What virtues do you value in yourself?
Hmmm, this is a hard one for me, because everything I value in myself I can also see as a negative in certain situations. I'm not particularly romantic about these things, apparently.
Pro: I have a big heart and I always give people the benefit of the doubt. I avoid criticizing people at all costs. I want everyone around me to be happy, even if I end up the only unhappy one. This is part of my oldest child of divorced parents shtick. I like to solve people's problems.
Con: I get walked all over sometimes. I also really struggle with giving constructive feedback, and by the time I'm ready to say something that might be construed as negative, I'm probably pretty worked up about it, and that does not make for a productive conversation. Once my switch is flipped, I'm completely fed up. No middle ground. The other con here is that I probably care too much about what other people think in general.
Pro: I'm very progress-oriented. My husband, while we were dating, told me that one of the things he admired in me was that I was always trying to improve myself. It's probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, and it was one of those moments where I knew he really 'got' me. I'm always looking for the next step - be it learning about developmental areas for the kids, snapping up off-season bargains on things they'll need next year, considering what family to see over Thanksgiving and how it will impact Christmas and Easter, and so on. I'm highly planned and always aware of contingencies. I've been told I would be FABULOUS at emergency management for just this reason.
Con: It's totally paralyzing. You can never accommodate every 'what-if' hypothetical, and trying to come up with a strategy to cover them all makes actually pulling the trigger on a big decision torturous.
Pro: This is probably obvious from the other two, but I really think things through before I do them. I take my commitments incredibly seriously, from significant promises to friends down to RSVPs. If I take some action, I will totally own it. If wasn't willing to talk about it, I wouldn't have done it in the first place. Maybe this is an offshoot of growing up and working around politics, but I call it the Washington Post rule. If you aren't willing to have it on the front page of the newspaper, then don't do it! Maybe that's why I have a high comfort level with blogging. While I'm a fairly private person unless you know me well, this dynamic makes me very forthcoming. It's also probably why several people over my lifetime have asked if I want to run for office someday. To which I say NONONONONONO NONONONONO! Hell, no. Ugh. Shudder. No. I should probably take it as a compliment, but I mostly find it very confusing, since I don't consider myself to be remotely like what I know about public office holders in either good or bad ways. And would NEVER survive that lifestyle.
Con: I don't take risks lightly. I've had my wild moments, and definitely done things I regret, but there aren't too many and I know (believe you me!) what they are. There are only a very few I feel strongly I'd like to take back. As I get older, though, I sometimes wish I had lived more freely (not loosely, people. Freely.) Taken more risks. Tried unconventional paths and been more open to new and unusual experiences. Not been so serious. Had more fun?
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Blog Challenge - Day 8.
Have a beauty secret (e.g. hair tip, make up tip)? Share, please!
[Note from the editor - I'm now officially caught up from the weekend! Yay, me!]
Back to business. I'm not really a make-up guru. I do wear it everyday, though, and I do NOT leave the house without it. But my generally feeling is that if you know I'm wearing makeup, I'm wearing too much. I'm pretty fair, with light hair and light eyes, and without eye makeup you can't even be certain I have eyes. At all. So my morning routine involves under eye concealer (thanks, kids!), neutral shadow, dark liner, and mascara. Plus light cover up to even out skin tone; otherwise I look like I'm wearing too much blush every day. Or a circus clown. No biggie, right?
That sounds like a lot of makeup to many people, but it's how I feel comfortable presenting myself to the world. I thought that made me superficial until a good friend cited the old "You look good, you feel good" cliche. And she's right. Confidence means so much, and people do treat you differently depending on how you look. It's not right, on principle, but it's true.
I use a variety of department and drug store brands, and I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear if anyone has a liner that won't smudge. My eyes tend to water throughout the day, and even though I present the challenge to every makeup counter I find, no one has yet introduced me to a liner that won't make me look like a racoon by 6pm. I'm tired of traveling with the supplies I need to touch it up. Truthfully, I have a stash at work, but I only use it if I have somewhere special to go in the evening. So most days are not pretty by the end. I'm sure I'm harder on myself and that people don't actually notice, but it has to contribute to making me look tired and unkempt, right?
That doesn't answer the question at all, does it?
Honestly, my best tip is dry shampoo. Oscar Blandi. My personal vanity's cross to bear is that I have very fine and thin hair. Flat and limp. Not only does it buy me an extra day between washes, it increases the diameter of each hair, and my hair looks *better* on day 2 than freshly washed. Amazing. I've actually thought about using it EVERY day. Maybe I'll try that tomorrow.
[Note from the editor - I'm now officially caught up from the weekend! Yay, me!]
Back to business. I'm not really a make-up guru. I do wear it everyday, though, and I do NOT leave the house without it. But my generally feeling is that if you know I'm wearing makeup, I'm wearing too much. I'm pretty fair, with light hair and light eyes, and without eye makeup you can't even be certain I have eyes. At all. So my morning routine involves under eye concealer (thanks, kids!), neutral shadow, dark liner, and mascara. Plus light cover up to even out skin tone; otherwise I look like I'm wearing too much blush every day. Or a circus clown. No biggie, right?
That sounds like a lot of makeup to many people, but it's how I feel comfortable presenting myself to the world. I thought that made me superficial until a good friend cited the old "You look good, you feel good" cliche. And she's right. Confidence means so much, and people do treat you differently depending on how you look. It's not right, on principle, but it's true.
I use a variety of department and drug store brands, and I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear if anyone has a liner that won't smudge. My eyes tend to water throughout the day, and even though I present the challenge to every makeup counter I find, no one has yet introduced me to a liner that won't make me look like a racoon by 6pm. I'm tired of traveling with the supplies I need to touch it up. Truthfully, I have a stash at work, but I only use it if I have somewhere special to go in the evening. So most days are not pretty by the end. I'm sure I'm harder on myself and that people don't actually notice, but it has to contribute to making me look tired and unkempt, right?
That doesn't answer the question at all, does it?
Honestly, my best tip is dry shampoo. Oscar Blandi. My personal vanity's cross to bear is that I have very fine and thin hair. Flat and limp. Not only does it buy me an extra day between washes, it increases the diameter of each hair, and my hair looks *better* on day 2 than freshly washed. Amazing. I've actually thought about using it EVERY day. Maybe I'll try that tomorrow.
Blog Challenge - Day 7.
Day 7. Do you believe in the "cry until he sleeps" method?
Yup. I do. Monkey required approximately zero sleep training - she's generally been more difficult to wake up than to put to bed. When we told people that, they universally advised us we would NOT be so lucky with our second child. You know what? They were wrong. Lion is a pretty rock star sleeper, too. Sometimes he stirs in the middle of the night, but he usually goes right back to sleep. And when he wakes up in the mornings, he's totally happy to chill and play in his bed until we come get him. Love that kid.
He wasn't always that way, though. He started sleeping through the night when he was two or three months old, and we thought we were golden. The he got sick, and we would come in and hold him in the middle of the night until he went back to sleep, which he apparently liked. Truth be told, I really liked it to. Treasured it. Then he got better and, smart kid that he is, had no intention of losing his snuggle time. After all, a second child doesn't get a lot of one-on-one. We tried lots of things - feeding him more, putting him down later, getting him more outside time, whatever. Nothing worked, and when he hit four months old I returned to work a tired mess.
It took four more months to realize my career was on the verge of crashing down around me because I couldn't see straight. I was getting up once or twice a night, and had been almost continuously since the sleeplessness started sometime mid-third trimester. One night I woke up sitting on the floor of our room, my hand jammed between the bed frame and mattress. I have no idea how I got there - maybe I fell asleep standing up and then fell? Or maybe I was sleep walking? I have no history (that I know of) of doing that. Maybe I was getting in or out of bed for something and slipped? Regardless, it was seriously disconcerting. What if I'd been holding him at the time? In any case, my hand hurt for several weeks and served as a sort of wake up (no pun intended) call that my body/psyche was NOT happy with how things were going.
So we tried the Ferber thing - let him cry for ten minutes, go in and soothe him, then leave. Stretch to 15 minutes. But going in and then leaving would only get him more worked up, and it quickly became clear the strategy wouldn't work. So we went to full cry-it-out. And we learned that Lion, mellow as he usually is, has inherited the family stubborn side. (We should have known this, considering every relative on both sides of our family for generations is darn stubborn, but whatever. We could hope.) This first night he literally cried for hours. It was terrible. The second night, he only went for an hour and a half, and the third night was cake. It was over.
He's been sick and/or teething a lot since then, and when he's hurting you can be sure I'm in there post haste to comfort him. So we've probably backslid a bit on the sleep training, and I hope we don't have to do anything like it again. But we won't know until we make it through the winter sick season, get a teething hiatus, and he has no more excuses. So here's hoping I won't have occasion to write about it again.
Yup. I do. Monkey required approximately zero sleep training - she's generally been more difficult to wake up than to put to bed. When we told people that, they universally advised us we would NOT be so lucky with our second child. You know what? They were wrong. Lion is a pretty rock star sleeper, too. Sometimes he stirs in the middle of the night, but he usually goes right back to sleep. And when he wakes up in the mornings, he's totally happy to chill and play in his bed until we come get him. Love that kid.
He wasn't always that way, though. He started sleeping through the night when he was two or three months old, and we thought we were golden. The he got sick, and we would come in and hold him in the middle of the night until he went back to sleep, which he apparently liked. Truth be told, I really liked it to. Treasured it. Then he got better and, smart kid that he is, had no intention of losing his snuggle time. After all, a second child doesn't get a lot of one-on-one. We tried lots of things - feeding him more, putting him down later, getting him more outside time, whatever. Nothing worked, and when he hit four months old I returned to work a tired mess.
It took four more months to realize my career was on the verge of crashing down around me because I couldn't see straight. I was getting up once or twice a night, and had been almost continuously since the sleeplessness started sometime mid-third trimester. One night I woke up sitting on the floor of our room, my hand jammed between the bed frame and mattress. I have no idea how I got there - maybe I fell asleep standing up and then fell? Or maybe I was sleep walking? I have no history (that I know of) of doing that. Maybe I was getting in or out of bed for something and slipped? Regardless, it was seriously disconcerting. What if I'd been holding him at the time? In any case, my hand hurt for several weeks and served as a sort of wake up (no pun intended) call that my body/psyche was NOT happy with how things were going.
So we tried the Ferber thing - let him cry for ten minutes, go in and soothe him, then leave. Stretch to 15 minutes. But going in and then leaving would only get him more worked up, and it quickly became clear the strategy wouldn't work. So we went to full cry-it-out. And we learned that Lion, mellow as he usually is, has inherited the family stubborn side. (We should have known this, considering every relative on both sides of our family for generations is darn stubborn, but whatever. We could hope.) This first night he literally cried for hours. It was terrible. The second night, he only went for an hour and a half, and the third night was cake. It was over.
He's been sick and/or teething a lot since then, and when he's hurting you can be sure I'm in there post haste to comfort him. So we've probably backslid a bit on the sleep training, and I hope we don't have to do anything like it again. But we won't know until we make it through the winter sick season, get a teething hiatus, and he has no more excuses. So here's hoping I won't have occasion to write about it again.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Blog Challenge - Day 6.
Day 6. Your most embarrassing moment.
Oh, boy. Here we go. Most of my embarrassing moments have to do with not holding it together, or not putting myself forward in a way I can be proud of. It's not very significant, but the first one that comes to mind is from fifth grade. There had been sort of a nasty smell in the classroom for a while, and somehow someone decided it was coming from my desk. I was sort of a geek, and fifth grade was probably the height of my torment - my classmates were pretty open in their scorn of me. This is one of my greatest fears for my kids - that they'll experience the kind of bullying and misery that I did at that age. This was before bullying was a hot topic, and the school did pretty much nothing about it. Honestly, I probably shouldn't worry about the kids - they seem to get their social skills from their Dad's side of the family, and it's a pretty social gang. My sister in law was a queen bee of sorts; the girl I would have been PETRIFIED of in school, and the whole gang was pretty popular. I like to joke that hubbie never would have married me if we'd met before I escaped that school and was able to stand on my own.
Anyway, you've probably guessed by now that the smell WAS coming from my desk, and was some ridiculously old sandwich I'd stashed in there to save at some point. I'll never forget how it looked, or the outright nastiness of my classmates, or the feeling that somehow I had now confirmed everything uncool they'd ever thought of me.
Ugh. I hadn't thought of that in a really long time. Thanks for the uplifting post today, me!
We all probably have many, many answers to this question. I also have a more topical, recent one, which I'm still living down. I've grown out of my awkwardness, and people who meet me in college or beyond have a hard time believing the level of nerd-dom I once acually achieved. These days, I have a somewhat stern, polished exterior at work, and it's hard to get me to show any kind of weakness. It's a product of the environment in the office - no excuses. I actually find it sort of exhilarating to always be on my toes - best game forward. It's served me well, and I've been promoted quickly and become well respected there.
But that attitude is not exactly compatible with being a working Mom who always feels like she's hanging by a thread and would rather be with her kids at any given moment of the day. I've been a Mom for almost four years now, and I still really struggle with not being able to give all of myself to kicking butt at work. I figure there's only 24 hours of me to go around, though, and any extra time work gets can't go to the kids. I don't have a hard time making that call at all, so work gets what I have to give it, and no more. I've definitely become smarter with how I use my work time since becoming a Mom, and hopefully it makes up for the fact that I now refuse to work the significant overtime that is considered status quo.
Anyhoo! That's my context setting for the embarrassing moment that bothers me far more than the great sandwich incident of 1980-something. I was a few weeks back from maternity leave, and Lion had yet to sleep through the night. (That's actually a nice foreshadowing to the next challenge question about whether I believe in cry-it-out sleep training, but I'll leave you in suspense for now.) So with a solid 6+ months of sleep deprivation under my belt, my show-no-weakness attitude wasn't really holding up. Although it was never diagnosed, I'm fairly certain I was also struggling with late-onset post partum depression. It was a real rough patch.
Things were starting to fall through the cracks, and I knew it, and I just could not bring myself to do anything about it. Not only was I not doing an amazing job, I was totally missing deadlines without batting an eye. I didn't care, and it was entirely unlike me, which scared me even more. One afternoon my supervisor came to ask me about the status of a project and I guess it just became too much and I couldn't stop the water works. It wasn't a huge dramatic moment, but I did cry, and it clearly made him incredibly awkward. Which made me even more upset. In one fell swoop I erased over seven years of hard work and transformed myself into a weak, crying, woman. And I don't think I'll ever be able to erase the way I've changed in his mind.
I'm back to my old self these days, getting some sleep and back on top of my game, but I know I've lost my boss' trust. Not just because of the tears, although it was almost funny how unable to handle them he was. I wasn't the person he knew for several weeks, and I'm not sure I'll ever get back the full measure of his confidence. I've thought about telling him what was going on, but if he couldn't deal with one teary incident, I can't begin to guess how he'd respond to the word Depression. Not to mention *post partum* depression. It almost makes me giggle to imagine it, but somehow I don't think it would be a positive move professionally. Holy cow.
Oh, boy. Here we go. Most of my embarrassing moments have to do with not holding it together, or not putting myself forward in a way I can be proud of. It's not very significant, but the first one that comes to mind is from fifth grade. There had been sort of a nasty smell in the classroom for a while, and somehow someone decided it was coming from my desk. I was sort of a geek, and fifth grade was probably the height of my torment - my classmates were pretty open in their scorn of me. This is one of my greatest fears for my kids - that they'll experience the kind of bullying and misery that I did at that age. This was before bullying was a hot topic, and the school did pretty much nothing about it. Honestly, I probably shouldn't worry about the kids - they seem to get their social skills from their Dad's side of the family, and it's a pretty social gang. My sister in law was a queen bee of sorts; the girl I would have been PETRIFIED of in school, and the whole gang was pretty popular. I like to joke that hubbie never would have married me if we'd met before I escaped that school and was able to stand on my own.
Anyway, you've probably guessed by now that the smell WAS coming from my desk, and was some ridiculously old sandwich I'd stashed in there to save at some point. I'll never forget how it looked, or the outright nastiness of my classmates, or the feeling that somehow I had now confirmed everything uncool they'd ever thought of me.
Ugh. I hadn't thought of that in a really long time. Thanks for the uplifting post today, me!
We all probably have many, many answers to this question. I also have a more topical, recent one, which I'm still living down. I've grown out of my awkwardness, and people who meet me in college or beyond have a hard time believing the level of nerd-dom I once acually achieved. These days, I have a somewhat stern, polished exterior at work, and it's hard to get me to show any kind of weakness. It's a product of the environment in the office - no excuses. I actually find it sort of exhilarating to always be on my toes - best game forward. It's served me well, and I've been promoted quickly and become well respected there.
But that attitude is not exactly compatible with being a working Mom who always feels like she's hanging by a thread and would rather be with her kids at any given moment of the day. I've been a Mom for almost four years now, and I still really struggle with not being able to give all of myself to kicking butt at work. I figure there's only 24 hours of me to go around, though, and any extra time work gets can't go to the kids. I don't have a hard time making that call at all, so work gets what I have to give it, and no more. I've definitely become smarter with how I use my work time since becoming a Mom, and hopefully it makes up for the fact that I now refuse to work the significant overtime that is considered status quo.
Anyhoo! That's my context setting for the embarrassing moment that bothers me far more than the great sandwich incident of 1980-something. I was a few weeks back from maternity leave, and Lion had yet to sleep through the night. (That's actually a nice foreshadowing to the next challenge question about whether I believe in cry-it-out sleep training, but I'll leave you in suspense for now.) So with a solid 6+ months of sleep deprivation under my belt, my show-no-weakness attitude wasn't really holding up. Although it was never diagnosed, I'm fairly certain I was also struggling with late-onset post partum depression. It was a real rough patch.
Things were starting to fall through the cracks, and I knew it, and I just could not bring myself to do anything about it. Not only was I not doing an amazing job, I was totally missing deadlines without batting an eye. I didn't care, and it was entirely unlike me, which scared me even more. One afternoon my supervisor came to ask me about the status of a project and I guess it just became too much and I couldn't stop the water works. It wasn't a huge dramatic moment, but I did cry, and it clearly made him incredibly awkward. Which made me even more upset. In one fell swoop I erased over seven years of hard work and transformed myself into a weak, crying, woman. And I don't think I'll ever be able to erase the way I've changed in his mind.
I'm back to my old self these days, getting some sleep and back on top of my game, but I know I've lost my boss' trust. Not just because of the tears, although it was almost funny how unable to handle them he was. I wasn't the person he knew for several weeks, and I'm not sure I'll ever get back the full measure of his confidence. I've thought about telling him what was going on, but if he couldn't deal with one teary incident, I can't begin to guess how he'd respond to the word Depression. Not to mention *post partum* depression. It almost makes me giggle to imagine it, but somehow I don't think it would be a positive move professionally. Holy cow.
Blog Challenge - Day 5.
Day 5. Write a blog thanking someone who has made your heart come alive.
This is going to veer into cheesiness SO quickly!
Yes, I could easily write this about either of my parents, brothers, or my husband. But the no brainer is to write it about my first-born. I don't even think this has to be specific to my Monkey, since the universal conclusion of every Mom (and Dad, for that matter) I've talked to is that they had no idea how much it was possible to love someone until they had a child. You can use the cliches about dying for someone all you want, but once I became a parent I really understood them. No doubt that given a split second decision I'd instinctively throw myself in front of a train for one of my kids. I used to make lists in my head about what keepsakes I'd save first in case of a fire (photo albums, heirlooms jewelry, whatnot), but that's irrelevant now. All I can do now is run through scenarios of how to get the kids out. The rest is useless. The hardest thing I've ever come to accept was the first time I could not provide something for her that I thought she needed. I couldn't get over how wrong it felt, how unfair it was, and how much it undermined my confidence as a parent to fail her in that way. Thank heavens it wasn't as essential as I felt at the time, but that feeling of lacking something as a parent she needed is one I hope never to experience again, although I'm sure it will happen many, many times. I can only pray none will actually be as significant a loss as I thought that first one was.
I know I'm biased, but I'm also confident that my Monkey is the most amazing, brilliant, beautiful child ever produced. Best.girl.ever. Ever. She makes my heart swell and my chest tighten and my mouth stretch horizontally to at least twice it's normal size. I got misty eyed just taking her to the Ice Capades, people.
What's the quote? To the world you may be just one person, but to one person, you are the world. To Monkey, I'm the world right now (we've been in a Mommy phase for a really long time now). And it's a huge, daunting responsibility to nurture the limitless potential in that child. During the rare times I actually get a moment of stillness in church, it's the first place my head goes. Please, please, give me the strength, wisdom, patience, grace, and so on I need to never hold these kids back from achieving everything or anything God has made possible for them. Because while I've never been an overtly religious person, there's something about your own child that makes it clear that miracles can - they just must - happen every day.
This is going to veer into cheesiness SO quickly!
Yes, I could easily write this about either of my parents, brothers, or my husband. But the no brainer is to write it about my first-born. I don't even think this has to be specific to my Monkey, since the universal conclusion of every Mom (and Dad, for that matter) I've talked to is that they had no idea how much it was possible to love someone until they had a child. You can use the cliches about dying for someone all you want, but once I became a parent I really understood them. No doubt that given a split second decision I'd instinctively throw myself in front of a train for one of my kids. I used to make lists in my head about what keepsakes I'd save first in case of a fire (photo albums, heirlooms jewelry, whatnot), but that's irrelevant now. All I can do now is run through scenarios of how to get the kids out. The rest is useless. The hardest thing I've ever come to accept was the first time I could not provide something for her that I thought she needed. I couldn't get over how wrong it felt, how unfair it was, and how much it undermined my confidence as a parent to fail her in that way. Thank heavens it wasn't as essential as I felt at the time, but that feeling of lacking something as a parent she needed is one I hope never to experience again, although I'm sure it will happen many, many times. I can only pray none will actually be as significant a loss as I thought that first one was.
I know I'm biased, but I'm also confident that my Monkey is the most amazing, brilliant, beautiful child ever produced. Best.girl.ever. Ever. She makes my heart swell and my chest tighten and my mouth stretch horizontally to at least twice it's normal size. I got misty eyed just taking her to the Ice Capades, people.
What's the quote? To the world you may be just one person, but to one person, you are the world. To Monkey, I'm the world right now (we've been in a Mommy phase for a really long time now). And it's a huge, daunting responsibility to nurture the limitless potential in that child. During the rare times I actually get a moment of stillness in church, it's the first place my head goes. Please, please, give me the strength, wisdom, patience, grace, and so on I need to never hold these kids back from achieving everything or anything God has made possible for them. Because while I've never been an overtly religious person, there's something about your own child that makes it clear that miracles can - they just must - happen every day.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Blog Challenge - Day 4.
Day 4. Style 31. Post a pic of you in your favorite outfit.
I said upfront I wasn't doing pictures of myself. So there. Plus I'm still losing baby weight, so there is no such thing as my current favorite outfit. Getting dressed everyday is stressful and demoralizing. I'm getting close, though, and can finally wear my old suit pants again. That's been hugely helpful on weekdays. Summer is coming quickly, though, and very hard to get through gracefully without my old clothes fitting well.
So instead, I'm going to post you some things I've, uh, acquired recently in anticipation of finally wearing NORMAL clothes this summer. Yay!
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| Kayce Hughes Green Tile Print Tunic |
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| J. Crew Stripe Drawstring Dress |
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| Boden Jersey Top Dress |
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| J. Crew Cotton Cady Aveline dress |
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| Boden Stripey Tunic |
Cute? Me thinky. I'm pretty heavy on these three retailers, mostly because I can get clothes for the kids and myself in one fell swoop. Very simplifying. Very excited for warmer weather. Now I just need to indulge my fantasy of spending the entire summer at the beach. Hubbie says I'm crazy. I say he doesn't have to come. And a job that gives me three months of leave is a good life/career goal.
I just realized my computer is fried and I won't be able to post this weekend. So I'm going to liberally reinterpret the 31 day blog challenge to include only weekdays. If I manage to do some writing this weekend, I'll try to update it retroactively so I can still finish in March.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Blog Challenge - Day 3.
Day 3. A photo that makes you happy.
There are SO many pictures that make me super, super happy, but I have to choose this one. This is the day we brought Lion home. Monkey had been so, so stressed toward the end of my pregnancy and some wise woman had told me that kids either had trouble right before or right after the arrival of a new sibling. This was the moment I could see she was right, and that Monkey would be able to chill, welcome Lion, and everything would be all right.
I had read repeatedly that when I came home from the hospital, it was important to not be carrying the baby to be able to hug older children and show them how excited you are to be back home with them, first and foremost. So we did this, and I came in looking to scoop up my Monkey and hold her tight. Plus I missed her desperately. Since it was during the H1N1 outbreak she wasn't allowed to visit me in the hospital and we'd had only an illicit lobby rendezvous. It was the longest I'd ever been away from her. She, however, was totally uninterested in me. First words out of her mouth?
"Where's my baby?"
So we were cool, and to this day the sibling interactions I have to keep an eye on are those where she wants to pick him up, hold him, feed him, etc. She does have her moments of territoriality, but we've been able to handle them pretty easily so far. [Knocking on wood.] The interesting challenge will come when he's more verbal and able to compete with her for conversational time. My Monkey's a talker, and I've already noticed that Lion saves his words for when he has me alone and then lets loose. It's truly hilarious. Our one-on-one time is a total gabfest; he just never stops 'talking.' So if I've got two constant talkers, things could get exciting. Hubbie and I will never have a conversation again.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Blog Challenge - Day 2.
Day 2. What makes you uniquely you?
This is something I struggle with. I have a very mediating personality and like to make other people happy. Which means I frequently walk a line between caring for myself and caring for others. So I put who I am away. A lot. Too much. I've been planning some structured recreation of ME, actually, and just this week came across a great structure for it in another blog, Mighty Girl. Plan to try this.
Who am I? I like to say I'm behaviorally conservative but politically liberal. I've actually had strangers sneeringly say things like, "Well, aren't WE the young Republican." Which I guess means I dress conservatively? Yes - I'm preppy and mainstream looking. I have no problem with that. It's what's easy and comfortable for me, and seems to look right on my body. I'd look ridiculous is something hipster, or goth, or whatever. Just not my deal. The political side is more complicated, because while I used to call myself a liberal, I don't think I can anymore. I'm an independent? Or a moderate, maybe? A friend jokingly called me a safety-net libertarian, because while I dislike government intrusion into areas of morality and generally believe in the free market, I also will happily give up any amount of my income to protect children who need protecting. That's the safety net part.
I'm fixated on things being evidence-based. Sure, you need to go with your gut sometimes, but mostly I'd like research to back it up, thank you. I love everything music and theater, although I haven't indulged those hobbies in a long time. I can sing, but not enough to want you to listen to me do it alone. And not in a trained way. Same for dancing. Monkey shows all signs of following me down this path, and that makes me indescribably happy. She doesn't get why I tear up every time she sings along with a show tune or wants to put on a dance show for me. But that stuff was the happy-center of my childhood, and I'm so delighted to share it with her.
I'm pretty literal, and like things to be straight forward. I'm a HUGE over-researcher. Buying a new stroller sends me into catatonic fits. We'll be applying to Kindergarten for Monkey and preschool for Lion next Fall, and I already have spreadsheets. I expect to be completely consumed by it. There's another thing about me - education is incredibly important to me, and I am lucky enough to have grown up believing that you should weigh your options carefully and choose your schools quite actively. So we're tightening our belts in anticipation of private schools.
Hmmm, what else? I've always been involved with kids. I was the 5th grader who preferred to spend recess helping the 2nd graders than playing with my peers, and I actually got invited to one of their birthday parties! I babysat my way through college, early work years, and grad school, and in our wedding the flower girls were kids I used to sit for routinely and from birth. My career is focused on the public policy of early childhood, and it's really easy to get me worked up discussing inequities to children in this country. I'll avoid going there for now, but make no promises about later.
I'm not sure any of this makes me unique. Does it? If not, I'm pretty okay with that. There's a big gap between being unique and being cookie-cutter. Or worthless. Or worthwhile, for that matter.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
How much do you rely on your pediatrician?
I'm incredibly frustrated right now. Frustrated may not be strong enough of a word, actually.
Baby Lion started seeming sick on Sunday as we celebrated his birthday. (Pics to follow soon.) He had a rough day, but the fever seemed to break that evening. We called the pediatrician the next morning anyway, who said it sounded like he was on the upswing, and the remaining low fever was probably teething. Last night, however, was from hell. He was in so much pain he could barely sleep (so of course neither did we), even with ibuprofen, acetaminophen, and those little gum-numbing Orajel swabs. It was terrible to see him so obviously hurting.
So we called again this morning to see how else we could help him - we know his lower molars are coming in, but this was too much. They thought he should be seen and, TA DA!, raging double ear infection.
I could just scream. He could have been spared that horrible night. He could have been on antibiotics a whole day sooner.
I consider myself to be pretty assertive. But there are times I could just kick myself for not being a more forceful advocate for my kids. Why did I let them blow me off yesterday? There's a natural tendency in me to trust people, but also to have faith in the medical profession, research, and science. I'm a huge vaccine proponent. (Don't get me started.) After all, if they don't know what they're talking about, how many other things could I be screwed on?
But seriously, this is not the first problem we've had on Lion's behalf. Maybe it's because he's gotten sick more often, what with being exposed to Monkey's whole preschool germ factory. But, no - other diagnostic misses have had nothing to do with germs. I repeatedly raised the prospect of reflux with his regular doc, and was talked out of it. Then she was out of town one visit, we saw someone else, and.. guess what? Reflux. Issues totally, immediately resolved with Prevacid. I know they deal a lot with us hyper-worrying types, but if she had listened to me the first time we could have avoided months of his discomfort and spitting up (not to mention the added laundry!). There were similar concerns - both where I was ultimately right that something was wrong - over possible hearing loss (that was the worst week of my life to date) and two other concerns. All where if I had pushed harder to have my concerns believed, I could have saved him pain or other consequences. Unacceptable.
So I refuse to see that doc anymore, and I'm shopping for a good fit with someone else in the same practice, but I'm beginning to wonder if it's a bigger issue. Is it the practice itself? Or would we have this risk anywhere? Is it endemic to the medical profession? A string of bad luck and coincidence?
In any case, you can be sure I won't be blown off again. I can't believe I let it happen yesterday.
Baby Lion started seeming sick on Sunday as we celebrated his birthday. (Pics to follow soon.) He had a rough day, but the fever seemed to break that evening. We called the pediatrician the next morning anyway, who said it sounded like he was on the upswing, and the remaining low fever was probably teething. Last night, however, was from hell. He was in so much pain he could barely sleep (so of course neither did we), even with ibuprofen, acetaminophen, and those little gum-numbing Orajel swabs. It was terrible to see him so obviously hurting.
So we called again this morning to see how else we could help him - we know his lower molars are coming in, but this was too much. They thought he should be seen and, TA DA!, raging double ear infection.
I could just scream. He could have been spared that horrible night. He could have been on antibiotics a whole day sooner.
I consider myself to be pretty assertive. But there are times I could just kick myself for not being a more forceful advocate for my kids. Why did I let them blow me off yesterday? There's a natural tendency in me to trust people, but also to have faith in the medical profession, research, and science. I'm a huge vaccine proponent. (Don't get me started.) After all, if they don't know what they're talking about, how many other things could I be screwed on?
But seriously, this is not the first problem we've had on Lion's behalf. Maybe it's because he's gotten sick more often, what with being exposed to Monkey's whole preschool germ factory. But, no - other diagnostic misses have had nothing to do with germs. I repeatedly raised the prospect of reflux with his regular doc, and was talked out of it. Then she was out of town one visit, we saw someone else, and.. guess what? Reflux. Issues totally, immediately resolved with Prevacid. I know they deal a lot with us hyper-worrying types, but if she had listened to me the first time we could have avoided months of his discomfort and spitting up (not to mention the added laundry!). There were similar concerns - both where I was ultimately right that something was wrong - over possible hearing loss (that was the worst week of my life to date) and two other concerns. All where if I had pushed harder to have my concerns believed, I could have saved him pain or other consequences. Unacceptable.
So I refuse to see that doc anymore, and I'm shopping for a good fit with someone else in the same practice, but I'm beginning to wonder if it's a bigger issue. Is it the practice itself? Or would we have this risk anywhere? Is it endemic to the medical profession? A string of bad luck and coincidence?
In any case, you can be sure I won't be blown off again. I can't believe I let it happen yesterday.
Happy birthday, Lion!
This is my Lion, on the day he was born. A year ago, today. Can I still call him my baby? Because I'm not ready for the word 'toddler.' Not ready for him to stop being my baby.
Those were an amazing few days. I drank him in, knowing when we got home there would be a big sister to reassure. So he slept on my chest, and I didn't let him go if I didn't have to, and we got to know each other. Kept him as close as if he was still inside me. I had worried I couldn't possibly love anyone as much as I loved Monkey, but it was easy for Lion to become a huge place in my chest that gets tight whenever he smiles. Or lately, tries to scale me or anything within reach.
Lion is pure light; easy with laughs and clapping. The biggest flirt in the world. This stillness has been replaced by 25 wiry pounds of all action as he shows the world his stuff. I itch to see who he'll become. He is sweet but strong, mellow but constant movement, and he knows his mind even as he methodically chooses his moments. How is it I have been trusted with this little life?
Ten Things about Lion at One
1. He moves. Oh, how he moves. He's a crazy little crawling speed demon, and can pull up fluidly on something before you know he's crossed the room. He moves CONSTANTLY. Bring him into bed to snuggle? He's kneeling on your head, banging on the headboard. Then on Daddy. Then heading for the edge of the bed. Yikes!
2. He's a climber. We now have four gates in our house (Monkey only required one), because Lion loves to climb stairs. If he sees the gate open, he'll patiently wait until you aren't watching him, and then he'll sprint for it and howl at you if you manage to catch him first.
3. He loves lights. Our wonderful nanny has taught him some sign language, but it's the sign for light that has really taken. He points up at them and makes the sign and grins.
4. He's a future electronics geek. All about remotes, phones, and anything that lights up or makes noises. He likes to pull out the sliding shelf for the DVD player and push the buttons. If you're holding him the kitchen, he's likely climbing up you to reach for the buttons on the oven.
5. He pretends to use the phone. Or anything else that resembles one. He found an old remote mouse the other day, held it on top of his head, and said, HELL-O!" Brought me to my knees.
6. He's big on the bathroom. Turn him loose and he'll head there every time. Just like the stairs, he watches the bathroom door to see if you've left it open for him. If he makes it in there, he has three options. 1. Splash in the toilet. Lion LOVES to splash. Makes me regret waiting his baptism for this spring, because he's going to get the Rector wet, no doubt. 2. Play in Monkey's potty. Probably the germiest thing in our house. Yuck. 3. Climb in the bathtub. Source of my worst nightmares, as he dives in head-first. The one time he made it this far, he immediately pulled up on the faucet and Turned.It.On. Bathroom door now stays closed. Always. And I need to find one of those safety handle/locks for the faucet.
7. He likes to drop things, mostly so he can say, "Oh-oh!" So cute. He's fast heading into that 'How many times will you pick it up if I drop it?' phase.
8. He's tough skinned when it comes to illness, but has a really hard time with teething. Poor baby. He bumps his head and slams his fingers constantly (see #1 and 2).
9. He looooves his sister. His face lights up when she enters the room, even if he's about to be tackled. Over over-hugged, as we've come to call it.
10. If you say the word Yay! in his presence, he'll clap and grin at you. Really, all it takes is the Y sound at the beginning of any word. He's quick to express his approval. You found your keys, Mommy? Clapclapclapclapclapbiggrin. I'm going to start making him help me pick out clothes so he can cheer at everything. Total ego boost. Best kid ever.
I love you, Lion. Happy Birthday!
This is what actually happened on Lion's birthday, for the record. Turns out he had a terrible double ear infection. Poor kid was miserable. We tried to get him to eat just a nibble of cake, but then he rubbed his face and got icing in his eyes. Bad scene. We're going to celebrate again in May with a proper party.
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