Recently in Parenting Category

We decided to put Maddie in Pre-K this year.  It was a last minute decision, as we'd always said we'd keep her home until kindergarten.  However, she's reading like a maniac (Berenstain Bears, anyone?) and we just feel like she's ready for it and would really thrive on the challenge.  So we decided to enroll her. 

The actual process of finding a preschool with an opening at the last minute (we started in May when most preschools fill up their rosters in January) is a story for another day, but now Maddie is enrolled and will be starting school in a little less than two weeks. 

While I'm incredibly excited for her -- I don't doubt she's going to love it --  my Mommy Guilt is starting to kick in.  A few people I've told have commented, "But I thought you guys were going to wait until kindergarten."  True, but we changed our minds.  Am I doing the right thing?  I ask myself almost daily.  One of the main reasons Bill and I decided to wait with both kids is that we want them to learn as much from home as possible before they start school.  They'll have at least 12 years of mandated schooling, so having time at home to play and just be a kid was crucial to us.  In addition, we know how difficult things can get in a full classroom, so we wanted to make sure she learned the things that might not be covered in a classroom full of children:  manners, behavior, kindness to others, etc.   Honestly, she'll only be gone four days a week, from 9am - noon, which really isn't a lot, but still...

Our last minute decision means that we had to go with the private preschool route.  Not that it's a problem.  It's a great school and definitely worth the cost (which has put a little dent in our budge) but I'm starting to get perturbed by how many extra costs and activities are required.  We already had a mandatory meeting with the administration for paperwork, etc.  Tonight we have a new parent orientation.  Next week is a school picnic as well as a meet & greet with the teacher.  In addition, the school supply list was nearly a whole page long, and required going to three different stores to get the very specific items.  Oh, and the "school improvement fee" in addition to it all.

I hate to complain, but I'm really just starting to feel overwhelmed by it all.   Maybe I was spoiled all these years because I never had to deal with this stuff.  While everyone around me was getting supplies and such, the girls and I just did our normal day-to-day stuff, playing in the park, or with Barbies, etc. 

This whole thing is big because it not only means a change to our schedule, but also to our general family dynamic as well.  My kids usually sleep until 9am, but now Maddie will have to be at school at 8:50 sharp.  That will be an adjustment, but it's probably a good thing.   Now we'll actually be on the same schedule as most of my fellow moms, so playdates will be a little more convenient. 

A very good plus to all of this is that I will have my mornings free to spend with Josie alone.  She has never gotten much one on one attention, or much attention at all, in the shadow of her very outgoing and exuberant older sister.  It will be really interesting to see how she thrives with her Mommy-Josie time.

 

Maddie was awake all last night coughing her poor little heart out. It's the same cough I had (and unfortunately still have -- I'm told having it last at least 3-4 weeks isn't uncommon,) where you cough so much you can barely catch your breath.

Josie woke up this morning complaining of a sore throat and then promptly threw up on me. She's lying here next to me surrounded by towels with a little bucket within reach.

It looks like both girls have what I have/did have. Unfortunately, in my case, it was both the sinus infection/bronchitis thing and the stomach flu at the same time. According to our pediatrician, both are going around right now. I'm really hoping the girls can keep up their routine of being complete opposites of one another, and that neither will get what the other one has. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Between all the TV they watched while I was sick, plus all the TV they'll be watching the next couple of days, I'm sure their little brains will be fried.

And don't even bother telling me about alternatives to TV-watching while they're sick. When your baby throws up and immediately asks for "Do-wa the Explo-wa" before the vomit has even been wiped from her face... well, you just give her what she wants.

I took Josie to her dentist appointment yesterday. She and Maddie both have "deep crevices" in their teeth, which means that sometimes cavities will occur no matter how much you brush and floss. Josie had a sealant put on her molars to help keep food from getting so stuck in her teeth.

Josie was great and the whole process only took about 20 minutes (pediatric dentists are the way to go! they are trained to be fast and get the whole thing done and over with.) While she was working, she noted that Josie had another chip in one of her lower incisors. (Josie chipped one of her upper teeth last year pretty badly and had to have a cap put on it.) Now this lower one is chipped a little, but it's only a small surface one so it doesn't seem to be doing any damage. The kid is only 2 years old and has already had more dental work than I had in my first 5 years of life. I asked the dentist what the problem was. She said that Josie just has very fragile teeth.

Dentist: This poor baby must have been through a lot. Did she have any troubles at birth?

Me: Well, yes, she had a problem with her esophagus and she currently has alleriges and eczema and wears glasses.

D: No, no, I mean in the womb. Did you have any problems during your pregnancy?

Me: Um, no, other than having Braxton Hicks starting in my 6th month. Otherwise, no.

D: Hmm. There had to be something.

Me: Why?

D: Well, the baby teeth are formed while they're still in the womb, so the problems with her teeth now are a result of whatever happened while you were pregnant. Did anything happen? Was there a problem?

Me: No, not really.

D: Hmm. {and she shakes her head and scrunches her brows while she continues to work}

It was all I could do to keep the tears from flowing. She's usually a very nice woman, but she has no idea what kind of stab in the heart her comments were. As if there isn't already enough about which to feel guilty, let's add that I'm responsible for my kid's weak teeth. I made it through the rest of the appointment, but on the way home my mind just raced, trying to remember every little detail about what happened during my pregnancy with Josie. What did I DO?

I got home and called Bill to update him on Josie's appointment and ended up just bawling into the phone. I kept asking him if he remembered anything different about the pregnancy. He assured me there was nothing different, that I actually ate healthier with Josie (due to different cravings) and that there was nothing to worry about. He definitely made me feel better and took away some of the guilt I was feeling.

Thinking back on yesterday, though, makes me so angry. I hate to completely attack the dentist because she is a nice woman and (I hope) didn't realize what she was implying. However, it was a really awful thing to say, especially to a mother. Josie has had some challenges, and we are extremely lucky that what she has faced has really been small in the grand scheme of things, but would this woman have said something like that to the parent of a child with a more serious health problem? Say, a child with Downs Syndrome or Cystic Fibrosis? Would she sit there and interrogate the mother about what she did during her pregnancy?

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As if yesterday weren't enough, today we had to take Josie in to get tested for diabetes. Over the past couple of weeks, Bill and I have noticed that Josie has to use the restroom at least every 20-30 minutes. She also drinks all the time and even wakes up in the middle of the night crying for a cup of water. Two major signs of juvenile diabetes. There is a little history of diabetes on my mother's side, so that made us more diligent about getting her tested.

Needless to say, I was extremely nervous most of this morning and afternoon before her appointment. I took her in, talked to the doctor, and then we were sent for lab tests. Josie needed to have some blood drawn, as well as give a urine sample. Well, as I waited in line to sign us in at the desk, Josie ended up having an accident in the middle of the waiting room. The staff were extremely understanding, but worried that there would be difficulty in getting a urine sample again. I assured them it wouldn't (and only 15 minutes later, we were able to get one.)

The blood test was the absolute worst. I put Josie in my lap (wet pants and all -- I was soaked afterwards) and held her while they tried to draw blood on one arm. The lab tech was relatively new and had so much trouble finding a vein. The odd thing was, though, that he didn't remove the needle and try again. He just kept the needle in her arm and rotated it inside her arm, looking for a vein. You could see the needle moving underneath the skin. Josie was screaming, my hands were shaking as I tried to hold her, and I kept staring at this guy, thinking It's probably time to give up now!! What are you doing??? FINALLY, he decides to call it quits and takes the needle out. He puts a bandaid on her arm and Josie calms down a little. At this point sweat is dripping down my face and I'm already starting to see black spots, things going in and out of Technicolor. I put Josie down, who immediately runs over to Maddie to show her the Daffy Duck bandaid and I slump down in the chair. The techs were great and immediately brought me some OJ and some tissues to wipe my face. It took about 5 minutes for me to get back to normal. I've passed out a few times before, but never when I've had the kids with me or in a situation like that. I mean, it sucks to start feeling sick to your stomach like that and see things spinning and going black, but to ALSO try to mentally keep track of your kids and what else is going on around you is even worse.

After a little break, we decided to try Josie's other arm. Thankfully, another tech came over to do it this time. One prick and she was in and the blood was drawn in less than 10 seconds. THANK YOU! I'm not sure I could take any more of the needle jabbing. Josie cried, but she was such a trooper and once she got her Wiley Coyote bandaid to go with the Daffy Duck one, she was set. She even understood and agreed to have her other arm checked after the first try. She said, "I don't want any more shots" and when I said that it would be just one more, she held out her arm and squeezed her little fist like they had told her to do, and nodded her head.

Afterwards, we went back up to pediatrics to wait for her doctor to talk to us about the test results (I do love how our HMO works -- everything is in the same building -- my OB is right across the hall from the pediatrician, the lab is downstairs across from the pharmacy -- it is SO easy with kids.) My stomach started rumbling while we were waiting and I was sure I was going to be sick at any moment. I just didn't want my little girl to have to face something else. After a while, the doc called us in. He didn't say anything at first, but just looked at me and gave me the thumbs-up sign. WHEW! All the breath I'd been holding up until that point just came out in one big sigh. It turns out that her numbers are all normal -- blood sugar, ketones, proteins, etc. No problems with blood sugar or with her kidneys or anything. The kid just likes to drink water and therefore ends up using the bathroom a lot because she's so hydrated! Aaack! The doc did say that the symptoms we noticed were the type that would point to juvenile diabetes, but in this case things were okay. Hallelujah! After the experience with the blood test, I'm not sure I would have been the best candidate to give her daily insulin injections anyway!

I'm sitting her writing this and it's all I can do not to fall asleep on the couch. It has been a rough couple of weeks, off and on, and I'm just drained. Christmas is my favorite time of year, though, so I'm determined not to let any bad thoughts ruin my holiday. I'm keeping positive and am enjoying every minute of this time with the girls. Like Disney World, Christmas is becoming more and more exciting as a parent. The girls are already thinking about what kind of cookies they want to leave Santa and if the reindeer will eat lots of carrots or just a few.

Then again, it might not be so bad to just fall asleep right here on the couch anyway, drifting off in the lights of the Christmas tree.

Maddie wrote her own letter to Santa this year. I've scanned it and posted it below. Click on the pictures to see the notes on Flickr.

Front of letter

Back of letter

Forgive me for my proud mom moment, but Maddie is reading! It started out this summer as "c-a-t" and "d-o-g" but it's now progressed to even more words. She'll read things to me when we're in the car or if we see a sign in the store. I bought her some Nora Gaydos books to see if they interested her, and she absolutely loves them. We've almost finished the entire set. At night we'll sit down together and she'll read one of the stories to Bill and Josie and I. You should see the look on her face once she's done. She is SO proud of herself. Whenever she reads a full story without any help, she gets to put a sticker on the inside cover of that book. She works so hard to get that sticker and it absolutely makes her day when she does. I've walked into the playroom a few times to find her reading the little stories to Josie. I'm glad it makes her so happy and that she's so excited about it. It makes me happy, because I LOVED reading as a kid (still do, when I have time), so much so that I would hide under the covers at night with a flashlight and my book so my parents wouldn't see. If that's the only thing that I pass down to her, then I'll be happy. The world, and the possibility to learn about it, has been opened up to her.

Maddie has a habit lately of undoing the top part of her carseat while we're riding in the car. The bottom part is almost impossible for her to undo (heck, even I have trouble with it) but the top is a simple snap that she's learned to maneuver. Today I caught her doing it as we were pulling out of the driveway.

I told her she needed to wear her seatbelt. That it's very important for she and Mommy and everyone to wear their seatbelts. That it keeps us safe. That the police might come and arrest you if you don't wear it.

{Yes, it's wrong, but I was forced to the point of intimidation. I wanted to make sure this was something she realized was very serious.}

I assured her that I would be very, very sad if she went to jail. I would miss her so much.

{Okay, I know it's wrong. Shut up.}

Then a sweet little voice came from the backseat:

"Mommy, if I go to jail will you get a new little girl?"

I might as well bare my chest and hand her the knife.

Best Ebay auction listing ever.

We took Sindri in for his surgery this morning. We were debating whether or not to get his leg amputated up until about midnight last night. We finally made the decision to go ahead and have it done. It felt awful taking away a leg that he seemed to be using pretty well (besides the limping), but we'd read that leaving it and waiting for it to actually break from the tumor would be a much worse, incredibly painful fate. So we decided to go ahead with the surgery.

The vet called this evening and said Sindri did pretty well. He made it through the surgery. (We weren't positive that would happen.) The tumor hadn't made it's way into the shoulder joint yet, so he was able to just remove the leg and not any of the scapula (longer procedure and more healing time). Sindri will be out of it until tomorrow morning so we're not sure how he'll be once he wakes up. We've been assured that he'll heal and adjust to three legs pretty quickly, but it still doesn't take away the guilt of doing this at all.

Our initial worries about the amputation this past week concerned his quality of life. The dog loves to run. Period. Would we be affecting his remaining days by providing him with a disability? And further discussion with our vet confirmed that we were really having unrealistic expectations to be thinking that he'll live even 6 months at the most. Anywhere from a few weeks to a couple of months left, and we'd be taking good time out of that for him to recover from an elective surgery. You can see how hard it was to make this decision. We'll get to pick him up tomorrow around 5pm and bring him home, assuming everything goes well during the day.

The hardest part of this is going to be how to explain it to the girls. I mean, it's one thing to tell them, when the time comes, that he went to "live on a farm," but it's another to say he went to the doctor and came home missing a leg. I can only imagine the types of fears that will start for us and their future pediatrician appointments.** We've been prepping them and talking about how he had a hurt leg and it won't hurt any more. I've made sure to note more than a few times that that kind of thing won't happen to them AT ALL when they go to the doctor -- it's special only for dogs that are sick. Not completely true, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

** Josie had a toilet automatically flush while she was on it the other day and now she won't use public restrooms at all. We've had to leave stores minutes after we've gotten there so she can go home and use the toilet. We don't need to add any more to her current repertoire of fears.

My emotions have been all over the place lately. Maybe it's the reason for, or an effect of, the girls' recent behavior. They've become completely out of control, to the point that I really can't take them out in public lately.

It's not your typical tired and hungry, grumpy child behavior -- no, they've become 100% brats. The kind who do something even though they know full well that it's wrong. Who push every button you have. Who yell and hit and pinch you one moment and then smile sweetly as soon as Daddy walks in the door. I'm ready to scream.

None of this helps the fact that I've already begun to question (again) some of the parenting decisions we've made: Should they, or even just Maddie, be in preschool? Are they spending too much time with me? Are they getting enough socialization? Am I not spending enough quality time with them, as opposed to letting them play by themselves during the day with a few projects and activities scattered in between? Am I too hard on them? Am I too easy on them?

Maddie and I argued today because she wanted to wear her dress-up high heels to the store. I wanted her to wear her sandals. Normally, I let them wear whatever they want, to express themselves in ways that they choose. Today, though, I knew we'd get there and she'd be tired of wearing them and want me to hold her or we'd have to carry her other shoes with us so she could change them later. We did the latter, and it really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was all about the power struggle. I want to respect her and her choices. I want to raise a strong, opinionated daughter... but I also want a daughter who will do whatever I say because I'm the mommy. Those don't really go together, do they?

I'm trying to learn patience and understand how I can make her feel confident but get the point across that you do not just reach out and wallop Mommy in the store when she tells you that you can't play with the display. Or yell at the top of your lungs, "Nooooooooo no no no no! I want to!" I'm working hard at taking on some of her actions, without attacking who she is. It's difficult because they seem so inexplicably tied to one another at times.

This afternoon Bill and I were having a disagreement when Maddie interrupted:

"Mommy, I love you a little but I really love Daddy a lot. Not you a lot. I only love you a little."

And she paused, taking in my reaction. I tried to remain expressionless as I told her that it wasn't a very nice thing to say. She replied, "But I don't, Mom!" and shrugged her shoulders and smiled as if she found herself to be very witty. I excused myself after a minute or two (not right away as that would have given me away) and went to my room to cry it out. She's done this before, and I know that she's in a stage where she's saying and doing things to test authority and see what kind of reaction she can get from them. I know that. What hurts is that she already knows this hurts my feelings and yet she chooses to continue doing it. What kind of person am I raising? She's three and she's intentionally inflicting pain on her mommy.

Everything with Maddie is about manipulation lately. Using her "cute voice" to get extra snacks or candy from Daddy. Rationalizing with Josie about how the toy she has (and coincidentally the one Maddie wants) isn't any good and she should just put it down.

My mom half jokes about how much Maddie and I butt heads already and how much more we'll do so as she gets older. I know it's half in jest, but it's also true. I look at Maddie and see myself. Some good parts of me, yes, but also my faults. I see what my faults have grown to be over the years and I want to quash them in her immediately before they have time to take root.

It's odd enough for me to look at each of the girls and see physical aspects of myself in them. I look at Maddie's eyes and see my own staring back at me. That mole on her knee matches mine exactly. Josie's entire lower half, from her waist to her toes, is a clone of my younger self, the exact same proportions.

A few months ago, I read a blog post from someone who had been attending parenting classes. She mentioned that one of the most important things she learned was how your thoughts affect your actions. She hadn't realized it, but her thoughts of how her kids were brats and how annoyed she got with them when they did certain things actually affected the way she talked to them. Kids are so intuitive and can pick up on so many nonverbal cues. She said that once she started working on her thoughts, on thinking that they were good kids who just went through phases or had bad days, that she noticed a change in her kids as well. They suddenly responded to her in ways they hadn't before. I've been working on keeping positive thoughts in regards to the girls. Even when they act out, I try to stay positive. The least thing I want is for them to feel any resentment or dislike from their mother. I want to be their safe place -- the person they can always come to for support no matter what. We may disagree, but I want them to always feel that there's at least one person in the world who will always be there for them, regardless of anything else that may happen or any other people that may come into their lives.

I look at the girls and wonder how we got to this point. What happened to that little raven-haired baby that stared up at me with little glazed eyes as she breastfed? Whose little head would bob erratically in every direction should she become detached from my breast for more than a second? Now she's a preschooler (almost 4 years old!) who can write and spell and dress herself and has her own opinions and informs me that she wants me to leave the bathroom while she's on the toilet so she can "have some privacy." At the same time, she's the little girl who tugs on my sleeve and begs, literally begs, me to play Barbie or Polly Pocket with her. She makes up elaborate scenarios about her many stuffed animals and the journeys they're on and what members of their families are with them ("This is the Mommy and Daddy and little sister and brother and grandma and cousin.") That constant push-pull relationship we have. It leaves me so confused. I wonder how she must feel about the whole thing.

She's testing boundaries and I have no idea how to set them. I know what I want for her, the type of person I want her to be. I know what boundaries were set for me when I grew up. I know which ones I want to stretch and which ones I want to tighten for them. I'm just not sure how to get there.

Everything feels like a whirlwind lately and I can't seem to get a moment to catch my breath. Time is flying and the seasons are passing and I've barely started to get a grasp on where I am (or where the girls are) when things are suddenly changing again. It's no wonder my emotions and self-doubt are scattered all over the place.

I've never read anything that defined motherhood more clearly for me than what's below. This is what it's all about. Like Anna mentions, I'm starting to realize my girls already have their own personalities -- I just need to help them cultivate the skills they'll need. I can't create them. There's a quote about sculpting (I can't remember by whom) that basically says the scupture already exists within the lump of clay. You just have to find it. Stop reading the book and just listen to what the kids have to say.

By Anna Quindlen - part of her book "Loud & Clear."

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves.

Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.

What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.

When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.

Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame." The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, What did you get wrong? (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs.

There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be.

The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense; matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity.

That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.