plan to usurp that. But I have had a deep and passionate inner love affair with being on the viewfinder end of a camera, and I've long suppressed it in favor of other (read: cheaper) hobbies. But enough of that crap. I can't really act anymore (something about dependents), and I haven't the time or energy to do real writing, and my pathetic apartment in an unnamed "low socioeconomic" city precludes the possession of a piano. Then I ended up with the most photogenic child ever born. Alas, alack, his face begs to be on the lens end of a camera. So I've been saving and saving and saving. With Matt's trip to Kansas and a big pile of overtime, I was able to accumulate enough money to buy a real camera, one that I spent hours upon hours researching to find. Only I grew up in a frugal home; not a cheap one, mind you--just one where money was not spent on non-essentials. Then there was the matter of me putting myself through college, then living as a sub to put myself through grad school...I'm not good at spending money. I'm good at budgets and allowances and shopping sales, but not so good at discretionary money. So I've been sitting on this money, which I intentionally saved over time for this exact purpose, completely unable to push the button and buy the dang thing. But then I did it--I bought my camera. And I'm in love. Like I want to run through fields of daisies with Bon Iver playing in the background while I take delicious shots of the sky, a haystack, and my absurdly gorgeous children. It arrived while I was in the hospital--like it was my prize. Since I had to spend the next 24 hours peeing in a jug, there was some delayed gratification. But we did sneak away to the farm to take it for a spin during the Hall and Oates period. Then we took it to Disneyland for Father's Day. I am in no way a pro, and I will never be. But I'm not too shabby for a novice, if I may say so myself. Of course, it helps that I live in one of the most beautiful places in the country, and I have one of the most adorable subjects ever. But still--I'm going to take a little slice of credit.
3. My new fancy pants yarn. My knitting skills are pathetic for how long I've been at it, but I don't really care. I enjoy it. My mom has a friend that I've known only from afar my whole life (she lives in another state). She reads this silly little blog, and she wanted to bless me. So she got me some incredible yarn from her incredible daughter who owns an incredible yarn site. So I have a pile of high quality yarn that I am allowing to sit and speak to me. This is not Two Buck Chuck--this is the real deal. So I can't begin until I find the perfect project. I want to make a good blanket for Miss Emma--I just need to wait for the pattern to come to me. Mmmmm.....the Bon Iver song playing right now is helping....
4. New Adventures. Once this potty training business is done, we're hitting the road (but not for long, because I don't like driving). I've got a list of new destinations, and this camera is just begging for some work. I could pee I'm so excited. Part of that could be the cabin fever. Part of it could be the Bon Iver. Part of it could be the M&Ms I've been snacking on (it's MY reward for Ben going potty). But at any rate, it'll be fun. Until, of course, Miss Emma comes. Then my adventures will involve changing diapers, doing laundry, and nursing 27 hours a day. But I'm good with that. As long as she's cute. And if, like her brother, she has colic, do you know who will get me through it? Yep, you guessed it. Death Cab for Cutie (they have a new album out too...mmmmmm....).
5. Heathyr comes!!! My friend and sister for life, Heathyr, who abandoned me and moved to Kansas, is coming out for a visit. Next week!!!! I think I just peed a little.
But first, potty training, day three.
Hold me, Bon Iver.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The Greatest Dad in the World
Matthew Miller, you are the best dad on the planet. I love the way you play with Ben, love him, provide for him, laugh with him, sacrifice for him, change his diapers, bathe him, serve him, feed him, take him on dates, teach him, encourage him, and do all of the other eight million things for him that you do each day. And I can't WAIT to see you be a dad to Miss Emma. You are an extraordinary father. I love you, and our kids are out of control blessed to have you for a dad. Plus, you're super foxy.
Friday, June 17, 2011
My Summer Kick-off in the Hospital
Warning: Pee ahead. Reader discretion is advised. If you are squeamish about urine, go here.
Last week when I went to my check-up they found protein in my pee and my blood pressure was up a little. It wasn't super high, but it was high for me. So my doctor ran a urinalysis to rule out kidney/bladder problems and figure out what was going on. The test came out positive for protein and white blood cells, which could have indicated a few things, primarily either a bladder/kidney infection or pre-eclampsia, both of which can cause serious complications (or not). So they ordered a culture. The problem was that it was Friday, this was just a regular doctor's office, and they wouldn't have the results in until at least Monday. So I was told to wait the weekend out and to call labor and delivery if I started to develop new symptoms, like more severe pain, fever, vomiting, etc. Hence the freak-out. By Monday I was feeling okay, emotionally and physically. I was told to drink at least 64 oz. of water a day, which I was doing, and then some. The problem was that while I was drinking a lake of water a day, I wasn't peeing much. Wednesday night was bad. I was feeling terrible, having random contractions, and generally having a miserable time of it. I was wanting Thursday to come because it was the last day of school and Matt's and my first date in ages, and I felt like if I could just make it through that one more day I would start to feel better. So I went to work, but I emailed my doctor in the morning to let her know how I was feeling, just in case. I made it through the work day (but not without slipping in a puddle and twisting my ankle just enough to make it hurt but not enough to actually do damage). After work I went to the staff party, not feeling great, but relieved to be finished and feeling okay enough to socialize for an hour. My doctor called within 15 minutes to tell me that she'd read my email and was concerned about not peeing after all the water I was drinking, and that I needed to call labor and delivery to be triaged. So I slipped into a bedroom and called. I explained my symptoms, and she looked at my record that showed the tests from last week (the cultures had never come back). Then she told me to go immediately to labor and delivery.
Now, I know that a trip to L&D doesn't automatically mean having a baby. But I also know that it's also a bigger deal than just going to the doctor. I also know that the last time I was told to go into L&D for monitoring, I actually had a baby. So I tried (quite unsuccessfully) to put on my brave face, not be a crybaby, and exit the party without ruining it. I ran into a couple people while I went back to get my purse, and quietly told them I had to go in to the hospital for monitoring, but please don't say anything because I don't want to make it a big deal. I called my step-dad and asked him if he could leave work and meet me at home to watch Ben, which he immediately and graciously did, and I called Matt. I picked up Ben, feeling terrible at this point because I ran out on a party that involved saying good-bye to two co-workers without saying anything, and now I was whisking Ben away from his last day at daycare with no good-bye hugs and thank-you's. Also, I'd run out with a random slice of pizza because I'd just grabbed it when the phone rang and I didn't want to just leave it there or throw it away, but now I had no idea what to do with it. But that's neither here nor there.
When I got home Matt and Curt were already there. I handed a screaming Ben off, and Matt and I went to the hospital. They put me on fetal monitors, and took a blood sample, my blood pressure, and a urine sample. Then we waited. For three hours. They gave me a gigantic cup of water, which I named Big Carl, in case I was dehydrated. I drank two Big Carls and a juice box. And I peed about a thousand times. My nurse's name was Cindy, and she was reasonably nice, except for making me drink two Big Carls.
The end result was a bit fuzzy, but I think (?) good. Well, I got to leave with my baby still in my belly, which was good. But the journey is far from over. The tests came out good, but just to rule out any bladder/kidney issues for good I have the pleasure of peeing in a jug for the next 24 hours and keeping it in my fridge. Actually, to be more specific, I have to pee in a plastic hat that sits inside the toilet, then pour it into the jug, then keep it in my fridge. Matt and I have named the jug and hat Hall & Oates. The good news is that if this last test comes out well, it means my urinary tract is good to go (hahahaha...that ended up being a pun). The bad news is that that means I have pre-eclampsia (pregnancy-induced hypertension, or high blood pressure). Technically my blood pressure does not match the numbers they usually look for, but because my blood pressure tends to run pretty low, where it is now is pretty high for me. So...what this all means...
1. It's a good thing yesterday was my last day at work because if it wasn't they probably would have made me go on bed rest, and it would have been my last day at work whether I liked it or not.
2. There's a jug of pee in my fridge for the next 24 hours.
3. I have a prescription for antacids because my heartburn/reflux is out of control (potentially a side effect of the pre-eclampsia).
4. I need to be carefully monitored for the rest of my pregnancy.
5. I have to get a lot of rest. Hahahahaha.
6. I could very well make it to my due date and have a healthy little girl. Or, if with lots of rest and monitoring things get worse, Miss Emma will come sooner.
So that's the update. Matt took today off because I'm pretty wiped from yesterday, and I can't do much but hang with Hall and Oates. I'm glad it's summer, but I feel like I haven't really been able to let that set in and enjoy it yet. So hopefully my jug of pee will test well, and I'll start to feel better soon.
Because seriously, I'm over the drama. If she's this much trouble before she's even out of the oven, I fear for us all during adolescence...
Last week when I went to my check-up they found protein in my pee and my blood pressure was up a little. It wasn't super high, but it was high for me. So my doctor ran a urinalysis to rule out kidney/bladder problems and figure out what was going on. The test came out positive for protein and white blood cells, which could have indicated a few things, primarily either a bladder/kidney infection or pre-eclampsia, both of which can cause serious complications (or not). So they ordered a culture. The problem was that it was Friday, this was just a regular doctor's office, and they wouldn't have the results in until at least Monday. So I was told to wait the weekend out and to call labor and delivery if I started to develop new symptoms, like more severe pain, fever, vomiting, etc. Hence the freak-out. By Monday I was feeling okay, emotionally and physically. I was told to drink at least 64 oz. of water a day, which I was doing, and then some. The problem was that while I was drinking a lake of water a day, I wasn't peeing much. Wednesday night was bad. I was feeling terrible, having random contractions, and generally having a miserable time of it. I was wanting Thursday to come because it was the last day of school and Matt's and my first date in ages, and I felt like if I could just make it through that one more day I would start to feel better. So I went to work, but I emailed my doctor in the morning to let her know how I was feeling, just in case. I made it through the work day (but not without slipping in a puddle and twisting my ankle just enough to make it hurt but not enough to actually do damage). After work I went to the staff party, not feeling great, but relieved to be finished and feeling okay enough to socialize for an hour. My doctor called within 15 minutes to tell me that she'd read my email and was concerned about not peeing after all the water I was drinking, and that I needed to call labor and delivery to be triaged. So I slipped into a bedroom and called. I explained my symptoms, and she looked at my record that showed the tests from last week (the cultures had never come back). Then she told me to go immediately to labor and delivery.
Now, I know that a trip to L&D doesn't automatically mean having a baby. But I also know that it's also a bigger deal than just going to the doctor. I also know that the last time I was told to go into L&D for monitoring, I actually had a baby. So I tried (quite unsuccessfully) to put on my brave face, not be a crybaby, and exit the party without ruining it. I ran into a couple people while I went back to get my purse, and quietly told them I had to go in to the hospital for monitoring, but please don't say anything because I don't want to make it a big deal. I called my step-dad and asked him if he could leave work and meet me at home to watch Ben, which he immediately and graciously did, and I called Matt. I picked up Ben, feeling terrible at this point because I ran out on a party that involved saying good-bye to two co-workers without saying anything, and now I was whisking Ben away from his last day at daycare with no good-bye hugs and thank-you's. Also, I'd run out with a random slice of pizza because I'd just grabbed it when the phone rang and I didn't want to just leave it there or throw it away, but now I had no idea what to do with it. But that's neither here nor there.
When I got home Matt and Curt were already there. I handed a screaming Ben off, and Matt and I went to the hospital. They put me on fetal monitors, and took a blood sample, my blood pressure, and a urine sample. Then we waited. For three hours. They gave me a gigantic cup of water, which I named Big Carl, in case I was dehydrated. I drank two Big Carls and a juice box. And I peed about a thousand times. My nurse's name was Cindy, and she was reasonably nice, except for making me drink two Big Carls.
The end result was a bit fuzzy, but I think (?) good. Well, I got to leave with my baby still in my belly, which was good. But the journey is far from over. The tests came out good, but just to rule out any bladder/kidney issues for good I have the pleasure of peeing in a jug for the next 24 hours and keeping it in my fridge. Actually, to be more specific, I have to pee in a plastic hat that sits inside the toilet, then pour it into the jug, then keep it in my fridge. Matt and I have named the jug and hat Hall & Oates. The good news is that if this last test comes out well, it means my urinary tract is good to go (hahahaha...that ended up being a pun). The bad news is that that means I have pre-eclampsia (pregnancy-induced hypertension, or high blood pressure). Technically my blood pressure does not match the numbers they usually look for, but because my blood pressure tends to run pretty low, where it is now is pretty high for me. So...what this all means...
1. It's a good thing yesterday was my last day at work because if it wasn't they probably would have made me go on bed rest, and it would have been my last day at work whether I liked it or not.
2. There's a jug of pee in my fridge for the next 24 hours.
3. I have a prescription for antacids because my heartburn/reflux is out of control (potentially a side effect of the pre-eclampsia).
4. I need to be carefully monitored for the rest of my pregnancy.
5. I have to get a lot of rest. Hahahahaha.
6. I could very well make it to my due date and have a healthy little girl. Or, if with lots of rest and monitoring things get worse, Miss Emma will come sooner.
So that's the update. Matt took today off because I'm pretty wiped from yesterday, and I can't do much but hang with Hall and Oates. I'm glad it's summer, but I feel like I haven't really been able to let that set in and enjoy it yet. So hopefully my jug of pee will test well, and I'll start to feel better soon.
Because seriously, I'm over the drama. If she's this much trouble before she's even out of the oven, I fear for us all during adolescence...
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Gender Identity Crisis
Two conversations from this week...
as we're cleaning out some old boxes in the garage...
Me: Look Ben! (I hold up a Barbie) Do you want to add this to your toys?
Ben: No. It's for you.
Me: Why is it for me?
Ben: Because it's for girls.
as we're discussing his birthday...
Me: What do you want to eat at your birthday?
Ben: Dinosaur birthday cake.
Me: Okay. Anything else?
Ben: No. Just birthday cake.
Me: Sounds good. What are you going to wear to your birthday?
Ben: Um, costumes.
Me: Oh, okay. What kinds of costumes?
Ben: I want to be Cinderella.
as we're cleaning out some old boxes in the garage...
Me: Look Ben! (I hold up a Barbie) Do you want to add this to your toys?
Ben: No. It's for you.
Me: Why is it for me?
Ben: Because it's for girls.
as we're discussing his birthday...
Me: What do you want to eat at your birthday?
Ben: Dinosaur birthday cake.
Me: Okay. Anything else?
Ben: No. Just birthday cake.
Me: Sounds good. What are you going to wear to your birthday?
Ben: Um, costumes.
Me: Oh, okay. What kinds of costumes?
Ben: I want to be Cinderella.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Life Lessons from Bipolar Toddlerhood
For a host of reasons I spend the better part of any given day questioning myself. Questioning pretty much everything. My abilities as a wife, a mother, a teacher, a daughter, a friend, a child of God, a human being...whatever. I have had a few times in my little life where I've felt that I'm starting to heal in this, that after so many years I have finally managed to muster up a modicum of self-esteem. But who am I kidding? I inevitably end up right back where I began--a damaged little girl who is positive that at any given moment the jig will be up and everyone will discover what a huge fraud I am, shake their heads, and walk away. Apparently all the encouragement, love, and "Jesus made you and loves you, etc." can't erase two decades of emotional abuse. It is exhausting, living like this. Completely exhausting. To be a rule-following perfectionist who has been told ten too many times that nothing I do will ever be good enough. Every now and then I have a break-through--this clarifying moment where I start to believe the truth rather than the lies, and I live with confidence and faith in myself. But apparently I still haven't reached the place where I can sustain it when I'm challenged.
But in this moment, I'm on the verge of another one of those points of peace.
It's been a challenging couple of weeks. My health has been poor, my kid has been unrelentingly sick, my job is reaching a fever-pitch of stress and overwhelm, and it's been going on long enough that my carefully constructed arch support is beginning to buckle. It's often something small and silly that tips me over--I forget something at the store, a student asks to borrow a pencil--lame things. This time it was legitimately big and ugly and potentially actually serious. Nevertheless, justifiable or no, the spiral was quick and the plummet steep. I'm all at once terrified, overwhelmed, stressed, and irrational. And because I have no control over my emotions, I easily go from there to "clearly I'm unfit to parent, teach, be a member of society, etc." Yikes. Drama, anyone? I might be spending too much time with adolescents and parenting books and websites. And definitely way too much time on google trying to self-diagnose my lab results.
But I seem to have landed on a few tools that offer up a parachute of sorts that slows my descent into Crazytown and brings me back to reality. I'd love to say some time in prayer and the Bible were my ticket to emotional freedom, but unfortunately as a first step they make things worse by reminding me of my depravity and give me another shortcoming to add to my exponentially lengthening list. But today I managed to get myself to a reasonable state by doing a couple of things which, ironically, sound like terrible ideas. Like putting on a movie for Ben and getting McDonalds for dinner. Because clearly, for me, the key to self-esteem is to calm down. See, I'm learning a lot from my bi-polar toddler. He gets to this hysterical place where he's out of control and irrational, and it's pointless for me to discipline him, reason with him, or change his behavior. The only thing I can do is let his freak-out run its course. The more I try to calm him down, the more insane he gets. I have to let him pitch his fit, then help him get calm, and wait until he's been calm for a little bit before proceeding gently but firmly. So that's what I need to do with me. Let myself pitch my fit, overflow with molten crazy, then gradually help myself calm down with some TV, a snack, something to drink...anything that sounds relaxing for the moment. Ironically enough, that may involve some compromises in my self-inflicted cage of perfectionism. I need to be a worse parent in order to see that I'm really a good one. Then and only then can I try to think clearly and rationally. Then I can pray and actually listen. Then I can think and reason and actually come to an actual conclusion. The trick, I suppose, is to try these things early in the Crazy Train and try to head off the Spiral of Shame and Self-Loathing before it has a chance to take hold.
For the last 24 hours I've been grappling with some potentially scary things, and by the latter half of my day I'd let it eat at me until I was completely consumed with fear and dread, which led to the Dark and Twisty Place. But I got myself out. I had a cookie, put on a movie, and cuddled on the couch with my little man. And wouldn't you know, I felt a million times better. It's amazing, the healing powers of a snuggle. Because no matter how dark and twisty you may feel, it all melts when a little love puts his arms around your neck, grins from ear to ear, and says, "I love you so much." Because seriously, how bad a mom can I be if I got that from a two-year-old? Toddlers are notoriously honest. Ben frequently tells Matt that his face is crunchy and that he wants me to leave him alone because I hurt his feelings. So with the 342 million ways to fail as a parent (according to the parenting section of any bookstore and the internet), I'm probably making as many as a dozen mistakes an hour (and that's just when I'm at work), but it's okay...because he loves me so much.
So whatever happens, happens. I'll be okay. And whatever terrible things I say and do along the way may or may not matter, but not so much that the world will collectively shake its head and walk away. I will say and do things that are wrong, and sometimes there will be unpleasant consequences. I will get overwhelmed again. I will feel guilty again. I will have to do things I don't want to do. And I will make poor choices on occasion. And that's okay. I might get some bad news, and things could get scary. But I'll get through it. Because I always do. God has never ever taken me somewhere and abandoned me. And that thing about me never doing anything right is a fat lie, that one of these days I will stop believing completely and be free of.
Because my little man loves me so much. Because my husband and mom and a great many other people love me so much. Because my Big God loves me so much. And because I'm totally worth it. At least I'm pretty sure...I could be way off...but maybe...
Time for another cookie...
But in this moment, I'm on the verge of another one of those points of peace.
It's been a challenging couple of weeks. My health has been poor, my kid has been unrelentingly sick, my job is reaching a fever-pitch of stress and overwhelm, and it's been going on long enough that my carefully constructed arch support is beginning to buckle. It's often something small and silly that tips me over--I forget something at the store, a student asks to borrow a pencil--lame things. This time it was legitimately big and ugly and potentially actually serious. Nevertheless, justifiable or no, the spiral was quick and the plummet steep. I'm all at once terrified, overwhelmed, stressed, and irrational. And because I have no control over my emotions, I easily go from there to "clearly I'm unfit to parent, teach, be a member of society, etc." Yikes. Drama, anyone? I might be spending too much time with adolescents and parenting books and websites. And definitely way too much time on google trying to self-diagnose my lab results.
But I seem to have landed on a few tools that offer up a parachute of sorts that slows my descent into Crazytown and brings me back to reality. I'd love to say some time in prayer and the Bible were my ticket to emotional freedom, but unfortunately as a first step they make things worse by reminding me of my depravity and give me another shortcoming to add to my exponentially lengthening list. But today I managed to get myself to a reasonable state by doing a couple of things which, ironically, sound like terrible ideas. Like putting on a movie for Ben and getting McDonalds for dinner. Because clearly, for me, the key to self-esteem is to calm down. See, I'm learning a lot from my bi-polar toddler. He gets to this hysterical place where he's out of control and irrational, and it's pointless for me to discipline him, reason with him, or change his behavior. The only thing I can do is let his freak-out run its course. The more I try to calm him down, the more insane he gets. I have to let him pitch his fit, then help him get calm, and wait until he's been calm for a little bit before proceeding gently but firmly. So that's what I need to do with me. Let myself pitch my fit, overflow with molten crazy, then gradually help myself calm down with some TV, a snack, something to drink...anything that sounds relaxing for the moment. Ironically enough, that may involve some compromises in my self-inflicted cage of perfectionism. I need to be a worse parent in order to see that I'm really a good one. Then and only then can I try to think clearly and rationally. Then I can pray and actually listen. Then I can think and reason and actually come to an actual conclusion. The trick, I suppose, is to try these things early in the Crazy Train and try to head off the Spiral of Shame and Self-Loathing before it has a chance to take hold.
For the last 24 hours I've been grappling with some potentially scary things, and by the latter half of my day I'd let it eat at me until I was completely consumed with fear and dread, which led to the Dark and Twisty Place. But I got myself out. I had a cookie, put on a movie, and cuddled on the couch with my little man. And wouldn't you know, I felt a million times better. It's amazing, the healing powers of a snuggle. Because no matter how dark and twisty you may feel, it all melts when a little love puts his arms around your neck, grins from ear to ear, and says, "I love you so much." Because seriously, how bad a mom can I be if I got that from a two-year-old? Toddlers are notoriously honest. Ben frequently tells Matt that his face is crunchy and that he wants me to leave him alone because I hurt his feelings. So with the 342 million ways to fail as a parent (according to the parenting section of any bookstore and the internet), I'm probably making as many as a dozen mistakes an hour (and that's just when I'm at work), but it's okay...because he loves me so much.
So whatever happens, happens. I'll be okay. And whatever terrible things I say and do along the way may or may not matter, but not so much that the world will collectively shake its head and walk away. I will say and do things that are wrong, and sometimes there will be unpleasant consequences. I will get overwhelmed again. I will feel guilty again. I will have to do things I don't want to do. And I will make poor choices on occasion. And that's okay. I might get some bad news, and things could get scary. But I'll get through it. Because I always do. God has never ever taken me somewhere and abandoned me. And that thing about me never doing anything right is a fat lie, that one of these days I will stop believing completely and be free of.
Because my little man loves me so much. Because my husband and mom and a great many other people love me so much. Because my Big God loves me so much. And because I'm totally worth it. At least I'm pretty sure...I could be way off...but maybe...
Time for another cookie...
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Welcome, June
The Plague has settled upon our house once again. Only this time it's June, so it's nice and warm outside, which makes the fevers all the more fun and the couch jockey life all the more delicious. Maybe in opposite world. I spent Memorial Day Weekend in bed. Like the entire thing. Because nothing says Summer Kickoff like a marathon of sleeping and reading and coughing until you pee and puke (was that too much information? my bad). Then Monday afternoon Ben felt warm. Dang. Two more days at home on the couch. Normally I would be thrilled by the five-day weekend. But in this case, it was no good. Thursday he went back to daycare and I went back to work. Thursday evening B's fever reappeared and we were at Kaiser getting antibiotics for a secondary infection. But not before he coughed until he puked. Fortunately (I guess?) at that point it had been a few days since Ben had really eaten...he'd been refusing food because he coughed until he puked on Tuesday, so there wasn't much for him to throw up this second time around. Friday he fell asleep in the middle of the floor at daycare at 11:45am, then slept for two hours while everyone played around him. I guess when you don't eat for several days your body eventually puts out a Closed sign. This morning he woke up at 5:30 coughing and wheezing. Then I coughed until I peed and puked. So in about an hour we'll both be headed to Kaiser--him for albeuterol and me for antibiotics. Also, I'm hoping they can help me figure out how to get food in this kid's belly, because judging by his chicken legs and loose-fitting clothes I'm pretty sure that he's lost a couple of pounds. Poor Matthew. He's running a pathetic ship over here.
There have been some bonuses to our tenure in Sickville. I've gotten a LOT of sleep and read 1 1/2 books. Also, my insane pregnancy heartburn has been cutting me some slack, which has enabled me to actually eat, which has enabled me to gain my weekly pound. I am now officially over my pre-pregnancy weight by a whole pound. At 31 weeks. Go me. I won't tell you what I ate all day yesterday, though, that probably got me here. Also, I've memorized a handful of episodes of Backyardigans, and Ben has learned the alphabet from watching Leap Frog's Letter Factory a gazillion times. AND when we were at Kaiser the other night Ben got himself a couple of cute red-headed girlfriends and entertained the entire building with his overt flirting. This guy's going to be T-R-O-U-B-L-E in middle school.
So that's what we've been doing. In other news, 9 MORE DAYS. Yep. It's time. We're in the single digits.
There have been some bonuses to our tenure in Sickville. I've gotten a LOT of sleep and read 1 1/2 books. Also, my insane pregnancy heartburn has been cutting me some slack, which has enabled me to actually eat, which has enabled me to gain my weekly pound. I am now officially over my pre-pregnancy weight by a whole pound. At 31 weeks. Go me. I won't tell you what I ate all day yesterday, though, that probably got me here. Also, I've memorized a handful of episodes of Backyardigans, and Ben has learned the alphabet from watching Leap Frog's Letter Factory a gazillion times. AND when we were at Kaiser the other night Ben got himself a couple of cute red-headed girlfriends and entertained the entire building with his overt flirting. This guy's going to be T-R-O-U-B-L-E in middle school.
So that's what we've been doing. In other news, 9 MORE DAYS. Yep. It's time. We're in the single digits.