Mommy in Chief

Moving...

2011-09-08T18:36:00.000-06:00

I am moving my blog, and on the new site I promise to be more consistent!

We are in the final design stages for the new blog, and I'm hoping to launch it sometime next week. We are still working on how to migrate the SEO from this site and make sure that I don't have duplicate content since I've moved all my posts and comments as well. I will post an update next week, and I'd love if you'd follow me to my new home!

Birthday love is genetic

2011-07-23T15:53:00.000-06:00

Today is my husband's birthday. Happy Birthday Dan!

Kellen helping Beth blow out her candles!

I love birthdays, especially my own, but birthdays as a whole. I love balloons, wrapping paper, that look right before the birthday-ee opens his present where you know he's just trying to guess what's inside (or trying to feign surprise if he already knows).

Kellen apparently has inherited this birthday love. We've been to several birthday parties this year, and he definitely gets the whole idea. I think if he had it his way, we would be celebrating someone's birthday in our house 365 days a year. And I know he's starting to get restless about it not having been his birthday yet. I'd think a year was a long time too if it was a third of my entire life!

What Kellen loves the absolute most about birthdays is blowing out the candles. He already pulled the star candles (labeled with a "1") out of the cake drawer to put on top of his dad's giant Oreo cake. And the only way I could get him to take a nap was to promise him that we would wait to blow out the candles until he woke up. And that, yes, he could help. I'm actually starting to worry a little about taking him to another child's birthday party because he now thinks he always gets to help with the candles, and I can't see a preschooler taking well to his help.

I can't say I blame him about the birthday obsession. Other than the aging thing, what's not to love?

I'm going to BlogHer, and...

2011-07-14T12:05:00.000-06:00

It's hard to believe that BlogHer is only a couple of weeks away. I bought my ticket in December, so it seems like there's been a lot of waiting and lead up with little to actually focus on. I'm a BlogHer newbie, though I've read about it enough to have some preconceived ideas about what it might actually be like.

I'm pretty extroverted. I share my opinions freely. And yet there is something about going to a conference with that many people, most of whom I don't know, that has me a little freaked out. Sure I've talked to a lot of people on Twitter, which at least breaks the ice a little bit. But what happens when I talk to someone who I've talked to a number of times online and don't even realize we've spoken... or forget some major part of their story.

Also, people are buying new wardrobes for this thing? Seriously? Apparently they don't realize that on the left coast, we do casual really well. I'll bring three pairs of jeans, a few extra shirts (for the day I inevitably spill coffee) and I guess a nicer outfit or two. I hope flip-flops are ok.

Then there's the whole blogging thing. BlogHer seems to be very mommy-blog centric. This blog has been so neglected. Now that we are running a web design company, we are going to work on rebranding Mommy in Chief and hopefully actually sticking to a blogging schedule. But I'm pretty certain that won't happen before August 4.

I really am excited... just also feeling like I'm in a little over my head.

Cars 2 review

2011-06-24T14:02:00.001-06:00

Dan and I have been anxiously anticipating the opening of Cars 2. It's been on our calendar for months. And the excitement in our house this morning to take our son to his first movie in the theaters was evident. Kellen was dressed in his Cars shirt (and underwear), and we had his Cars sippy cup (and a Cars pull-up, just in case) in my purse.

Our first stop was swim lessons, and then we were off. Kellen seemed a little hesitant when I told him about the huge movie screen ("scream" in 2 year old speak). But as soon as he saw the lights inside the theater doors, he lit up (pardon the pun). We gave him his ticket, which he gave to the attendant. And then we got our popcorn and some "lemdidade."

The previews were just about to start as we took our seats.

And that's when the whole experience fell apart.

In a theater full of preschool-aged children to see a movie we all expected to be appropriate for said age group, the first preview was for robots fighting. It was LOUD. And scary. And aggressive. Neither Dan nor I could understand how this preview was appropriate for a Pixar film.

And then there was another preview. And another. And another. And then Kellen said, "All done," before the movie even started. And then when we finally thought the previews were all done, a Toy Story short film came on. By this point, even the thrill of popcorn and lemdidade had worn off.

Finally (finally!) Cars 2 started.

Within the first five minutes I was pretty sure we made a mistake. I should note here that I don't like guns for kids. We don't have toy guns in our house, and we don't watch a lot of violence. Who would have thought that I would have needed to be so worried about a Pixar film? The opening sequence is filled with guns and violence and explosions. And quite frankly, it doesn't get much better in the hour and a half that follows.

We love, LOVE Cars. But everything that was so endearing about the first movie is exceptionally absent from the sequel. It was James Bond or Mission Impossible with Cars instead of humans. And I would never let my two and a half year old watch those movies. I just can't understand what Pixar was thinking, especially since it is such a deviation from their normal (and ultimately incredibly successful) collection of children's movies. What I have admired about Pixar is their ability to make movies that appeal to such a broad audience, starting with toddlers, extending to the adults who sit through their movies time and time and time again. Cars 2 did not seem to have that same appeal. I don't feel it was appropriate for my son. And the adult jokes that are usually sprinkled throughout were minor, extracting only a few chuckles from the hundred+ parents holding their children.

The other thing I found challenging about this movie is that there was a lot of talk and nuance about the spy thing that most of the kids didn't seem to understand. And a number of the kids started to get restless. Several parents left the theater with their young children. And many of the older kids were standing up and seemed to have a hard time engaging with the story line. (Dan would also like to add that, "honestly, it just wasn't that good.")

There are a couple of redeeming moments in the end, and Disney still has a moment of self-reflection and revelation, though it is mostly lost with the attempt to have such an action-packed film. I find that unfortunate because it's one of the reasons I love Finding Nemo and Shrek and Toy Story so much.

We actually left before the end was completely wrapped up (though I did notice there was a tie-in with the Mater's Tall Tales idea as we were heading to the bathroom). I think Kellen was scared more than anything. I thought taking him to Cars would make him talk endlessly for weeks about the movie theater. Instead, I worry it will be a year before he will let us go back. Fortunately Winnie the Pooh is coming out at some point next year. I'm pretty sure they can't make that violent, though before today I would have said the same about Cars... and if they start with a preview of Terminator 6, I'm pretty sure it won't matter how benign the movie ultimately is.

I know there are a number of other families going to see Cars this weekend. I'd love to hear your comments afterward. Am I overreacting? Did your children love it? Will you recommend it to other families?

Use your F*@#ing words

2011-06-07T10:37:00.000-06:00

My child can talk in full sentences. He's quite capable, in fact, of expressing himself and sharing his view of the world around him.

"See the giant excavator?"
"Water, down there. We can't go in there. It's dangerous." (referring to the canal)

And yet, the kid screams and screams and screams as though he was incapable of communicating even the most basic of his needs.

Chances are, if you're a parent or grandparent of a child born in the last two decades, you've adamantly told a child, "Use your words!" In my head, the F word usually appears in that command at least once.

iStockphoto

I'm beginning to wonder though if this *request* has ever been successful, at least for a two year old. When I ask Kellen to use his words it usually results in more screaming and even less understanding. It's getting to the point where I often feel like I'd be justified in lying in the middle of the mall on my stomach while screaming at the top of my lungs just because the store ran out of the shirt in my size. Momma see, momma do, right?!

While I still use this phrase in desperation, I'm trying another tactic, which is ignoring and walking away. I still might not know what the kid wants (or needs ::snort::), but usually he stands up and follows (usually screaming "Mommy, come back"). I know the other parents look at me in disgust, but at least I've saved my sanity, at least momentarily.

The boy loves pink

2011-06-03T15:28:00.000-06:00

Kellen is struggling to learn his colors. Green and blue? No interest in distinguishing them. Red? Who cares. Purple and pink? He's got it down!

Kellen loves, loves pink. He likes wearing his pink polo and pointing out my pink pajama pants. He screams if he can't eat his yogurt with his pink spoon. And given a choice, he'd probably pick a pink balloon over a more "boyish" color like blue or red. The only color dragon he recognizes in his dragon book is the purple one.

I've thought a lot about this in light of the story about the parents who aren't sharing the gender of their child.

I love pink. It shouldn't be a big deal if my son does too... not to mention it's a great color on him. I'm known to have feminist leanings. This shouldn't bother me. For the most part it doesn't. I actually think it's kind of funny that he's picked up on pink as his favorite color.

ThinkStock

It has made me question some gender stereotypes though. How would I feel if he wanted me to paint his room pink? And even if I think it's ok, how would his grandparents react? If I tell someone my son likes pink, will they automatically start to question his sexuality, as though our wavelength preference has something to do with our biological preferences? And who even decided that estrogen had a monopoly on such a vibrant and diverse color?

I know there will come a time, probably soon, where someone lets Kellen know that pink isn't an appropriate favorite color for a child who loves the sound of a roaring monster truck and who turns mountains into dragons. And even if he still secretly likes pink, I know he'll tell me he likes blue... or worse, black. And then do I push pink just because I want to tell societal conventions to leave my son alone?

I mean, I don't get the family keeping the gender a secret. It seems like an awfully cruel experiment just to prove a point... one that we largely know exists anyway. But there are some moments, like this, where I wish being a boy or girl didn't matter so much. Kellen should get to love pink just because it's awesome (it is, you should see my wardrobe). All the other boys can have blue.

The great Binky Rapture

2011-05-20T10:03:00.057-06:00

I knew that the time would come. The date was prophesized in Dr. Sears's Baby Book, multiplying the number 2, for age of destruction, by 1.25 because that's where I stopped reading. I actually planned to take the pacifier away tonight, but sometimes the rapture comes early, which is why it's important to be prepared.

I told Kellen last night that it was his last night with his binkie. Perhaps you'll be having the same conversation with your dog tomorrow night. I told him I had to give his binkies to the ~~angels~~ babies. And with that, he threw his binky out of his mouth and tossed it across the room. He was actually going to make this easy. It was as though he had seen the same signs in the Dr. Sears book as I had. I gathered the binkies in my hand, and ~~watched as they descended upward~~ put them safely in the closet in the nursery.

And then the chaos began. A large earthquake seemed to shake my toddler's room as he screamed out for me and his beloved binky. A volcano of cries followed and then the flood of tears that indicated he wasn't faking this devastation.

I wanted to give him back the binky, steal it away from the fake babies I invented. But the rapture, binky or otherwise, doesn't seem to work in reverse. I, the mommy-god, kept the binkies all to myself while my toddler was left to deal with what was left behind.

As it turns out, I am a merciful mommy, and I eventually brought Kellen into bed with us, though that only stopped the screaming. It was still another two hours before calm was restored to my room, and that was after I forewent Real Housewives of New York to try to get my son to sleep. Talk about sacrifice.

In the end the binky rapture was successful, even though Kellen did wake up screaming this morning, demanding the babies give "Kelwan's binkies" back.

As it turns out, after the great binky rapture, the chaos subsided and the world kept turning. I expect the same can be said about Sunday.

We go to the zoo for the trains

2011-05-19T15:39:00.001-06:00

After five weeks in California, five weeks of twice a day hyperbaric oxygen treatments, I finally got some time to spend with Kellen. We spent one of the last days in Palm Desert at The Living Desert, which is essentially a fancy name for "zoo." You might go to a zoo to see the animals. But not Kellen. He goes to see the trains.

That, on the left, is a logging train, and was the object of my son's attention for nearly an hour. He was distracted long enough to ask me for "monies" to throw in the pond. I eventually ran out of pennies.

My favorite part of the trains was the animal corral, where a t-rex was apparently threatening a herd of calm cattle.

We did get to see a couple animals. Kellen fed the giraffe.

And then we went to the animal show where I was reminded that I hate school groups of any variety.

I'm looking forward to taking Kellen to the zoo here in Boise, but I am concerned that he is going to ask me to find the trains. Hopefully I can find an animal or two to distract him.

What's your child's favorite exhibit at the zoo?

Managing expectations for the advanced toddler

2011-04-17T14:33:00.000-06:00

Disclaimer: Writing about Kellen's development is sometimes a difficult task for me. I have several friends whose children have developmental challenges, and when it comes to a child who is developing faster, it seems like there is a fine line between being able to talk about their development and being labeled as bragging, even when it is not intended as such.

I had Kellen's preschool parent-teacher conference the other day (scheduled early because we're going back to CA for more hyperbaric oxygen treatments for my Lyme). It lasted an hour and a half, though we digressed a number of times talking about more general teaching trends rather than just Kellen. Since Kellen was born, we've noticed that he has an interesting way of learning. He's met a lot of his milestones early. Because of that, we've expected him to meet other milestones early. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn't. His development has created a bit of a disconnect between what he can do and what we expect him to do.

I stopped reading developmental books a long time ago because they were no longer helpful in informing us what Kellen should be doing. If I tried to find a list of milestones that matched Kellen's development instead of his chronological age, I started to worry because while he was advanced in some of the tasks, in others he was more in line with his numerical age. I assumed if he was developmentally able to complete certain tasks, he should also be able to do the others.

It's easy to forget that Kellen just turned two and a half. His swimming teacher told me, using what I think she thought was a reassuring tone, that he would eventually understand coordinating his arms. I reminded her of his age, and she told me that it was easy to think Kellen was older and that the reminder is good so that she can reign in her expectations of what he should be capable of. His teacher and I had the same conversation. Kellen is only two and a half. He's still going to have accidents. He is still acquiring language and learning how to regulate his emotions. He can spell his name and recognize letters and understands the concept of quantity ("Mommy, two school buses"). But he doesn't have a good grasp on color identification (who needs to do that when you can differentiate between a back hoe and a bulldozer). It's easy to get concerned, as parents or as an educator.

I think it's important to set challenging expectations that require our children to reach a little bit. But it's easy, particularly with a developmentally advanced child, to set that bar a little too high, which is frustrating for both the child and the parents.

How do you manage your expectations for your children, wherever they fall on the developmental curve?

It's like Preschool on TV?

2011-03-19T15:57:00.000-06:00

One of my least favorite advertising slogans is NickJr.'s "It's like preschool on TV."

No NickJr., no it's not.

It's actually nothing like preschool, unless the only objective is exposure to number and letters.

Last time I checked there weren't talking guinea pigs at school to befriend. And if I'm wrong, I'd love to know where your kid goes to school because I'm looking to make Kellen the next Harry Potter. Quite frankly, after watching the Wonder Pets, I'm a little afraid of bringing home the class pet for fear it's going to fly through my house on a makeshift sailboat-plane.

But seriously. As a former teacher, the teaching "objectives" listed before each show make me cringe a little. The purpose of Olivia is to share and care through the television? Or is it to listen to a whiny pig?

My biggest concern about the slogan is that it's actually very misleading. I am certainly able to figure out that my child shouldn't be going to TV preschool, but there are people who allow their kids to watch hours and hours and hours of children's programming using it as a makeshift preschool. In doing so, however, kids aren't using their imaginations, aren't learning how to ACTUALLY share and care, and aren't spending time outside (getting Vitamin D and/or working off their mac and cheese).

There is no opportunity for generalization, which is a critical skill at this age. Watching a cartoon character express being mad and then being told to use his words does not translate into actually being able to do that anymore than watching Steve skadoo makes my kid able to shrink and fly into a book. I would venture that watching TV instead of interacting causes children to be LESS likely to be able to effectively navigate their emotions appropriately.

It doesn't mean I don't let Kellen watch Blue's Clues or Dora. And I do think kids learn from TV and from technology. I just wish they'd take that damn slogan away. Because it's not like preschool. Not at all. And next thing you know our Congressional representatives will decide that if kids can go to preschool on tv, why can't we just create national programming and forgo education altogether (of course they'd have to rethink that funding issue with the Corporation for Public Broadcasting!).

My two year old is not spoiled

2011-03-15T19:28:00.001-06:00

::Rant hat on:: (I've missed you!)

Excuse me, but my son is not spoiled. He's two. No. He's two AND A HALF. And that, I promise you, is worse on a magnitude that far exceeds the six months between the two ages.

Now, let me talk for a minute about his behavior, which most days resembles the dragon he swears he hears hiding in his tube slide. It is grossly inappropriate FOR.AN.ADULT. The other day he thought it was funny to scream tiny staccato screams, sounds so loud that they caused the passenger seatbelt light to flash (and beep) even though no one was sitting there. If anyone over the age of seven got in my car and did the same thing, we would have problems that probably would involve the side of the road. But he's two (and a half).

The thing is, he drives me crazy (and I tell him as much to the point that when I clench my teeth and groan about anything he says, "Mommy going crazy"). So why don't I do anything about it? Well, thanks for asking.

I know you'll be shocked.

The reason he acts the way he does is precisely because we set boundaries. It is a very rare event (though not altogether unlikely) that a child screams and throws himself on the ground because you gave him the very piece of candy that he so loudly demanded. Nope. He screams because I didn't. When we leave the Little Gym and he's crying because he didn't get to jump on the "crack," I still make him walk himself out to the car, even if it involves fifteen minutes of me leaning up against a door until he complies. If he can't calm himself down at home, he goes into his room until he can. He eats what I make him for dinner. I don't cook Mac and Cheese just because my two (and a half) year old thinks he runs the show.

Nope. My child isn't spoiled. He's just two (and a half, in case it wasn't clear). If he still acts this way when he's fifteen, then you can pull me aside and question my parenting. Until then, leave me the hell alone. And keep your mouth shut.

No more working at home

2011-03-15T17:55:00.000-06:00

I'm so excited. I just signed a lease for a small office space about seven minutes from here. No more working from home, which hopefully means more work will actually get done!

Kellen is going to be transitioning to full-day, everyday school starting in May! (If I weren't so opposed to all-caps, that last sentence would have been in them!)

It only took two and a half years after the fire, after Lyme, after Kellen's birth to return to a job. And not just any job! It's going to be my own company. All of the stuff I've done as side projects the past couple of years are going to come together to create this really fun, creative space for me.

I really want to share more. I know I'm being kind of secretive. But we aren't fully incorporated yet. And I'm going on a health-related trip the end of the month. And we are still working on lining up the other people involved in this venture.

I will share more soon. I promise. But for now? I'm just really excited to be rejoining the working world and minimizing my exposure to two year old tantrums. Those go away, right?!

Work at home mom. See also, 28 hour days

2011-02-26T13:57:00.000-07:00

I'm currently transitioning from sick mom to work-at-home mom. I'm not sure which was more exhausting.

My book is about 40 percent done, though I've stopped querying agents while I work on retooling it a bit. I'm in the middle of forming the non-profit. The logo is done. I've assigned a few articles (interested in writing for us?! email me!). I've compiled a list of websites I like and am working on the web navigation structure to send to the designer who is supposed to start work in a week or two.

Seriously, I have so much work to do for those two things alone, nevermind the occasional blog design and Pampered Chef events.

Adding to all the work stuff, I also try to be a mom, which admittedly was far easier when the kid could be entertained on a Baby Einstein activity mat with a flashing star. Now I actually have to DO stuff. This week we made a shoe-box dragon. And Kellen wants to make forts and go on bear hunts and set up train tracks and hold monster truck rallies. Even with going to preschool three mornings a week and taking 2-3 hour naps in the afternoon, there still seem to be far too many hours in the day where my attention and creativity is demanded.

I try to turn on Cars, but usually I need to validate the entire movie.

"Look Mommy. See it, helicopter?" Kellen will say, looking up to me, sometimes actually turning my head to attend to his awareness of the flying object on the television.

"I do see it Kellen," I say, trying to look, nod, and type all at the same time.

I do have a couple of hours after he goes to bed when I could work, but I always feel so tired and want a few minutes to numb out. I probably should be working.

The balance of work and parenting is amazing, and it seems that the time is so fragmented. It must be the reason women seem more genetically able to multi-task. There is no other option when a child is pulling on your pants and you have dinner to make and thirty thoughts about other tasks going on at the same time. I write in my head in the car. I read on the treadmill. I tweet during swim lessons. I have to. I know it doesn't allow me to be 100% engaged with my son at all times, but is that always a bad thing? Does he always need my validation and praise over his teacher's? I know it's not enough for me to be a mom alone. I need these other identities. But, having them is also Lyme-like exhausting.

How do you juggle working and parenting? What are your coping strategies if you are a stay at home, working mom?

Toddler pacifier use

2011-02-21T12:39:00.002-07:00

Why yes, my two year old son still uses a pacifier, thanks for asking. Oh wait, you didn't ask. You just went out to eat and decided that would be a great time to talk about my parenting choices. But, the pacifier, yes, my son still uses it.

I have a love/hate relationship with the thing. It drives me crazy to see a preschool-age child out walking around a store with a pacifier in his or her mouth. I can't say I've never judged. But I also walk away and think, "They're doing what works for them." I also am pretty certain that child isn't going to college with the thing, and even if he did, is it really hurting me?!

But Kellen isn't in college. He's barely even in preschool. He's two. And he uses the pacifier to fall asleep. He knows the binky stays in his bed. If he finds a pacifier, he might need to be reminded, but this rarely happens.

The two biggest medical issues with pacifiers, it seems, are teeth and language development. So I'll address those for you since this is such a concern. I have an overbite. I didn't use a pacifier. Kellen has an overbite. He uses a pacifier. But the overbite? Genes. And he's likely going to need braces when he gets older, so I'm not using that as my deciding factor. Language development? Kellen's first word was "Let's go" over a year ago. He speaks in full sentences and correctly conjugates verbs most of the time. And he's not doing much talking in his sleep (I hope). I'm pretty sure we're good.

So really the pacifier comes down to personal choice. It allows Kellen to sleep, sleep I didn't get for over a year and need in order to stay healthy myself. And it comforts him. Is it really that bad?

Do I feel pressured to make him give it up? YES. It's my goal to have it gone by the time he's three. I actually feel like I should make him give it up now, but it isn't because I believe it's detrimental to him. It's because all of you think that you know what's right for my son, and I'm tired of hearing snide comments from the peanut gallery.

Now that you know why I allow him to use it, maybe you can explain why it matters so much to you that he does.

Toddler swimming

2011-02-09T15:53:00.000-07:00

Since Kellen was born, I've been paranoid about him being around water. It might have something to do with almost dropping him into the bath when he was six weeks old, or maybe it is just a biological fear. We signed up for lessons at the Y, but Kellen kept getting ear infections, so we weren't able to follow through. We did get one private lesson there as a make-up, and it was horrible. The half hour was spent trying to get Kellen to put his face in and blow bubbles. It felt like a complete waste of time.

Then I saw my friend's son swimming, and I learned about ISR. No need to spend months and years trying to get my son to put his head underwater. No need for floaties. The program would teach Kellen to save himself in a water emergency.

Honestly, we started ISR for the safety component alone. All I cared was that Kellen could save himself from drowning if he fell in a pool. What we got, though, is so much more than that. The program focuses on a sequence of back-to-float where a child swims and then flips over to float until they can be rescued. Once the child has that skill, they increase the layers a child has so that they learn the survival techniques in shoes and a coat (because kids often don't fall into a pool unattended in their swim suit). Kellen LOVES the water. At first he hated swimming, and now he frequently asks if he can go. If my dad goes with us, Kellen is more than happy to show off. And now we are working on integrating arms into his swim stroke. It's amazing.

If you don't believe me, watch:

I'm not usually one to promote companies on this blog, but I LOVE ISR and think the program is absolutely amazing. If you aren't local, I encourage you to check out the infant swim website and find an instructor. If you are local, Ann is absolutely amazing.

The penis theory of Kindergarten

2011-01-21T18:18:00.001-07:00

My friend Heather just wrote a post about already needing to make decisions for her kids for next year's school situation. Among the issues she needs to consider is whether to start her son as a young 5 or at 6.

We've also contemplated this dilemma, even though Kellen's only 2. By starting him early in preschool, we're essentially on the track for him to start Kindergarten at 4, almost 5. Unless he repeats Kindergarten, that's probably going to be where he ends up.

Honestly, this wouldn't even be an issue if Kellen were a girl. It's those pesky boys that we all seem to be concerned about. Are they going to be mature enough when they're 12? (I can tell you the answer, and it's a resounding NO. I've yet to meet a mature 12 year old boy.) If he physically matures late, he might not be the star quarterback (we're already going to have to delay ski lessons until he's almost 4 because he misses the cutoff by 26 days). And he might get teased, though again, I'm pretty sure everyone gets teased in junior high because everyone else is trying to mask their own insecurities.

We were discussing this with my dad. Apparently those are all good concerns, but that's not the issue he was most concerned about. Nope. My dad, Kellen's grandfather, told me we should consider holding Kellen back until he's almost 6 because he might have the smallest penis in the class when everyone else hits puberty.

I'll let you catch your breath, maybe re-read that last paragraph.

Yep. My dad's biggest concern is Kellen taking a shower when he's thirteen and being teased about the size of his pecker. (I would also like to pause and say that I have tried very hard not to think about the fact that my dad is likely speaking from experience. I don't know. I didn't ask.)

Dan told my dad that more than likely Kellen wouldn't be showering with the other kids because, well, no one takes showers after P.E. anymore. I'm pretty sure I'll be lucky if I can convince my almost teenage son to shower once a week, much less daily in front of fifteen other boys.

This all just proves why it's important to have male figures in your son's life. Because I was worried about Kellen's alphabet skills. Who would have known I was supposed to be worried about his penis?

Why I Suck at Blogging

2011-01-14T13:53:00.000-07:00

It always amazes me when I open up my Dashboard in Blogger and see that it's been two (or more) weeks since I last blogged. I have lots to say, so where are my posts?

Then, this week, I read a story about overlooked professions, and there was an entry about blogging (which means the writer obviously did very little homework because of the 50,000 or so blogs they say are started each day, I imagine only one or two makes any money, much less a living). Anyhow, the blogger they referenced said he spends roughly fourteen hours a day blogging and nine hours on weekend. WAIT, WHAT?!

Fourteen hours a day? Well, he's obviously not a mom. But even if he were, there are plenty of moms who are making money off blogging, and if my Twitter feed is any indication, those moms are certainly spending a hell of a lot of time online. And I'm not one to talk too much as I spend at least a few hours online everyday. BUT FOURTEEN HOURS?!

I realized while reading that, this is why I suck at blogging. I don't have fourteen hours a day to devote to blogging. I don't have four hours. I get up at 8 (oh thank you Kellen for finally learning what it means to sleep in). I run around for an hour, feeding the child "YOGURT CHEERIOS... no cheerios ON TOP" and bribing him into his McQueen underwear and jeans and getting him loaded in the car as I grab my eggs on the way out the door and shovel in my breakfast at stop signs. He goes to preschool. Or swimming. Or the Little Gym. If he's at preschool, I go to the gym, get an hour workout in, then usually have some kind of massage or acupuncture appointment to get my nervous system to calm the fuck down. If he's not, we run around doing child activities that frankly BORE the hell out of me. Then I come home and sometimes have a college girl to help out, so we spend the next few hours organizing toys and doing laundry and filing and... Kellen goes down for a nap. I take a deep breath, check my email, and then somewhere the next two hours are gone and Kellen is awake again. Dinner gets started (usually a frozen meal from Dinner Thyme and a bag of steamed broccoli). We eat. Kellen takes a bath. I read him stories. He goes to sleep. And now it's 8:30. I'm too exhausted to do dishes much less try to write a sentence. And somewhere in there I'm trying to get a book signed to an agent. No wonder I suck at blogging.

I'm convinced that in order to be any good at blogging, you have to spend a considerable amount of time reading other blogs and commenting. I'm not sure when I'm supposed to do that either. And a lot of time I feel like people read other blogs just to drive readership to their blog, which really annoys the piss out of me.

So bloggers... how do you find time to write? And more importantly what makes you not suck at blogging?

Public bathrooms with a toddler

2010-12-29T14:58:00.000-07:00

Kellen's really into the potty these days. Other than a brief stomach bug this week, he's been out of diapers every day for several months and rarely has accidents. Surprisingly, the biggest joys of having a two year old potty trained isn't the financial savings or not having to change diapers all the time. Nope. It's getting to take said two year old into a public restroom and have him narrate the entire experience.

Today at Costco, I suggested we go to the bathroom to wash hands after the free sample of nacho cheese-that's-not-really-cheese. And because, well, I needed to go. Kellen, donned in an oversized sweatshirt and his monster boots, strolled his way through the front of Costco, making me an anxious mess that he was going to pee on the floor in front of the bathroom, look up with those big blue eyes, and say "potty," in case I wasn't aware... and then worse, "hold you," as though I wanted to carry a urine soaked child through the store.

Thankfully though, we made it to the potty after a game of chase to get him to hurry it up.

Into the last stall we went, a paper towel in hand to wipe his hands. Off come the monster boots. Off come the jeans and underwear. Thankfully we've gotten to the point where he allows socks and shirts to remain ON.

"Kellen potty," he says.

And then when he's done, "Kellen flush potty."

As I sit down to use the bathroom, he announces that the potty is, actually, "scary" because of the loud noise. I ask him to come over and put on his underwear, at which point he loudly announces, "NO WAY!"

Then, he leans over, my half-dressed child, and peeks under the stall, getting what I can only assume is a good look at several people's feet. "Oh, potty over there," Kellen says. Thankfully I was hidden behind the closed stall door.

"Kellen, we need to put on your underwear," I say.

"Mommy potty," he responds, standing in a corner so I can't grab his arm to get him dressed.

Then, "Mommy poop," he says. I love having my bodily functions announced to the other bathroom dwellers.

I tell Kellen he can flush potty if he puts on his McQueen underwear, so he allows me to dress him as he continues to talk about all the potty-ing going on in our stall.

I stand up, and he peers into the potty, giving an out-loud description of what he sees inside. We haven't explicitly taught him the concept of big and small, but pooping is apparently a boy's best teacher. He flushes and again yells, "Scary."

We wash hands and escape before anyone else can exit and see the cute young boy and his embarrassed mom as they leave the bathroom.

Montessori School

2010-12-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

I am a behavioralist by training. I believe in positive and negative reinforcement. I believe in direct teaching, especially for literacy skills and for those kids who struggle in "typical" environments. I am a special ed teacher. I've seen profound improvements using behavioralist strategies.

But now I'm a mom. And my kid isn't like the kids I've worked with in the past. I still believe in reinforcers. I gave Kellen M&Ms to potty train him, and it worked. But he also is a passive learner, acquiring skills that I've never directly taught (like saying "Oh shit" when he trips). Even when he was a tiny baby, he always seemed to be thinking, observing, learning. And he's very internally motivated to learn. (All of this is important to my point about Montessori school, I promise.)

You also have to understand that our education options in Idaho are limited (I know you're shocked). As I've written before, Idaho's schools rank very poorly, and even in Boise where the schools are better, they are still behind (the one year I spent here in elementary school put me an entire year behind in math when I got back to Virginia). If there were other preschool options, I might never have seriously explored Montessori education because of my behavioralist background.

The Montessori approach is very constructivist, believing that children are intrinsically motivated to learn (compared to behavioralism which has a far less optimistic perspective where children need motivators to learn). I don't believe either theory is really correct, truly. I think kids (and adults) ARE motivated by external factors whether that's adult approval or food or stuff or praise, etc (and most adults are motivated by their paycheck). But I also think we are all also intrinsically motivated to do certain things as well. I like to write, and I am motivated by the pure enjoyment of writing. Kellen loves trains and doesn't need M&Ms to play with them. And the Montessori approach uses those interests to teach other concepts (I guess Kellen's interest in poop and using comparative terms like "big poop" and "little poop" is a Montessori strategy?).

Honestly, for Kellen, I believe this approach is good for him. I like the fact that the actual principle is for young learners from 3-6 because I really think we don't do enough during those years. Kids are capable of far more than play, and there is no reason why our kids can't be multiplying by first grade. A true Montessori school should comply with national standards on teaching literacy and math concepts so that kids are ready for the more advanced skills by early Kindergarten. I am much happier with their program than just an introduction to letters that occurs in a number of other schools. I also like that the kids seem to truly enjoy school. Kellen loves going to "play with Miss Rose" (though today he told me "no way" after sitting at the doctor for over an hour, but if he was feeling anything like I was, I don't blame him!).

I'm still not sure I think Montessori is for every kid, though I'm sure they would tell you that every kid can succeed with their methods because they are all individualized. I think some kids need more structure than Montessori education provides. And some kids need direct instruction (discrete trial training is the only proven teaching method for kids with autism for example). But, for now, this is the right school for us.

Why I hate your FB "awareness" campaigns

2010-12-06T13:26:00.000-07:00

It started with bra color and then moved to where to put your purse. Now it's cartoon characters. All in the name of awareness?! I hate them. And maybe you a little bit.

1. It's not awareness. Ok. Go find me ten people who were unaware of child abuse and breast cancer who were enlightened by your cartoon character avatar, and then maybe we can talk. I never see these campaigns trying to bring awareness to issues that really need awareness (like, say, Lyme disease).

2. It's more likely to prompt a discussion of the cartoons you watched as a kid or the nature of why your purse is under your bed than it is to prompt a discussion about the actual issue you are trying to raise "awareness" of.

3. It's obnoxious. I've had several people argue that it shows the issues they care about. Well then I guess that makes me a heartless bitch. I actually do care very much about children. But I don't believe that changing my avatar in any way raises awareness or even shows any compassion on my part. If I changed my avatar or status every damn time someone posted an issue to be *aware* of, well I'd never get to post about things that really matter: like the fact that my kid took a shit in the toilet today.

4. It doesn't prompt action. Another person (can you tell I've been fuming about this for a few days) wrote that awareness is the first step to action. Well, no, not really. Action is the first step toward action. I would likely feel much differently if there was SOMETHING tied to any of these campaigns, like donating a dollar to research or women's shelters. Or if a company was sponsoring the updates and donating. Or if you were going out to volunteer in response to seeing the cartoon characters. Or calling a friend who is struggling with an illness related to the campaign. Because the action of changing your status is not action that matters. Quite frankly, I think it's bullshit.

My facebook picture is currently a butt, courtesy of a friend's husband. His response to all this madness is as follows:

"Change your profile picture to a butt and post this as your status! This is to raise awareness of how many of us are asses if we think that anything we post on Facebook will cure cancer, prevent child abuse, abolish starvation, or otherwise solve any social ills merely by "raising awareness" of them."

Master of train design

2010-12-02T20:11:00.000-07:00

Remember the list of college courses I said I wish I had taken? I'm thinking toddler train design should be added.

My son is a wooden train addict, which is great! But in order to keep him interested, I have to keep changing up the design. Thankfully for his birthday we asked for pieces to add to his train, so I have a ton of track to be creative. He demands that we use his bridge.

And his railway crossing:

And he demands "ups." We learned quickly that the regular risers don't work that well, especially on carpet. I bought these instead and HIGHLY recommend them:

My favorite starter track was Melissa and Doug's Figure Eight set:

I've thought about doing a series where I highlight some of my track design. Thoughts? I'd have to take more pictures! And probably not from my cell phone, like this picture:

Mommy-itis

2010-11-14T17:45:00.002-07:00

Kellen has a bad case of Mommy-itis.

Don't get my wrong. I love my son, and I love that he loves me.

BUT...

I want to know when he will learn that mommy isn't the only one in the world capable of helping him.

If he needs to go to the bathroom and Dan tries to take him, his response is usually, "NOOOOOOO. Mama potty."

Sometimes Dan can read books and put him to bed. But most nights, as I'm hooked up to my IV lying in bed, he screams for me to read "llama pajama."

It's a struggle for me. I want him to play independently. I don't want to feel like he needs me exclusively to meet his needs. It causes me stress when I'm trying to make dinner and have to put down everything to wipe my kid's ass.

I know that everyone says to enjoy it because soon enough they won't want anything to do with you. But really?! The constant-ness of "mama mama mama mama mama mama" isn't enjoyable, any more than watching your teenage son walk by you wishing he would just stop and give you a hug and tell you about his day.

Open Letter to my expectant friends... and those who ever want to have children

2010-11-08T11:25:00.002-07:00

Dear friends-
Congratulations! You're pregnant. In a few short weeks (they'll seem shorter once you have a kid), you'll be blessed with a screaming, pooping, bundle of joy.

There are lots of things you'll hear over and over from those of us who've been there (and maybe even from those who haven't but think they know a lot about having a kid). You'll experience love like you never knew was possible (it's true). The first few weeks are hard. Trust your instincts. Blah, blah, blah. Parenting is hard. H-A-R-D. There's a reason, beyond the financial of course, why millions of moms keep their jobs! And there's so much that people don't tell you, probably because at this point, you're pregnant, and there's no turning back! Also, we're a torturous people, and we like to watch others suffer through the same misery. Preparing you wouldn't be any fun, would it?

Anyhow...

1. You'll be tired beyond what you ever thought possible. Were you thinking that those late night study sessions in college were for learning? Nope. They were preparation for parenthood so that when you are up at 3:14 for the sixth night in a row, you aren't totally unprepared for what the depths of nighttime looks like! Walking from the library to your dorm in pitch blackness is nothing compared to stumbling down your hall, trying to find the pacifier between the crib and the wall, and trying really hard not to turn your brain on too much lest you find yourself unable to go back to sleep as you work through your mental to-do list.

2. Breastfeeding is hard. It might be natural, but for a lot of women, it feels anything but. If you are planning on breastfeeding, great. Just be prepared that it might not come as easily as the books suggest it should! And trust your instincts. If you think your child isn't getting enough food, it's possible they aren't. As I finally learned, formula isn't poison and in fact can save lives! Also, if you are ever planning on giving a bottle, introduce it early. I have never seen nipple confusion but I have seen a number of babies who wouldn't take a bottle EVER. That's a solid year not being able to go away from your child for more than a couple of hours.

3. Don't overdo the nursery! I bought a very nice Restoration Hardware crib. It's beautiful, really. BUT... I could have spent far less and still had a nice place for my son to sleep! They all end up chewing the crap out of the side anyway! Kellen moved into his other room at 15 months as well, which made the purchase seem even more ridiculous! I would save your money for decorating once they are a little older and in their room a little longer (or you convert the nursery to their bigger kid room).

4. Your hormones will be ALL OVER THE PLACE after you have your baby. If I thought crying when a contestant was kicked off American Idol was bad, it was nothing in comparison to the roller coaster that is the first few weeks post-partum. I brought Kellen home and created a schedule so that someone was always awake with the baby because I was so afraid he would stop breathing. It was totally irrational. You too will probably be totally irrational and paranoid. It's normal.

5. Sleep is the most important priority of your life. I don't care how you get the child to sleep (upside down is probably a bad idea), let them sleep. Kellen slept in his car seat for upwards of four months. And in his swing. And even once in the jumperoo. Hardly in that expensive crib.

6. Consignment sales are your friend. Start looking for mom-to-mom sales now and stock up. Your kid is in clothes for such a short period of time. I have found nicer clothes at the consignment sale than I would have if I had just shopped at Gymboree (though I won't go into my despair at the fact that my dog ate Kellen's cutest sweater this weekend). Also, your house will be overrun with baby crap. It's almost unbelievable to walk through our house and imagine that we lost everything two years ago because there is CRAP everywhere (and our garage is full with clothes bins and toys).

7. I guess I should speak to the actual birthing part. It hurts. Your water might not break until well into labor, and you'll be lucky if it doesn't. And epidural is your friend. There is nothing heroic about natural childbirth!!! (I would know. I went nearly the whole way without an epidural and had it turned on for a mere 10 minutes before I had to start pushing. If I had gotten it earlier, I might have been rested so I could push!) If you have a birth plan, plan for your birth to go exactly the opposite. Honestly, be flexible. All the things they say in a natural birthing class sound wonderful. Until you actually have to have the baby.

That's my best advice in general with parenting. Have an idea of how you'd like things to go, sure. But prepare to make adjustments as you go, knowing that every kid is different. Anti-TV? You might be... until it's 4 in the morning and you haven't slept in three days, and you know if you put on Baby Einstein on Repeat Play (the show might not make your kid a genius, but the creators sure were!) and put the baby in the pack n play, you can sleep for three more hours. Anti-candy? Just wait until it's time to potty train and that's the only thing your child will respond to!

And stay off the internet. It will only make you paranoid :-)

Can't wait to meet your babies!
Brooke

Kellen's favorites

2010-11-06T11:14:00.000-06:00

Favorite shape: Circle. Kellen loves everything in circles. He colors in circles. He "jump[s] in a circle." He even apparently likes pee puddles on the floor in the shape of a circle.

Favorite letter: X Kellen often asks for "TUV" just so that he can say "X." Quite frankly I didn't even know that he knew the alphabet.

Least favorite number: 6. As much as we try, he seems content to skip the number 6 when counting (to at least 10 and often to 13).

Favorite numbers: 7 8. I think it's why he skips 6. He's excited to say "se-bun ayet."

On Parent Teacher Conferences

2010-11-05T10:47:00.002-06:00

Kellen's first parent-teacher conference was yesterday. He's only been going to preschool for two weeks, so it was a little silly. But it still made me feel all... parenty.

Unfortunately, since starting preschool we've seen a backslide in the potty training. Where he once was telling us he needed to go, he is now content to pee his pants and THEN tell us. (He also was pretty impressed with himself when he peed in the shape of a circle on my hardwood floor.) So we created a plan for when to take Kellen to the potty. The kid is a schedule freak. My genes were strong ones, apparently. He never has an accident before swimming because he knows that's when he goes. So we're trying to create the same environment at school. I refuse to return to diapers.

Kellen likes his teacher and frequently checks in with her. This doesn't surprise me. He likes approval from adults and wants their attention and praise. I repeated several times during our half hour visit that I understand Kellen because he is JUST like me.

Miss Rose also said that Kellen is very detail-oriented and observant. We've noticed this at home as well. While perfectly content to make a mess, he likes things in their place and will often go fix something he thinks is out of place before moving onto another task. And the fact that he's so observant is one reason we've pushed to have him around older children. We want him emulating behaviors of older kids more than younger ones. Miss Rose echoed that same feeling, saying that he was a child who seemed to be better suited to be the younger child rather than the older one. While it may seem ridiculous for us to be thinking about this when he's two, the fact that he has a late September birthday has made deciding when to start school trickier. Because of the Montessori path, he will likely start Kindergarten at 4, almost 5, instead of 5, almost 6. That can always change, but for now, that seems to be the path we are on.

Overall, we are just so proud of our little boy and continue to celebrate his accomplishments.

#EatNestle

2010-10-25T11:22:00.002-06:00

5 ways to organize an ineffective boycott:

1. Boycott a product you don't really use. We're talking crunchy breastfeeders here, who I assume are more likely to be shopping at their farmer's market than picking up a bag o' Twix.

2. Organize the insular breastfeeding Twitter community.

3. Turn off the formula feeders... because really, it's about formula and Nestle's failure to adhere to the WHO Code, which apparently is causing all of us dumb formula-feeding moms to be misled into saving our babies' lives.

4. Pick a week when the usage of said product is at its peak and a 100 mom boycott is least likely to be noticed. (I get why you picked the week. I just think that it's not going to be noticed.)

5. Confuse the hell out of people so they don't know why they are boycotting. I've read a couple of posts lately where others seem confused by the boycott. I get the breastfeeding angle, though I'm not sure I agree, but the rest?! I don't know why I'm supposed to hate them. I know why I don't shop at Wal-mart, and I can articulate my position in under a minute with three talking points. Get Michael Moore on Nestle. Then maybe I'll understand.

Fess Up Friday: Growing Pains

2010-10-22T12:16:00.002-06:00

I'm not really one to wax nostalgic about my child growing up. Posts about babies turning one have a tendency to make me twitch a bit, mostly because I love watching my son grow up and rather than being saddened by his independence, I love it.

Until this week. That's when I experienced my first moment of panic, where I realized that my son is no longer a baby. I almost cried. (At least it was only almost.)

He's potty-trained. He starts real preschool next week. He even has a big boy haircut (but don't worry, the curls will return). What happened to that little boy who gnawed on his fingers, staring up into the Baby Einstein star that could mesmerize him for hours? How did he get to be a child who could tell me that there are "two lights?"

The real reason I'm sad is that I know this stage, the funny, cute-phrased, mis-said phase is short-lived. Kellen already went from thinking his name was "AMMMYYYY" to knowing it's Kellen. I know it's only a short time that he'll like snuggling up in the crook of my elbow to read the "Be butt" book about hippos and their belly b's. Soon he won't call cheerios and yogurt "breakfast" but instead will just ask for them by name. I know that it's only a matter of time before he sees a world that extends beyond his mommy, one where girls (or boys- I'm not partial!) can comfort him in a way that his mother cannot. He's going to leave the safety of jumping off the stairs where I'm there to catch him to jumping, really jumping, into life's challenges, without knowing if there's someone there to catch him.

Today I am nostalgic. When I kiss Kellen good-night I try to remember how the sweetness of his smell, the way his mouth turns up and he sucks on his binky when he hears my voice even when he's deeply sleeping, the fact that he loves his "kiger" and "goggie" and needs them for sleep and the way he rubs doggy's tail over his eyelids to sooth himself into slumber. I want to remember all of this. Because he's growing up.

Semi-wordless Wednesday

2010-09-29T09:43:00.003-06:00

We have a fly problem here in Boise in the fall. Last year we bought out the fly tape supply at Home Depot. We have used it up this fall, catching at least 50 flies per tape, which looks absolutely lovely hanging over the kitchen island.

Dan has been getting impatient with the fly tape and decided he needed a fly swatter. But not just any fly swatter. He needed the hi-tech fly swatter, one that electrocutes upon smashing into the fly.

I had a feeling these would be the hit of the birthday party. I was right.

It's like racquetball... with flies.

Twoo Twoo

2010-09-28T11:56:00.005-06:00

The morning started early. All of you moms whose kids sleep past seven, I really have no words to express my jealousy.

Kellen and I have been talking about "bir-day" for the last week, and I think he's heard about birthdays at daycare... and well, there was that episode on Yo Gabba Gabba. He knew there was a train cake downstairs, so he told me "bir-day bir-day" as we went downstairs. He was so distracted that he missed all his presents on the dining room table:

That ball drop maze thing I bought at the consignment sale. And I got him a book about Trick or Treating so that he sort of gets Halloween. The Thomas gift was a pop-up Thomas tent, and the other was a train that blows bubbles, which has now been dubbed "bir-day choo choo."

I made Kellen special birthday pancakes for breakfast:

I made a list of all the crap that had to get done before the party. I should know by now that I'm the poster child for Murphy's Law. First there was the issue with the cake. It broke apart the night before, and I had to use some icing to repair it. Then, the icing wouldn't stick to the cake and spent way too much time clinging to the spreader. Thankfully a friend recommended Pam, which was helpful until I decided that I probably didn't want the cake to taste like "Original," whatever that means. Her husband also recommended hot water, which seemed like a better solution and worked ok. There was still a lot of touching involved in the icing process. The first cake was supposed to be blue and yellow, but instead it became a Boise State inspired train.

The second cake was done hastily, if that isn't apparent, complete with spray on icing for the wheels. I had every intention of actually icing it nicely. But I was mad at the icing. And... well, our outdoor table shattered two hours before the party was set to start. Yes, shattered. All over the grass. Thankfully it was tempered glass, and Dan set up the table and coolers to wall off the area where we thought there could still be glass (after shop-vaccing and mowing and hand-picking it up!).

We rented a bounce house for the afternoon, and if you knew our backyard, you might think this was insane. But I measured, and it fit perfectly. I can't say I wasn't a little nervous that a kid was going to somehow smash his head on the concrete wall, but we tested the sides, and I was relatively confident that there would be no injuries (there weren't).

We only had a couple of cancellations, both of which were understandable. Sometimes with our parties 20 people say they are coming and 5 do. I think the bounce house won them all over! We cooked hamburgers and hot dogs and set out potato chips. That was probably the lowest key event I've ever hosted, and I'm pretty sure no one missed my artichoke cups and baked brie.

Kellen was so excited about his cake. He congratulated everyone on nicely singing "Happy Birthday:"

Then he got pissed off when he realized that he didn't get to eat the entire cake and had to share:

Then he found his cake:

We asked guests to bring pieces of track for Kellen's train because the kid has more toys than any one child needs. It turned out great. Even though we practiced opening presents, Mom still had to do most of the work. I tempered my OCD present opening for Kellen and allowed ripping to ensue.

He was very impressed with his new bridge:

And mommy has been busy imagining new train designs.

The day ended how all two year old parties should: with screaming and head banging on concrete. I asked Kellen to clean up trains, and instead, he flung himself onto the ground and banged his head a few times. After some hand-over-hand assistance, he complied, and we immediately went to bed. He woke up the next morning on his real birthday. We've had trouble explaining that "bir-day" doesn't happen everyday. I can't wait for Christmas.

Internet experiment

2010-09-22T21:42:00.002-06:00

Life has been busy.

I've been going through the house and sorting things that haven't really been organized since we moved home (so essentially never). My office has been a three day project.

Kellen is SO CLOSE to being fully potty trained. He's supposed to go to daycare tomorrow, but I'm so afraid of regression I've thought about not sending him. He's made it through two naps without an accident and all of last night. At the park he told me he had to poop. It's really been great to see it click. He also repeats "So proud of you" when I tell him.

As frustrating as two is, I'm also finding it to be a great cuddly age for us. Kellen wants to sit in my lap and be affectionate. And I am finding that it takes more of my day to be fully present in those moments, moments I really don't want to miss. He's probably going to be starting three morning a week preschool soon, and I'm trying to take in all of our time together before that starts.

I'm also working really hard on my book proposal. I finally have an outline I'm really confident in. And I have two chapters that just need a bit of additional editing. Then I'm ready to start working on the meatier sales part and start sending it out.

Because of all of that, I've been spending less time online. It's a catch 22 really because I need to stay active online for marketing purposes, but I also feel so unproductive online. It is very difficult to be invested in the lives of so many people and between Twitter and Facebook and forums, well, that's like 500+ people, and frankly it's exhausting. I've been keeping my computer off during several hours of the day. I watch movies with Dan at night without my laptop. I have quiet moments where I think my own thoughts that don't go out into the ether. I think it's helping my writing. It's certainly helping me stay sane (because, quite frankly, there is little drama in my day to day life, and I really don't care that Old Navy is selling a "formula powered" onesie or that Babble did something offensive or that someone else did something to piss someone else off).

Even so, I'm still pretty attached to my Blackberry. I can't imagine running errands without being able to check my email in the dressing room. I like posting pictures to Facebook. I still want to feel connected. And I'm a huge email junkie even though most of what I get is junk.

I've been thinking about doing a social networking fast. I can't ignore the internet all together because I have a few projects I'm working on. But I want to go a week without Facebook, without Twitter, without email alerts on my phone. I want to limit my email to once a day. I'll only get online if I need to work on a blog design or to finish my website.

My parents are going to be here next week, but I'm thinking the week after that I'm going to try. Anyone else up for a challenge? Of course I'll be back on the next week to share my thoughts!!

Fess Up Friday!!!!!!

2010-09-17T18:58:00.002-06:00

I have a compulsive need to use exclamation points!

And, this saddens me. Mostly because I am a grammar person and see the value in limiting your use of exclamatory phrases. I certainly don't go around talking in a high-pitched voice as though I just learned I won the lottery. Given my life, I can promise you the tone is more "dude, what the fuck" than "This is the best day ever!"

So why do I write this way? I don't know. I guess you can't read my expression through your screen, so I have to make sure to tell you when you should pick up your pom-poms.

Rest assured. I'm in therapy for this. The problem should be resolved soon.

The great internet conspiracy

2010-09-14T12:56:00.003-06:00

Enough! Seriously, enough!

Every day it seems like there is talk of some major corporate conspiracy that is hoodwinking the American public. Whether it's formula companies or Starbucks, this talk about conspiracies is making me just about want to put down the computer and never look back. (But let's be real. I would never.)

Last week there was rumble in the Twittisphere about Babble and the Similac ad on their breastfeeding guide (which Babble says was written by their writers, a claim that I actually believe). I've read all kinds of articles about these great formula industry conspiracies, including ad placements in print and online. I've worked as a freelance writer. I know how this stuff works. You pitch an article. The editor rejects (or approves) it. You write it. It gets published. There's no grand editorial scheme to trick women into formula feeding. There's NOT. I swear.

I'm not saying that the formula industry is making wise PR choices (and I'm thinking that they might need to hire someone specifically to watch out for potential conspiracy claims). But the people they are mostly pissing off are the online lactivist zealots that come out in droves to boycott... well, whoever fucked up today. I'm not always so sure those people exist in real life.

What really got me going about the conspiracies though isn't the formula industry nonsense. Nope. It was this article about Starbucks this morning. See, they changed their menu and removed the Tall option. Does anyone who frequents Starbucks not know that there is a Tall option? So, you think they can ask for that if they want it? Like, "Hey Mr. Starbucks man, can I get 12 ounces instead of fifty? Yeah, thanks." My grande two pump vanilla 140 degree soy latte (can you say Y-U-P-P-Y?!) isn't on the menu either, but I still know how to order it. And the new menu shows just a small number of the hundreds of options you can get. It's not some grand(e) scheme to trick consumers into spending more money (because seriously, if you're going to STARBUCKS to save money we need to chat about budgeting).

My point is that the internet breeds conspiracy theories and is turning relatively normal people into fringe groups that I'm starting to think need some serious medication because before you know it they are going to be walking down the street with banjos on their head talking about underground concentration camps for Americans (and FWIW, those people would be called Tea Partiers).

Fess Up Friday

2010-09-10T08:35:00.003-06:00

Seriously guys, I thought that my biggest battle in life was going to be fighting these stubborn bacteria that don't want to leave my body. FWIW, I must be pretty cozy in there. I think I need spikes.

But that belief would be wrong. Lyme is not the battle for my life. Nope. Kellen turning two is. And if I do manage to escape alive, I'm pretty certain that a large chunk of my sanity will be gone.

I thought maybe this insanity was due to the two year molars that are so unpleasantly spearing his gums. But one of them is through, and the whining hasn't improved.

Speaking of which, who in the hell taught my kid how to fling himself onto his knees in protest?! I have a few choice words for that fucker. It's biologic, you say?! Well, I'm sure I can talk to Mendel or something. I'm thinking we can start a research project to suck that gene right out at birth. Maybe we can get Similac or Babble to sponsor the study.

This morning I thought Kellen would enjoy looking at the trash trucks. But as soon as I said something I knew I had made a giant mistake. I should have left him playing with the damn trains. He was so happy to be outside, scantily clad in a diaper and "Captain Adorable" pajama top (it was in the mid-50s). We watched the truck scoop up the recycling with a couple "Wow cool"s and then said good-bye to the trash truck and started indoors. Limp body ensued complete with morning-alarm screaming that was sure to wake our neighbors. That was after he screamed at me for not making bacon fast enough and his train track not going together correctly and my not putting a diaper on him before he sat in his chair.

So yeah. Two. You're not even here yet, and I already hate you.

----
Confess with me! It feels GOOD.

Top blogs

2010-09-09T14:37:00.003-06:00

If you follow the mommy blogosphere in any way (and especially if you are on Twitter), you might know that a big Top 50 list was released yesterday on babble.com. A few bloggers I read were on there, and many I read weren't. Of course then Babble opened it up for other nominations, which becomes its own self-pitying mom bloggy contest.

I get the desire to be on that list. It means you've made it, right?! Your words mean something? Someone is listening? Or maybe, somebody just plum likes you?!

But see, these lists are silly. Obviously, it was one person's opinion. (And quite frankly after the whole breastfeeding guide with Similac ads, who's reading Babble anyway?! Oh, you still had to go look?? You must not hate them THAT much then.)

I follow the blogs that interest me, that entertain me, that inform me. And even a few that challenge me, even if I believe I'm right damnit.

Stop listening to the lists. Stop pining away to be a part of them. Just write. Share your story. And read the blogs that fulfill you.

Instead of a list of people, I'd love to know a POST that informed/entertained/inspired you this week?

Wordless Wednesday

2010-09-08T16:56:00.003-06:00

I have a few things to write about, but I haven't felt well the last week or so, so my thoughts are all scrambled.

So, I'll just do some pictures :-)

These are the last week of The Little Gym's summer semester.

Fess Up Friday

2010-09-03T07:00:00.002-06:00

I promise I am going to go back to posting more than twice a week. But my energy is back and my house is a serious mess, and Dan started back to school last week.

As a part of my fessin' up, Dan and I are touring a preschool the middle of the month. I can't believe we're already talking preschool! It's a Montessori school, which I kind of have mixed feelings about. We'll see how the tour goes, but it's possible that Kellen will be in preschool three mornings a week!

And I submitted a story to Chicken Soup for the Soul this week. There's nothing like a deadline looming over me to kick my writing gears into action. My first CSFTS story will be published this fall in their Christmas Magic edition. I'll be giving away a couple of copies in time for Christmas, so stay tuned :-)

My big confession?

I am SO excited for college football.

Dan played in high school and likes to watch it, but I *follow* it. I check the Idaho Statesman every morning for latest news. I can answer others' questions about my thoughts on the new uniform (more orange Nike, more orange). This year we have a flag up in front of our house and a BSU mailbox cover.

And as much as I love following college football generally, I really love supporting a winning program (especially one that's a little controversial). I went to a women's college... and then transferred to The George Washington University in the middle of DC. Neither had a team (hopefully the former was obvious!).

In honor of college football kickoff weekend and our excitement over the Virginia Tech game Monday, here are our recent family photos (but please excuse the mess that is my hair as I didn't feel like blow-drying it. I now see the error of my ways!):

- - - -
Got something to confess? Join us for Fess Up Friday!

10 college classes for moms-to-be

2010-08-30T07:00:00.003-06:00

I wrote a couple weeks ago about needing to take Intro to Theater in college. But I've been thinking. That wouldn't have been enough. I have a B.A. in Political Science from a big school in a city that's considered a political powerhouse. I had some incredible professors, to be honest. But given my life path, knowing where Namibia is on the map hasn't really proven to be all that helpful. Here's my list of proposed classes that would have served my life as a SAHM (and sometimes writer) much better:

1. Instead of Sign Language 101, Intro to Whining. (Seriously, this would have SAVED MY LIFE!)

2. No need for Geography of Africa. Would have been better served to take Geography of a Bounce House.

3. Why take History of the Cold War? I need Politics of the Mommy Wars.

4. Human anatomy? Nope, just "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes."

5. Oh, and maybe Boys Anatomy and Other Reasons the Toilet Seat is Wet.

6. No need for Biology and Species classification. I just need Trucks and Other Automobile Classifications.

7. Marketing 101 is only marginally valuable for the blogosphere. Twitter 101 would have been better. Or even better yet, Intro to Multi-Level Marketing and Other Reasons You Should Sell Avon.

8. Intro to Creative Writing was helpful. But better? Intro to Exploiting Your Children on the Web.

9. Advertising? No? BlogHer and Other Ad Networks? Or AdWords and Other Buzzwords That Will Be Obsolete in Ten Years.

10. And finally? Intro to Drawing? Too Advanced. Scribbling... and How to Preserve Every Piece of Artwork That Will Ever Make It Into the Backpack.

Like Lists? Join Anna for Listless Mondays.

Fess Up Friday

2010-08-27T12:54:00.002-06:00

So you know how I wrote last Friday about my crazy morning routine?

Well, I forgot something.

Before the coffee and the eggs and the bacon burning, there's something I'm a little embarrassed about. Or that Kellen should be embarrassed about.

Kellen eats dog food.

I feed him well, really I do. If it's not eggs and turkey bacon, he eats organic yogurt with Cheerios and raspberries for breakfast. And he gets organic milk (often with a splash of non-organic, sugar-laden Strawberry syrup). But it doesn't matter. The kid still wants to stuff his mouth with round bits of Salmon-flavored kibble.

To be fair, it's good kibble. We buy the premium stuff. The grain-free stuff. The not-so-chicken-mealy stuff.

But that doesn't mean I want my kid eating it.

I try to stop him. But he sneaks around me while I'm emptying the dishwasher or starting the coffee (it's like I'm supposed to watch him ALL THE TIME).

I often remind myself that my cousin ate dog food. It's just a phase. He's not going to grow a tail or start barking. And my cousin turned out mostly ok. Except he's a Republican. I sure hope it wasn't the dog food.

Kellen and the over-inflated ego

2010-08-24T15:59:00.003-06:00

Dan calls Kellen "Big man." It drives me crazy.

Kellen now walks around the house saying, "Good job big man" to himself, over and over. It's actually quite obnoxious, if it wasn't coming from a three-foot tall, curly headed almost-two year old with bright blue eyes. In that case, it's kind of endearing.

But I've asked Dan to start using his name ("Kellen," I remind him) so that he doesn't grow up thinking his name is actually "big man." (And I never thought the nickname "Bubba" would actually be appealing.) Can you imagine if dads walked around calling to their daughters "Hey, Big woman? Want to swing?" No?! (It sounds heavy just writing it!)

Because there will come a time in Kellen's life, I'm sure, where he actually thinks he's a big man. Right about the age of fifteen when he knows little more than how to add (and certainly not when it comes to want car + no money = no car). I'm not eager for that day, and hopefully we will all work successfully to knock his ego down a notch, because I know my family, and if there's criticism to be given, there is no holding back.

In fact I'd be perfectly happy thinking of Kellen as my LITTLE BOY for the next ten or so years, at least until I'm forty.

I know what you're thinking: "He IS a big man." But, it's just the shoes. Promise!

Fess Up Friday

2010-08-20T07:00:00.003-06:00

Holy crap. How did it get to be Friday again? And I've only written one blog post. And I haven't been controversial all week.

That brings me to this week's confession:

I need a personal assistant.

Maybe that sounds self-indulgent. Or a tad ridiculous. I can hear my family in my head saying, "But she doesn't do ANYTHING." (Which, you know, isn't true. I spend a lot of time on Twitter, ~~talking~~ self-promoting.)

The truth is there just aren't enough hands to be a mom. I need to make breakfast and then unload the dishwasher, all while Kellen is asking for more blueberries. Meanwhile I'm trying to make my coffee. And then I realize I've slightly burned the bacon. And it's not even 7:30 yet.

I need to write. I'm a chapter and a half into three chapters to submit to the agent. I have a self-imposed deadline of Christmas, but really I'd like to have it submitted before. And as it is, I am limited to writing when Kellen takes a nap, and I find that the older he gets, the more entertaining I am required to do as a mother (who knew I needed to take intro to theater in college to be a successful mom?!).

Thankfully this week I've gotten the dust bunnies off the hardwood floor. But I still have three-day-old clean laundry sitting in a pile outside the dryer instead of hanging in the closet. I need vegetables cut for meals. I need the dishwasher unloaded. I need someone who can help me file. It just doesn't stop!

Of course I need this personal assistant to work for free. Because, you know, Twitter isn't paying very well these days.

--
Got something you need to get off your chest? Join me for Fess Up Friday!

8 ways to spit venom across the blogosphere

2010-08-16T13:03:00.004-06:00

You might have noticed I have a new tagline. My mother says it's appropriate, but that family has never been one for bluntness. I make them uncomfortable.

Recently I was accused by a frequent instigator on Fearless Formula Feeder of spitting venom because I questioned whether the entire Midwest was a bastion of formula feeders who sneered at those who dare breastfeed or if that was simply one segment of that community and that perhaps there was a portion of Middle America who also had a pro-breastfeeding penchant. I certainly can't deny that Alan, said instigator, has a pro-breastfeeding agenda and will again reiterate that I felt he has tried to marginalize the experience of those of us who have had poor breastfeeding experiences.

When asked further, spitting venom was further extrapolated to mean: "Brooke, I feel that you drag the tone down to a bitter, vindictive level, so I'm going to call you out for that and not take the bait." (Which, of course, was taking the bait... even though I hadn't intended to cast a line.) And then I was called spiteful and nasty... but, you know, my mom might agree with that too (can you tell we just spent ten whole days together?!).

I disagree with that assessment, but I do think that my blog direction might start to be a little more controversial... or at least opinionated. Ultimately I think that's what this whole venom thing is. I don't share your opinions, and therefore anything sarcastic I might say about your way of parenting is spiteful.

And now the list... how to spread venom (i.e. be opinionated and contrarian) across the blogosphere (especially the mommy one!):

1. Write a post calling the AP movement (especially as espoused online) a cult.

2. Challenge people on their breastfeeding-at-all-costs stance.

3. In particular, challenge the male lactivists that have truly no clue what the experience of breastfeeding is like, particularly during a stressful post-partum hormonal rollercoaster.

4. Decide that your favorite blogger is abdpbt.com because she tells it like it is (and others might think she spits venom too!).

5. When you tweet about a post questioning breastfeeding extremism, include the breastfeeding hashtag.

6. Create a cartoon of an AP mom baby-wearing while sitting in front of her laptop blogging (I'm working on it).

7. Comment on other blogs who don't share the same parenting philosophy asking them to be a little less judgmental.

8. Write a post about spreading venom on the interwebz :-)

Fess Up Friday: Discpline edition

2010-08-13T13:12:00.004-06:00

I could write about a lot of things. I will address the new tagline on Monday if you aren't sure what I am talking about!!

I'm going to focus on discipline, mostly because I've been surrounded by some discipline issues while we've been on vacation.

Kellen is at an age where he is testing every boundary and limit I have. He really likes to throw rocks. He always gets a time-out when he throws them. But it doesn't make much difference. Sometimes he tries to find more rocks while he's sitting in time out. But he's only one (almost two), and I think I can only expect so much from his developing brain. My theory is stay consistent and it will work in the long-term.

Which brings me to the real issue: Spanking. I know there are plenty of parents (and others) who wonder why we don't just spank him. It's actually quite bothersome to me that spanking is the default disciplinary expectation, but it seems to be.

You have to understand first that my dad used spanking to the extreme. I was repeatedly spanked when I was a toddler for wetting the bed to the point that my step-mom once directed my dad to spank me so hard (for bed-wetting at 3) that I couldn't sit down for a week. It has bothered me from the time I was able to rationalize my childhood. I always wondered what the objective was because it didn't seem to me that spanking could change the internal mechanism by which a child could wake up when their bladder was full. I never understood how spanking would lead to decreased bed-wetting, which seemed to me to be the ultimate reason for any kind of punishment. That must be why I'm a behavioralist (and to be fair have worked quite a bit with kids with emotional and behavioral disorders).

Certainly there are moments when I am SO frustrated with Kellen that spanking seems like a great way for ME to deal with my anger. Thankfully I am clear-headed enough though to walk away, knowing that physically harming my child can never be undone and that reacting in anger is not teaching him anything other than how to respond in anger.

My discipline theory is much more focused on teaching and on being proactive. We encourage Kellen to throw balls (not that it always works) so that he doesn't even have the opportunity to throw rocks. I also believe in natural consequences and can't say that I feel too sorry when he accidentally throws a rock on his head. I think that people often forget how to TEACH appropriate behavior in trying to respond to the negative. If you don't want your kid to hit in anger, TEACH him appropriate strategies for dealing with his anger (i.e. walking away, coloring, counting to ten).

On a related note, if you haven't read about Love and Logic, I highly encourage it (I haven't been paid to endorse them; I just really love their philosophy!). They even have a book for younger children. The premise is always approaching discipline from a place of love and support (instead of anger) and creating logical consequences.

--
Got something to Confess? Join us for Fess Up Friday. (And see you on Monday when all will be revealed about my venomous nature!)

Megan

Hi from the beach

2010-08-10T13:47:00.004-06:00

I'm exhausted. Apparently the meds are working.

And apparently all a child needs to want to pee in the potty again is to a) Have his mom write a post about how he hates it and 2) go on vacation. Yep, my kid has been all about the potty since Thursday.

Here he is, playing at the beach. I know you're jealous of his hair.

Kellen and the toilet

2010-08-05T21:36:00.004-06:00

So you might know that Kellen and potty-training is not going well. We had a time where it was great. And then I got the stomach flu. And all our progress went, well, down the toilet.

Kellen has incredible bladder control. If he is naked, he will run around the house and makes it so apparent that he has to go. But ask if he needs to go to the potty or put him on it and he starts crying. "No. No potty." So we go outside, where he pees on command. (Or... the other morning I was going to the bathroom and he started doing his potty dance so I told him to go in the shower. He did.)

The other day I put Cheerios in the toilet to see if he would pee on them. Dan showed him how to pee on them (I think he enjoyed the target practice). He still wouldn't do it. Instead he wanted to "flush bekfas."

I'm hoping that maybe there will be some renewed interest when we get back from our trip, but if not, we'll give it a break for a while.

Regardless, here are some pictures of Kellen's progression of toilet love.

He just learned to pull up, but he quickly found the handle!

And then he was happy to throw toilet paper around.

And then he realized that he could put things in the toilet...

And then he ran away from it.

Why BlogHer is like a class reunion

2010-08-03T21:32:00.002-06:00

I'm going to my high school reunion this weekend. Ten years. It happens to fall on the same weekend as BlogHer, *the* blogging conference of the year. I was seriously considering going this year, partly because it's in New York and I love any excuse to eat at Nick's on the Upper East Side. But alas, the conference fell on the same weekend as my class reunion, and I actually KNOW those people.

Not that it matters much. Because the more I think about it, the more I think that BlogHer IS like its own class reunion... only it happens every year and costs a bit more.

BlogHer is like a class reunion because...

You know the intimate details of at least 1/2 the people there whether from reading their blogs or their Facebook status updates.
It's filled with drama, both before the actual event and after. In the case of our reunion, there will be a second reunion going on the same night. I'm not kidding.
It's sponsored. Only I don't think I get to go home with much swag.
People are either proud of their weight loss or ashamed by their weight gain. I guarantee there are at least a handful of women not attending reunion because of their weight.
I bought a dress just for this occasion. Judging by the clothing related BlogHer tweets, I would say that women's fashion labels in general saw an uptick in sales the last couple of weeks.
Did I mention the drama?!

I do have to say though, at the class reunion I won't have to worry about anyone staging anti-formula protests toward Nestle. We'll just be drunk.

Blog rules

2010-08-02T08:16:00.002-06:00

It's list time! I've been trying to come up with a good way to explain my thinking about blog comments, so a list is perfect.

1. No Anonymous comments. I allowed this for a long time because I wanted unregistered users to be able to comment. But I always thought they would at least add their name. I am a big girl, and I attach my name to pretty much everything. You can pretty much be sure that what I say online is what I would say in person (at the very least behind your back- kidding). I had an issue on Life After the Fire when someone responded with snark about my complaining about having to rebuy Pottery Barn frames even though the point was the tedious nature of having to recreate your life. I know people can make up identities, but I think that taking away the anonymous option makes people rethink momentarily their post. And even when the comment isn't snarky, I don't like having anonymous comments. So. That's that.

2. Social Media is not private. I'm sorry that some people think that their online content is private. But when the whole world can read it, it's open to quoting. That includes this blog. I know it's been done, and I think it's amusing when people are beating up on my posts. It drives traffic. And I'm a google analytics whore. If you respond publicly to me on Twitter I think it's totally appropriate to repost that here.

3. I respond directly to you. I got in *trouble* on another site recently because I responded directly to someone. Granted the comment wasn't necessarily nice. But I was responding directly to that person, and I think mentioning their name is appropriate since it was obviously a comment to them. She didn't like that I was calling her out. So don't get offended if I use your name. It's common practice and keeps the flow of conversation in comments.

4. I don't moderate. I think I've maybe deleted one comment in my whole life. I recognize the public nature of the web and that this is a forum for discussion. I will delete duplicate posts. But I am pretty liberal about accepting comments.

5. If you're going to comment here on controversial topics, bring your thick skin. We're adults. Reasoned discourse is important. And sometimes we're going to disagree. That's ok.

--
Join Anna for List Mondays.

Fess Up Friday

2010-07-30T15:31:00.002-06:00

I failed.

I have always had a rule about pacifiers, and I have failed.

Kellen is almost two. And he loves his pacifier. I'm not opposed to it. I knew he would be a paci baby from the ultrasounds since he always had something in his mouth (probably because he was teething in the womb!). But I wanted to set boundaries with the pacifier. And I have. Until recently.

Pacifiers are for bed. Maybe for the car. Definitely for trauma. I even had Kellen trained to leave his pacifier in his bed in the morning. This made them easier to find at nap time, and it also created a boundary.

But now Kellen can talk back.

"Kellen, where does your binky go?"

"No," he says, turning his back to me.

"All done binky," I say, walking toward him to remove it.

"No-oh," he says again. And then I pull the plug and he flings himself on the floor.

And god help me if he finds a pacifier on the ground or sees one on the counter.

"Minky," he cries. Oh, it's pathetic.

I've set a time limit of 3 when we will give up the pacifier for good with a visit from the paci fairy. Hopefully I won't fail at that.

--
Got something to confess? Join us for Fess Up Friday!

Fess Up Friday

2010-07-23T09:23:00.000-06:00

It's Dan's birthday. Happy birthday.

We're going away for our first real weekend, just the two of us. Sure there was that Fiesta Bowl thing, but we weren't even gone 24 hours. This is a big deal. I'm nervous.

I'm also getting my PICC line today. Think I was nervous about leaving K behind? I might be more nervous about this, even though I really think this treatment protocol is going to be very effective.

I feel bad. Every year it seems like Dan is going to my doctors for his birthday. Last year, before I knew what was wrong, I made him go to the ER. I had been home writing notecards for Dan's birthday scavenger hunt. We had a babysitter lined up. But my anxiety was really high... and I hadn't been able to eat much in a day or two. The upside was that the ER docs gave me a GI cocktail that coated my tummy, and Dan and I happily went out to eat. I know he's thrilled about having to tag along to PICC line placement and doc appointment tomorrow. But the trip should be fun otherwise, so it will make up for it.

I'm hoping the biggest challenge of the weekend is restraining myself from calling to check on Kellen once an hour. Although that's kind of asking a lot as it is!

--
Got something to say? Fess Up. On Friday.

Why I'm destined for Mommyblogging mediocrity

2010-07-19T09:34:00.003-06:00

This is an appropriate post to link up with Anna, who has opened my eyes substantially to the business and insanity that is mommyblogging. I think I might have been happier in my little corner. And I'm going to try to do this with a partially chopped off thumb... yep, sliced off the tip yesterday. Jealous?!

If you don't know Anna (or ABDPBT (yes I have to say "All but dissertation pretzel brain twist" every time I'm looking for her site)), she writes a lot about mommy blogging in general... and sometimes the drama behind it, and really, I love a little drama (that explains my love of RHoNJ).

Anyhow, she has written extensively about how to make it as a blogger, and the more I read, the more I'm convinced I'm destined for mommy blogging mediocrity. Sure I have some followers and a group of Twitter/blog friends from ControverSunday. But I am not doing very good at this building thing. And these are part of the reasons I think that is:

1. I'm not Mormon. Dan's family is. Does that count? With as much as I cuss, probably not. So there's like 1/3 or more of the mommy blogosphere that won't come hang out with me in my little slice of cyberspace.

2. I didn't breastfeed... nor do I hold Dr. Sears up on a pedestal. And not only did I not breastfeed, I actively talk about how I don't think formula is poison and how ridiculous I think it is that there are discussions of Nestle boycotts (or, you know, pretend boycotts because those bloggers wouldn't actually give up BlogHer, something they WANT, to make a real stand). Honestly I think that well over half of the mommy blogosphere is made up of APing, Breastfeeding, crunchy, holier than though moms. And they all visit each others' blogs and praise each other for how long they've breastfed, baby worn, eviscerate the stroller... you get the idea.

3. My event has come and gone. I didn't know much about blogging when I started the blog after the fire. And I was busy trying to find a rental and repurchase everything in my life and finish making a baby and then dealing with a paralyzed face and not go crazy. I thought that my 30,000 hits was impressive, but I'm learning that those numbers are pretty sad in the grand scheme of things.

4. I'm writing a book. And I'm sick. And reading enough blogs to comment and drive traffic is time consuming. And truly requires significant time outside of the hours that my son sleeps. We are changing around his daycare schedule in the fall, but that time will likely go to the book... and maybe blog design.

5. I can't go to BlogHer. At least this year. My ten year reunion is that weekend, and hanging out with old real life friends is more important.

The good news is that I do have the skills that Anna mentions here and here. But I think it takes more than that. I really would like to build the blog, but I'm pretty sure I'm stuck in the middle where there are 8 million other mommy bloggers.

Have a list? Join Anna at abdpbt.com.

Fess Up Friday

2010-07-15T00:39:00.002-06:00

I am having a hard time sleeping, so this is an early Fess Up Friday.

I realized today that I have a problem with other peoples' kids eating at my house.

I've been known on occasion to discipline other peoples' children for not eating dinner (or lunch) when I've cooked. And while each individual situation may be benign, as a whole, this is kind of weird, don't you think?!

As an older teenager I remember being told that I had to eat meat by my aunt. I didn't eat red meat, and I was kind of annoyed that she would make me eat food that I didn't eat as a general rule. And now here I am, that person, thinking PLEASE EAT THE DAMN MAC AND CHEESE. (or turkey lasagna as the case may be!)

I think the issue is that I cooked the food. I don't want it to go to waste. And I really think that if they at least tried it they would really want the food.

Ultimately though, who cares?!? It's not like I need some 5 year old to validate my cooking. And I'm not their mom, and their eating habits aren't going to be changed by one meal (even if it is delicious!).

So thank you dear friends for putting up with me and for letting me have this major aha moment (which is now preventing me from sleep). I am willing to let me and my child be your lab rats as you discover your own neuroses! And forgive me. I'm a crazy person... reformed crazy person!

Fess Up Friday

2010-07-09T08:00:00.005-06:00

I fess up. I hate parenting. Mostly. Usually. Occasionally.

If you haven't read the article (link above) in NY Magazine, you should (it's six pages, yes, but if you have time to read mommy blogs and spend an hour on Twitter, you have time to read six very well written pages!). It's a great piece about parenting studies and happiness... and how nearly every study ever done on parenting shows that it certainly doesn't make you happier, and it might even make you less so.

To be clear, I love my son. I could never have known that such an incredible emotion existed without him. It is biologic, soul-baring, eternal. But, as the author says, "Loving one's children and loving the act of parenting are not the same thing."

Parenting is hard work. Parenting is all the time. Parenting is getting up after a night of throwing up with a smile and a feeble attempt to get downstairs, cook breakfast, and confirm that a car does go "vroom vroom." Parenting is singing "Run run run it's fun fun fun" over and over until you forget that other musicians even sing songs. It's saying "no" one thousand and one times even if sometimes you'd like to just say "YES" already. Parenting is remembering that you can't toss a dish towel at your husband for saying something crass because you're teaching your son that you don't throw things at people (even if it's something as benign as a towel). Parenting is saying no to nice dinners out for at least the next ten years. It's constant worry about school choices and structured activities. It's an hour at the park spent jamming yourself through a plastic tunnel and scouring the wood chips for glass and nails. It's an afternoon talking about worms. It's reading the same book over and over to the point that you are changing the emphasis on different words to see if you can alter the meaning.

Parenting is also playing smooshy face and giggles, high fives and claps, jumping and dancing and singing. Those are the moments that make all of the rest of them worth it. It just seems that those moments are surrounded by a lot of "nooooooo"s and falls to the floor.

I was explaining to a group of young women this phenomenon of complete exhaustion in parenting and yet complete love for said child. It sounded like a lot of complaining I'm sure, though the moms in the room seemed to get it. (Though there might have been one sanctimommy there... and I'm under no delusion that there aren't a million online who think that parenting is just wonderful and that a poopy diaper is just the absolute only thing left to make this day complete.)

I don't think Kellen made me a happier person. Nor do I think he made me a sadder one, though there are certainly moments in the day when I am happier because of him (when he puts his arms around himself and says "I you")... and others when I am sadder (when he flings his rice pudding across the room). And maybe this is an American problem... or at least a Western problem, believing that we have children to somehow complete us or fulfill us or make us happy. Ultimately having children is about the survival of the species. And it's just a darn good thing we love them so much. Because I wouldn't want to need to fling a dish towel at anyone!

--
Need to confess your mommy sins? Fess Up Friday is brought to you by Mommy in Chief. Leave me a comment, post on your blog, let it hang out. One day I might even make a badge.

When mama takes a sick day...

2010-07-08T10:01:00.003-06:00

My birthday weekend was fabulous, complete with stomach flu and 48 hours confined to a bed. I swear we need to wrap ourselves in a giant Purell coated bubble for the next six months.

We had been at my dad's, a joint party to celebrate my birthday and the 4th of July. I hadn't felt well, but I thought it was my meds. By the time we got home, I was pretty certain that my meds had very little to do with what my stomach was about to unleash. I got Kellen in bed quickly and found my way on top of my unmade mattress (thankfully the top is plush!) where I waited for my husband, who was outside scoping out the fireworks scene. Our fire may have made me terribly afraid of fire and fireworks. Dan, not so much. We had to have discussions and compromises about the type of firework that was allowed in our neighborhood, that close to our house.

All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep. Or puke. Either sounded equally as appealing. But I couldn't sleep until Dan made the bed. And if you've ever had the stomach flu, you know the safest place for me was to stay put until he was able to come to me! So I waited. And pretended to watch the 4th Fireworks show on TV. I've lived in both DC and NYC and never had the urge to sit in a crowd of a million people to watch colorful pollutants explode in the sky.

Finally Dan found me and gawfed about having to make the bed. Sadly, this did not bode well for the next 48 hours. I rolled out of bed, laid as still as possible on the floor, and eased myself back into bed.

For the next two days, I begged Dan for Gatorade, of which I am happy to report I drank at least twelve (and have the red tongue to prove it!). And Ritz crackers. And dear God, some Wonderbread. And the TV remote. And the Playstation remote to watch Netflix. And, "Dan can you please hold Kellen? Any pressure on my stomach HURTS."

For as sick as I am on a day to day basis, it doesn't have anything on the suffering one does while enduring the stomach flu. I may feel tired or dizzy or achy everyday, but I still get up and do stuff. I have realized that this is a vastly different reality from my husband

When Dan is in charge, the mantra is pure SURVIVAL. Doesn't matter if the house is destroyed by the time mom is better. Those diapers? No problem. Mom can pick em up in a couple days. Clothes were strewn about as though the two were holding a fashion show for GQ. Dinner? Who needs to plan when we've got some Annie's Mac and Cheese and Digornio pizza? (I would like to note that never in my adult life have I kept frozen pizza in my house... until Dan decided that he needed it as a staple to his diet.)

On weekends like this I look at people like Matt Logelin and wonder how he manages without a wife. And then I wonder what our life would look like if something happened to me? I'm pretty sure Dan would need to get remarried fairly quickly because if this weekend was any indication, the beds wouldn't get made (or changed), the clothes picked up, or the TV remotes found.

I'm happy to report that I have been able to eat for the last day. I'm still a little queasy, but at least there is food.

Happy Birthday to ME!

2010-07-03T12:16:00.002-06:00

I have a thing about birthdays... mine, mostly.

In honor of this awesome day, here's a picture of me 28 years ago, hanging out with my mom who had just celebrated her 30th birthday two days before.

Breastfeeding and capitalism

2010-07-01T08:25:00.001-06:00

One of the many arguments I hear about formula is how it is dominated by corporate interests who want to make women fail at breastfeeding so that they will continue to need their product.

Ok, maybe that's true. I prefer to look at it as a company discovered a need (usually how it works, thank you Mr. Nestle) and filled it. Despite many public effusions that women have always been able to nurse without problems because, gosh darnit, our species has survived thus far, the reality is that breastfeeding issues go back, WAY back. Ever hear of a wet nurse?

I want to counter with the idea that breastfeeding has also become an industry that is now infused with corporate interests. I know that I'm going to get publicly flogged for this statement because the breastfeeding industry is "good" and the formula industry is "bad," but let's just think about this for a minute.

The lactation consultant profession is growing, and according to salary calculators and online job industry analysts, the pay for a LC doesn't look so bad. The women I know who have tried exceptionally hard to make breastfeeding work (as opposed to the ones for whom breastfeeding was easy), spent upwards of a thousand dollars, investing in the time of various LCs and sometimes, numerous contraptions meant to help the baby learn to nurse. I'm not saying this is bad, just don't act like there is no money in breastfeeding. It's naive.

In fact, it seems to me that the breastfeeding market is primarily aimed at the same women that formula was meant to: women who struggle with breastfeeding. Can't breastfeed? Don't worry. For $1000 in consulting fees we can hook you up to a several hundred dollar pump. Here are some breastfeeding herbs. Inverted nipples? No problem. For $15.99 you too can buy an inverted nipple shield. And here is a professional scale to measure your child before and after you feed her. (Can't afford the scale- well, how can you afford my $1000 fees? - no problem, just drive here everyday and we'll get a weight.) Don't forget your breast pads, storage bags, and very stylish nursing cover!!

I know that people will argue that insurance should be covering a lot of these therapies. (Quite frankly, they should also be covering all of my Lyme treatment, but that's another discussion altogether.) Ok. I think they should be covering the cost of formula then. I would have definitely been happier not having to pay $30 a can for my organic formula that allowed my son to thrive.

Do I want to see breastfeeding sabotaged by formula? No. Do I think that formula samples should be given out at hospitals? Probably not (mostly because I am SO tired of hearing about it). Do I think that breastfeeding should be encouraged? Absolutely. Do I think there is a breastfeeding industry out to make money. Yes. Yes. Yes. Let's call a spade a spade and move on?!

--
Brooke exclusively breastfed for six weeks. When her face went paralyzed from Bell's Palsy, she introduced formula to avoid giving him milk tainted by steroids. She then realized that her son was hungry, very very hungry. She believes that formula allowed him to thrive. He continues to meet his milestones early and was sick once before he started daycare at 15 months.

Marriage... a little slice of heaven?

2010-06-30T10:42:00.005-06:00

A friend of ours is getting married. Yey.

I was in the card aisle at Fred Meyer the other day trying to find a card that expresses Congratulations without being overly sappy. I'm all for celebrating that moment, but I am a realist, and many of the cards are, quite frankly, overly romantic, and, in my opinion, Wrong.

I was just glancing at the cards when one in particular caught my eye.

"Marriage..." it read, "a little slice of heaven."

Thankfully there was an older, married woman standing nearby. I had left my phone at home and needed to share this thought with someone... and Twitter was out of the question (until someone comes up with telepathic social media).

"Can you believe this?" I asked. "Heaven." I might have snorted.

She laughed.

"They need to come up with more realistic wedding cards. Like 'Marriage... I hope you like you're guest bedroom... you'll be sleeping in it.'"

Thankfully she laughed again.

When I got home I talked to Dan about my card adventure, and we both laughed.

We decided that marriage might be a *little* slice of heaven... if the rest of the cake is hell. (I don't mean to be flippant about marriage - well, maybe just a little- but marriage is hard and there are moments where I just want a moment of silence all by myself... and sometimes I want to sleep undisturbed in a giant King bed with blankets all to myself.)

I'm curious. If you had to write a wedding card that started "Marriage..." how would you end it?

Fess Up Friday

2010-06-25T21:59:00.003-06:00

I keep thinking about this and then forgetting. It's been a bad Lyme day.

My big confession: I love debates and drama.

If you follow the Fearless Formula Feeder, you know that this week has had its share of internet drama. A lot of people were mad, some *left* the blog, some encouraged me to stop engaging. But really, I enjoyed it. It gave me something to think about. I thought about how to counter arguments and was able to use my brain beyond coming up with truck analogies (not that I don't enjoy them).

See, I should have been a lawyer. But my dad was one and encouraged me not to. If you went to college or grad school with me you might know that I have strong opinions and speak up easily. I challenge people... even when I agree with them. I think it's valuable to see other perspectives to an issue. I like to examine from all angles. And I just can't turn down a good debate.

I love that I can be funny and irreverent here. But maybe I should also be writing more about challenging issues. Because really, I want to engage, challenge, debate.

A mother's guide to trucks: Excavator

2010-06-24T10:23:00.005-06:00

Blogger is making me mad. Totally unrelated.

This week in a Mother's Guide to Trucks, we examine the art of the Excavator (or "eckakator). I have to be honest. This one was hard for me. So I focused on the tires. That's usually how I identify it when I'm reading one of 100 truck books to Kellen.

See how the wheels are mammoth and look like they could run someone over?! So I decided it was the EX-cavotor. It's the machine you'd like to have with you when your boyfriend breaks up with you. Figuratively of course!

To read more about how you, the mother, can identify trucks, go here.

Adventures in Potty Training

2010-06-23T09:59:00.003-06:00

We were supposed to be entrenched in potty training. We were also supposed to be at swimming lessons the last two weeks. Neither of those things have happened.

It's hard to focus on potty training when your child is clingy, whining, and everything you do is absolutely wrong. I am sure that the sticker rewards would have created a major fit. It wouldn't have been the right sticker. Or I would have put it on the wrong hand. So it's back to pull-ups.

Our strategy for potty training is putting underwear on under his pull-up. That way he has a wet sensation every time he goes. The real challenge is not changing him immediately. He is bothered by it. But I want him to be bothered by it. So I usually wait a little while. The worst is when I pick him up and his pee soaked leg soaks my shirt. As Kellen says, "Yucky."

This morning Kellen pooped and turned to me to say "yucky. poop." while pointing at his bottom. I then asked him if he wanted to change his diaper. "No." He ran away. My kid is so going to be 3 and pooping in a corner.

Our week sucked

2010-06-19T18:56:00.003-06:00

This isn't a week I really want to remember.

On Monday night I smashed my toe on the bathroom tile. Until that moment I hadn't realized that my bedroom carpet was that much lower than the start of the bathroom tile. I am grateful to still have my toenail.

On Tuesday I woke up with what felt like the start of a UTI. Don't ask how this is possible with the number of antibiotics I am on. Kellen had his first day of swim lessons, which I was utterly thrilled about given the pain I was in from said toe accident and waking up under less than ideal conditions. Turns out that our class wasn't full enough, and yet no one called to cancel. Thankfully we got a private lesson. Kellen only put his head underwater once he could jump off the floating froggie. He went to sleep for naptime and woke up with green eye goop. (Have I mentioned that it is only Tuesday at this point?!)

Eye goop continues on Wednesday with low grade fever. Kellen was a little less playful, but we were doing some watching and waiting since his eye wasn't pink, just green and crusty.

Thursday I was supposed to run around town like usual, and Kellen was supposed to go to daycare. I didn't want to take him though if it was possible he had pink eye. The pediatrician's office didn't call back until 11:30, and then it was nap time, so he stayed home, and I canceled my appointments. The good news is that Dan got an A on his math test. Yey Dan.

I hosted a Pampered Chef party (that I was supposed to be the consultant for) last night. So all day yesterday I was supposed to be busy prepping food. But Kellen slept really poorly on Thursday night, and I suspected an ear infection. I was right. He might also have strep, but it seemed pointless to run a strep test if we would be giving him antibiotics anyway. As the day and food prepping went on it became more and more apparent that Kellen was really sick. His temperature started elevating. It was stressful. Thankfully we had great friends coming over, and Dan was able to watch Kellen upstairs for a while.

Last night his fever was around 102 all night. He sleeps with us when he's sick, and it was restless for all. Today we've watched Monsters, Inc., Yo Gabba Gabba, and Barney.

I hope this next week is better. The good news is that his eye gash is healing nicely.

Inside Voice... shhh

2010-06-15T15:40:00.004-06:00

You might remember this post.

Here is Kellen doing "Inside Voice, Outside Voice"
(make sure your volume is up... and the lyrics go "Inside voice, quiet. Inside voice, shhh. Outside voice, big and loud. Outside voice, crazy.")

In lieu of...

2010-06-11T18:49:00.002-06:00

It's been a long day, including stitches removal. I have months of bills that needed to be filed, and I've mostly gotten through them.

Tonight I am watching Valentine's Day, a movie I loved so much that I could completely justify buying.

So instead of Fess Up Friday, I am sending you over to the Fearless Formula Feeder, where my story about formula feeding is featured. If you want to read the post I wrote last year about it, you can also click here.

A mother's guide to trucks: Bulldozer

2010-06-10T12:04:00.004-06:00

I just want you to know that I have yet to confuse a Backhoe with any other piece of construction equipment because of my Mother's Guide to Trucks. I hope you are having the same success.

Today's installment: Bulldozer.

This one is pretty easy. It has a bed on the front, perfect for "dozing" off! (Yes, that man is sleeping.)

See more in the series here.

Kellen versus the bed 2010

2010-06-06T15:14:00.003-06:00

Ever have a feeling that something bad is about to happen?

Yesterday afternoon I had that feeling. Kellen was walking along the 3 foot high raised bed like he always does. I could tell you that I have tried to discourage this, but it wouldn't matter. Kellen is a balancer, and he entertains himself by walking the perimeter of our yard. Kellen also gets ahead of himself while walking sometimes and crashes into the ground. It's not usually a big deal.

So when I got this bad feeling I immediately started stressing out that this accident was going to happen outside. That's where the danger is.

My dad stopped over after church to see us. We were about to start dinner when Dan realized he was out of propane. Dad and Dan ran to the store in our new car (with the carseat).

In order to kill some time before they got back, Kellen and I went into the guest bedroom to make the bed. My brother and his family arrive tomorrow to spend a day or two with us, so I needed to make the bed for them. Kellen climbed up onto the bed and started acting a little spaz-ish, running to tag the headboard. I told him to be careful, and I started fluffing the down comforter to put the duvet cover back on. All it took was one missed step, and down he fell. His head fell straight into the footboard. Kellen has hit his head a few times, and I assumed he just banged his head a little.

As soon as I picked him up, I knew the night would be a long one. Kellen had a gash under his eye that obviously needed stitches.

I'm pretty sure I kept repeating, "Mommy's so sorry, mommy's so sorry" as I panicked. I'm not really sure what I was sorry for, but I WAS so sorry. We ran upstairs to grab his pacifier and his stuffed doggy in hopes that would at least stop the wailing that was occurring. I then grabbed a paper towel to dab the blood from his forehead.

I called Dan. No answer. Why does my husband never have his cell phone in an emergency? I called my dad. His phone was off. I called my friend Beth. She's an MA and a mom of a stitched up boy, and I thought she would at least have some advice about what I should do while I waited.

Within minutes, my son was running around, seemingly oblivious to the gash on his head and the dripping blood.

Finally I heard the garage door, and I ran outside with Kellen.

"He needs stitches," I said.

"Oh, he looks fine," my dad said.

"Beth said they might be able to use glue," I said.

"That's what I was thinking," Dan said. "We could just use super glue." [I think Beth meant actual medical glue. I wasn't thinking it would be a good idea to hot glue my son's head closed!]

"Well, let me take him to the doctor," I said. Urgent care was still open for another 17 minutes, and if I hurried I could get there in time. They would at least be able to evaluate the need for stitches better than Grandpa-who-needs-stitches.

Kellen and I hurried down the road while Dan and my dad stayed behind, apparently enjoying another bottle of beer.

Dan found his phone and called me on the way (with my new nifty Bluetooth feature in my car). I asked him to call Urgent Care and let them know we were on our way.

I pulled shoe-less Kellen out of the car, and we registered inside. Apparently a major fall causes my son to have an insane amount of adrenaline because while he would normally be about ready to put himself to bed, he was running all over the doctor's office as I tried to answer questions that would hopefully minimize the chance of a CPS call.

The PA walked into the room and asked me to hold Kellen down so he could take a look. I thanked him for staying open because "I really didn't want to go to the Emergency Room."

"We'll see," he responded in a tone that made me realize that our adventure was just beginning.

"He needs to go to the ER," he said. "We could do it, but he's pretty restless, and they can consciously sedate him there."

"Oh- KAY," I said.

The doctor promised to call ahead, and off we went, down the street. I called Dan and asked him to bring me dinner when my dad dropped him off at the ER, since we obviously wouldn't be eating the marinated pork chops.

Another desk and registration later, we were settled into a triage room in the Children's wing of the emergency room. I turned on the sink to distract Kellen as I again tried to answer questions.

"Wawa," said Kellen.

"Right. Water," I said. "He fell while I was trying to make the bed. Hot. No Kellen. Hot. Emergency contact other than me? Kellen stop. Too much water. Yes. Ok."

Then the registration person tried to tell me that my cell phone was interfering with her computer. It wasn't.

I really don't know how much time passed until we finally saw someone. Fortunately after about 30 minutes (maybe longer) someone came in to talk to us and found a wagon for Kellen. We pulled Kellen up and down the hallway for a long time. God forbid we stopped! He got some narcotics that did little to make him tired. And then they put on some Lidocaine, which really pissed him off.

Finally the doctor came in. The nurses rolled him up in a burrito and held him down. That made him extra mad. Then the doctor had to cover his face with a washcloth with a hole in it. Something about sterilization, but I think it was also to keep Kellen from looking at the needle going into his eyebrow. Dan stood by Kellen's head while I closed my eyes to avoid watching the needle going in ridiculously close to his eye. More numbing stuff apparently. The nurse asked me to sing him a song, which was really kind of amusing if I wasn't about to cry. Kellen was screaming so loudly that the singing was really more for me than anyone else I think. I can only imagine how in tune "Itsy Bitsy Spider" was while being sung by a hysterical mom whose child is out-vocalizing her.

"It's ok," I said in a sing-song voice while caressing Kellen's legs and feet, keeping my eyes toward the blanket rather than the threading going on in my child's pretty face.

Really though?! It wasn't ok. This sucked.

Six stitches later I was able to pick Kellen up. At which point the crying stopped, and he pointed at the wagon. The only one traumatized apparently was me. Kellen was just mad he wasn't in the wagon. We did one more lap around the hall, got our discharge instructions, gave Kellen a hit of Motrin, and then we said good-bye.

I've never seen a kid more angry about leaving the hospital.

We stopped at Sonic on the way home since none of us had eaten.

The only upside? We all got to sleep until 9 this morning. Kellen hardly seems to notice that his face is sewn together.

I always said I needed good health insurance having a son. I just wasn't quite ready to deal with the stitches yet.

Fess Up Friday/Saturday

2010-06-05T09:26:00.003-06:00

It's kind of ironic that I'm posting this a day late.

Maintaining a virtual life is exhausting. Really. I was reading abdpbt's posts about blogging, and I realized that if I want to grow this blog (or any blog) beyond its current readership, I really need to work at it.

My fire blog has 30,000+hits, which I thought was awesome. But I'm realizing that it's pretty sad in the scheme of things. If I include that on a book proposal it's actually really low in terms of the numbers that some great bloggers are getting. This blog doesn't even come close to that one.

Growing a blog is a full-time job. It's not just about writing. It's about engaging other people on Twitter, developing relationships that extend beyond the very superficial. It's about reading a LOT of other blogs (have you read The Meanest Mom- FUNNY) and commenting. It's about creating a brand and staying true to that identity, even if it's only a snippet of your real life identity. It takes a lot of time to develop these networks so that you are bringing in traffic.

I'm exhausted just thinking about it!

The last month or so I decided I was tired of this, tired of trying to build readership. So I took a break. And then I felt guilty and wondered how my Twitter friends and ControverSunday group were doing. But in order to engage meaningfully online I had to disengage in real life. I have to rely on Cars and Finding Nemo to entertain my son. I have to turn down reading Truck books. While driving I have to focus my thoughts on being funny and writing posts in my head. And then I have to scramble for paper when I think I have an idea for a post. And the more I blog the less I seem to write otherwise, although I haven't been doing much of either recently.

I don't know where the balance is. Maybe it's accepting that my blog will be small. Or maybe it's devoting nap time to online activities.

How do you strike a balance between blogging and real life?

---
Got something to confess? Join us for Fess Up Friday!

Potty Training

2010-06-02T14:24:00.003-06:00

Is it wrong that I want to keep my kid in diapers forever? Or bad that I have dreaded this whole potty training thing since birth?

I did so good with the transition to a big boy bed and with eating and creating a secure little boy. But potty training?! I just want to close my eyes, plug my ears, and pretend that this isn't happening.

Oh, but it is.

Kellen has been showing signs of being ready for a while. And I try to remember to ask him about the potty regularly. I even bought stickers for him, which he gets if he goes in and sits on the potty (though soon this will have to be actually GOING potty because this morning he earned four stickers and still peed his pants and then the hardwood floor (several times).

Kellen loves big boy underwear, which I have to say are probably the cutest thing in the whole world. He still mostly pees his pants, but he always tells me as soon as he pees in his underwear that he has to go potty (it would be great if he could share this information BEFORE!).

I know I can't really take a half-hearted approach to this, even though I really want to. I figure that by the end of August, I'll be ready to take the plunge. Or maybe when he's 5.

Fess Up Friday

2010-05-28T09:44:00.003-06:00

This week's Fess Up Friday brought to you by my recent shopping trip to the Gap (not sponsored, just in case I needed to make that clear!).

Yesterday we were at the Gap. I needed a new pair of jeans as all of mine are now closing in on two years old and getting holes. (See also, downside to losing house and my love affair with socks) While the Gap goes in cycles with trendy clothes for women, they are almost always a good place to pick up some staple cotton shirts for men (not actual staples- wouldn't that be an interesting trend).

See, Dan likes t-shirts a lot. I prefer him in nice polo shirts (although I do have a "no-collared-shirts-in-bed" rule, but it's often broken). He is very attached to his t-shirts, probably one of the only thing he's attached to. The week before the fire I had pulled out a t-shirt of his that had major holes and told him that he better mourn its loss because it was being thrown away. The fire got it before I did. (To be fair to me, this shirt said, "If Found Lost or Unconscious, Please Contact: [and then had scribble].") One of the few things I was glad to be rid of was Dan's horrible t-shirts.

And then they had a donation drive, and wouldn't you know that we ended up with more damn old t-shirts. And with all the nice new clothes that Dan has, he'd rather wear the worn Cape Cod t-shirt with no significance to him than the soft cotton tee from the Gap.

So I have a new rule. Certain t-shirts are folded and placed onto a certain shelf. If they are on that shelf, they can be worn, but only inside our house. They are not for outside the house excursions. (And as you know, Dan drops his pants when he comes home, so it's really a fashion statement: old worn t-shirt with boxers. It's his version of Tom Cruise's Risky Business pose, only, you know, not.)

Got something to Confess? Blog about it. Link it up. Join the fun.

A mother's guide to trucks: Backhoe

2010-05-27T08:43:00.004-06:00

You would think that I would have learned the types of trucks at some point in my life, you know, maybe when they were moving dirt around to level our lot to start rebuilding our house. But I didn't. To me, all the trucks look alike. There is research that shows that individual ethnicities are able to identify subtle differences in facial structure better than those who aren't of that race. I kind of feel like that when it comes to trucks. "Yellow truck" applies to all versions of bulldozers, skid steers, caterpillars. "Big ass truck that could kill me" means all trucks on the road next to me that could swallow my tiny Prius. "Tractor" is all things with big wheels that belongs on a farm regardless of what's behind or in front of them.
And then I had a son.

I had no idea there were so many varieties of trucks. Seriously! There are large books devoted to various kinds of machinery, all of which look almost identical to me and whose sole purpose is to move dirt.

Sure, I can read. I point to the truck and read the label. But Kellen, my smart little 20 month old, can identify the trucks by just looking at them (because as much as I like the Your Baby Can Read DVDs, my child can, in fact, NOT read).

We'll be driving down the road and I'll here "gackhoe." And I'll look around at the lot of "yellow trucks" on the side of the road and be unable to identify which truck is which.

So this, my mommy friends (with boys) is the start of a series I like to call The Mother's Guide to Trucks so that you too can learn the correct words for trucks so that your one year old doesn't appear to be smarter than you:

This is a BACKHOE. I can't resist using the word to help me identify this dirt mover. You can remember this truck by the fact that she has junk in the front and in the trunk, not to mention that phallic display coming out the rear (and that nice erect exhaust pipe). She's a back ho.

More ugh

2010-05-24T20:30:00.002-06:00

Remember last week I posted about getting Kellen's cold? Well, it is now a sinus infection. I thought for sure I couldn't get one because of the antibiotics, but what I'm on doesn't work very well for sinus infections. It's been a special couple of days.

The good news is that my mom is in town, so I am looking forward to having help, meaning that there won't be dishes stacked up in the sink all week. I'm hoping to take her to the zoo, but seeing as it snowed on Saturday, I'm not planning too far in advance!

I know I haven't been good at blogging recently. I promise to get back on track. I'm trying to make some big changes, and I'm also trying to focus on getting healthy and being present in my non-virtual life.

What are your plans for the week? Any snow predicted near you?!

Ugh

2010-05-17T13:11:00.003-06:00

Gotta love daycare... giving my child cold's and everything. I had a tingle in my throat last night and woke up this morning in full chest cold, honey bring me a milkshake, status.

So instead of a post, I'm going to send you to some other blogs.

My friend, Monica, is writing a very touching series about her dear son Duncan who was born still a year ago. It is sad, but it is worth the read.

And then to cheer you up, head on over to Shitmykidsruined.com

And if you need a few more laughs, youdrivewhat.com, brought to you by the talented People of walmart folks.

I'm going to enjoy my milkshake and Netflix on demand... and maybe work on some major blog changes!

Fess Up Friday

2010-05-14T20:35:00.001-06:00

It's still Friday on the west coast. But I have to admit that I forgot it was Friday (confession #1). I do this often lately even though Kellen goes to daycare and I have appointments on certain days. I still never remember what day of the week it is.

Kellen woke up at 5:45 or something ungodly like that. I was supposed to be going back to sleep when my husband decided that he needed to come tell me the dog had puked (or pooped) bird seed up and down the stairs. First, gross. Secondly, do you think I needed to know that right at that second?! I love how we can't just handle the crisis at hand, that we must tell someone else about it to share in our misery. Thankfully I was able to fall back asleep on the couch. When I woke up at 8:30 I decided to forgo my coffee for the morning and nap when Kellen did. I put us both down early (around 10:30). Kellen got to take a rare nap with me :-)

At noon I got a phone call, looked at it, didn't recognize the number and hit "ignore." About three minutes later I remembered that I was supposed to have a doctor appointment today but didn't write down what time the appointment was for. I do phone appointments with my doctor in Seattle every other month and then visit him in person every four months. I couldn't believe that I ignored the doctor. I called my voicemail and was so annoyed by the inability to skip the messages that are a month old. I didn't have time to listen to old, need-to-be-deleted messages. Thankfully my doc gave me his cell phone number, and I got through.

The good news is that I felt like he listened to my concerns. We have a new plan, and if this doesn't work I'm moving to either injectibles or an IV by the summer. If I sound strangely happy about this, I am. While I am agreeable to the oral antibiotics, I really believe that I need something more powerful. And I am ready to get better damnit.

After Kellen woke up, we went to Starbucks. I didn't feel like making a pot of coffee at 1:00!! While in line I decided to get Kellen a strawberry and creme frapaccino thing (confession #2), which is way outside my comfort zone for foods a kid should eat. I decided that he was going to want some of what I got Dan and it was easier to get him his own. Thankfully he didn't drink the whole thing. And he got some milk in him, which isn't always easy to do. And I told Dan this was a RARE treat... and don't we all deserve a treat sometimes?!

Feeling guilty? Need to confess? Join us for Fess Up Friday (even if it's not Friday).
Megan

No one wants me

2010-05-12T20:15:00.005-06:00

I saw my neurologist today. She told me "no one wants Lyme disease." She was referring to doctors, though it is an appropriate statement on many levels. I've been trying to get in to see the infectious disease doctor here (I know that many in the Lyme community think that is a mistake, but it's mine to make, and I can decide how to proceed after meeting with him). The infectious disease society is the overriding medical body who makes Lyme recommendations for diagnosis and treatment.

When I call the receptionist at the ID doc's office (his name is Sky Blue, he he), however, she makes even getting into see him a nightmare. I have been trying to make an appointment for two months. *They* aren't sure he treats Lyme (uh, he should). *They* told me to get a referral. I did. *They* still weren't sure the doc could see me. *They* told me someone would call me after talking to him. *They* didn't. My neurologist said no doctor wants Lyme. I can understand.

Lyme disease is so full of controversy. On one side is the IDSA (infectious disease society of America- though don't let the "America" fool you; many other countries follow their guidelines). They posit that Lyme is an easily diagnosed and treated disease. They believe that even if you have late stage Lyme (which causes neurological problems and arthritis-like symptoms), it is treatable with four weeks of antibiotics.

On the other side is ILADS (international lyme and associated diseases society). They believe that Lyme is much more complex and is very difficult to diagnose and treat. They argue that many people with late stage lyme are "seronegative" (meaning their bloodwork for Lyme is negative). They also believe that the Lyme bacteria is present in several forms (spirochete, cyst, L-form). They believe in long-term, high dose antibiotic therapy (meaning a year or more). The IDSA maintains that there are no empirically sound studies showing that long-term antibiotics are more effective than a placebo. ILADS and associated organizations say that those studies haven't studied true long-term therapy (i.e. twelve weeks instead of a year or two).

There are many patients who believe that the IDSA is in bed with the insurance companies, denying treatment for chronic Lyme beyond the 28 day criteria. I find this argument to be a bit bogus considering insurance covers things like chemo without a grand conspiracy [this isn't to say I don't think there are legitimate problems with our insurance system!]. But I do think the IDSA has blinders on and seems unwilling to say that it's possible that they don't know. I think they should encourage more studies, more science rather than telling the other side (a very vocal side) to fuck off.

I fall somewhere in the middle. I believe in science. I believe in studies. I also believe in medicine that hasn't been proven. My dad's life was saved because of a clinical trial for recurrent lymphoma. The medicine did NOT get FDA approval. But it cured my dad. Above the science, above the controversy, I want to get better. I am 27, and I want to live a healthy life. While it might sound nice, sitting around my house while it gets messier and messier watching old Showtime television series isn't the way I like to spend my time. My bed and I have a relationship that is frankly a bit unhealthy (which reminds me I should probably wash my sheets a little more often). I want to write. I want to build brands. I want to engage. I don't want to curse my computer screen because it gives me double vision. Frankly I don't care about the ILADS/IDSA bullshit. I just want my life back.

Which means I have to care. I have to do a lot of research. I read a lot of journal articles and scientific papers (usually zoomed in to 200% or with the font on the internet increased). I try to make informed decisions. I come up with my own hypotheses. I'm pretty sure my doctors hate me because I have more theories than they do and seem maybe slightly crazy with a hint of medical OCD. My labs at the moment are fine. I look completely healthy on paper. Except I'm not.

And no one wants me. If the doctors treat without confirmed lab tests (which were supposed to be used for surveillance not diagnosis) they risk their medical licenses (google Dr. Jones). The doctors seem afraid of this as as a diagnosis (but are free to give me migraine meds without a confirmed lab workup!). To see my doctor in Seattle I had to sign a form that I understood this was an experimental treatment protocol. That doctor continues to treat me. And I probably shouldn't have gone on this expensive medical dead-end. But the problem is when things happen here (maybe unrelated to Lyme) I don't have anyone to go see, which makes me a thousand times more likely to go to the ER instead of just calling my primary care doc.

I know this is confusing. I tried to explain it as best I could, and I explained things as I see it (so if you disagree, this is how I view the controversy). If you have more questions, I can try my best to answer them.

Inside Voice... Quiet

2010-05-11T12:04:00.003-06:00

Yo Gabba Gabba and I have a love hate relationship. I have a hard time accepting Muno the giant penis with genital warts (and arms and eyes) as my son's role model. But then I remind myself he can't be too much worse than a talking guinea pig and may even be a cautionary tale way more effective than anything he'll learn in junior high.

What I do love about YGG is the singing (and dancing... because every kid needs to learn how to do the sprinkler). We've learned all kinds of great things like "Don't, don't, don't bite your friends" and "There's a party in my tummy (so yummy, so yummy)." The song that is most applicable at the moment is "Inside Voice, inside voice... quiet." Not that Kellen really understands what we're saying. (Sorry for no video link- couldn't find one.)

Kellen has NO concept of volume. He woke up at 6:20 this morning, and he sounded something like a baby pterodactyl until I finally went in to free him 20 minutes later. I'm actually really amazed by my ability to continue sleeping through that! We have had to stop eating out because Kellen has no volume control, and he likes to scream in short bursts throughout the meal (out of entertainment, not frustration). We tell him "shhhh" which he has now started copying, and he often screams in order to shush himself.

The real problem though is that I have a family who also has no concept of volume. Dan often talks to me as though I am an entire state away, even when I am standing right next to him. I am told I also do this, but I can't believe it's true because it drives.me.nuts! When my mom comes to visit, listening to her talk to her parents is a show in true one-ups-manship in the talking department, each of them elevating the other to a new level of loud. Dan likes Kellen's noises, so he is often loud with him. I just want it quiet for a few minutes so that I can collect my thoughts... usually just enough thoughts to write 300 words or so for the blog! Maybe I can start singing YGG songs to Dan. He is old enough to understand... right?! Inside voice, quiet. Inside voice, shhhhh. Outside voice, big and loud.

Fess Up Friday

2010-05-07T19:13:00.006-06:00

Sorry I'm so delinquent in getting my post up. I got to sleep in this morning and then had to rush off to get my hair cut. And then I had to wait for Dan to get home to take a picture, and it's finals week next week. So, late post!

Anyhow...

I'm cheating on my hair stylist. I feel guilty about this, really I do. The salon I was going to was so great after the fire. And they are really nice people. My hair stylist has a baby who is probably getting closer to one than I think. And I have a great gal who does facials. I love them.

But, they are a good 20 minutes away, which isn't so bad except that Kellen needs hair cuts every 4-6 weeks (his hair grows insanely fast) and I usually schedule them after me, and it's a big PITA to have Dan meet me at the place 20 minutes away when it's time for Kellen's cut. And I wouldn't even think of having Kellen come during my hair cut. There is a place down the street from us, seven minutes away. It's also an Aveda salon. And I can stop in there after I work out and get an appointment within 24-48 hours. That's how I plan these days. No more month out schedules. Just the next day or two.

And I also get bored. I like new hair stylists. They might see something new and try something that I haven't thought to do in the past. It makes hair more fun I guess.

But I still feel bad. I said this time I was going to go back to my old girl. And now I'm going to say that next time I will. I might not. It's not personal.

Here are my pictures:
BEFORE - I woke up with my crazy orphan Annie hair. If I knew how to actually style it this way as opposed to just waking up like this, I would try. But it's more of an accidental hairstyle.

AFTER:
And my other confession is that I hate hate hate how different my eyes look after the Bell's Palsy. I know to most people it's a really minor thing, but it really bothers me. My eyes used to be open equally, and now one is much smaller. I also have some vision problems in that eye that have made computer usage difficult recently. It has taken so much for me to accept that my face is different and not see those differences every time I look in the mirror. (It actually isn't as pronounced if I'm not smiling. There's an awesome choice.) It's just a bummer.

Got something to confess? Join me in Fess Up Friday.
Life After the Fire
Megan via Now You're in the World
Perpetua

ControverSunday: Gateway Beverage

2010-05-05T13:33:00.007-06:00

I thought I'd combine free week and food into one, very late, mid-week ControverSunday.

I've about had it hearing about the evils of juice. Seriously folks, we're talking about apples and oranges (literally) and those sugars that have so arrogantly sneaked their way into the pulpy, fleshy, interior during the growing season. Those sugars that then get squeezed down into juice and filled up into a container that is smacked with a label that says "No Added Sugar" (and for some reads "Sugar-free," which in my opinion is a reading comprehension issue and totally not the juice's fault).

Let's be clear. I'm talking about real juice here. The kind that comes from apples and oranges and grapes and yes, even carrots. Not included would be the faux juices that contain things like "Orange flavoring" and "yellow #5." And in place of that natural sugar, my favorite, high fructose corn syrup. Apparently the orange just wasn't ~~subsidized~~ sweet enough.

I'm talking about juice whose only ingredient is "oranges."

My pediatrician warns me about giving my child more than FOUR ounces of juice a day. It's ok. I don't listen. My child is happily in the 50th percentile of weight, juice or no juice. I water it down. He loves juice. So do I. But he also drinks water. Not usually milk. I don't either.

I've been thinking a lot about this childhood problem lately (mostly because I made a big deal about it on my mommy forum because the Lyme has removed any nice filter I may have once had). What exactly is the big deal with a little juice? So what if your kid gets his or her daily nutrients from a big ole glass of V8?

And then I figured it out. Juice is like the marijuana of childhood. Juice is the gateway beverage, a healthy sugar-filled sippy cup of obesity waiting to happen. It's not the juice that does it (or at least not the first glass). It's all the sugar that your child will inevitably crave because they got a taste of sweet. Parents beware. First it's orange juice. Then it's grape soda (because it says "grape"- it's like juice right?!). Then it's coke. And then it's a Big Gulp. Then a pony keg with kids doing juice stands. All the way to 300 pounds (at ten).

Ok, so it's not juice. Right. This whole thing is RIDICULOUS! It's moderation. And consistent healthy eating. It's variety. And leafy things. Even butter. Real food. Not things that come in boxes. Four/eight ounces of juice isn't our obesity problem (maybe it's formula ;-) ). It's McDonald's every night. And Stouffers. And Mac and Cheese from a box with powdered cheese. Perspective.

And for god's sake, leave me alone about the juice. I need it to add to the Vodka.

Things you learn at 1:38 a.m.

2010-05-04T12:16:00.003-06:00

I should be napping. The title should explain why. But I had coffee, so more than likely I won't nap.

I learned something very important last night.

"Daddy" means all males.

"Mom" means all females.

And "grandpa" means all men with gray hair.

There's a way to have your ego squashed just when you get really excited that your nineteen month old has FINALLY started calling you mom. Because my kid thought that counting to three and saying "thank you" and "grandpa" were way more important than being able to get the attention of the person who feeds you (because we all know that saying "mom" is the only way to get attention. "Screaming doesn't get us what we want.")

I also learned a lot about high school student union elections and Michael Moore, but that is a whole different issue!

Consignment Digs

2010-05-01T19:19:00.006-06:00

This is what $200 will get you!

A summer's worth of size 7 shoes (2 pairs aren't pictured because Kellen has already gone "out-ide" with them)

A race track that has already provided countless hours of entertainment:

$40 to save my sanity. Velcro on the train tracks=brilliant!

A diner. I forgot for a minute that I had a son who only likes things with wheels.

And a leash :-)

Fess Up Friday

2010-04-30T11:32:00.003-06:00

First things first. I'm hoping to write more this week.

Then, I bought Kellen a monkey leash at the consignment sale. I almost bought the puppy leash... more on that tomorrow when I write about our great consignment finds.

Ok...

I taught my kid to say "Fuck" today.

It was an accident. Really. But I knew it was coming.

I am firmly in the camp that believes that cuss words have significant meaning and power in our language and that they are appropriate in many circumstances (not that I don't admit to abusing these words *on occasion*). I will teach Kellen that they have a time and place (and that time is probably not at school or in the presence of other parents!). But I won't reserve these words just for adults either. For Kellen, "fuck" is no more of a word than "applesauce" or "outside." It's an expression, one that mommy uses when an old man nearly runs her off an overpass. "Shit" is a word mommy uses when the radiologist doesn't tell her that she's sticking her with another IV needle. There just aren't other words that express my feelings better.

For now, I just try to limit the parroting so that my child doesn't walk around telling the cashier at the grocery store "oh shit" when he drops the cantaloupe.

Got something to confess? Join us for Fess Up Friday!

Hi

2010-04-27T13:43:00.002-06:00

I'm a bad blogger this week. Dizzy is bad. And all my tests are normal. Good? Yes. But I'm still dizzy.

I've been doing home decor stuff. I finally got some frames for Kellen's first birthday pics. I'm only seven months behind!! I also bought a giant frame for all the fire photos. Speaking of photos, I REALLY need to print off photos from the last six months.

Yesterday I worked on Kellen's bedroom. It's almost done. Stay tuned for the unveiling.

I hate my master bedroom and am looking for some design ideas. So question of the week, what's your master color scheme?

Fess Up Friday

2010-04-23T20:14:00.003-06:00

This is going to be quick... mostly because I have a ton of stuff to get ready for the consignment sale. I was hoping to get my stuff dropped off today (whoops. Oh well, Confession #1).

Here goes:

I'm getting Kellen a leash backpack. Yep. I'm that mom. It's either that or dealing with the repercussions of a child who runs out into the middle of the mall when mommy is shopping at Gymboree and blindly believes that the child is watching Yo Gabba Gabba (have I told you how I think that Muno looks like a giant one-eyed penis with genital warts?). Last weekend he was halfway to the zoo when we realized that he has no attachment to us and will keep running. So the kid gets a leash. Judge all you want. I'm hoping this gets us to at least age 2 (at which point there will be another child crisis that threatens his safety).

That's it. Confess away bloggy friends!
Perpetua

Magnetic Poetry Wednesday

2010-04-21T08:12:00.001-06:00

I finally got my magnetic poetry set out. It's specific for moms and kids. Here are the highlights from this week:

Toddlers

new experience is difficult
pushing to know
& grow
pure joy can be funny
proud and wise

Motherhood

screaming into the blankets
coffee every morning
quietly embarrassed
born

ControverSunday: On having a boy

2010-04-18T07:21:00.003-06:00

This week's topic, hosted by Perpetua: Does gender matter?

--

I've taken psych classes. I know all about the gender studies. The one that stands out most for me is the study about how adults treat different-gendered infants and that what we assume is biology may, in fact, still be to a large extent environment. (I would post a video or at least a link to the study if I knew what it was... and unfortunately all my psych notes and books burned in the fire.)

I still call Bullshit on gender studies showing that men and women aren't biologically different and that it is an imposed gender construct that makes them different.

First, I believe that gender roles are well established throughout history. While there may be a few examples of women who defied traditional female roles, most hunters, fighters, gladiators were men. There were no psychology textbooks or "experts" qualifying the environment and behavior of adults. Granted, there was an expectation of roles and there were vastly different opportunities available for men and women. But I still believe there was a reason for the gender roles in the first place, and that is the innate differences in biology.

Second, I have studied gender extensively, and I would cite a lot of research if I had any of it left (for those working on a thesis or dissertation, imagine what would happen if all of your research burned up... kind of makes you want to cry!). Men and women are biologically different without any environmental influences. Men have more testosterone. Women have more estrogen. Women have babies. Men get prescribed pain pills for a cough (there's a reason for this, eh?). There are studies showing that an ideal learning environment for boys is different than that of girls, which may explain the educational gender gap (if you think that girls are lost in the educational system, I challenge you to rethink that position). Boys are more likely to be referred for behavioral challenges. They are more likely to fall behind in reading, which is the foundation of learning. Yes, they are more likely to excel in math, but I think that there is a large subset who do not succeed in school at all. I was a tutor. Nearly all of my students were boys. I also worked as a teacher in a classroom with kids who had emotional and behavior disabilities... mostly boys. There is some research that suggests that the optimal temperature for boys to learn is a few degrees lower than girls. Most teachers are... women! Full disclosure: I went to a women's college for two years. I believe strongly in single sex education (but there aren't boys schools here for Kellen, so I look for active learning environments which are known to be better suited for boys).

Since having a child... A BOY... I believe even more in the biological differences of boys and girls (but you also tend to find what you are looking for, right?!). Kellen likes to go to an indoor playground nearby. They have a train and car section and a doll section (as well as blocks, books, coloring, and a jungle gym). Where is my kid? At the train table. Who is in with the dolls? Girls. I tried to give Kellen a Cabbage Patch Doll the other day, and he wanted nothing to do with it. (I thought it couldn't hurt to ingrain some nurturing right? I mean, I do want him to take care of me when I'm old...) He loves to make noises. Before anything had a label, it had a sound. He loves to throw rocks and dirt. (He also loves to throw himself on the floor, but something tells me that is toddlerhood not being a boy, although I catch my husband trying to engage in this behavior as well.)

I also notice differences being married. Apparently there is a gene that makes men predisposed to forgetting to flush. And maybe one for leaving open cabinet doors. There is certainly a gender difference in one's need to drop one's pants the minute one walks in the house. And I won't even get into the gender differences with sex.

Do I believe that some gender differences are environmental? Sure. But I think that our environment reinforces the innate differences between boys and girls.

--

Hop on over to Perpetua and grab the badge by Accidentsss and join in the controversy. Opinions are good for the soul.

MS and Lyme

2010-04-17T17:48:00.002-06:00

This morning was the MS Walk. We were walking for our friend Christina, whose attitude about chronic disease is an inspiration. It comes at an interesting time for me.

Monday I am having an MRI and spinal tap to rule out MS as well as look for Lyme in my central nervous system (which would be present in my spinal fluid). My neurologist is still not convinced of the Lyme diagnosis because my positives are confusing. In order to start IV antibiotics locally, I need the PCR to come back positive. I know I respond to antibiotics, but my neurologic stuff is still stubborn. I also want to make sure there isn't co-morbidity with something else (like MS or intracranial pressure).

I was going to write about proverbial "spoons", but mine are all but used up for the day. Off to watch a movie or something (and eat my coconut milk ice cream!).

If you want more to read, this is an interesting post about the differences between Lyme and MS (because the symptoms do overlap a bit).

Fess Up Friday

2010-04-16T07:37:00.004-06:00

Welcome to Fess Up Friday. It's like an online weekly confessional.

Oh I am such a bad mom.

Kellen burned his hand on my flat iron on Tuesday. I'd like to blame him. I really, really would. I'd also like to blame him for the time he launched himself off the countertop at my mom's onto the marble floor when I was just trying to finish putting on mascara for their New Year's party. But I guess I AM the parent in this relationship and have to take *some* responsibility for this tragedy (and oh, it is a tragedy). We were going to a playdate, and while I am more than happy normally to wear a ponytail with some fringe hair on the bottom, I know it's not my *best* look. I'm working on doing something with it (but man it sucks having thick, wavy hair that you actually have to DO). I had finished blowing it out, and Kellen wanted up (shocker!). I put him on the countertop (where I was much better about holding him than in the accident above). I even put some makeup on him. (He wanted it. He wanted it.) In fact my confession this week WAS going to be about wanting a girl and using my child's porcelain face as my feminine canvas. (kidding. Kind of.) I was in the middle of wetting Kellen's hair so that I could hairspray the curls to make all the girls in play group swoon. (I know his cuteness is all in the hair. Gotta play up your assets, ya know?! Even at 18 months.) I had left him sitting on the countertop (yikes) and moved a foot to his left when he reached for something and put his hand into the flat iron to catch himself. In my defense (your honor) the flat iron was OFF and pushed to the back of the countertop. I actually didn't even realize it was hot still and didn't pull his hand out fast enough. I'm sure he'll have scars. It will be the first of many things he can blame me for.

It's actually a pretty bad burn. And I did ALL the wrong things. Like barely running it under cold water (we were in a hurry, ok?). And then I put on greasy Neosporin (it says to use on burns). And then I didn't put anything over it, and the darn kid picked the blister on the way to play group. Oops. Even worse?! I didn't even realize he had a second burn for nearly three hours. I'm going to burn in hell while mothers all around me ignore my burning flesh.

It's better now though. We have wrapped it in gauze, and I am now putting Neosporin on it, now that the heat has dissipated.

One more confession? The *worst* part about this is that *I* don't get to play outside in this gorgeous weather because I don't want him to get dirt in it. It's his fault, right?!

Got something to confess? Post it on your blog and leave me a comment. I'll link you up. You'll be forgiven. It's like Catholic school. Only without the plaid skirt.

Wednesday Thoughts

2010-04-14T20:34:00.003-06:00

Just stopping in to say:

I'm pretty sure you shouldn't have children who require sippy cups with 8 million parts when your weekly sock orphan pile looks like this:

Meal Plan Monday

2010-04-12T14:38:00.004-06:00

Dan and I have been so good about eating in! And I've been taking pictures. The only thing I've yet to do is set up a blog with a link here for my meals so that I can add recipes through the week. Here are this week's highlights:

Pollo Cheestoso (or Cheesy Chicken)

Instead of chicken enchiladas this week, which are super yummy too, I decided to make some Pollo Cheestoso, which is my take on my favorite meal at our local Mexican restaurant. They add in roasted potatoes, which also tastes awesome. I just wasn't up to waiting for the potatoes to be done.

3 chicken breasts
A half block or so of Sharp Cheddar
Old El Paso enchilada sauce.

Cook chicken until browned
Add in cheese and enchilada sauce until cheese is melted
Eat. Can be put into tortillas or eaten alone.

Hamburgers with roasted potatoes

How about that for a picture, huh?!

I got the hamburger recipe out of the Barefoot Contessa At Home. She used blue cheese. We used cheddar.

One pound lean ground beef (grass fed preferred)
1 TBSP Steak Sauce
2 egg yolks
Salt and pepper
Potato Buns
Lettuce and Tomato

Mix the meat, steak sauce, egg yolks, salt, and pepper with the tines of a fork, careful not to mash.
Carefully form hamburger patties. (She says to add a thin pat of butter, encasing the meat around it, but I found that the meat kind of fell apart that way.)

Roasted Potatoes- I make these all the time, and you can do lots of variations

5 or 6 red potatoes, washed, chopped into small chunks
Olive oil
salt
pepper
rosemary
fresh lemon juice

Mix together and bake at 400 degrees for 30ish minutes (check regularly to test for doneness. Occasionally turn with spatula to prevent burning.

Lasagna

This is the best lasagna recipe I think there is. It is based on the recipe from the Bride and Groom Cookbook, but I've changed it a bit.

2 pounds lean ground beef (or turkey)
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
2 large jars marinara sauce

Brown the ground beef in a saute pan (adding in salt and pepper).
Add the marinara sauce once meat is done.
Refrigerate. (I learned this by mistake this week. You can do a lot more spreading with it chilled.)

1 pound part-skim ricotta
1 pound cream cheese (if you can get it from a local bagel shop, even better)
1 cup Parmesan

Combine and set aside.

Cover the bottom of a 9x13 pan with the meat sauce. Spread cheese sauce over meat (this is where you will be glad you chilled the meat). Layer lasagna noodles (I use whole wheat noodles). Do the meat, cheese, noodles again. Put meat sauce on top of the noodles. Tear up basil and layer on top of meat. Shred mozzarella cheese and sprinkle on top.

Cover with aluminum foil. Bake for 30 minutes at 375. Remove foil. Bake for another 10-15 minutes until brown. Cool before serving. (This is even better the next day!)

And my favorite new recipe:
Lemon Cake

This is from the Barefoot Contessa, and was a HUGE hit. Dan has added it to the must have list.
It's pictured here with bran muffins, which were ok.

Combine 1 1/2 cups flour, 2 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp salt.

Whisk together 1 cup whole-milk plain yogurt, 1 cup sugar, 3 eggs, 2 tsp lemon zest, and 1/2 tsp vanilla.

Whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ones.

Fold 1/2 cup vegetable oil into the batter with a rubber spatula until incorporated.

Pour into standard bread pan. Bake for 50 minutes at 350.

Melt 1/3 cup fresh lemon juice with 1/3 cup sugar in small saucepan until sugar dissolves.

When bread is done, take out of oven and place on wire cooling rack. Drizzle lemon-sugar mixture over allowing it to absorb into bread.

Combine 1 cup confectioner's sugar with 2 TBSP fresh lemon juice. When bread fully cooled, drizzle over bread. Eat.

Make more.

This week:
Leftover Lasagna
Pot Roast made with Lipton's French Onion mix
Roasted Chicken with potatoes and carrots
Margarita Pork Chops

ControverSunday: Pacify

2010-04-11T07:41:00.007-06:00

ControverSunday: A weekly blog thing hosted by Perpetua with a lovely badge designed by Accidentsss (see sidebar) where intelligent women (and men I suppose) engage in civil discourse about controversial topics (usually related to motherhood).

- - -

By our tenth ultrasound I knew we were in trouble (I'm not sure the exact count, but it was somewhere close to or in the double digits).

In every ultrasound we had since he was big enough to tell he was a person and not a large misplaced black bean his hands were in his mouth. It's cute when they're all cuddled up inside you sucking their thumb. But I knew that his behavior wouldn't change once he was outside. And I certainly wasn't planning on having my boob in his mouth 24 hours a day (I had a house to rebuild and contractors to hang out with... and well, I'm all for supporting breastfeeding in public, but you have to know your audience, and I wasn't all that interested in being oogled while I nursed).So we stocked up on pacifiers. Someone donated a bunch of latex ones, which stressed me out since I know that latex allergies are becoming more common. So we bought Soothies, which looked cute and seemed developmentally appropriate for my unborn son:But I had also read the breastfeeding propaganda and been fully indoctrinated into the "pacifiers will harm your breastfeeding relationship" mantra. I wrote on my birth plan "no pacifiers" and stored ours away for at least two weeks until I was certain that our wonderful, loving, boob-in-mouth experience was protected.

That lasted until night #2 at home when said child was SCREAMING his head off at 3 in the morning. Dan and I were taking shifts so that someone could stay up and watch him breathe, but neither of us could sleep with the screaming. I had already fed him and just needed sleep. So I stumbled around in the kitchen looking for the "damn pacifier now." It worked.

Doesn't he look happy? (He was.)

Kellen uses the pacifier every night and sometimes in the car. He usually spits it out soon after he falls asleep, though sometimes he wakes up to find it.

I know people who think that once children are old enough to walk and talk they shouldn't use a pacifier (Hi Beth!). But they get to have that opinion because their kid rejected the pacifier or gave it up on their own. Kellen loves his pacifier (which is why they are all kept above eye level except for the stash that Kellen seems to be making somewhere in the house- I've yet to find it!). He also loves his stuffed dog.

His blue crocheted dog is under his arm, pacifier in mouth, decidedly not in his bed.

I don't believe in giving my child a pacifier throughout the day. I think it hampers language development, though when he says "thank you" with a paci in his mouth, it looks pretty darn cute. I have had to repeatedly ask daycare not to give him a pacifier during the day (when I've just dropped in to drop something off or when they've shown me a picture of him working on an art project). He needs it for sleep. And I can't promise you that I've never judged a mom whose near-kindergartener is still walking around on the playground with a pacifier.

At some point (I think around 2 or 2.5), it becomes the parent's responsibility to set boundaries for their kid for what is developmentally appropriate. It would be great to say, "hey, if it works for your kid, awesome." But at some point, that kid can't use a pacifier. Say college graduation? And if your child is still using the bink at 4, methinks that he or she isn't giving it up without a fight. Or a visit from the paci fairy (who will be visiting our house when the time is right). But 18 months? I think it's still developmentally appropriate to need the pacifier to sleep, even if he is sleeping in a toddler bed.

Fess Up Friday

2010-04-09T08:21:00.006-06:00

It's Fess Up Friday! That means it's time to share your deep, dark secrets of the week. Or make me laugh. It's good if you can do both :-)

I was going to tell you what a rockin' mom I was, that even though Kellen and I watch more than our fair share of ~~Real Housewives of [insert elite city here]~~ Disney movies and Baby Einstein, I am still a kick ass mom. I mean, my kid melts down at the store, and I calmly tell him that we're leaving or staying or whatever and that he can throw a fit but that he needs to come with me. I'm proud of that.

But then I decided I was going to write about how I couldn't cancel cable but that we did reduce our channel load significantly. With great reluctance I gave up Bill Maher and HBO. I don't even think I can get that on Hulu. And we gave up Sprout and Dragon Tales (good thing I have a million recorded). I've been reduced to watching Housewives while I try to nap.

But instead I am going to write about how much I suck as a writer. I mean I know I'm sick and need to give myself a break. But really, how much energy does it take to write? I can sit on the loveseat in my bedroom and write. Kellen can play with his trucks and truck books. I know I have the time. I have watched five seasons of The Office in the last month (and will only quietly admit started the series all over again and am in season three again). And the number of pages I've written? Not enough. Especially since I've spoken with an agent and she's asked to see three chapters and an outline. And I'm taking a writing class and have paid for a freelance editor (someone I trust greatly). That's a lot of commitment for someone who spends her free time playing Spider Solitaire. And then there's the whole bit about writing something and feeling utterly disappointed in it. Good thing for second and third and fourth drafts. I OBSESS over structure and story arcs and inciting incidents and... I read about all these elements of craft (rather than read any one of the great books sitting by my bedside). And yet I don't just put my fingers on the keyboard and WRITE. I'm going to do it... really I am. Just one more game of Spider Solitaire. Ok?

Leave a comment to your Friday 'Fessions and I'll link you up. One day I'll have a graphic too. Until then, well, you just get boring text.

Megan
Perpetua
Ginger @ Ramble Ramble (who has a cool new graphic)
Accidents

Lyme Disease- Treatment

2010-04-06T09:36:00.003-06:00

I am sitting at the ER. I have had a headache since Thursday with pain behind my eyes. It feels like my skull is trying to break through my eyes and nose and ears. I wish it were sinus related. But it's not.

The reason I'm at the ER is twofold. I want to make sure that I don't have spinal fluid building up in my head. The second reason is more complicated. I was hoping maybe I could switch back to being treated here by my neurologist, who is covered by insurance. My Lyme doctor isn't. She wanted to treat me with IV antibiotics. My Lyme doc thinks that orals are the first line treatment.

You see, Lyme disease is rife with controversy. Does it exist in the numbers that the International Lyme Disease Association says? Are the current tests sensitive enough for diagnosis? Does Lyme seroconvert in the blood like other infectious diseases? Is it easily treatable? Will three weeks (and maybe six weeks) of oral doxycycline treat all forms of Lyme, even if it's late stage, which mine is? Will four weeks of IV rocephin treat neurologic Lyme?

I have Lyme, but my diagnosis is still suspect. When I saw my neurologist in September, part of my Lyme test was positive, the other negative. When I went back for bloodwork,the negative part was now positive. But the positive was negative. Confused? My neurologist wasn't convinced that I have active Lyme disease though I am symptomatic, and my tests prove that I have been exposed to Lyme (and my first test indicated active Lyme).

So I went to Seattle. I tried Levaquin, but it can cause joint inflammation, so any sign of joint pain and they stop treatment (joint pain is common in Lyme). Then I was put on Rifampin, which I have stayed on for months. It treats a secondary infection that is thought to occur often with Lyme disease. It resolved the shooting electric pains in my arms. I was put on Amoxicillin, which I've been on for months as well. Then I tried Minocycline for Lyme. It caused me to walk sideways. I already was dizzy. I didn't need to have sea-sick vertigo as well. Then I tried Biaxin. I broke out in hives. I tried Doxy. It caused heartburn that radiated to the base of my skull. But the doxy DID work. I switched to Zithromax, and all of my symptoms returned. So I'm back on Doxy and taking Nexium to combat the heartburn. The problem is I'm not getting better like I did before.

What's next? IV drugs. Insurance will pay for one month. It often takes more. A PICC line. Daily infusion. I was hoping to get treated from someone locally. But it looks like the doctors here don't want to touch this. When I get home, I will call my doctor in Seattle and wait. And if this doesn't work, I am flying to the Northeast where this stuff is treated often and where it costs a lot of money to see the top docs. I am ready to be healthy. Six months with little improvement is just not acceptable to me.

Meal Plan Monday

2010-04-05T08:02:00.003-06:00

Dan and I are really trying to stick to a budget, which means actually eating the food we buy. I need some sort of monetary punishment for throwing away food that I meant to eat but never got around to.

This is a picture of the really yummy orange chicken that we had a week ago. I wish I had the recipe, but I don't remember what we put in it at the dinner prep place.

I did remember the marinade for soy ginger chicken (which I happened to get at another meal prep place a couple of years ago). I made a batch of that this week, which has been great for making salads for lunch.

Soy Ginger Chicken (I'll add to the Meal Planning page (which honestly I might need to expand to a different blog site so that you can browse by food)).

Chicken Breasts (I used 6)
2 TBSP Vegetable Oil*
2 TBSP Low sodium soy sauce*
1/2 lime
1 TBSP ginger*

* approximations- I do a lot of pouring and saying, "eh, that looks about right"

Put chicken into freezer ziploc bag. Pour in oil and soy sauce. Squeeze lime juice into bag. Put in ginger. Close bag. Mix around to distribute marinade. Cook on grill (out of the plastic bag, but please tell me that was understood!).

This week's menu:
Monday- Leftover pot roast
Tuesday - Girl's night, not sure
Wednesday - Lasagna BEST RECIPE EVER, the trick is mixing cream cheese into the ricotta cheese.
Thursday - Chicken tortilla soup
Friday - Chicken enchiladas

And to add in a little extra. My current breakfast of choice is an egg white omelet with spinach, tomato, and avocado with a little bit of high quality salt. I just finished, and it is so yummy :-)

ControverSunday

2010-04-04T07:28:00.005-06:00

This week is being hosted by Amoment2Think and is a topic from the Archives, which is great, since I started late.

VACCINES.

I know there are a lot of you who won't agree with me. And I know there are some friends of mine who won't be all that thrilled with this post. But too bad.

I believe that the current system of mandatory vaccinations is OUT OF CONTROL.

Hep B, at birth?! I get that it's a very serious disease, but birth? My child isn't engaging in sexually promiscuous behaviors (God, I hope not) or sharing needles on the playground. I understand that it's because of possible maternal transmission, but I'm not at risk. And for all the hype about how vaccines are for the whole, this one makes no sense to me. Kellen will one day be vaccinated for Hepatitis, just not as a two hour old.

We (and by that I mean I told my husband) very carefully selected the ordering of the vaccinations. We even paid for EXTRA doctor visits to get his shots in because I couldn't justify giving my child six shots at once. Sure, for most kids it's no big deal. But for some, it IS. Four days after I got my flu shot, my face became paralyzed. While I don't believe it was THE cause, I do not leave room for the shot having contributed. There are stories of children who end up with lifelong seizure disorders. If your child is harmed by the mandatory vaccination program, the government has a program to compensate you. I'd rather not go down that path, if that's ok with you.

I didn't vaccinate my kid against Rotavirus. We live in the FIRST world where clean water is abundant and where giving a dehydrated child an IV is easy and accessible. Not to mention that I have a HUGE problem with the fact that the guy who developed the vaccine was a former advisor to the CDC on childhood immunizations, effectively recommending a vaccination that he had a huge stake in selling. (Kellen did get Rotavirus (ya know, the virus), and it wasn't a very big deal.)

Kellen had swine flu. He was sick for a day.

I am glad for vaccines. Really, I am. But I also know that viruses and bacteria are incredible living entities, and we will not eradicate disease through them. We will only change disease. And I find that immunity is a good thing. Kellen getting sick is helping make him healthier. I believe that firmly.

So while I'm glad he doesn't have to worry about things like Polio, I also take my responsibilities as a parent and health care consumer very seriously. Other than Hep B and Rotavirus, Kellen still hasn't had the MMR or Chicken Pox. He will get MMR at 2. I'm not sure about Chicken Pox. I had it as a child and had two pox. I also know people who had to expose their kids over and over and over again. Not every person gets sick (a fallacy in our modern beliefs).

The number of vaccinations has only continued to increase. I can only imagine what it will be like in 20 or 30 years. And yet I doubt any of us will be healthier for it.

My Lyme Story - Part Two

2010-04-03T07:45:00.001-06:00

Part One

Everyday I feel like I am going to die.

It's pretty difficult to sleep at night when you are afraid that you won't wake up in the morning, leaving your 18 month old motherless. And in the *capable* hands of your husband who, when it's his night to make dinner, relies on boxed Mac and Cheese. Without me he'd probably revert back to Kraft, leaving organic Annie's behind.

Neurologic disorders are their own beast, I think. The symptoms are literally all in your head, and yet you feel them everywhere. My feet tingle. Sometimes I can't stand the feeling of pants on my legs because my nerves are hyper sensitive. My hands go completely numb some nights. Just a minute ago I was pretty sure that my tongue had stopped working and that maybe I was having a crazy allergic reaction. When I touch the skin of another person, sometimes it feels like it's burning.

I've been to the ER too many times this last year. At first it was chest pain, which was treated with Ativan. Turns out I have chest wall inflammation. Advil was much more helpful than the anxiety drugs, but I'm a woman so must be crazy. Then I went to a doctor for what felt like the flu in the height of the swine flu outbreak. She listened to my heart, which had become tachycardic. She thought I was having a thyroid storm. Nope. Just Lyme disease. (It would have been helpful to know it was Lyme then.)

Lyme is also extra special because it causes psychiatric changes. Remember IRENE from the Real World? Don't you wish you were my husband? I swing between uncontrollable anger to lying on the floor thinking about death. Suicide is actually the leading cause of death for people with Lyme. When I was first diagnosed and reading about the disease, I couldn't figure out why there were links to suicide prevention lines. I get it now.

And then there's the memory deficits. I've always had a really sharp memory. My mom hates me for it. Pray that your children don't remember every phrase you ever uttered to them! I'm also a word freak and can kick some serious Scrabble ass. But now, I have trouble remembering the word for "countertop" (yep, happened the other day). I don't know how to spell things. And I often just stop in the middle of a conversation unsure of what we were talking about or what I was saying or what I want to say next.

My stomach hurts. My knees ache. I lose my sense of taste sometimes. I can't sleep, and yet I'm profoundly exhausted. I get night sweats. Bright lights bother me. And low lights bother me even more. I feel jittery and can't sit still. But I'm too tired and sore to move. And I constantly feel like I've just gotten off a Tilt-A-Whirl, that's how dizzy I am.

This is my life. I don't tell you this for sympathy. I tell you it because it's real. And frankly it scares the shit out of me.

Update to Appointment

2010-04-02T13:38:00.001-06:00

As soon as I started listing Kellen's phrases versus "words" I knew that I was paranoid over nothing. I mean the whole "mama" thing sucks, especially when all the kids at daycare call me "mama" when I pick Kellen up... except my own kid.

They also gave me an Autism screen when we got there. I've worked with kids with autism, and I wasn't worried about Kellen. Though I did mark yes on "Does your child ever stare at nothing or wander around for seemingly no apparent reason?" I told the doc, "And so do I." She laughed. It's a dumb question.

At our fifteen month appointment, Kellen was so mad about having to get off the elevator, he didn't do anything for the doctor to show off his skills. And then I told her that he played by himself at the Little Gym, so that didn't help. He still plays by himself, but he likes the beam and inspecting the way the bars are constructed.

But today he was a little charmer, saying "Thank you" when she gave him his book and showing her his muscles and opening his mouth so she could look inside.

The bummer of the appointment was finding out that he still has fluid in one ear, which means that tubes are probably in our future at some point. If he doesn't get another cold this year, it will probably be put off until next year, but I imagine that we will be enduring the same ear infection crap next year (and we'll have to wait until he has 3 or 4, so maybe it's just better to get it done now).

He also has to have nut surgery on the 20th, which I am really scared about. Who wants their kid to have to be put under with anesthesia? Not me!

18 months. Kid is doing great!

Fess Up Friday

2010-04-02T07:21:00.006-06:00

We like this name better than Friday 'Fessions? If you want to participate, post your own Friday Confessions on your blog and I'll link back. K?

* I think the week of diarrhea is over, though I think my carpet is ruined forever.

* I am HORRIBLE at budgeting. Seriously, horrible. But Dan and I have to figure out a budget and stick to it, the latter being the most challenging. It's been really hard reverting back to "normal" spending after the fire and replacing a hundred thousand dollars worth of stuff (don't think you own that much... I bet you do!).

* Kellen's 18 month appointment is this morning, and I'm a little scared. Kellen still doesn't say "mom" and "dad" appropriately. He'll say it if you ask him to, but he definitely doesn't call me mom. He also doesn't label much, though he counts and says a myriad of phrases. He's always developed a little differently than other kids (as far as doing something a little more advanced before doing something a little easier). I'm really not that worried about him, but hearing a doctor tell me he's fine will be nice.

* I am not funny this week, at all. My head hurts and my stomach hurts but yet I'm starving and I haven't had any coffee and it's Easter but I have no energy to do anything for it. Instead you'll have to deal with plain ole' me! (If you are looking for funny, head over to blogdangerously. She's talking about vibrators this week!)

So let's here em. What do you need to fess up to this week?

Amoment2think needs atonement.

Perpetua might make you a little jealous. But that's ok cuz then you can blog about it!

Megan wants to whine, but that's ok. That's what we're here for!

Cookies

2010-04-01T14:24:00.003-06:00

What do you do when you don't feel good? Bake chocolate chip cookies!

Do you guys know Bakerella? If not, you should. I used her cookie recipe, and they were delicious!

Potty training, seriously?!

2010-03-31T09:12:00.003-06:00

I didn't think boys were supposed to be ready to potty train, well, until they were ready to go to college. I'm pretty sure I'm still working on fully training my husband about proper wiping and aim technique.

And yet, here I am, with a barely 18 month old who is now holding his pee all day. It all started last Thursday. I picked Kellen up from daycare (because on Thursdays, Mommy is busy building her brand).

"He was dry when we changed him," they said. They change him every two hours, which has always seemed a little overkill to me, but I also don't like to waste disposables, mostly for environmental reasons.

DRY?! We got home and I gave the kid "jew" and "k", pumping him full of all the liquids I could get him to drink (as opposed to spit out because apparently that game is just SO FUN). He didn't pee before bed, but that diaper was SOAKED come morning.

"Just a fluke," I said. And I knew he wasn't dehydrated. We went to the indoor playground (which has couches for moms!) so Kellen could play trains all morning. I put him in the car, knowing he would likely fall asleep for his nap on the way home. "Oh shit I need to change you," I said, unbuckling him. DRY! The damn diaper was dry (and so not worth the power struggle that ensued to get him BACK into his car seat). Nap time came and went, and again, soaked diaper.

Of course my first thought was that something was wrong, he was holding it because it hurt. But it didn't seem to hurt him at night, so that didn't really make sense. Thankfully I know a wonderful group of moms who suggested that maybe he was ready to be potty trained. WHAT?! Apparently there is a checklist for this kind of thing (gotta love Type-A American moms). I read the signs, and other than having words for needing to go, the kid is ready.

Mommy is not.

I am not ready to have to go to the store and ask my kid 80 times, "Do you need to use the potty?" I barely remember to bring diapers with us when we go somewhere, much less have a slew of clothes changes on hand. A kid sitting in a dirty diaper is a lot more socially acceptable than one with a pee stain on the crotch of his pants, ya know?! Environmentally I would love not to use disposables anymore. But my energy level just doesn't seem ready to deal with all that comes after. Superman underwear for goodness sakes! He'd actually have to have clean underwear (at least while he is still being dressed by his mom and not in charge of separating clean from dirty).

With all that said, I have to admit my incredible pride when he peed in the potty last night. It was either in the potty or on me because as soon as that pee pee hit the cold air when I took off his diaper, he was going. We aren't pushing the potty thing. He'll still wear diapers. But I am getting him used to using the potty and wanting to go there because, well, sometimes this kid decides he's ready for things that mommy and daddy just aren't. And he's got my stubborn side. I know he'll win.

Superstar

2010-03-27T13:28:00.002-06:00

Warning- The video you are about to watch contains images of uber cuteness. Don't blame me if you feel the need to enroll your kid in toddler t-ball just to keep up :-)

On an unrelated note, I feel awful today and am about to jump into a bath of Epsom Salts. So Kellen is guest blogging today :-)

Friday 'Fessions

2010-03-26T13:40:00.005-06:00

Like my slang? It was the only way to make it alliterate (can you have alliteration with only two words? I don't know).

Want to play along? Just post your Friday Confessions on your blog, and I'll link back here. It's a way to have a little fun before we get all controversial and stuff.

* Kellen's socks didn't match his outfit today. It's actually kind of a miracle that they matched each other to be quite honest. I never realized that matching one's socks to one's outfit was weird until I was in college. I was wearing orange, so it had to be Halloween, because orange and me, we don't really go together. And my socks were orange too. Because I always match my socks to my shirt. My friends laughed at me. Kellen's friends will probably laugh at him too. Unless I just buy him white tube socks as he grows up. Of course having a boy with white tube socks brings up a whole other issue about having boys that I'm just not ready to think about yet.

* I like when my blog riles people up. I mean I want to be friends and everything. But I also like my blog stats a lot. And when google analytics has a green up arrow indicating a 200% increase I feel like my blog is being traded on the Dow or something.

* I bought a UN flag to hang up outside my house. See, I think I live on the most conservative street in America. Yep, the whole country. My street. At one point there were five militia flags. They are yellow and say "Don't tread on me" and apparently they are the flags the militia used in the Revolutionary War. My Prius (AKA the hippy-mobile according to my neighbor) with its COEXIST sticker is a little out of place around here. We would have moved, but there was that whole fire thing... and I had a whole set of reasons to move back. So here we are. But now I have a UN flag to hang up outside. It's going to be brilliant. I'll let you know how the riots go. I almost bought a peace flag, but I actually think a UN flag is better. Passive aggressive diplomacy. Right here!

* I think I need to include a picture of my non-deformed face... just because. This is Dan and me (and Kellen when he lived inside my womb):

Ok, your turn :-)

My Lyme Story - Part One

2010-03-25T08:12:00.004-06:00

I was going to write about the maniac scheduling/CIO/stroller using moms this week, but my funny isn't here right now, so I'm going to wait until it's back. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. But it's coming.

But since I posted my pill picture and Perpetua asked about it, I'm going to share a little about my Lyme disease. Because it's brutal.

I was bitten by a tick when I was ten. It's the only tick bite I remember, though a large number of those with Lyme don't remember a tick bite. There's no way to know if this bite or another was the culprit. I do remember a rash on my hand the summer I was pregnant, and I now wonder if it was from a tick, but there is no way to know. I always had weird medical things happen as a kid though, so we have wondered if maybe it's been dormant for many years. Your immune system has an amazing ability to keep things in check (even if you've been given a taste of that forbidden formula). And your immune system is amazingly susceptible to stress, which arrived on my, well, ashy, crumbling doorstep when I was eight months pregnant.

I had Kellen and went into my six week checkup, where they did a pap, which came back abnormal (yeah, my fall pretty much sucked), and gave me a flu shot. Four days later (and four days after returning to teaching) my face stopped working. I was home nursing Kellen (or trying) and tried to smile at him, at which point I realized I couldn't move the right side of my mouth. Earlier in the day I had noticed that it felt like I was talking with braces on, like my lips were having to make way for an obstruction on my teeth, despite not having had braces in well over a decade. That morning I drank orange juice that tasted dull as well as had a Starbucks sandwich that made me question their place as a food establishment. It turned out that my taste buds were not working on the right side. After I finished nursing Kellen I decided to go back to school to finish teaching. I was really scared but didn't want to deal with it at the moment (because the only two options I could think of were a stroke and brain cancer). As I was driving down the road I lost my ability to blink my right eye. I turned around, and we went to the hospital.

The good news is that it wasn't a stroke or brain cancer, though the way the dr. told me it was *just* Bell's Palsy made it seem so benign as though I hadn't just lost full functionality of one side of my face and now looked like this:

"Are you sure nothing else is wrong?" I asked the ER doc. I just couldn't fathom that the nerves in my face would stop firing just because they felt like it. The doctor assured me that nearly all cases of Bell's Palsy are spontaneous and have no other underlying cause than a small virus. (Had I lived in the Northeast, it is likely I would have been tested for Lyme then as Bell's Palsy is common in Lyme and the first symptom of it moving into your brain, when things get really dicey.) They gave me anti-virals and steroids. (It was because of this I stopped breastfeeding.)

Dan and I decided to head down to San Diego. I had taken a leave of absence from work because I was overwhelmed. The stress of the fire and the rebuild was compounded by this new development, and I knew that I was spread too thin. It has always been hard for me to walk away, and while it was sad, I am proud of my ability to say, "I can't." We left the day after Thanksgiving, a trip that was nearly thwarted by an incredible and overwhelming sense of anxiety. I couldn't sit down at all because I felt so antsy and uncomfortable. It was one of the only times I've ever had the urge to scrub a floor. It's unknown if this was a natural progression of the Lyme or because I had been prescribed Zoloft to deal with the PTSD. It's been posited that SSRIs may actually exacerbate Lyme symptoms in some people (many also find them helpful).

That was also the day that the dizziness set in, and it's kept a firm hold on me for over a year. I spent the entire trip in San Diego sleeping. When I wasn't, I was scared. I truly thought I was going to die but was afraid of going to the ER because I didn't want them to think I was crazy. I wish I had gone while in California.

I made a deal with myself that I would make an appointment with my neurologist in January if I was still sick after Christmas. I scheduled an appointment. That week I woke up and felt fine, nearly canceling the appointment to see the doctor. At that point my being dizzy was the biggest issue; it was debilitating and frightening. The symptoms came back strongly the day before I went to see the dr. It would be the first of many cycles but also the clue that led another doctor to Lyme disease nine months later.

At first I was diagnosed with Benign Positional Vertigo, which is caused by ear crystals shaking loose. The test for this is tilting your head back to see if it gets worse. It did. But the exercises didn't work. So an MRI was ordered. While I passed the muscle tests with the neurologist and chiropractor I was seeing, I drop things a lot (more than normal), so I worried a lot about MS, especially because I was told that mid to late 20s was typical for age of onset. With every click on the MRI machine I just hoped that I didn't have MS and if I did that the test showed it. I didn't want to be sick, but I also wanted an answer to why I felt so badly.

... to be continued.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-03-24T13:54:00.002-06:00

I've put this picture up on my fire blog, but I know there are people here who don't read it, and I've been talking about my Lyme disease recently, so I am going to share my day's worth of pills pic again because I think it helps understand the reality of this disease.

Sadly I look at that picture and think, "Is that really all of them?" because sometimes/usually it feels like more.

Meal Plan Monday

2010-03-22T09:16:00.002-06:00

Deep breath.

It's been a crazy weekend. I know not everyone agrees with the passage of the Health Care Reform bill, but the its passage brought me to happy tears. We were in a position the middle of last week where we were talking about how Dan could juggle a full-time job and full-time school so that I wouldn't lose insurance because I have been told that I am not insurable at this time.

And I've covered a lot of touchy issues this last week. So we'll slow down and do some food :-)

This last week was rough. With my stomach issues with the new meds, it was pretty much a gorge all day long. My friend made stir fry and brought it over on Tuesday, but I burned the rice REALLY badly. Even if crunchy rice looks like it could taste good, it doesn't. To my credit, I thought I had turned the stove off. Wednesday we had pancakes and eggs. Friday I made a pork roast following the instructions from the guy at costco, and I was really disappointed. Saturday night we had hamburgers, and as much as I wish I could do the whole wheat buns, there is something so very delicious about potato buns. Last night we took Digornio pizza out, and I made peach and blueberry crisp for dessert, which was only so-so.

But this week will be better. Nexium seems to be calming down my stomach, and I'm feeling better because of the meds. And the best part... Last Thursday my mom's group got together at one of those places where you assemble several meals (do you have one? Because they're awesome). So I made 8 meals, which each serve six people, and now I have several frozen meals to choose from. It's awesome.

Meals for the week:
Monday - Tilapia with Thai Coconut Curry Sauce (currently defrosting)
Tuesday - Fish tacos maybe. Or something else with the Tilapia.
Wednesday - Friends over. Orange Chicken with brown rice
Thursday - Pork Loin with Balsamic glaze, noodles, steamed broccoli
Friday - Something with Pork!
Saturday - Dinner Out. Spring Break starts for Dan

I promise to take pictures because this week looks yummy :-)

I apologize for not updating the Meal Plan tab. I am hopefully going to work on that today.

What are you having this week? Have you tried any of the meals yet (MEGAN?)?