It's all coming to a head here...
I have 2, just 2, days left of teaching. I get all weepy when I think about saying farewell to my 24 students. But I'm keeping myself busy by planning special stuff for these last few hours.
Our house hunting trip to Oregon is coming (hopefully) right up. I'm growing terrified of this trip. Toddler + Airplane + Hotel Room = Mommy Nightmares
There is the not so little matter of what will happen to our current house.
And let's not forget the grand event -- our big move out of state in slightly over a month.
I think I'm handling it pretty well, actually. But Dear Husband has earned a new name...Stress Ball!
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
well that moment passed
babbaby fever has abated...enjoying the ability to sleep at night and drink adult beverages.
Monday, May 26, 2008
baby fever
Ever since Madelyn was born all I can think about is babies! Ok...so that was only a few days ago. But long before that I was thinking about being pregnant again. It wasn't pointless fantasy -- hubby and I had/have a plan to get preggo later this year. I was mentally preparing myself for it.
Since seeing and holding a newborn it's been different.
Part of me has been balking at the idea of trying to raise 2 children. I would think back to how hard it was with Little Guy and imagine the responsibility of having a newborn and an older child at the same time. It seemed difficult beyond my capabilities.
But I had an epiphany of sorts this weekend: it would not be the same as when I had Little Guy.
The ways of babies are no longer strange and mysterious to me. I am well practiced at the baby arts - burping, feeding, diapering, rocking to sleep.
When I held my newborn Little Guy the task of caring for him seemed all consuming. When I held newborn Madelyn I realized that newborns are simple. Which isn't to say that the constant sleep deprivation isn't insanely hard to handle. Little Guy was a horrible napper, which meant Mommy didn't get much sleep.
I just can't help thinking that with all my Little Guy experience I would be so much better at it all now. That maybe it *is* feasible.
I'll hear from Nicole soon and she'll tell me that I'm full of crap and it's insanely difficult.
But for now the fever rages!
Since seeing and holding a newborn it's been different.
Part of me has been balking at the idea of trying to raise 2 children. I would think back to how hard it was with Little Guy and imagine the responsibility of having a newborn and an older child at the same time. It seemed difficult beyond my capabilities.
But I had an epiphany of sorts this weekend: it would not be the same as when I had Little Guy.
The ways of babies are no longer strange and mysterious to me. I am well practiced at the baby arts - burping, feeding, diapering, rocking to sleep.
When I held my newborn Little Guy the task of caring for him seemed all consuming. When I held newborn Madelyn I realized that newborns are simple. Which isn't to say that the constant sleep deprivation isn't insanely hard to handle. Little Guy was a horrible napper, which meant Mommy didn't get much sleep.
I just can't help thinking that with all my Little Guy experience I would be so much better at it all now. That maybe it *is* feasible.
I'll hear from Nicole soon and she'll tell me that I'm full of crap and it's insanely difficult.
But for now the fever rages!
Sunday, May 25, 2008
"If you've seen one placenta you've seen them all!"
On Friday afternoon I got to witness something really truly amazing -- the birth of my best friend's daughter.
My baby was delivered by c-section so this was in many ways a completely new experience.
When I arrived at the hospital it was 11 a.m. and Nicole was dilated to 5 cms (out of 10 for you newbies). She was having contractions and they were no joke, but she was handling them very well. I b.s.'d with her and her husband in between contractions ("New rule: shut up while I'm having contractions!").
By 11:30 she was pleading for an epidural. There was only one anesthesiologist and he was busy with a c-section so she would have to wait. Every contraction (and they were coming fast) Nicole asked about that epidural and we would keep telling her "Just 20 more min....just 17 more min..."
The nurse (who could do nothing to make the anesthesiologist come faster) hid at the nurses station. I went down to the gift shop and bought Nicole a small stuffed cat that I named "Labor Kitty" for her to squeeze instead of her husband's poor hand.
I should point out here that this was an induced labor -- Nicole was given a drug (Pitocen) that makes contractions come hard and fast. I have heard more than one Lamaze instructor (who are huge supporters of natural and drug free labor) admit that because of the nature of a Pitocen-induced labor an epidural is desirable.
In movies they always make labor scenes comedy. But the truth is that when the end stages are reached there's very little that is funny.
By 12:30 Nicole was begging pitifully for the anesthesiologist and I wanted to cry for her. I kept hoping that drug doctor would show up soon to make it all better, but Nicole already suspected something the rest of us didn't -- it was too late.
The anesthesiologist was finally on his way, but while the nurse readied the room Nicole admitted that she felt like she had to push. A quick check revealed that Nicole was fully dilated and past the point where an epidural could be administered.
Nicole didn't take the news well -- who could blame her?
Soon the doctor came in. "Don't cry," he said, "Have a baby!"
At 12:45 she started pushing, her husband holding her right hand and I holding her left. After just 5 min of pushing the doctor held up her baby girl!
I had no idea what would come next. I'm sure back in my own preggo days I knew...but the data has since been purged.
Nicole still had the placenta to deliver. I don't think I knew that this was nearly as painful as the main show itself. Sighs of relief -- it's all over. But no...here comes the 3rd circle of hell! Nicole needed stitches. Still all natural, no drugs. Imagine pushing a needle through the skin on your hand right now. Now imagine it's not your hand. Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow ow.
And then it was done.
A very lucid Nicole held her sweet gunk-covered little baby on her chest. They would have let them stay that way but after a little while Nicole became worried the baby was cold. They took the baby, cleaned her, weighed, measured and swaddled her before handing her back to mom.
As they cleaned up the room one of the nurses offered to show Nicole the placenta and she said "No thanks -- you've seen one placenta you've seen them all." Back to her good humored smart-ass self.
What an amazing 2 hours.
My baby was delivered by c-section so this was in many ways a completely new experience.
When I arrived at the hospital it was 11 a.m. and Nicole was dilated to 5 cms (out of 10 for you newbies). She was having contractions and they were no joke, but she was handling them very well. I b.s.'d with her and her husband in between contractions ("New rule: shut up while I'm having contractions!").
By 11:30 she was pleading for an epidural. There was only one anesthesiologist and he was busy with a c-section so she would have to wait. Every contraction (and they were coming fast) Nicole asked about that epidural and we would keep telling her "Just 20 more min....just 17 more min..."
The nurse (who could do nothing to make the anesthesiologist come faster) hid at the nurses station. I went down to the gift shop and bought Nicole a small stuffed cat that I named "Labor Kitty" for her to squeeze instead of her husband's poor hand.
I should point out here that this was an induced labor -- Nicole was given a drug (Pitocen) that makes contractions come hard and fast. I have heard more than one Lamaze instructor (who are huge supporters of natural and drug free labor) admit that because of the nature of a Pitocen-induced labor an epidural is desirable.
In movies they always make labor scenes comedy. But the truth is that when the end stages are reached there's very little that is funny.
By 12:30 Nicole was begging pitifully for the anesthesiologist and I wanted to cry for her. I kept hoping that drug doctor would show up soon to make it all better, but Nicole already suspected something the rest of us didn't -- it was too late.
The anesthesiologist was finally on his way, but while the nurse readied the room Nicole admitted that she felt like she had to push. A quick check revealed that Nicole was fully dilated and past the point where an epidural could be administered.
Nicole didn't take the news well -- who could blame her?
Soon the doctor came in. "Don't cry," he said, "Have a baby!"
At 12:45 she started pushing, her husband holding her right hand and I holding her left. After just 5 min of pushing the doctor held up her baby girl!
I had no idea what would come next. I'm sure back in my own preggo days I knew...but the data has since been purged.
Nicole still had the placenta to deliver. I don't think I knew that this was nearly as painful as the main show itself. Sighs of relief -- it's all over. But no...here comes the 3rd circle of hell! Nicole needed stitches. Still all natural, no drugs. Imagine pushing a needle through the skin on your hand right now. Now imagine it's not your hand. Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow ow.
And then it was done.
A very lucid Nicole held her sweet gunk-covered little baby on her chest. They would have let them stay that way but after a little while Nicole became worried the baby was cold. They took the baby, cleaned her, weighed, measured and swaddled her before handing her back to mom.
As they cleaned up the room one of the nurses offered to show Nicole the placenta and she said "No thanks -- you've seen one placenta you've seen them all." Back to her good humored smart-ass self.
What an amazing 2 hours.
Monday, May 12, 2008
4
The number of times I had to stop on the way home from my mothers. To clean up my puking son. On the side of the road. By myself. Happy Mothers Day!
Thursday, May 8, 2008
anger and sadness
Lately I have found myself angry and I'm not entirely sure why.
I'm sad about moving, but I understand it's the best thing for my family. and I am also excited about it.
I am very sad about leaving my job. I love my awesome, awesome job. It is such a perfect job for me at this point in my life -- the work itself, the hours, the pay. I am lucky on all 3 counts.
These days I look around my classroom and I wonder if I will ever have a classroom again. I look at my students, my kids, and I care about each and every one of them. I look at them and I think that I have probably learned as much this year from them as they have from me.
As we approach the end of the year I finally feel like I'm part of the team and now I get to tell them all that I am leaving.
It was a dream come true...but I will be moving on.
And there's the rub. Moving on to what? I have to remind myself sometimes that it's to a better life for my family--for my husband, for my son and yes, also for me.
So it is with a small voice here that I say the selfish thought that sometimes echoes shamefully in my head: What about *my* career?
My husband has offered me his full support in whatever I want to do. He is absolutely flawless in his support for me, and I do not mean to ever imply otherwise. We made the decision to leave California together, and I believe we made the right choice.
But I have been teaching w/o a credential here in California where a constant shortage of teachers makes it possible to do so. Unfortunately my research has shown that there is fat chance of finding such an opportunity in Oregon, where there seems to be not a shortage but a surplus of teachers. So I have good reason to believe there is little chance that I'll find something like what I have here.
On top of that, hubby has approached me about the possibility of staying home with the baby and not working at all for awhile...specifically until our little guy can speak more. Hubby's theory being that he doesn't want our son in daycare until he is capable of telling us if something is amiss.
There was a time when I would have loved to hear this. When the baby was 6 weeks old I wept bitterly about returning to work and putting the baby in daycare. Back then hubby had no real concerns about it himself. Things eventually fell into place -- my mother in law retired and offered to watch the baby. I found a wonderful part time job opportunity that paid almost as much as what I could expect for full time work. Everything turned peachy on my job front.
But no more. And now that I have been back to work for a year I don't think I can handle not working at all. It would be one thing if our baby was very new, and life was still consumed with feeding and trying to sleep. But our son is 18 months old now, and more of a handful every day. And I cherish having a few hours a day to be me like I used to be, before there was a baby. I'm a pretty crappy housewife (witness mountain of laundry, dishes, unfiled mail and a basically constant state of household disorder) so it feels especially good to go somewhere else and do something well.
But like my husband, I don't relish the idea of putting our son in the care of strangers. Others do and I know it works fine and there are great day cares out there. But we've never trusted anyone except a Grandma to watch our little guy and it's hard to think about having to.
So there you go -- damned if I don't work, damned if I do.
Well I guess all this clears up why I'm angry.
I'm sad about moving, but I understand it's the best thing for my family. and I am also excited about it.
I am very sad about leaving my job. I love my awesome, awesome job. It is such a perfect job for me at this point in my life -- the work itself, the hours, the pay. I am lucky on all 3 counts.
These days I look around my classroom and I wonder if I will ever have a classroom again. I look at my students, my kids, and I care about each and every one of them. I look at them and I think that I have probably learned as much this year from them as they have from me.
As we approach the end of the year I finally feel like I'm part of the team and now I get to tell them all that I am leaving.
It was a dream come true...but I will be moving on.
And there's the rub. Moving on to what? I have to remind myself sometimes that it's to a better life for my family--for my husband, for my son and yes, also for me.
So it is with a small voice here that I say the selfish thought that sometimes echoes shamefully in my head: What about *my* career?
My husband has offered me his full support in whatever I want to do. He is absolutely flawless in his support for me, and I do not mean to ever imply otherwise. We made the decision to leave California together, and I believe we made the right choice.
But I have been teaching w/o a credential here in California where a constant shortage of teachers makes it possible to do so. Unfortunately my research has shown that there is fat chance of finding such an opportunity in Oregon, where there seems to be not a shortage but a surplus of teachers. So I have good reason to believe there is little chance that I'll find something like what I have here.
On top of that, hubby has approached me about the possibility of staying home with the baby and not working at all for awhile...specifically until our little guy can speak more. Hubby's theory being that he doesn't want our son in daycare until he is capable of telling us if something is amiss.
There was a time when I would have loved to hear this. When the baby was 6 weeks old I wept bitterly about returning to work and putting the baby in daycare. Back then hubby had no real concerns about it himself. Things eventually fell into place -- my mother in law retired and offered to watch the baby. I found a wonderful part time job opportunity that paid almost as much as what I could expect for full time work. Everything turned peachy on my job front.
But no more. And now that I have been back to work for a year I don't think I can handle not working at all. It would be one thing if our baby was very new, and life was still consumed with feeding and trying to sleep. But our son is 18 months old now, and more of a handful every day. And I cherish having a few hours a day to be me like I used to be, before there was a baby. I'm a pretty crappy housewife (witness mountain of laundry, dishes, unfiled mail and a basically constant state of household disorder) so it feels especially good to go somewhere else and do something well.
But like my husband, I don't relish the idea of putting our son in the care of strangers. Others do and I know it works fine and there are great day cares out there. But we've never trusted anyone except a Grandma to watch our little guy and it's hard to think about having to.
So there you go -- damned if I don't work, damned if I do.
Well I guess all this clears up why I'm angry.
all apologies
I listened to myself the other day say the words "I'm sorry" about 10 times in the space of an hour. Each was for independent unrelated events.
I'm sorry I ran late. I'm sorry you had a bad week at work. I'm sorry the house is a mess. Sorry the laundry is not done. Sorry we have to drive up there. Sorry the baby isn't ready to go yet. Sorry sorry sorry. Sorry I keep saying sorry.
I'm sorry I ran late. I'm sorry you had a bad week at work. I'm sorry the house is a mess. Sorry the laundry is not done. Sorry we have to drive up there. Sorry the baby isn't ready to go yet. Sorry sorry sorry. Sorry I keep saying sorry.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
it's hard work being a cowboy for a day...
I know TV is bad and blah blah blah...but we never would have got through that wedding without our precious new portable dvd player. Thanks to the magical powers of Elmo, our little guy didn't even notice that mom and dad were standing up there not holding him until it came time for us to exit. The only peep he made during the ceremony was a precious little "Oh, Good!" that nobody even has to know was directed at Grover and not at the happy couple.
So even though he was sick, tired, and forced to stay at the wedding hall all day he was happy as a lark. If thats wrong I don't want to be right!
Friday, May 2, 2008
the country wedding of the century
a funny story. dear hubby's cousin is getting married, and he asked dear hubby to be the best man. as the wedding plans developed i laughed and laughed and laughed. dear hubby gets to wear wranglers, boots and a cowboy tie. a nice hat was banned at the last moment since the wedding is inside a church. ha hahaha.
but the big guy upstairs heard me. (not hard since i was sharing the joke with many people) and he had a message for me: it's not nice to laugh at your husband when he's doing something nice for family.
so guess who got asked at the last moment to be a bridesmaid in the country wedding of the century...
luckily i can still laugh about it. because my dress actually isn't that bad. but dear hubby in wranglers is going to be so.freaking.awesome. it's totally worth whatever bridesmaid sufferings i might have.
but the big guy upstairs heard me. (not hard since i was sharing the joke with many people) and he had a message for me: it's not nice to laugh at your husband when he's doing something nice for family.
so guess who got asked at the last moment to be a bridesmaid in the country wedding of the century...
luckily i can still laugh about it. because my dress actually isn't that bad. but dear hubby in wranglers is going to be so.freaking.awesome. it's totally worth whatever bridesmaid sufferings i might have.
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