I am writing this post from Jim's computer because I don't have one anymore. My house is currently 83 degrees and I am miserably hot because our conditioner keeps breaking. My kids have been sick for an entire week with sore throats, fevers, vomiting and diarrhea, and Brennan missed his last two days of kindergarten. To say that this has been a hard week is a major understatement.
(If you aren't too depressed to stay with me, here are some of the details:)
Last Saturday when I tried to turn on my computer, it just wouldn't turn on. The Geek Squad (aka Jim) looked at it, and he there was nothing we could do. He saved my hard drive and all of my work, photos, etc., but the machine itself was dead. It is four years old, and I honestly don't know if a day has ever gone by that I haven't used it. All of that use and abuse was bound to catch up with us sooner or later, but I just wasn't prepared.
I started writing a blog post a week or two ago about how I have been saving money for the last six months for my first decent camera. I have wanted to own a good camera and take classes for about sixteen years now, and in December I decided that it was time to embrace the dream, even if it took a year to save enough mad money. I have done lots of research, talked off the ears of several of my photographer friends, and saved about $450, but it now looks like I will need to give up on the camera yet again and put the money towards a new computer. It's dumb, but it has actually made me cry.
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When we were building our house, we questioned the single air conditioning unit that was supposed to cool our 3000+ square foot house. We were assured that it was an Energy Star home and didn't need more than one unit. Even though we were skeptical, we bought the hype. Two years and many issues later, we wish we had trusted our instincts. We now have a technician making a house call at 9:00 on a Saturday night. He is telling us that some freon will "get us by" until a store opens on Tuesday. This just had to happen on Memorial Day Weekend.
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Last Sunday when I got up for church, Brennan told me his stomach felt yucky and he was hot. He had a fever and it was decided that he would stay home with Jim while Cora, Seth, and I went to church. As we were getting ready to leave, Cora vomited all over the floor. The next seven days were a roller coaster ride of one kid getting better while the other showed new symptoms. I am hopeful tonight that everyone is on the mend, but I don't know what to think anymore.
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If I were reading this on someone else's blog, I'd be tempted to tell them that it will all get better soon. And it's probably true. But today, for me, it doesn't feel like it. Every day is a struggle with cranky kids and new challenges. I feel disconnected. I feel overwhelmed. I feel like nothing in my life is mine right now. I can't wear any of my own clothes. I can't have a conversation without being interrupted thirty-six times. I can't send an email until my husband gets home at night with a computer. I can't run errands or go anywhere without thinking through everyone's schedules. I can't even go to bed at night to get a break. I can't continue to pursue the one thing I was doing for me without sacrificing major sanity points.
I know it's all temporary. I've survived the newborn stage two other times and know that it is fleeting. But when I'm sitting in a sauna house with cranky kids who want to watch another television show and my middle child throws a tantrum and refuses to go upstairs and take a nap and I lose track of how much powdered sugar I've put in my recipe and I can't get onto my computer to look up said recipe, and my newborn needs to nurse, I just feel like I am going to crack.
Last night a couple of friends took me out to dinner to celebrate my birthday, and I felt like I was watching the whole evening through a piece of thick glass. I heard every word and enjoyed my friends completely, but I didn't feel like a participant. I couldn't laugh with my whole heart, I couldn't relax, and I couldn't think of anything witty to say. I worried the whole time that they were thinking, "Melissa hasn't been very fun in about a year. I don't want to hang out with her anymore." I hope that's not true because I need tons of support right now.
I am eager to get everyone well, find a summer schedule that works for us (I had just found my stride and then the school year ended!), and start being fun again. Maybe I need to go line dancing or kayaking or something new this fall when I don't have a baby tethered to my breast. Who's in? :-)
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Monday, April 30, 2012
The First 3+ Weeks with #3
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All photos by Hope Warfel Photography.
I thought I would answer some of the questions I seem to get asked most often.
Does he sleep well for you?
Seth is a seriously good baby. He eats a lot in one feeding (he is not a grazer), he sleeps well between feedings, and he is very easygoing. Each time we have taken him on an outing, he has slept the entire time we've been gone without making so much as a peep. Yesterday I pumped milk and Jim gave Seth a bottle for the first time. I remember Cora and Brennan balking at the bottle the first time, but not Seth. He took it as though he has had a hundred others. Nothing fazes him!
I'm getting sleep in about 1.5 - 2 hour intervals at night. Seth eats every 2 - 3 hours, but a feeding with a diaper change lasts about 40ish minutes, so I have very interrupted sleep. The good news is that as soon as we get everything done, I lay him down and he goes right back to sleep. So, I'm very tired, but I'm not so sleep deprived that I'm nearly hallucinating like I did when Cora was an infant.
How is it going?
I'm enjoying life with a newborn so much more than I ever have before. I guess it is because I know it is the last time I will experience this. Breastfeeding is pretty painful (it's just how I am... the lactation consultants can't really find an explanation), but I just deal with it and look into Seth's sweet, innocent little face, and I am so in love. I find as many opportunities as I can to snuggle with his warm little head next to my cheek. I feel less resentful of the diaper changes and nighttime feedings because I know they won't last forever. I don't panic when he cries, and I forgive myself when I can't immediately race to his side to make everything okay. I am more confident, relaxed, and content this time around.
I'm crazy about my little boy and even more in love with him than I thought I could be. That said, I am having a hard time, emotionally. After spending so many months getting fat and feeling miserable, I was really eager to start losing baby weight and reclaiming my body. In the first few weeks, that began to happen, and I was doing great. However, about a week and a half ago, I stalled out. And not just that... I gained two pounds back. This has never happened to me before, and it is so discouraging!! I completely understand that I'm only three and a half weeks postpartum. I do not expect to fit in my regular jeans or look good. All I want is to see progress. I just want to get out of maternity clothes and start wearing super large regular clothes... But gaining weight? What is that all about? I'm not pigging out, I am nursing exclusively (which is supposed to burn 500 calories a a day!), and I'm actively taking care of two other kids. You'd think I'd have burned enough calories to lose at least a single pound over a week and a half, but no such luck. Every day that I get on the scale and see that same miserable number, I am crushed. I don't look like me when I look in the mirror... I don't look like me, I don't feel like me, and I wonder: How in the world am I going to get this weight off? What if I don't? You don't want to know the kinds of spiritual and mental battles I go through every morning when I get dressed. It isn't pretty.
My emotions aren't just all about weight loss, either. I'm worried about huge hospital bills, I'm afraid of spending a summer at home - alone - with three kids, I'm frustrated at my inability to put together coherent thoughts, and I just feel a little lost. I wouldn't say I'm depressed (I'm actually really happy with my life!), but I am struggling with my hormones, my emotions, and lots of irrational thoughts and fears.
How are Brennan and Cora adjusting?
Brennan and Cora adore Seth. They are absolutely crazy for him. They love to check and see if his eyes are open and whether he might be looking at them. They love to hold him, and they love to try to get him to grip their fingers. Cora also loves to help get him diapers and cover him in blankets and get his pacifier when he is crying. (We've had to work on keeping blankets off his head, particularly when I am out of the room.)
Of course, everything isn't perfect. Cora has become more argumentative (probably just an age thing as much as an adjustment to the baby), and Brennan has started with some annoying baby talk. But all things considered, the adjustment has been amazingly smooth. I really couldn't ask for more.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Thoughts on Parenting
When I was growing up, my mom had a book called "Parenting Isn't for Cowards" on the bookshelf in our family room. As a teenager I looked at that book and thought about how she had to be courageous to stand her ground with me.
I didn't understand the half of it.
Parenting is the hardest thing in the whole. wide. world. There are days I cry from the weight of it all. The thing about parenting is, no matter how hard we try, we can't get it just right. We mess up. We hurt our kids. We do things that we know are wrong. We do things we don't know are wrong.
And all of that is so difficult for this perfectionist to accept.
I've got a degree in education, and I consider myself an expert in that department. I know that children need to be exposed to a certain number of books before they become readers, and I know the importance of recognizing and capitalizing on teachable moments.
I'm also a research fanatic, so I know all kinds of things about child development. I know that we need to sit at the table with our children when they eat meals so we can teach them that food is a social experience. I know that kids need a certain number of fruits and vegetables and whole grains daily. I know that "screen time" has a ton of detrimental effects. But what I do is a different story.
So...
When I am in a hurry and my kids are eating alone while I fix my hair, I feel guilty.
When my kids reject all fruits and vegetables and only want goldfish and bread products, I feel guilty.
When I choose to let the kids watch television (after having let them already watch a reasonable amount that morning) just so I can have a conversation with another adult, I feel guilty.
I know that feeling guilty is stupid. I know that everything is about balance and doing your best and maintaining your sanity, but in my heart, I just see failure when I do the opposite of what I know. I want to give my kids my very, very best, and anything less hurts. Even though letting them watch television so I can be a mentally healthy mom is sometimes the best choice, I just see research and statistics and scold myself. Even though I sit with my children for most of their meals, I see the times that I'm off working on my computer or folding laundry while they eat alone, and I beat myself up.
And don't get me started on my fear of judgment.
I'll never forget when Brennan was two years old and we went on a play date with friends. I brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat, which was one of the only things he would eat those days, and I had stopped and bought a small bag of Cheetos to share with him, which was a really big deal for our special trip to the park. When we sat down to eat with the other kids, and they proceeded to take out chick peas, quinoa, black beans, cooked carrots, and other amazingly healthy foods, my heart sank. Then, when the moms looked over at Brennan's food, I wanted to crawl under the table. Brennan would never eat any of those foods the other kids had. He still won't. He would honestly go hungry and have his blood sugar drop and have a total, complete meltdown before he would even try any of those foods. I know from experience. That doesn't mean I give him Cheetos all the time. I try to give him healthy things he will eat (which are so limited), and constantly encourage him (usually unsuccessfully) to try new things.
Other, well-meaning moms tell me to just give him what we are having and let him go hungry. My pediatrician disagrees. And all of that is beside the point. I'm doing my best and making intentional choices for my kids. And I still feel like a failure. I put that pressure on myself.
I've been wondering whether I make other moms feel that same sense of failure. I am a research junky, so I have lots of facts to share. I am a perfectionist, so I know lots of best practices. But at the end of the day, I'm just another parent who messes up and falls short. When friends ask me for advice, I tell them what works for me or what I have learned, which may make me sound like I know it all. But I so don't. I know nothing.
Except grace.
Last week I shared with Jim that I needed to give Brennan more grace to be five years old and stop expecting perfection from him (sense a theme, here?). I decided to write the word "GRACE" on our chalkboard to remind me to give him a break. The irony is, the word has been up there more for me than for him. Every time I feel like a failure, a hypocrite, or a crummy mom, I see that word and I'm reminded that God knows my heart and will make my children who HE wants them to be. I'm reminded that He doesn't expect me to be perfect and actually gave my children to me knowing that I wouldn't be perfect. He will cover all of my sins and imperfections.
I still hate that there will be consequences to my failures because I am human and there is sin in this world. I can't go back and change Adam and Eve's decisions, and it stinks because I love my kids. I love them so much it hurts, and I don't want it to be so tough.
But I guess that's sort of how God feels about us. It's a good thing He's our heavenly father. He is perfect. He isn't a coward. The buck stops somewhere and there is a perfect standard. Thank goodness my kids can grow up and learn about being a perfect parent from someone.
I didn't understand the half of it.
Parenting is the hardest thing in the whole. wide. world. There are days I cry from the weight of it all. The thing about parenting is, no matter how hard we try, we can't get it just right. We mess up. We hurt our kids. We do things that we know are wrong. We do things we don't know are wrong.
And all of that is so difficult for this perfectionist to accept.
I've got a degree in education, and I consider myself an expert in that department. I know that children need to be exposed to a certain number of books before they become readers, and I know the importance of recognizing and capitalizing on teachable moments.
I'm also a research fanatic, so I know all kinds of things about child development. I know that we need to sit at the table with our children when they eat meals so we can teach them that food is a social experience. I know that kids need a certain number of fruits and vegetables and whole grains daily. I know that "screen time" has a ton of detrimental effects. But what I do is a different story.
So...
When I am in a hurry and my kids are eating alone while I fix my hair, I feel guilty.
When my kids reject all fruits and vegetables and only want goldfish and bread products, I feel guilty.
When I choose to let the kids watch television (after having let them already watch a reasonable amount that morning) just so I can have a conversation with another adult, I feel guilty.
I know that feeling guilty is stupid. I know that everything is about balance and doing your best and maintaining your sanity, but in my heart, I just see failure when I do the opposite of what I know. I want to give my kids my very, very best, and anything less hurts. Even though letting them watch television so I can be a mentally healthy mom is sometimes the best choice, I just see research and statistics and scold myself. Even though I sit with my children for most of their meals, I see the times that I'm off working on my computer or folding laundry while they eat alone, and I beat myself up.
And don't get me started on my fear of judgment.
I'll never forget when Brennan was two years old and we went on a play date with friends. I brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat, which was one of the only things he would eat those days, and I had stopped and bought a small bag of Cheetos to share with him, which was a really big deal for our special trip to the park. When we sat down to eat with the other kids, and they proceeded to take out chick peas, quinoa, black beans, cooked carrots, and other amazingly healthy foods, my heart sank. Then, when the moms looked over at Brennan's food, I wanted to crawl under the table. Brennan would never eat any of those foods the other kids had. He still won't. He would honestly go hungry and have his blood sugar drop and have a total, complete meltdown before he would even try any of those foods. I know from experience. That doesn't mean I give him Cheetos all the time. I try to give him healthy things he will eat (which are so limited), and constantly encourage him (usually unsuccessfully) to try new things.
Other, well-meaning moms tell me to just give him what we are having and let him go hungry. My pediatrician disagrees. And all of that is beside the point. I'm doing my best and making intentional choices for my kids. And I still feel like a failure. I put that pressure on myself.
I've been wondering whether I make other moms feel that same sense of failure. I am a research junky, so I have lots of facts to share. I am a perfectionist, so I know lots of best practices. But at the end of the day, I'm just another parent who messes up and falls short. When friends ask me for advice, I tell them what works for me or what I have learned, which may make me sound like I know it all. But I so don't. I know nothing.
Except grace.
Last week I shared with Jim that I needed to give Brennan more grace to be five years old and stop expecting perfection from him (sense a theme, here?). I decided to write the word "GRACE" on our chalkboard to remind me to give him a break. The irony is, the word has been up there more for me than for him. Every time I feel like a failure, a hypocrite, or a crummy mom, I see that word and I'm reminded that God knows my heart and will make my children who HE wants them to be. I'm reminded that He doesn't expect me to be perfect and actually gave my children to me knowing that I wouldn't be perfect. He will cover all of my sins and imperfections.
I still hate that there will be consequences to my failures because I am human and there is sin in this world. I can't go back and change Adam and Eve's decisions, and it stinks because I love my kids. I love them so much it hurts, and I don't want it to be so tough.
But I guess that's sort of how God feels about us. It's a good thing He's our heavenly father. He is perfect. He isn't a coward. The buck stops somewhere and there is a perfect standard. Thank goodness my kids can grow up and learn about being a perfect parent from someone.
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