Confessions of a Mother

I have a secret. It's eating at my very core.

Sometimes... I don't like being a mom. There. I said it. It's out on the table. The cat's outta the bag. It's off my chest... Anyone know anymore cliches I can throw in here?? Anyone?

I didn't want to have kids, really. When my husband and I got married, he the oldest of three, and I the youngest of four, children seemed like this distant land we only talked about someday going with little regard to actually making plans for our travel there. And yet, three years into our marriage, we were there, eagerly buying little blue onesies and a baby-sized pitching wedge. I never wanted children, even when I was little. My brothers and sister were horrible to me and the last thing I wanted was to inflict on some other poor little being the hell they gave me for some 15 or 16 years. Even when I was the last kid in the house, the basement (which was supposed to be my hideaway) became a revolving door for my siblings whom needed a place to stay because they didn't always have their feet quit flat on the ground.

I was there when my sister had her second child. I was 16 and super excited to experience the birth of life. But don't get me wrong, I wasn't stupid. I let my mom take stand at the bottom of the bed and I stood near her head, helping her count to 8 every time she felt a contraction, occasionally wiping her head with a cool towel. Yeah I knew what was going on downstairs and I didn't want anything to do with it. So after some 5 hours of (non-medicated) pain and sweat and pushing and crying, out popped this mishapen purple thing covered in some white goo that surely no human could produce. If I wasn't sure before, I was sure then. No babies for me.

But then I met my husband. He had two little sisters. His parents had worked two and three jobs each and so he had been left at home to take care of the house and help raise the girls and he'd done a pretty decent job, all things considered. Adults now, they both definitely have their issues, but let's just be happy they are both waiting to have kids, shall we? And so my husband couldn't have been more energetic about having children of his own. A little girl to sing songs to, a little boy to throw a ball with. He never pressured me, but his enthusiasm was contagious. I can't say I didn't jump three feet in the air when I finally saw two pink lines. When we found out it was a boy, I started crying tears of joy. I couldn't wait to dress him up in cute little collared shirts, baby gap jeans, and little chuck taylors.

DS was born and PPD hit me like a giant brick wall. No, more like a big Mack truck I couldn't see coming. I didn't know what it was. I'd never heard of it. No one had warned me. And I was really sick. My husband was wonderful. He took the reigns of parenthood like a pro, handling most of the feedings when DS refused to breast feed, getting up in the middle of the night so no one would feel the wrath of sleep-deprived me, and he even handled my outbursts in stride. It wasn't until I lost my job over a year ago that the intensity finally faded a little and I realized, all this time, I had been sick. Really, really uncontrollably sick. I wanted to get better and I knew that meant taking some time off from work, but the thought of being a stay at home mom was daunting for me. It's not that I was career oriented--I mean you need a career first right?? I just wasn't sure being a full time mom was really the best fit for me. Now, let me side track here and say that we are ALL full time moms. Whether we work and our children are in day care, or if our parents are near by and help us out, or if we work from home, or if we stay at home, this is a full time job, baby. What I mean to say is, I'm not sure I could be in the same room with this kid for longer than a few hours at one time. All that to say, who would have known, it was wonderful. My son and I finally bonded. He became my friend, believe it or not. Sometimes I would get out of bed before it was time to wake him up and I would sit outside his room and just listen to him breathe. Or I would go in and lay on the floor next to his bed and just watch his little face while he dreamed.

These were beautiful days, and oh how I miss them. Sometime, on a dark quiet night, someone snuck into my house and replaced my perfect little companion with a whiney, rebellious, argumentative, self-righteous three-and-a-half year old. While I'd like to find the culprit, I feel my time is all swallowed up by trying to contain this beast I have been left with. Recently he has started with the Why?'s. He went through this phase breifly at about two and I can hardly believe my own naitivity in thinking that was all there would be. I appreciate the circle we sometimes talk ourselves in. Just today, we stopped at McD's for some chicken nuggets and I left because the lady behind the speaker was being rude to the woman in front of me (who had also left) and since there is another McD's right down the road who might more appreciate my business, there was no reason to let this be my fate as well. So as we are driving away, DS asks me "Mommy, why are we leaving?" "Because, baby, the woman in the store was being rude." "Why was she being rude, mommy?" "Because she obviously didn't have parents to teach her otherwise." "Why didn't they teach her?" "Maybe because nobody taught them." "So why are we leaving?" And around again we go...

When it's been a long day of these conversations, I find my breaking point somewhere right around 7pm. Coincidentally only 30 minutes before I'm writing this post, and unfortunately, a good 90 minutes till bed time. I feel my chest grow tight and tears well up in the top of my cheeks and I take a deep breath. My husband, after 7 years of marriage, knows this routine of mine well. He often see-saws between scooping DS and taking him out of the room so I can cool off or getting right down on the floor to talk to DS about whatever it is he's done to make me upset. Because in my defense, I don't get this upset until I really can't take one more argument. What difference does it make why I told you to put on your underwear?? Maybe because I'm tired of you walking around the kitchen in your bare-bottom. I shouldn't have to explain that to you three times around the why-mommy-carousel, it's the kitchen and you're naked and put some pants on already! ! !

Sometimes I even find myself saying, in a calm, cool voice, "See, you're the child and I'm the mommy. And it's okay for you to ask me questions because you're almost 4 and I understand you're at that explorative age, but once you ask me and I tell you, then the conversation is over." *silence... * "Ok. Yes ma'am... but whhhyyyyyy?"

I'd like to have some hope that this will be over soon. I'm locked up in my bedroom right now, I'm supposed to be doing homework. My husband has DS in the other room, while he's doing his work, letting him watch a movie. I'd like to hope that by the time I come out of this room, maybe then the phase is over... no? How about after he turns 4? Not then either? 5? 10? 16?

Oh. Ok. This is one of those phases, eh? Oh, well. I guess I'm in it for the long haul then.

Rachael is a member of GwinnettAreaMommies.com and you can continue to read the crazy going-ons of her life (if you dare!!) at http://rachaelkayte.blogspot.com

 

Going Green with Cloth Diapers

No, I didn’t create cloth diapers.  And I’m not obsessed with them.  I’ve never beaten someone up for going disposable.  (Because I would also have to beat up myself every few days and I'm SO not into that anymore.)

Cloth diapers are very doable is you are NOT completely neurotic and you don’t mind laundry and poop.  And let me tell you, if you are having a baby, get used to poop. Poop in the hair (the baby’s).  Poop in the fingernails (yours).  Poop in the mouth (don’t ask).

I use cloth for both my children (until about a year before E potty trained), but the most reasonable green-bottom plan I have is to offer is with #2. (Pun INTENDED)

I use a combination of bumGenius, g-Diapers and disposables.
bumGenius 3.0 are pocket cloth diaper covers that GROWS WITH YOUR BABY.  Genius!  Yes, the velcro is giving on some covers after a year of washing.  BUT I did not like having to buy more and more cloth diaper covers as my first baby grew at a ridiculously ginormous rate (doubled his weight at TWO MONTHS!).
We used other cloth diaper covers for E and the one's that I managed to use for a long time?  Well, they got gross.  And I even had this ridiculously retentive way for washing them.  bumGenius just doesn’t stain easily.

And they have NEVER leak.  Let me tell you that our cotton prefolds with a wool covers did not have as good of a track record.  And the plastic?  Awful.
Oh and my baby’s butt isn’t HUGE in the bumGenius which for us vain moms is wonderful.

g-Diapers are a bit different because they use a flushable insert that goes into a nylon liner which snaps into the cover.  This is great because one diaper cover usually lasts all day.  Sometimes I don’t even have to change the liner.  So less laundry which equals less water wasted.

I just rip up the insert over the toilet.  The only drawback is that we have always lived in OLD homes and if you don’t time the soaking of the torn insert right (20 minutes to 6 hours), you get a clogged toilet.  If you go g-Diaper, buy a plunger.  It’s no big deal to me but if you hated plunging your toilet, go another route.
I also need two hands to tear up the g-Diaper insert which means I find them lying around my house because N is NOT OKAY with being left post-diaper change (or really post-anything).  But I find my cloth diapers covers do the same thing (perhaps they like watching tv because I’m SURE that I put them in the diaper bin, but WOW there they are on the couch!)  I've even been know to go to bed with a disposable diaper or two.  Hey, they make nice snuggly.  Maybe it's not a g-Diaper issue?

How do I work these green diapers into my life?  I have a small plastic trash can with a top in my kitchen which contains all things peed, pooped and nasty food-ed on.  Every other day (on my good weeks) I throw the contents of the basket in the wash on warm.  Throw them in the dryer on DRY.  And I’m ready to go.  (Side note: If I hung them to dry which I occasionally do, the velcro on the bumGeniuses would probably not be pulling off.)

I’ve tried all sorts of combinations which worked fine for us (so feel free to ask questions), but the above is my routine today.

We own about 7 bum geniuses and use 3 or 4 of E’s g-Diaper covers for our ten month old.  We have to buy the flushable inserts every few weeks, but they are available at our local natural food store.  And bumGeniuses 3.0 are at Whole Foods.  Both are also available on the Internets.

We use disposable at night.  Not because we must.  E actually slept in cloth for quite awhile, but I just got too paranoid about sleep.  You’re awake? Maybe your diaper a LITTLE WET!  Maybe that’s why you haven’t slept in the last hour or FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR! But I think that the bumGenius would be great at night if I was willing.  I probably wouldn’t do g-Diapers at night.

We also use disposable when we travel unless we will have easy access to a washing machine.  You do NOT want to travel far with a bag of stinky cloth diapers.  Especially in the summer.

So there you go. I also have Cloth Diaper Cheat Sheet in pdf for you to download.
My work here is done.  You are welcome Earth.

This post is written by Alex Iwashyna, a happily married mom of two children with a BA in Political Philosophy and a Medical Degree and the drive to become neither.  She is too busy writing poetry, blogging, and staying at home with her children.  Find her on Late Enough and @failebg but be prepared for baby poop and liberal bias.

3 Months...

Baby boy, time is flying. And right now, I don’t mind…

You see, I'm pretty sure I’ve been struggling with what people call postpartum depression. It’s when you’re so overwhelmed with love and wonder for your new baby, you forget to keep track of your own heart (and mind) some days.

Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I feel like my heart might explode with love.

Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I feel nothing.

It doesn’t mean I don’t love or want you, dear one.

I’m just learning what it means to share my soul with yet another human being, this one being a tiny, helpless creature who depends solely on me.

I’m a thinker. Heck, I’ll admit it. I’m a planner, a worrier, an analyzer. I thought I’d gone over every scenario and prepared myself well for motherhood.

And I did, to an extent. You make parenthood so easy. So far, you haven’t shocked me with any crying fits or nursing strikes. You sleep for 4-5 hours at a time and smile at me every chance you get. You can hold your head up and love taking in the world with your big blue-gray eyes.

Sure, it can be sort of dreary to think about the lack of "me" time, now that you're here.

There's no sleeping in on my days off, no spending the day thrift-shopping by myself.

Even running mundane errands requires planning.

And of course, alone time with your papa can be sort of tricky.

But I was ready for all of that. We've all gotten into a rhythm, and it feels so natural.

I didn’t prepare myself for one bittersweet truth…

Motherhood clashes with my heart for the nations.

  

I passed up an opportunity to spend a few days in Haiti next week. The poorest country in the world just suffered a terrible earthquake, and they are in need of nurses. This is why I went to nursing school, boy. You won't believe how incredibly painful it was for me to say no, that I had a breastfed newborn at home who needed me. I can't help it, Ames. It's who I am.

I am a daughter of the God who gives and takes away. He gave me a heart for ministry long ago...and He gave me a marriage, 2 stepsons, a career, and a new baby all in the last year. He gave me everything I've ever wanted in life, and I am beyond thankful.

But in the midst of all of these blessings, I've experienced a "taking away" of sorts. Freedom of schedule and availability is now severely limited, whether it be for an uplifting coffee date with girlfriends or a trip to Haiti to start IV's and sew people up. My world revolves around you, and I love it and hate it at the same time. It's so freeing to be honest.

Baby, you're teaching me to live in the moment. This is something I've struggled with my whole life. In a way, I feel like a sullen teenager. I resent you for this valuable life lesson, even though I know I need it. Does that make sense?

You will not be a baby forever. In mere months, you will start a beautiful & painful journey into independence and away from me, starting with baby food & baby steps.

I know time will fly.

I cherish the late-night nursing sessions when it's just you and I against the dark. I love coming home from work and watching your face light up when you recognize me.

I think part of the pain comes from already knowing what I need to hear. I'm beating myself up with logic, making myself feel guilty with reason.

There are thousands of nurses in Haiti right now and thousands more at home, waiting to be deployed. Haiti can spare me, and it will always be in need.

My girlfriends understand my new life and schedule... The coffee dates are a little less frequent, but I'm squeezing in the quality time when I can.

Your dad and I are intentional about taking hold of quiet moments with each other throughout the day. Our love life is definitely different, but no less satisfying.

I just want to be honest with you, boo.

It's a lot harder than I thought.

I love you, son.

___________

Rachael Kincaid, "Letters to Ames" @ www.rachaelkincaid.blogspot.com

CharlotteMommies

Not ME - The Sick Week

Some times being a Stay-at-Home mommy means that I don’t even have a clue as to what day it is… especially the last few weeks. My son and I are so busy going to play dates, grocery shopping, the gym, and more play dates that if I didn’t write things down on a calendar I would completely forget about or be unaware of a planned activity. Sometimes even with it written down I forget. It’s as if pregnancy brain turned into permanent mommy brain and unfortunately there is no end in sight!

So on top of being a busy, forgetful, unaware mommy, more times than not I also feel like a single mother due to my husband’s profession. So many days I hate the Army, but I especially hate them this week! This week I am sick and of course, this week, my husband has to work late. Now, normally I am not one to want to choke my husband for something that is out of his control or not his fault, but this week I am sick, and this week everything is his fault!


Now, when I say sick I don’t mean I have a tiny little cold and I am just being wimpy and complaining just to complain. I am super sick. I have felt so horrible that most of the day I am curled up in the fetal position crying or wishing for death. I am so sick that I can’t even drive myself to the doctor. So in honor of being sick, I am going to write a “Not Me—the Sick Week”! These are all the things I “did not” let my son do because I was either too sick to stop him or too sick to care…

“Not ME—The Sick Week” 

1. I DID NOT lock the upstairs baby gate and let my 1 year old son run loose so that I could stay in bed.
2. I DID NOT let him dig through my make-up bag just to entertain himself, and I DID NOT find him 10 minutes later with mascara all over his face (not the mention the floor, walls, and doors) and lipstick in his teeth.
3. It was NOT ME who let my child crawl into the fireplace with 2 day old ashes just to keep him from bothering me.
4. It was NOT ME who left him in a poopy diaper for close to 30 minutes so that my husband could change it when he got home.
5. Both my son and I DID NOT stay in our pajamas for two straight days.
6. I DID NOT let my little angel pull everything out of the pantry AND the trash can while I lay in floor cursing my loving husband for having to work. I DID leave the mess for him to clean upJ.

And my favorite….

7.) I DID force my little monkey to cuddle on the couch with me, and he DID make me feel better. He DID lay his head on my shoulder and give me kisses, and I DID realize that as long as I have my family everything else will be ok!  

Amy G. is a former high school science teacher turned Stay-at-Home mom. She has been married for 3 years. Her home is where the Army sends her (currently Colorado Springs). She is a member of ColoradoSpringsmommies.com but you can follow her blog at http://armywifelovingmother.blogspot.com/

The Witching Hour

Every family has one. Every parent fears them. You can not escape it, no matter how hard you try. It's impossible to do so. And it happens EVERY DAY. That one point in your waking hours when your nightmares come true,  the clock strikes a certain hour and time halts to an agonizing crawl. Each minute feels like 5 and you find yourself glancing at the clock over and over and over again, pleading with the second hand to hurry the heck up and just MOVE FASTER!!! On top of this, the moment the clock strikes your hour, your kids suddenly morph into these little hellions, bent on utterly destroying what little sanity you may yet still cling to, different tactics each day but always with the same nail on the chalkboard intensity, and nothing, nothing you do, will stop them. You can't bribe them. You can not reason with them. You can't use warnings and get an effect. Time outs mean nothing to them. No. Oh no. You are on your own, dearie. And you must use your wits to survive and stay sane, always struggling with that instinctive desire to run out of the house screaming, pulling at your hair, and spouting gibberish. This awful time of the day is different for each family, sometimes even different for each parent. And there is nothing you can do but to hold on and ride it out. What is it that I speak of? This point in time that is so dreadful it can make any parent reduced to shudders, wincing at the thought of yesterdays hour, dreading the return of todays? My friends, It is called The Witching Hour.

The Witching Hour for me is from 4:30-5:30 pm every single day without fail. This is the time in my day that I prepare for from the moment my eyes open in the morning. The moment the clock turns to 4:29 I heave a sigh of resignation, take a few deep breaths, try to mentally shield myself from what I know is about to come, and shed just one, small mental tear of despair. Then I make sure to dive for my Ipod (the only weapon against the hour I have found to be  worthy and has saved me many times over), clip it on, and dive into the hour that Time forgets.

In this hour many things occur simultaneously. The least of which is that I have to start preparing dinner for a family of five to be ready by 5:30. Then I have to get my 7 yr old to start, and stay on track of, his homework. While I wrangle him to the table, I must also deal with the inevitable screams and howls of outrage from my infant who has decided (right at 4:30) that I MUST pick him up now and hold him nonstop, while trying to open hot oven or stir hot pots, slice and dice, pour, and sauté. I'll be honest folks. I've almost completely given up on fresh food. I am a huge fan of frozen dinners lately. Of course I have to weigh the risks of holding the baby while cooking vs. the shattered eardrums that may come with leaving him nearby in sight but not held, adding in the factor that of course J, who works from home, is on an important phone call and so I have to try and keep everyone at least to a decibel level that does not reverberate through the entire household. Next, as I am arguing with my 7 yr old who has decided all of a sudden he is STARVING and must eat now, and doesn't want to wait for dinner, which causes an argument about how its my fault he has to wait to eat, completely disregarding the fact that I offered him a snack the moment he walked in the door from school 30 minutes ago but he refused because he wasn't hungry then...... my 3 yr old decides he is a dog and wants me to play Fetch with the TV remote control. I try to redirect him to something else while I glances at the stove and notice that something doesnt smell right (OH CRAP THE WATER IS BURNING.... HOW DO YOU BURN WATER?!??!?!?!) while also glancing to see that it's only 4:34. 56 minutes to go.

Of course as I am trying to redirect my 3 yr old he accidentally steps on the babys finger which elicits a piercing shriek followed by sobs. I rush to lower the temperature of the stove, dive down to scoop up the baby and comfort him, then ask my 3 yr old to please PLEASE would you like to go watch Dora????... No, he doesn't. He wants to do homework like his older brother. With the same paper. No, not the same kind of paper, that would be too easy!!! The same piece of paper. of course, my normally deaf 7 yr old hears this across the room and starts to yell at his brother "YOU CAN'T HAVE MY PAPER I'M DOING MY HOMEWORK" as I notice in reality all he has done is put his name on the paper and started doodling a Star Wars figure at the top right corner. Juggling the baby on my hip I tell one boy to lower your voice, the other he cant have his brothers paper he needs his own, and start scrambling around looking for some crayons. Next I lean over to my 7 yr old, tell him he needs to start his homework and I will check back in 5 minutes. If nothing has been done he will get a time out for not following directions. Then I race over to the kitchen, place the sobbing baby in his excersaucer, throw some baby snacks to him, check the time. 4:40 pm  50 minutes to go.

I grab the entree, throw it in the oven, and start figuring out what would be a good side item. In the background I hear emerging mutterings from the two older tyrants, which soon turn to all out screams of defiance and outrage. I whip around and see my two boys in a tug of war over a pencil. Not just any pencil. A Transformer pencil, one of about 73 we have in our junk drawer 2 feet from me. Why they feel the need to fight over something that we have plenty of I could never tell you. I just don't have an answer. I dont know who started it, and frankly I dont care. I reach out to our drawer, grab a fistful of pencils, jump over the excersaucer and wailing baby to get to the table, and slam down my filled hand urging each boy to "Knock it off there are plenty of pencils!!!" I glance over at my 7 yr olds homework. He's written 3 words on his paper. I glare at him and mouth "Do. Your. Homework....Now." He glares back and mutters under his breath, but his hand moves with a pencil in grasp and under my hawk eye, incredibly he starts to write. After keeping my gaze on him for a moment more to solidify the fact that I am indeed watching, I glance down at my 3 yr old to make sure he is fine and not coloring on the table top, but actual paper. I bustle back to the kitchen, croon my my ticked off baby, give him a kiss, detach his clenched hands in my hair, and check both the food and the time. 4:54 pm.

This is when I bring out my weapon. I look to make sure all the kids are relatively safe and all the knives are high up enough so that no one can sneak by, grab one, and start playing "REAL PIRATES", double check to make sure the baby is safely contained I have a stock of baby toys to alternately try and tame him with, then plug my ears up with my I Pod ear plugs, hit play, and turn the volume up high enough that I can hear nothing but music. I have found, after trying multiple songs and only getting a positive feedback consistently, that if I play the song "Do You Want To Date My Avatar?" and sing it each time to the baby, he looks like he stops crying and once in awhile I catch a glimmer of a smile. On those very rare occasions I can catch what looks like a laugh erupt on his facial features. I could be wrong. I can't hear anything by this time. But I tell myself he is, and set to work on dinner, singing and dancing. Once in awhile I walk over to the table to make sure my 7 yr old is doing his homework, and doing what I can to make sure he stays doing it until it is complete. I then check to make sure my 3 yr old is alive, well, and if he is destroying the living room by then, I can at least sigh in relief knowing that nothing breakable is valuable.  Then  making sure dinner is ok on it's own, I place the baby in his high chair, grab some food for him, and settle down to get splattered with liquid ham and pineapples. Im now fighting to keep sane and dinner on the table at the appropriate time by drowning myself in my music.

It usually takes about 7 or 8 repetitions of the song before I am almost home free. At 5:25 I pull off my plugs, bark out that homework time is done and if it hasn't been completed he can do it after dinner but for now please clear the table. I send my other boy up to tell J it's time for dinner. I get out plates and utensils, place them side by side, and dole out portions, cutting up the kids so they are easy bites. I throw pots and pans into the sink, pull out 4 cups, pick a drink for us all (sometimes wine for Mommy) and by 5:30 I have everyone at the table, sitting down, eating (most of the time) and happily chatting about their day.

After dinner is done, the kids have put their dishes in the sink and I have loaded and turned on the dishwasher, I take a step outside and breathe. It's now Js turn to watch the kids so I can take a break and bask in the glory that I have survived yet another Witching Hour. I have 23 hours left before I must go through it again. Poor J though. His Witching Hour starts at about 7 pm each night, when he puts the two older boys to bed. I mentally wish him luck.

Photo courtesy of craziestgadgets.com

This blog is by Brittany, also known as Rhaven at TriangleMommies.com. If you like this blog and wish to check out more of her stories regarding the trials of motherhood, please visit her personal blog at http://suburbanrebelmom.blogspot.com/

Poop 202

My sister, a more experienced mom than I, told me early on that her pediatrician had informed her that poop happens to be the most common question among parents.  Is he pooping enough?  Is her stool too hard?  Is she constipated?  Is yellow baby poop ok, or should it be more green?  How often should my child be having bowel movements?  How much is too much?  How little is too little?

Talking about your child’s bowel movements becomes a common topic and poop becomes a dinner conversation- sometimes a very animated one.  There is nothing sacred about your child’s excrement.

Big Dub has become constipated.  He has not had a poop to write home about in four days.  He has been grunting and groaning, with serious effort and concentration to produce a few measly pebbles.  It actually got to the point that my husband I had the following conversation:

Hubby: “I don’t know.  Medium.”

Me: “Medium big or medium small?  Like soft serve or play dough?”

Hubby: “I don’t know.  Just medium.”

Me: “Well, how am I supposed to know if he needs to stay on the prune diet or if we need a suppository?  Is the blockage cleared or is he still shooting pebbles?  How pebble-like is it?  Is it hard?”

Hubby: “I don’t know.  It is just medium.”

Me: “Take a picture.”

Hubby: “No.”

Me: “TAKE A PICTURE and email it to me.”

Hubby: “NO, I just threw away the diaper.”

Seriously, I asked him to take a picture and was quite annoyed that he failed to do so.  How can I gauge the level of constipation and the level of intervention necessary if he can’t adequately describe the poop nor take a picture for me?  What, exactly, does medium mean?

Not to worry, I will not be including a picture with this posting.  You are welcome.

--

STORIES OF TRIALS, TRIBULATIONS, LAUGHTER AND HYSTERIA. POOR BIG DUB, YOU GOT ME FOR A MAMA...

I'm just an average mama who's not afraid to say all the things you know you are thinking.  Or just not smart enough to keep my mouth shut.

Follow me on twitter: @midnightfeeding / email me: lisa@midnightfeedings.com / visit me: midnightfeedings.com

A Dad's Point of View: Being Right Is Not Always Good Enough

How often have you made a choice, in which you knew that you were right, yet it turned out wrong? If we, as adults and parents, can do this, what can we expect from our children, especially our teens? 

I still can’t get over the fact that human brains don’t fully develop until their early twenties.  I learned this from a lecture by Dr. Bruce Powell, dean of a local private school, and expert on raising teenagers. So, for teens, their judgments, empathy, and other functions, like knowing when to keep their mouths shut, just aren’t present.  Yet, we expect them to often behave as if they were fully adult.

Knowing our teen’s limitations is the first step in knowing how to be the best parent you can be. Knowing my own failings and character flaws is further awareness for being that good parent that I’m always trying to be and advocate.  In this regard, speaking from experience, letting go of my ego is often the biggest challenge.

I remember a painful situation when a close male friend disappointed me.  A group of us had a big trip planned to Thailand and I allowed my “hurt feelings” to motivate me to come up with a lame excuse to bail out on the trip. Who did I end up hurting, regardless of how “right” I felt?  Only me.  When they returned from the trip, glowingly describing the grand adventures they had, I still felt “right” but I was the one that missed out.

Our kids rarely take the time to mull over a decision and its consequences.  Our job is to try to guide them without always lecturing them so that they just turn off the volume.  You can always tell when that happens by the blank look on their faces when you’re still droning on, oblivious to their having turned you off long ago.

So, since our teens don’t have mature brains, literally and figuratively, it is incumbent upon us to teach them that maturity and help them make the right choices.  They are too often guided by their “feelings” rather than good common sense--and, to some degree, by their peers. Our kids are more interested in approval of their peers’ than approval of their parents, so it really is like the blind leading the blind.

A painful example of how this manifests itself took place in our household shortly after the holidays.  As we’d all been apart during the Christmas season, when we had our first meal together we continued a Friday-night tradition that our family has of sharing the best and worst things that occurred in the previous week.  In this case, we all had many things to share, as we’d been apart for several weeks.

My wife and younger son began by sharing the many terrific experiences they’d just enjoyed on their trip to Japan and Hong Kong.  It was joyful to hear, and I was so glad it turned out well for them.  In their absence, I had the chance to have some really long-neglected alone time with my 16-year-old who, for the most part, has been consumed by his self-involved life and his girlfriend.  That time was indeed special to both of us.


So, when it came his turn to “share,” he tactlessly expressed that he was glad that his step-mom and brother were gone, since it gave him some great alone time with his dad.  I know what he meant, he knew what he meant, but the words were clearly indelicate and hurt my wife’s feelings.  He tried to cover it up, as he saw the look of hurt on her face, but the damage had already been done.  I didn’t really recognize the mistake he made until much later, as being his parent since birth, I knew him better, and didn’t at first even see a problem.
I later realized it was a classic example of the teen brain speaking before thinking.  Sadly, my wife took it too much to heart and really allowed his poor choice of words to create an ongoing awkwardness between all of us.  And, sadly, I didn’t “get it” soon enough to assuage her feelings and “fix” the situation.  Remember, we men always have to “fix” it, if possible.
Who was right and who was wrong was irrelevant, but it became a lesson for my son in learning to think a little bit, before he speaks, and it became a lesson for me in recognizing when my wife might be hurt quicker than I did.  I think the ultimate lesson, for all of us, is not to hold onto being right but be more concerned about being kind, thoughtful, and aware of those close to us and how things we do may affect them.  I’m still learning.

Please visit www.brucesallan.com to contact Bruce and to enjoy the various features his new Web site offers, including an archive of his columns, contact info, links to his published work, photo galleries, and reader comments, plus much more.  Bruce Sallan gave up his showbiz career a decade ago to raise his two boys, full-time, now 13 and 16. His internationally syndicated column, A Dad’s Point-of-View, is his take on the challenges of parenthood and male/female issues, both as a single dad and now, newly remarried, in a blended family. Presently, his column is available in over 75 newspapers and Web sites in the U.S. and internationally. Find Bruce on Facebook by joining his “A Dad’s Point-of-View” fan page: http://www.facebook.com/aDadsPointOfView?v=wall.  Just be sure to tell him you saw him here. And, you can also follow Bruce at Twitter: http://twitter.com/BruceSallan.

My Real Fantasy

Alright, so you are going to hate me. Hell, I'd hate me too if I wasn't me. But I am me, and I'm going to share something that will make any parent who is not me jealous. Ready?.....

I got to have a night out. Not just any night out where I had to come home at 3 am and deal with kids in the morning either. It was a full night out, complete with a hotel room SANS KIDS!!!!.....

..... and it was as awesome as you can fantasize. J and I fell asleep with big smiles on our faces knowing we didn't have to worry about being rudely awakened from our slumber by a crying infant or someone who didn't make it to the potty in time and needed a change of clothes (and sheets). We woke up at 8:30 in the morning, looked at the clock, looked at each other, and rolled back over and passed out again in pure bliss. We didn't get up until 10:30 and that was only because we knew if we passed back out again we may miss our hotel check out time.

For the first time in over 3 years (roughly 1095 days, give or take a month) we had a night out. yes, I am taking advantage of my mom finally living close by enough to watch over the kiddos during the weekend. Although she is practically shooing us out of the house too, offering to pay for a hotel just to get us out. I heart my mom. And already I am fantasizing about our next night out. I don't know when it will be, but I plan on trying to make this a little bit more regular. Maybe twice a year! Oh wow that would be so awesome!!!! I'm mentally drooling at the thought!

There were no crumbs in the bed, left over from kids deciding to come "cuddle you" in our bed. There were no squeaky toys hiding under the covers to scare the crap out of me as I tossed in my sleep. There were plenty of covers and pillows to go around without having to fight for that corner of quilt.

And the silence. I now understand the saying "Silence is Golden". I felt it. There was no moniter playing radio music just loud enough to be an annoying buzz in my ear as I tried to both sleep and listen for any rustlings of the baby. There was no pounding of kids feet above my head as they rushed to the bathroom, sounding just like a herd of pachyderms racing through our second floor. There was no hushed giggling at 4 in the morning as one boy tried to shine a book light in the eyes of his brother trying to wake him up (this happened last night by the way and I am seriously reconsidering that book light Xavier got as a Christmas gift.) None of that. Just J and I, in a cozy bed, with the shades closed to keep out the sunlight, and the sandman whacking us upside the head putting us into a blissful, uninterrupted slumber.

Man I forgot how good a decent nights sleep feels! of course, now that I had a taste of it, I want more. A lot more.

Brittany, also known as Rhaven at TriangleMommies.com. If you liked this story please check out her personal blog at http://suburbanrebelmom.blogspot.com/

Seeds, Catalogs, and Dreams

It’s that time of year again…the seed catalogs are arriving.  You’d think my 6 year old and I had found the next best seller by the way we pour over them as soon as they arrive. February feels like the longest month.  Some people I know are going to start seeds inside soon.  Not us.  We get late frosts.  Until I either build my dream greenhouse that can withstand strong winds or get a fancy grow light –shelf thing, I’ll have to settle for salivating over the catalogs this month. 


Do you garden?  I think our learning and expanding process will continue for a long time.  I grew up surrounded by home gardens, both at my grandparents’ home and my own childhood backyard.  It wasn’t until I was a newlywed that I tested out my own green thumb in the backyard of our townhouse.  Along the privacy fence we planted Shasta daisies and tomatoes.  We even tried a few summer squash in large containers.  Success!  Amazing!  I’ll never forget how exciting it was to watch tiny seedlings grow to bear fruit just for us! 

I’m working on learning to preserve foods we grow.  Last year we made and froze pesto from our mounds of basil.  This year I’d love to try my hand at canning tomatoes if blight doesn’t get to them first.  I grew up in a city but my Appalachian roots had me surrounded by women who canned.  So, why didn’t I learn then? 

I dream big for my garden this year.  My space is a bit limited – it’s really only 2 raised beds and any space I carve out in my large flowerbeds.  I love the idea of mixing edibles into formal front yard flower space.  I dream that the moles and rabbits and deer will leave my seedlings alone, that the slugs will not attack my fruit, and that we will have veggies growing out of our ears!  Oh, maybe, just maybe, this will be the year that our little blueberry bushes bear fruit too!
For now, with my head deep in the coming snow clouds, I’ll sit with a cup or tea or coffee and stare at my seed packets and catalogs…

Cayce Emanuel is the Charitable Events Co-Manager for HighCountryMommies, an occasional Occupational Therapist, a busy mother of 2, and the owner of SustainableHomestead.etsy.com where she creates “quality handmade items for your stylishly sustainable home.”  She also can be found blogging about her journey at www.SustainableHomestead.blogspot.com.

 

How has The Mommies Network touched your life?

The Mommies Network has touched many of us through our local sites – how has TMN affected or touched your life? Please share your story, and include your first name or username, home site, city, state, etc! The power of moms is AMAZING! Thank you!

Guilt

“Guilt is always jealous”  - John Ray

My children are finally in bed and I’m left with me, a baked ziti to make for a new mom, and guilt.  The latter being an ever-present shadow waiting for the good, the bad and the downright lazy days.

Oh, we had fun today.  We laughed.  We sang.  I cheered while they ran (or crawled) in circles.  But I did no mommy-projects.  I had no great ideas (except for the one where I CHEERED instead of RAN).  Mostly, I found toys that were requested or pick out toys that occupied them.

I sat with them.  We talked.  I tried to get a few things done.  I rested.  I wasted time on the Internet.

I know this makes me a normal mom.  It’s the end of the week.  N was awake quite a bit last night.  

We’re on a long stretch of snow days and school delays.  My husband’s day-off isn’t until tomorrow.  (I know.  I know.  I have a husband who only works four days each week when he’s not on-call.  I get NO sympathy there.)

Despite all the logic and understanding I FEEL GUILTY.

And I HATE THAT!

Back in the pre-mommy days, if I wasn’t a diligent employee, did I go home and cry?  No!

I thought: Whoo-hoo!  I’m home!  More emailing, Internet-ing, and sitting!

I thought: This is normal end-of-the-week blahs. T.G.I.A.F.
(Thank Goodness It’s Almost Friday!  Okay I never actually thought that.  I’m MUCH cooler.)
And I didn’t think about it again.

I promise you that I NEVER thought: I’m a terrible person.  And my boss and fellow employees acted-out today because I didn’t give them enough attention.

Clearly, I’m not the best employee, but this mom gig is going to send me OVER THE EDGE if I don’t put an official ban on the mommy-guilt.

If only I knew how.


--

This post is written by Alex Iwashyna, a happily married mom of two children with a BA in Political Philosophy and a Medical Degree and the drive to become neither.  She is too busy writing poetry, blogging, and staying at home with her children.  Find her on Late Enough and @failebg but be prepared for baby poop and liberal bias.

First Date

Three years ago, when I was single and living on the 11th floor of one of the most amazing condo buildings in Daytona Beach Shores, I had an unexpected date with an old acquaintance. He was in town for the day and asked if we could see each other. I had no other plans that Sunday, except to maybe have a margarita by my beach-side pool with my best friend Kristin, so I said sure.

When he arrived I took him to the famed Ocean Deck, I had a blackened mahi sandwich with him, Kristin and another friend, I dragged both of them along because it wasn't really a date.

Back at the condo that night, we stayed up until almost 1:00am talking. I was exhausted at the Paper the next day.

I had a real date with that same guy Tuesday night. We left our 20 month-old under the care of my friend Kenzie and met at a different kind of high rise on the Northside of Atlanta. Who knew that Sunday would lead to dinner and a musical, nearly 600 miles away and three years later, but I'm so glad it did.

He even sent me flowers at work for the occasion. We haven't been out as just a couple since we've moved here. It was nice to be two instead of three.

Some days, I wish we were the same two that were in the Ocean Deck on that Sunday, you see, a lot has changed. It was spelled-out so clear as I sipped sauvignon blanc, and was uncomfortable at downtown wine bar for the first-time in my life. I had to keep asking myself....are we relaxed yet? I'm not sure if I ever got there, even into the second half of Mamma Mia at the Fox Theatre.

We've grown, and have loved each other, and a whole new person and I'm so happy we have that perfect beach evening to thank.



Anne DiNapoli

Atlanta Area Mommies/ FLmominGA
Twitter/ @amdinapoli
http://adinap.blogspot.com

Regular Mom

So I am new to this world of blogging. For the longest time I have wanted so badly to write down my experiences, my thoughts, even my fears, but honestly I had no clue why someone would want to read them! What is so special about me that would make someone think that what I had to say was important or relevant. Then I realized that is why someone should want to read my words… there is nothing special about me. I am just your regular mom trying to navigate the world of motherhood. I have a one year old son who keeps me on my toes and is constantly make me smile. Seeing the world through his eyes is the most amazing experience of my life; He is my greatest accomplishment.

Before being a mother I was a wife, an Army wife. Now, I am an Army wife and the mother to a son whose father serves our country. WOW! That sentence is super scary. How do I even begin to navigate all that that entails?!? That is what I am devoting my blog to… the life of mother, a wife and the Army. I invite you to join us on our journey and I hope that my words can somehow inspire, encourage, and comfort not only other moms like me, but moms everywhere from every walk of life. I guarantee the ride will be one filled with laughs, tears, fears, excitement and disappointment. However, the most important thing it will be filled with is LOVE; the love for my child, my husband, our country and the crazy life those three things create.

Amy G. is a former high school science teacher turned Stay-at-Home mom. She has been married for 3 years. Her home is where the Army sends her (currently Colorado Springs). She is a member of ColoradoSpringsmommies.com but you can follow her blog at http://armywifelovingmother.blogspot.com/

How to Take Better Photos of Your Kids!

As a professional children's photographer and a soon to be mom, I understand the rewards (and occasional challenges!) that can come from capturing those adorable faces in camera.  My first child is due at the end of April, and I am so excited to be able to document all of the little moments of his life, as well as of course the big milestones.  I know it will all go by so fast, so I don't want to miss a moment!  

I've compiled a quick top 5 list of tricks you can use, and hopefully they help you make some great memories!

1.  Get down on their level - literally!  

Most candid snapshots of our kids end up being shot from the 'mom' angle - basically looking down onto the child from our height.  With a little adjustment on our end, you can photograph them directly on their level and have a much more interesting composition.  At my photo sessions at one point or another, I'm literally laying on the floor...!  While that can be a great angle (especially for babies), just kneeling down or sitting on their level can have a huge impact.

2.  Say no to 'say cheese'.

Most children respond to the phrase 'say cheese' with forced attention and strained smiles.  Instead, to capture honest carefree happiness I suggest making them actually laugh!  A couple of tricks I use (depending on the age) is to sing the alphabet out of order, play peek-a-boo behind my camera, ask if 'daddy wears diapers', or if they're older - ask them to not smile.  It will always make them crack up laughing.  ;)  

3.  Step outside your front door...and then keep on going!

If you have a little one, plop them down just inside your home and you stand outside the open front door.  This will naturally create a beautiful lighting technique where your child is the focus and the light falls off behind him.  The same idea can be achieved at the edge of the woods, or in a fun city street...where the light becomes darker behind your child, and you are standing in the light source.  To make the photos more interesting and exciting for your kids - take them to their favorite park or place and take your photos there!  My favorite photos are always of kids doing what they love most - so whether that is enjoying an ice cream sundae at the shop, reading a book at the park, or playing on the playground - your kids will be happy and your photos will reflect that as well!

4.  Keep that eye contact.

While definitely not every photo you take should have eye contact, when you want those big eyes looking right at you is usually the time they want to look away.  A great way to capture a little one's attention is by playing peek a boo behind the camera, adding bright stickers to the front of your camera, or even placing a cheerio on top of your camera!  With toddlers you can ask them if they can see Sponge Bob (or Dora, etc.) inside your camera lens.  Works like a charm!!

5. Make sure it's fun.

Last but not least - every time you bust out your camera try to make sure it's a positive experience for your kids.  Taking photos can be frustrating at times, and sometimes if they're not into it it's better to just call it a day and try again later.  When kids start to associate the camera with an unhappy mommy or daddy, it's a hard obstacle to overcome later.  On the other hand, if they view it as a fun time to be one on one with you, and they even get a little treat or prize afterward...you may be able to have then asking YOU to take their photo in time.  

Hopefully you can use a few of these tips to take some awesome photos of your kids!  

by Shey Detterline, of Shey Marin Photography

www.sheymarinphotography.com

www.sheymarinphotography.com/blog

It is easy being green!

Kermit had it wrong…it’s easy to be green!  And it saves you cash! I remember as a child hounding my parents about always wearing their seatbelt in the car.  It seemed to be a hard habit to make.  Our kids now are hounding us to recycle.  How can you make environmentally positive changes in your home easily?

I admit, my family is VERY green, crunchy, eco-friendly, tree-hugging…whatever you want to call it.  It’s just who we are.  But it’s likely that if you didn’t know me and we had morning tea together I really wouldn’t seem odd and my house wouldn’t be that different from yours.

Are you still reading this or did you tune out because I said “crunchy” and you cringed?  Hear me out.  There are some easy-peasy little changes you can make this year to not only green up your lifestyle but also to save you some moolah…and I promise no one will call you “crunchy”.

Switch from disposable to reusable whenever possible.  Napkins, towels, shopping bags, sandwich baggies, produce bags…  I have found that my kids LOVE to pick out their own cloth napkin before meals.  I have a basket on a shelf filled with several fun prints.  And even my 2yo will wipe his own hands and face when he chooses his own napkin!   I also take advantage of microfiber automotive towels for home use.  They work great to clean mirrors and glass when coupled with homemade vinegar-water solution!  They are also much better than paper for quickly soaking up water spills!  Just wash with your regular laundry and you won’t even notice more work on that end of things (b/c no parent needs more housework – let’s keep this stuff simple!)

Reduce your electricity usage.  Sure, we’ve all heard about how great the new light bulbs are.  And they are.  But…have you really thought about electricity vampires? For one month we decided we’d unplug anything in the house that was stealing electricity overnight while we were sleeping (tv, radio with clock, rechargers, computer, etc).  WOW!  A noticeable difference in our electric bill!  Now it’s habit. 


What about your grocery bags?  If you already have them, USE THEM!  Keep 4-5 in each car and once you use them, make a habit of putting them right back in the car.  Better yet, have your school-age child do it for you!  Have you considered using them for more than just groceries?  Try bringing a bag or 2 with you whenever you go into a store.  If looks are an issue, shop for a few that fold up small and have a pleasing design on them.  Whatever helps you use them!

Like I said, it’s easy being green.  There are so many ways to go about it.  Think of a few baby-steps your family can take to make our world a little less trashy and a little greener.  Chances are your kids already have some ideas of their own.

Cayce Emanuel is the Charitable Events Co-Manager for HighCountryMommies, an occasional Occupational Therapist, a busy mother of 2, and the owner of SustainableHomestead.etsy.com where she creates “quality handmade items for your stylishly sustainable home.”  She also can be found blogging about her journey at www.SustainableHomestead.blogspot.com.

Stick With Your Rules, Even When It’s Hard

Nobody promised that being a parent would be easy nor were we assured that we’d get kids that were easy to handle. If you’re like most of us, you face regular challenges to your authority, your rules, and the way you expect your kids to behave. As with much in life, there’s room for compromise, but with parenting I suggest that sticking with your rules defines your values and teaches your children valuable lessons.  The first rule must be that you tell the truth.


It’s a simple idea to tell the truth, but not always so simple to execute in real-life family situations. For instance, what do your kids really hear when you say something like, “If you do this fill-in-the-blank thing, you’re gonna be grounded” with stern parental authority. Most kids will interpret that to mean, “Well, I sure hope you won’t do that, but I’ll forgive you when you do because I love you so much and want to be your best friend.”  The result?  You haven’t told the truth or stood by your word. The kids then know they can manipulate you.


The impact of vacillating on our children is drastic and very harmful. I cannot emphasize enough how much we are role models for our children and how much they learn from our behavior. Our kids watch every move we make and if we waffle on a rule or a threat, then they learn to work that to their benefit.  I’ll offer a personal example that has been hard on our family.


My older son turned 16 in November and he still hasn’t been allowed to get his driver’s permit, let alone his license.  At 15½ he was legally allowed to get his permit, but the reason he hasn’t is that when he was about 14, I set a rule that he had to have a “B” average for the privilege of driving.  No excuses, no blaming his teachers, no “I’m so close” – he had to bring home a “B” average. 

As I explained to him, part of my rationale was that insurance rates are significantly lower for kids with a “B” average. And, since he can’t get his license until six months after getting his permit, regardless of his age upon getting his permit here in California, he has delayed the process substantially with his “B-minus“ grade level!

The irony is that by not wavering on this rule, it has made its implementation almost easy and without any challenges from him. He has acknowledged his own screw-ups with schoolwork and putting off homework assignments, and lazy studying for exams.  It has put him in the embarrassing position, among his friends, of not having a permit while so many others have gotten theirs.  And, since he now has a girlfriend, it’s doubly embarrassing, as she’s gotten her permit, and a “B” average, even though her birthday is six months after his.

I feel bad for him. You bet.  Will I ease up on my rule?  Maybe.  But, the maybe includes a compromise that is in essence a version of my original rule. We discussed allowing him to get his permit now, with the “B-minus” average, BUT he won’t be allowed to get his license unless he then makes up the difference with a high enough “B” average next semester that the aggregate is a total of a “B” average. 

The advantage to him and us if he accepted the revised “rule” is that the six-month countdown can begin and if he makes the grades, he can potentially get his license sooner.  It would ease my chauffeur responsibilities if he could drive and I’d love that. The irony is that he’d then have to do even better next semester and, consequently, he was not sure whether to take this offer.


After presenting him with that option, he chose to stick with the present rule, feeling that he had a better chance at getting the required “B” average, starting fresh this next semester rather than having to get a higher average and get his permit now.  That is an interesting choice, but it was his and he’s also learning delayed gratification and his own responsibility in what has happened and he’s not blaming us. It’s a win-win for us parents and maybe a valuable lesson for this particular teen.


The result is that Will knows that I mean business, and that I’m open to compromise, but only if there’s equal balance within any new agreement.  I’ve kept my credibility and can even be sympathetic to his sadness at not having his permit, let alone his license several months after his 16^th birthday.  The rule is not “me” and he doesn’t fully tie me to the rule, which is the beauty of it. 

So, stick with your rules even if you see the pain and discomfort it causes your children. They learn more from this sort of “pain” than when you give in and spoil them.  They learn to trust and respect you and maybe, just maybe, they might take those rules seriously, too.

Please visit www.brucesallan.com to contact Bruce and to enjoy the various features his new Web site offers, including an archive of his columns, contact info, links to his published work, photo galleries, and reader comments, plus much more.  Bruce Sallan gave up his showbiz career a decade ago to raise his two boys, full-time, now 13 and 16. His internationally syndicated column, A Dad’s Point-of-View, is his take on the challenges of parenthood and male/female issues, both as a single dad and now, newly remarried, in a blended family. Presently, his column is available in over 75 newspapers and Web sites in the U.S. and internationally. Find Bruce on Facebook by joining his “A Dad’s Point-of-View” fan page: http://www.facebook.com/aDadsPointOfView?v=wall.  Just be sure to tell him you saw him here. And, you can also follow Bruce at Twitter: http://twitter.com/BruceSallan.

CHD - Congenital Heart Defects

Most people don't realize it, but congenital heart defects (CHD) actually affect one in every 125 children born, making it the number one birth defect.  This week, February 7-14, is Congenital Hearts Defect Awareness Week.  As someone who has been personally affected by congenital heart defects, I have made it my mission to raise awareness about CHDs, specifically an arrhythmia called Brugada Syndrome, my three year-old son's rare condition.  This is his story.

Sam was born to me in Hong Kong on October 2, 2006. He lived for the first six months of his life in Kunming, China (with us) and was a very active and healthy little boy. When he was just six months old, we moved to Raleigh, NC.

He was just about to turn 11 months-old when he got his first virus. He woke up with his first high fever. He was a little out of it, but sitting on my husband,  Bill's, lap when he had a febrile seizure. We called 911, went to the hospital and were sent home with the information that febrile seizures only happen once. Two hours after arriving home, he had another one. His temperature was at 102.9F and climbing when he had another febrile seizure.

We called 911 and the EMT on the scene couldn't get a pulse-ox on Sam. He took an ECG on the ride over to the hospital and saw that Sam was in VTAC(his heart was beating over 300 beats per minute).

The hospital thought the ECG was inaccurate, as he was in a semi-regular rhythm when we arrived. No one had ever seen a child who was almost 11 months-old have VTAC before. The pediatrician on-call phoned every hospital in the area and there were no beds. Finally, UNC Hospital accepted us. 

 

 

The doctor recognized Sam's condition as Brugada Syndrome and often masquerades as febrile seizures. He tested Sam with a simple 12-lead ECG (among other tests) and Sam was released from the hospital on Tuesday, with a cardiology appointment on Friday.

 

 

He was officially diagnosed with this heart arrhythmia and scheduled for surgery to implant an internal defibrillator on the following Tuesday.  That day Sam became one of the youngest children in the world to receive a defibrillator at the tender age of 11 months-old.  He is also one of the youngest patients to be diagnosed with Brugada without a sibling having already died from it.  His DNA has been tested and he does not have the most common type of Brugada, rather one that they have never before seen.

 

 

Although most children who have a CHD actually have a "plumbing" or structural issue, Sam's CHD is an electrical issue.  This makes surgery to repair it or a transplant impossible.  I have also heard that Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (or SIDS) is often caused by either Brugada Syndrome or Long QT Syndrome (another heart arrhythmia).  

In Sam's case, his heart goes into an arrhythmia (usually over 250 beats per minute) when he has a high fever, though as he has grown his heart has been able to tolerate fevers.  He also has difficulty with an electrolyte imbalance.  Both of these, high fever AND electrolyte imbalance, are common with every childhood illness.  As you can imagine, we have spent a great deal of time in prayer and God has given us rest and peace in this season of our lives.

Sam recently had another surgery to repair a wire from his defibrillator that wasn't reading properly.  He will continue to have surgeries to replace the defibrillator every three to five years for the rest of his life.  Once his body has matured, they will move the defibrillator to his shoulder, rather than his belly.  At this time, his belly is the only space available in his tiny-body.  

For more information on congenital heart defects, please visit www.littlehearts.org or leave a comment.  Most parents of a CHD child are happy to share their story, as we all need to bring more awareness to this very common defect.

Teesa Klear is the stay-at-home-mom of two children, one biological and one adopted, but both from China.  She also works as the Children's Minister at her church and is active in her local The Mommies Network community, www.HighCountryMommies.com.  She blogs about her adventures in adoption and as a heart-mommy at www.klearlife.blogspot.com.

 

 

What to Say Instead…

Dear strangers… I do not know you. 
I have 3 children.  Yes, they are all mine.  No, the older 2 are not twins...yep, I do have all 3 with me at the grocery store.

  My key to the grocery store is a 2 seater cart and wearing my littlest one in Ergo Carrier.  

Regardless, I often have 3 children with me. 

And yes, I do have my hands full.
But you saying that doesn’t help much, now does it?
Unless you’re interested in taking one (preferably the middle one, please)
Not to mention, that when that statement is said,
I am usually not in the best “mommy” mood. 

I have heard that I should respond with
“why yes, my hands are full…but so is my heart”
Isn’t that sweet. 
But honestly, like I mentioned above, my heart usually isn’t feeling very full in that moment.  I usually am feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

Or perhaps you have caught me on a great day
where I am really enjoying my children…
then you have to go and point out how I have my hands full.

Thanks for ruining the nice moment…
because right after you say how full my hands are,
my kids are sure to do something to earn that remark.
Like…pull each other’s hair, knock over a shelf of fruit snacks, scream to eat a free sample, tell me they have to poo poo, scream again because I won’t buy the chocolate-marshmallow cereal.

So instead of telling me how full my hands are, here is a list of suggestions to say instead of  “my, don’t you have your hands full”


1—What a beautiful family you have!

2—What a fun field trip with mommy!

3—Can I help you with anything?

4—What good children you are being!

5— You’ll get through these early years!
(don’t add  “and I wouldn’t go back to that for a million dollars”)

6—I remember those days well!
(don’t add “and I thought I was going to die”)

7—You’re doing a great job

8—You are a great mom

-Do hold the door open for a mom with many kids
-Do offer to take my cart back to the store as you are walking in

-Do not stare if my children are having a tantrum
And please do not intervene… it often makes it worse, and we are often in a hurry trying to get back in time for lunch or nap…
hence the tantrum.


So, Dear strangers that I meet in public…
please do not tell me again how much I have my hands full.


Instead…
Praise my efforts, encourage me, tell me you’ve been there and I am going to get through to other side eventually.
Pat me on the shoulder and tell me what a great mom I am
And maybe, just maybe…

It will help to make my heart as full as my hands are. 

 Carrie

Mama Llama

www.littlellamas.blogspot.com