Oh Immune System Where Are You? And Lungs??? Knock it off.

When I was a kid. I was sick almost constantly. Whenever I got anything it would go live in my lungs for a while. It was my normal for my mom or dad to spend the night or take shifts in my room holding me up so I could breathe. It was normal to cough until I vomited. It was normal to take more meds than an elderly person. This was my normal. Staying in when it was too cold. Swallowing pills as a preschooler-- all my normal.

My lungs still suck and whenever I get sick- it goes to my lungs and lives there, for what seems to be forever. I still cough with enough force that I sometimes throw up. But it is not as bad as it was-- by a lot. Now, after I am sick for a few days and coughing my stomach hurts! As a kid my stomach muscles were so strong- all the coughing in the world would not make me sore.

As previously discussed- I have an eating disorder, I am maintaining my weight (sometimes white knuckling it) but there is the aftermath of the time that I was in the midst of it.  My immune system is one thing that was pretty much destroyed.  And it sucks being sick.  My normal is sick. The good thing is my kids have great immune systems and usually act as Typhoid Mary.  I'd much rather be sick than them.

Because, looking back, I cannot imagine the frustration, helplessness, and desperation when I was sick so much that my parents felt. When my kids are sick, I would literally give my left arm to take it for them.  How many times have parents prayed to which ever G-d they choose to please please please let them take whatever is ailing their kids.

And it took me being a parent for me to see how much my parents must have begged for the same.  Let them take the bad tasting medicine. Let them stay up all night coughing. Let them get stuck again. Anything...just make the kid better.

So, thanks Mom and Dad for staying up with me so many nights.  Taking me to endless doctors. Cleaning up when I threw up. Waiting in boring hospitals for another chest x-ray to be read. For teaching me to swallow pills.  For convincing me to take the bad tasting medicine- even the truly awful stuff.

I can't imagine what you went through- but thank you for doing everything you could.

Learning how to parent

I have the privilege of helping many friends and strangers learn "how to parent" except this is not accurate.  I don't teach them anything--I show them what they already know. Because we do know- even if we don't know we know.

Part of this includes the privilege of being with friends as they labor and birth their babies- I also have had the pleasure of helping new moms learn how to breastfeed (it may be natural but it isn't always easy!!)

And the other day someone asked me where I learned how to parent. Interesting question. Honestly? I am doing what feels right and hoping for the best.  As luck would have it there is a fairly large body of evidence that supports attachment parenting as an emotionally healthy parenting option.  But where did this come from?

My mom.

When I had my first I was 22 and so immature having a goldfish would have been too much responsibility.

My daughter was a preemie-- and my mom helped me gain the confidence to hold her, to change her, to feed her and to parent her.  I was terrified of breaking her- so when she came home from the NICU at a whooping 3 lbs- my mom came down to stay with me and helped me figure out what I was doing. She taught me how to bath her, and supported breastfeeding even though she never breastfeed me.  She found resources to help me.

The biggest thing she did was help me gain the confidence to parent Princess and trust myself to know what feels right.  We have instincts for a reason- fighting them is counter productive.

So now I get to share what she guided me to learn.  You can do it.  You are enough.  Your baby needs you.  

Flashback to my grandmother

B's grandfather is elderly (duh) and not exactly in the best health. Recently, he has had to spend sometime at a nursing home to get back on his feet. 

We went to visit him.

Nursing homes must all be about the same. We walked in signed in and followed the signs to his room. 

In a heartbeat, I was back with my grandmother on a hot summer day instead of a winter one.  I did not anticipate this. Maybe I should have. 

My vision shifted, my ears roared, and my heart pounded.  It was just like my grandmother. B's grandfather's room was at the end of the hallway, and that hall went on forever.  Each step moving us backwards instead of forwards.

She has not been gone for very long, only 18 months, but still, I think of her daily.  I made her fudge for the holidays. I looked at her needle work and admired it.

My grandmother was pretty darn great, and I miss her.

Enjoying the hand prints

Last night I was wiping off the cabinets from the day's messy fingers.

And I realized- that I will not have little hand prints to clean up for that much longer. LittleDude is getting bigger and once in a while decides to use the potty.  My days with diapers, nursing, cuddling, cutting up food, and wiping off hand prints are numbered.

My grandmother loved when my kids would visit her.  I was always very conscious of them not making a mess at her home.  Once, Pixie went up to her window and put her hands firmly on the glass leaving two perfect hand prints.  I went to get the cleaner to wipe them off and she told me to leave them.

Later, I was told that she probably loved looking at them. My grandmother could clean house and insisted that things be orderly (I did not inherit this gene)- so it really showed me how important enjoying the kids when they are little is.  I am not always good at this, but I should be more focused, I am so very grateful. 

So Skylar is 10 and sentimentality

Yesterday Princess turned 10.  How on earth did that happen? I swear last week We were taking her home from the hospital.  Se has grown from a 3 pound wonder to an amazing beautiful young lady on the cusp of becoming woman.

I am so proud to be her mother- and I sincerely hope I have not screwed up too much.

Every year since I was a little girl my mom made me a cake, yellow with chocolate frosting- per my request. My children also get to make their cake requests- and Princess requested the same.

During the day I made her cake and as I was doing it- I remembered my grandmother.  It is a family tradition to put tooth picks in the cake- whoever found one got a wish.  As I pressed the toothpicks into the cake, I remembered my excitement with my cousins and siblings over finding a toothpick.

Mostly I remembered the story-- the same story I have told to my kids about the cake.  I hope that they will carry on the tradition with their children- carrying on part of her legacy.

I miss my grandmother, I miss her everyday. But this makes me feel connected to her- a way part of her can live on.

Cleaning and uncleaning

With 5 kids and a bunch of animals the house gets dirty -- very dirty, fast.

Today I spent hours cleaning, dusting, mopping, straightening, and lots and lots of laundry.

In the end I was really happy. My house was clean!

Then the kids came in. In minutes... no seconds.... they managed to unclean a lot of what I did today. There were crumbs everywhere! More LAUNDRY! A full sink of dishes! How did this happen?

My mother can keep the house clean effortlessly (at least it seems effortless). I am very jealous of her skills in this area- maybe I'll get better with time. 

I firmly believe that if something takes an hour to clean it should take more than 2 seconds to unclean- that needs to be a rule somewhere. 

All I can do is laugh.  If I wanted a clean house having 5 kids and a lot of animals is not a good idea- its a good thing my mess tolerance is pretty high.

A time to mourn

I still can't really believe my grandmother is dead.  Even the word has an empty, hollow, metallic, tone to it. 

In the last few years of her life I was able to spend a good amount of time with her and I am forever grateful.  She was never too busy for a chat or too busy for a visit.

Now, the kids will do something, and I think, "Oh Grandma will really get a kick out of that" but its me who gets a kick- she's dead.

The big thing that I wish I could tell her more about was Stinky going fishing.  Her husband, my grandfather- one of the people Stinky is named for loved to fish.  I wish I could sit with her and tell her more about it.  She would have loved it.  My brief- "He went fishing and actually caught fish!!!" does not do it justice.  Grandma would have laughed at how excited he was and laughed when I told her how awful I was at baiting the hook for him. 

One thing that stays with me is, the last time she was in the hospital and I was with her she was begging me to 'unfasten' her restraints.  First, who uses unfasten-- why not just say take them off?  Down to the word choice it was perfectly her.  Second, the angel of a nurse let me take off her restraints as long as I was with her- of course- then I would stay for the next few hours, because tying her back to the bed was the last thing that she wanted (or I wanted). 

She also asked for a handkerchief. Not a tissue. A handkerchief.  Small choices in the word choice made her-- her. 

After she had her handkerchief and was relaxed I read to her from Tom Sawyer- I didn't know any authors she liked but figured Tom Sawyer was a safe bet.

My grandmother was a wonderful woman.  An amazing person. 

Everyone Grieves Differently

We are all individuals so it shouldn't be so surprising should it?

Each of us grieve differently. Sometimes this does not go over so well when one's way of grieving drastically are opposed to another person- especially in close family.

Some people like to be around others and share memories, talk about the person who passed.  Others turn to prayer, others take charge and get things done.

Each of these types clearly has its practical application.

I am  the type of person who gets anxious. I can't sleep.  I get a nervous stomach. I want to hide.  My grief is private.

So it is hard.  Hard to balance the needs of my kids, the needs of my other family.

You see, my grandmother and I were not always particularly close.  I mean, I loved her- of course- but I felt it was a distant love- she was so amazing and so wonderful- I felt I could never measure up.

In the past several years, I became close to her. It was hard to visit her, bringing all of the kids to see her- being quiet is not there strong suit- she loved seeing them.  I loved seeing her with them.  They played with the same coasters that I played with as a kid.

My grief is more wavy. Sometimes I need to be away from everyone. Alone.  I can remember her. I can remember her laugh, her smile, her amazing fudge.

Its a basic reaction kids do something funny- I think how she'll smile or laugh when she hears about it.  Then its back.  I don't need to tell her. I can't tell her. Her soul is next to Gd.

My kids are still little not all of them will have a clear memory of her.  Her memory will be honored though.  My kids will learn what she taught me, aside from making fudge, she taught me strength, compassion, and love.

Kids tell it like it is

My wonderful grandmother died. 

She was sick and unwell for a while before she passed and in hospice care for a short time.  So it was not unexpected.

However, for a while before she passed we had not been grocery shopping. 

I looked in the fridge and realized our option for dinner included spoiled leftovers or dijon mustard.
We had to go to the store.  There was no way around it. 

I took Princess- she is getting old enough now that she actually can be helpful- and she loves helping.  More importantly- she was closer to my grandmother than the other kids and was having a hard time with the loss.  I thought it would be important to have some time with her to talk about our grandmother's death.

While we went shopping she chattered on- like nine year old girls do.  When we got to check out the cashier was making small talk. Here is what ensued.

Cashier: Hows your day going?
Princess: Its awful.
Me: (getting nervous)-- Yep, it sure is hot out.
Cashier: It certainly is.
Princess: Yeah- that and my grandmother is dead.

*cue awkward silence*

I don't think she ever checked anyone out faster after that. 

Maybe we need to find a new grocery store.

But looking back it is hysterical.  I mean- she just laid it out there, no sugar coating.