Categories
Motherhood and Pregnancy

Pee on a Stick

An acquaintance of ours recently found out she is pregnant.  “Congratulations!” I said, “When are you due?” because that is the natural course of such a conversation.  And guess what?  She is already FIVE MONTHS pregnant.  She is due 2 weeks after her son’s first birthday.  I hyperventilated a little right around that time because I have a tendency to over-empathize.  I mean, dang.

I was their childbirth educator and we discussed the whole “child spacing” thing in class.  I know they  had planned to wait a few years before having any more children.  So where is that pesky IUD she had, anyway?  The doctor says that after the baby is born (it’s a girl, by the way), they’ll “take a look around” to see if it passed up into her pelvis.  I think she would have noticed if it had passed the other way.  Wouldn’t you?

Can I just be completely honest and say, this would be my worst freaking nightmare.  Jeremy’s been taken care of but even that’s not 100% accurate.  It’s for just that reason that I take a pregnancy test on the 15th of every month.  What?  Pregnancy tests come in bulk, too, just like toilet paper and other necessities of life.  I actually look forward to it, because I love being able to say “I’m not pregnant!” and know it with absolute certainty.  Even though it’s the 1st, I went ahead and took a test after speaking with this woman today, because it has been two whole weeks since I could say: 

“I’m not pregnant!”  Thank God.

Categories
Food

And then there was Chocolate

Last night Jeremy and I went grocery shopping sans kids.  We might or might not be counting it as a date, since we were “alone”, food was involved, and money was spent.  We’re grasping at straws, I know, but we take what we can get. 

Two people who are on restricted diets (Jeremy for armwrestling, me for Blythe’s allergies) and therefore in a constant state of hunger should not grocery shop without intervention.  Not unless they have recently consumed large quantities of… well, whatever it is they can eat.  Lettuce?  Apples?  One quarter cup of plain brown rice?  There is something tempting on every end cap, yummy smells wafting through the air.  Oh, the agony.

Normally I pick and choose which organics to buy, because last time I checked, money does not come out of any of my orfices.  But those organic people, they really know how to make some food without corn or egg additives.  So regardless of how expensive it was (and believe me, it was) I put it in the cart last night. It all looked so tempting and delicious.  Some of it didn’t even make it all the way to the car before being torn open, much less all the way home.  Did I mention we were hungry?  I need something besides fruit and vegetables.  I need some fat and junk and a slab of beef.  And maybe a milkshake.  I’m wasting away here, people. 


                    

And then God created Organic and Specialty Chocolate, and it was good.

                    

Can I just say, yum?  Specialty chocolate or not, this is the best I’ve ever had.  The kind on the right boasts all sorts of antioxidants and no gicky corn fillers.  It has little chunks of cranberries, blueberries and almonds.  They get stuck in your teeth but it’s actually quite pleasant.  Disappointed that your square of chocolate is gone?  Don’t fret, you can enjoy the little chocolatey cranberries for at least another five minutes, like a little gift left behind by the chocolate fairy.

Categories
Allergies Food Motherhood and Pregnancy

Ever Diligent

You know how I’m totally anal-retentive?  Well maybe you don’t, but I am.  So now you know.  I’ve been trying to relax more over the past couple of years.  It takes a long time to unclench, let me tell you.  Perfectionism is a disease.  The symptoms are fanatical attention to detail and constantly feeling overwhelmed.  If this is you, maybe we could start a support group.  Or a daily margarita group, which ever.

I used to be a Reader Of Labels.  Alison was on such a mother-imposed, restricted diet (until she started preschool, where they gently pushed me out the door) that we never left the house without our snack bag, lest we get hungry and have no healthy choices.  The sphincter has been permanently at half-mast regarding food more recently because I’ve realized that if we eat healthy for the most part, life is a lot more fun.  And I’m a lot easier to live with.

But then.  Monday we found out for certain that Blythe has food allergies, to eggs and corn.  She didn’t even cry when they did the scratch test.

It seems corn has been thoroughly infused into our daily diets, hygiene, and cleaning products.  What odd things contain corn, you ask?  Toothpaste?  Yes.  Table salt?  Yup.  Generic infant acetaminophen?  YES, dammit, so it’s not the same as Tylenol, be ye not so cheap.  Dairy products?  You betcha.  Because unless they are organic (which we buy, anyway) the cattle were most likely fed corn-based grain.  Do you see the trouble we face in avoiding corn?  Since I am still nursing Blythe, I had to go cold-turkey on the Pepsi and anything else delicious and appetizing, as well.  The bonus: the very first day we went corn- and egg-free, Blythe slept through the night.  Which she continues to do, and people?  I am loving this.  I will gladly give up all that stuff for my baby girl, especially if it means I get some much needed sleep.

So, hello food labels.  Hello, natural food store, with your patchouli smell and helpful staff.  I’ve missed you.  I’m back, all clenched and ready for action.

Categories
Entertainment

Counted Sorrows

The other night my friend Natasha and I started going through my tattered old notebook.  I’ve had it for at least 15 years, and it is where I write story ideas, poetry, and pieces of other people’s writing that has inspired me.  No matter how many journals or notepads I try, my red, falling-apart single subject notebook always gets picked back up instead.

In recent years I haven’t cracked it open much.  Life gets going and I don’t have a chance to do much writing.  Writing – that I can be proud of, anyway – takes more time than I’ve had (or made, if I’m being truthful).  I love writing this blog so much, regardless of my readership, because it’s given me back my voice.  Or helped me to start rediscovering it, anyway.  I’m still rusty, but at least I’m using more than 10% of my vocabulary, which is a start!

One of my favorite poems of all time came from the front of a Dean R. Koontz book, The Bad Place.  I don’t remember a thing about this book, and since I’ve never been a big Koontz fan anyway (other than Trixie Koontz, who is dog) I must have borrowed it from my best friend Rachel circa 1993 or so.  You can go ahead and laugh about my favorite piece of poetry coming from Dean Koontz, but it spoke to me then and speaks to me now on a very personal level. 

In its entirety:

Every eye sees its own special vision;
every ear hears a most different song.
In each man’s troubled heart, an incision
would reveal a unique, shameful wrong.

Stranger fiends hide here in human guise
than reside in the valleys of Hell.
But goodness, kindness and love arise
in the heart of the poor beast, as well.

~The Book of Counted Sorrows

As we read through things I had written and things I had painstakingly copied down in teenage-me’s handwriting, Natasha asked if I had struggled with depression.  The answer, sadly, is yes.  I never felt like I belonged anywhere.  As an adult I know that lots of people have felt that way.  But back then, I was totally alone in the world, because I was a teenager and no one could possibly understand.  All I can say is: my poor, poor, patient parents.  Reading those pages reminded me of how painful my adolescence was, and made me want to give teenage-me a big hug.  Which teenage-me would have resented, I’m sure.

I try to keep this blog fairly light-hearted, but I’m going to post some of that old stuff every now and again and talk about them in the now.  Maybe I’ll even poke fun of teenage-me, now that I’m old enough to laugh about it.  Or not.  We’ll see!

Categories
Kids Parenting

A Smiley for Mommy

Suddenly Alison’s manners are nonexistent.  Her attitude rivals that of a pre-teen (or are they calling them “tweens” now?) and she listens about as well as a man watching the Super Bowl.  I hate that I have to speak sternly in order for her to respond to me.  Especially because I don’t want to be that kind of parent.  I know it works for plenty of people, but I have the guilt  so it doesn’t work for me. 

Over the weekend I took a moment to put myself in her shoes and come up with a solution that would motivate both of us.  So far, it seems to be working quite well!  She gets to reward me with smiley faces and punish me with frowney faces, just like I do for her.  Each week she works on a particular behavior that needs attention, but she can get faces for pretty much anything.  For every 6 smiley’s in a row, she gets a reward which we’ve chosen beforehand.  This week, we are both working on speaking nicely and listening.  She is having such a blast rewarding me and punishing me – and people, our charts are looking pretty good. 



Her smiley’s are a hoot.  First she draws the smile, then the right and left eye, followed by the nose.  I don’t draw a nose on hers, something she finds rather offensive.  Then she adds a special touch – a line above the right eye.  Since, after all, it is my face she’s drawing.  Yes, I got a frowney face tonight and she even made me draw it on there myself, scar and all.