There are many things I think about for the future on a daily basis. Like, retirement. Every time I see a financial planning commercial or story on the web, I think to myself, "Man, I gotta increase contributions and invest more to make sure that Clint and I aren't eating canned meat every night after we retire!" (Who knows? Spam may be a hot commodity in 2046, which would mean something if I actually get to retire at 65. HA!) The same goes for recycling. Every time I throw a plastic bottle away, I think about sea gulls and landfills and tell myself, "One of these days, we're going to recycle." (If only the City of Tulsa provided a much better service for this sort of thing. Every other week pickup? Seriously? Like I want a house full of glass, plastic and paper. Ahem, Mayor Bartlett! I know you're reading...not really, but you should be. This. Is. Riveting.)
However, there is one thing that I feel a much greater sense of urgency about. With Pumpkin Pie entering the world 4 months earlier than expected, we have faced some issues, but nothing compared to what we could have faced, and so I really feel like I have little to complain about with his lot in life. But in reality, there is one thing that is always in the back of my mind. And with a recent visit to the ophthalmologist, it has come screeching to the front of all my other thoughts. Every time Pumpkin Pie goes to visit his eye doctor, his vision is worse. For awhile, we were able to get by on the same lenses, but his most recent visit, after a big growth spurt, showed a significant decrease in his sight.
So, you see, my sense of urgency is over something quite unique. Barring some huge miracle (and believe me, we're praying) or technological advance, my son will be blind almost certainly by the time he reaches adulthood, which raises a few questions for me.
How do I give him life experiences now that will be visually appealing enough to make up for whatever experiences he isn't going to be able to see in the future?
I feel the urge to make a list of places and events, and take him there as soon as I can, no matter the cost. Disney World is at the top. I'm working very hard on making this happen in the next 12 months. I am motivated by the thought of watching his face light up when he sees Mickey Mouse up close for the first time, so no matter what I have to do, I will make this happen. But what after that? He's 5 years old. There are things I can think about that I would like to see, like the Eiffel Tower, the Great Wall of China, New York City, Mount Rushmore, etc, but right now, he probably won't care about any of those things. I want him to look back on his childhood and remember seeing some of the greatest sights in the world.
What is he going to do, professionally?
We won't let him just sit at home. He will attend college. He will get a job. But what job? I have searched the web for careers for people who are blind. There are a lot of customer service type positions. There are heartwarming tales about piano tuners and bicycle repairmen. But there are also accompanying miserable stories, such as being taken advantage of by people who tell you they are giving you five $20 bills when really they are giving you five $1 bills. Because we will make sure he gets a good education, I can only hope that he will be able to do something fulfilling. But what? One job that keeps coming up is lawyer. And of course, I can't think about my son's future career without thinking of him taking a similar career path to that of David Paterson (minus the extramarital affairs) Governor Pumpkin Pie has quite a ring to it. Amiright? Right now he wants to be a fireman, and of course I can't break it to him that he most likely won't be able to do that. He also wants to play football, but he has limited peripheral vision, and if he were to get hit really hard, the possibility that his retina could detach is very high. For now, he is content, and doesn't demand a lot of explanation, but the thought of telling him that he can't do something breaks my heart.
Of course, these questions also lead to more questions, like "who will take care of him when Clint and I are gone?" and "will he ever be able to get married?" I want his life to be as normal as possible. I know I'm getting ahead of myself (I mean, he is only 5), and I shouldn't be thinking about tomorrow because tomorrow is God's and whatever He has in store for us all will be part of His plan. And the more I think about living every moment to the fullest today for fear of what he won't be able to see in the future, the more I think, "Shouldn't we be living like this anyway?" Anything could happen tomorrow. Accidents and freak medical occurrences come out of nowhere all the time. I can't live life as though there's a timer about to expire and I can't be on a quest for the perfect childhood all the time, but I will strive for a happy existence, for myself and Clint and for the boys. I want all of my boys to not feel like they missed out on anything, especially hugs, kisses, laughter, smiles, love, patience, understanding, acceptance, and support.
Showing posts with label special. Show all posts
Showing posts with label special. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Our latest struggle: ADHD
When school started this year, we were all excited. Pumpkin Pie was starting Kindergarten. I was afraid that he should have stayed in pre-k; due to his size and his speech delay, I didn't want him getting frustrated with not grasping new things and then hating school. Pot Pie was more than ready for first grade. He was reading pretty well, and we already knew we loved his teachers. Cutie Pie had been looking forward to third grade all summer. We had started working with him on multiplication tables and we had asked around to the other teachers and the teacher he was assigned to came highly recommended from everyone we talked to.
Needless to say, it came as a complete shock to us when Clint called me upset after school on the third day. He told me that Cutie Pie's teacher asked if he was on any medication. When Clint said no, he informed me that she replied he ought to be. Based on the information that we had been given about her, I was slightly less ready to get worked up about it than my husband, who is a protective papa bear. :) I tried to reason with him, that she had about 30 years of experience with third grade students, and that we needed to be open to her suggestions.
The next morning, I spoke to her, and she relayed to me what a difficult time he was having paying attention; that he couldn't finish any assignments in the time she gave him. She told us he seemed to be unable to focus, and she recommended he be evaluated. That day, when I got to work, I immediately called our insurance company, who directed me to a play therapist. I got him an appointment for that day. His evaluation went smoothly, nothing seemed to jump out at the therapist as a potential issue. There were no red flags. I told her we were afraid he had a learning disability, or at the very least, a reading delay since he had tested below grade level. She recommended we get a reading tutor, and if we still felt he needed to be evaluated for attention issues, she referred us to a psychiatrist.
After I took him back to school, my sister-in-law, who has truly been my rock and my shoulder to cry on (albeit, usually through texting because she's crazy busy too) through this whole mess, told me about a reading tutor. I called and scheduled an appointment. Then, I called the pyschiatrist and scheduled another appointment. Then, I sat in my office, and cried. I felt like a failure...the worst mother in the world. I felt like I wasn't supposed to be the mother of a child with ADHD. With everything we went through with Pumpkin Pie, all the time in the hospital, all the speech and occupational and physical therapy, the constant reminder of his speech delay when I ask him to repeat himself or tell him I can't understand him, I should have been able to handle this. But it just seemed like a huge blow. That night, as I sat down to help Cutie Pie with his homework, I noticed how hard it was for him to stay on task. He was fidgeting, easily distracted. He couldn't sit still. I constantly had to redirect him to his paper. It was an unbearable 2 hours. The next day, it was the same thing. After a week of this, we couldn't wait for his appointment with the psychiatrist. While we waited through that agonizing month, it was never far from my mind what we were facing. I laid in bed at night, trying to figure out where we had gone wrong. Too much TV? Too little reading time? Did we praise him enough? Did we baby him too much? I emailed a mutual friend of ours from our old church, who is a mental health professional, and asked him every question I could come up with. He answered each one, and informed me that I needed to quit trying to be a perfect parent, because they don't exist.
One weekend, Clint's brother, who I absolutely love and respect more than he can even imagine, who loves our boys and is one of very few that I feel we can truly count on to be in our corner, came over and told us about a conference he had been in where they talked about lead poisoning being a cause for attention deficit disorder. Immediately, my mind raced, and I googled everything I could find on the the link between lead and ADHD. I was absolutely dismayed. For five years we've lived in our 80+ year old house, which probably has 5 coats of lead paint on the wall underneath the 3 we've painted since we moved in, and we've done a ton of work. I just knew that we had stirred up so much lead dust over the years that surely this was what caused Cutie Pie's ADHD. I felt absolutely helpless thinking, "Great, I have a son with ADHD, and now we have to move as soon as possible.", which started all of these other feelings of hopelessness about the dismal prospect of selling our home in the current real estate market. I called our pediatrician's office and got a referral for 3 blood tests. I had to know. Everyone I talked to told me it was highly unlikely, that they'd have to be eating lead paint chips 24/7 for it to cause any adverse effects, but I wouldn't rest until I knew for sure. We took the boys to get their blood drawn, and then waited an excruciating 7 days for the results, which all, thankfully, came back negative.
Finally, the time came for his appointment with the psychiatrist, Dr. H. She and I talked for an hour, while Cutie Pie sat in front of me and played with the toys in her office. After we spoke, she recommended that he be put on a low dose of medication. She told me the pros and cons of different kinds of medications. I asked her just one question.
"Will the medicine change his personality?"
At that moment, I broke down, trying to cry quietly so he wouldn't notice. I couldn't stand the thought of losing my little boy with the ability to create these amazing sculptures out of Legos, who could sit and sew with me for hours, who makes me laugh with his hilarious outlook on anything and everything. He is so creative and so loving and with a huge heart for helping others, with a huge faith and the ability to talk to God in prayer as though they are sitting across from each other. I refused to put him on any medicine that would change him. She assured me that we could try the medicine, and if we didn't like the result, we could just stop giving it to him, because it wouldn't stay in his system.
That night, I filled his prescription, and started him on the new medication on a Wednesday. I didn't tell his teacher right away that he had started it. The doctor told me not to tell her, because she wanted to see if his teacher would notice a difference without being clued in. After a few days, I asked and his teacher did say she noticed a change in his classroom performance. She said he was able to complete his work, and he was obviously listening more and answering questions. Initially, Clint was really upset with her, but truly she has wanted nothing but the best for Cutie Pie, for him to get the help he needed. We are very blessed to have her as his teacher.
When this whole experience began, we both refused to believe he needed medication. We vowed to do anything we could before we started him on medicine. But now, after being on the medicine, after witnessing the abrupt change, like a light switch was flipped on, Cutie Pie is feeling much more confident in his abilities, and after struggling for so long, its very relieving to watch him come home with less homework since he's finishing more in class, and to complete his homework quickly and with a greater understanding than before. He called me right after school when he made his first 100 on a spelling test. He's still in reading tutoring one night a week, but he's making swift strides, and has already caught up to grade level. We're thrilled with his progress. With the recent advances he has made, we felt a good reward would be something he's been requesting for awhile: a guitar. He started lessons today, and we are excited for him to be passionate about learning to play. This whole experience has shown me once again that I have to trust in God, that I can't make everything right. I have to accept the assistance that is out there, and that people who care about us and about Cutie Pie were put here by God to get us through this endeavor and onto the other side, far away from the issues that plagued him. We are blessed.
Needless to say, it came as a complete shock to us when Clint called me upset after school on the third day. He told me that Cutie Pie's teacher asked if he was on any medication. When Clint said no, he informed me that she replied he ought to be. Based on the information that we had been given about her, I was slightly less ready to get worked up about it than my husband, who is a protective papa bear. :) I tried to reason with him, that she had about 30 years of experience with third grade students, and that we needed to be open to her suggestions.
The next morning, I spoke to her, and she relayed to me what a difficult time he was having paying attention; that he couldn't finish any assignments in the time she gave him. She told us he seemed to be unable to focus, and she recommended he be evaluated. That day, when I got to work, I immediately called our insurance company, who directed me to a play therapist. I got him an appointment for that day. His evaluation went smoothly, nothing seemed to jump out at the therapist as a potential issue. There were no red flags. I told her we were afraid he had a learning disability, or at the very least, a reading delay since he had tested below grade level. She recommended we get a reading tutor, and if we still felt he needed to be evaluated for attention issues, she referred us to a psychiatrist.
After I took him back to school, my sister-in-law, who has truly been my rock and my shoulder to cry on (albeit, usually through texting because she's crazy busy too) through this whole mess, told me about a reading tutor. I called and scheduled an appointment. Then, I called the pyschiatrist and scheduled another appointment. Then, I sat in my office, and cried. I felt like a failure...the worst mother in the world. I felt like I wasn't supposed to be the mother of a child with ADHD. With everything we went through with Pumpkin Pie, all the time in the hospital, all the speech and occupational and physical therapy, the constant reminder of his speech delay when I ask him to repeat himself or tell him I can't understand him, I should have been able to handle this. But it just seemed like a huge blow. That night, as I sat down to help Cutie Pie with his homework, I noticed how hard it was for him to stay on task. He was fidgeting, easily distracted. He couldn't sit still. I constantly had to redirect him to his paper. It was an unbearable 2 hours. The next day, it was the same thing. After a week of this, we couldn't wait for his appointment with the psychiatrist. While we waited through that agonizing month, it was never far from my mind what we were facing. I laid in bed at night, trying to figure out where we had gone wrong. Too much TV? Too little reading time? Did we praise him enough? Did we baby him too much? I emailed a mutual friend of ours from our old church, who is a mental health professional, and asked him every question I could come up with. He answered each one, and informed me that I needed to quit trying to be a perfect parent, because they don't exist.
One weekend, Clint's brother, who I absolutely love and respect more than he can even imagine, who loves our boys and is one of very few that I feel we can truly count on to be in our corner, came over and told us about a conference he had been in where they talked about lead poisoning being a cause for attention deficit disorder. Immediately, my mind raced, and I googled everything I could find on the the link between lead and ADHD. I was absolutely dismayed. For five years we've lived in our 80+ year old house, which probably has 5 coats of lead paint on the wall underneath the 3 we've painted since we moved in, and we've done a ton of work. I just knew that we had stirred up so much lead dust over the years that surely this was what caused Cutie Pie's ADHD. I felt absolutely helpless thinking, "Great, I have a son with ADHD, and now we have to move as soon as possible.", which started all of these other feelings of hopelessness about the dismal prospect of selling our home in the current real estate market. I called our pediatrician's office and got a referral for 3 blood tests. I had to know. Everyone I talked to told me it was highly unlikely, that they'd have to be eating lead paint chips 24/7 for it to cause any adverse effects, but I wouldn't rest until I knew for sure. We took the boys to get their blood drawn, and then waited an excruciating 7 days for the results, which all, thankfully, came back negative.
Finally, the time came for his appointment with the psychiatrist, Dr. H. She and I talked for an hour, while Cutie Pie sat in front of me and played with the toys in her office. After we spoke, she recommended that he be put on a low dose of medication. She told me the pros and cons of different kinds of medications. I asked her just one question.
"Will the medicine change his personality?"
At that moment, I broke down, trying to cry quietly so he wouldn't notice. I couldn't stand the thought of losing my little boy with the ability to create these amazing sculptures out of Legos, who could sit and sew with me for hours, who makes me laugh with his hilarious outlook on anything and everything. He is so creative and so loving and with a huge heart for helping others, with a huge faith and the ability to talk to God in prayer as though they are sitting across from each other. I refused to put him on any medicine that would change him. She assured me that we could try the medicine, and if we didn't like the result, we could just stop giving it to him, because it wouldn't stay in his system.
That night, I filled his prescription, and started him on the new medication on a Wednesday. I didn't tell his teacher right away that he had started it. The doctor told me not to tell her, because she wanted to see if his teacher would notice a difference without being clued in. After a few days, I asked and his teacher did say she noticed a change in his classroom performance. She said he was able to complete his work, and he was obviously listening more and answering questions. Initially, Clint was really upset with her, but truly she has wanted nothing but the best for Cutie Pie, for him to get the help he needed. We are very blessed to have her as his teacher.
When this whole experience began, we both refused to believe he needed medication. We vowed to do anything we could before we started him on medicine. But now, after being on the medicine, after witnessing the abrupt change, like a light switch was flipped on, Cutie Pie is feeling much more confident in his abilities, and after struggling for so long, its very relieving to watch him come home with less homework since he's finishing more in class, and to complete his homework quickly and with a greater understanding than before. He called me right after school when he made his first 100 on a spelling test. He's still in reading tutoring one night a week, but he's making swift strides, and has already caught up to grade level. We're thrilled with his progress. With the recent advances he has made, we felt a good reward would be something he's been requesting for awhile: a guitar. He started lessons today, and we are excited for him to be passionate about learning to play. This whole experience has shown me once again that I have to trust in God, that I can't make everything right. I have to accept the assistance that is out there, and that people who care about us and about Cutie Pie were put here by God to get us through this endeavor and onto the other side, far away from the issues that plagued him. We are blessed.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Choices
When making a choice, I'm the kind of person who looks at all the options. I'm a planner. I have to have a pretty good idea what the outcome will be like for any possible choice I make when I am faced with a decision. This is the case at home, with my kids, at work...there aren't many things I do without a lot of thinking and weighing heavy on my heart, as well as taking it to God in prayer for guidance. I make pro/con lists...I put it into Excel spreadsheets...I brainstorm...I don't go into any big decision lightly.
Today, I found out that the information I had in making a huge decision in the past was actually not correct...
I went to the gynecologist this morning for my annual physical. I just picked a new doctor, and she was reviewing my records from my old doctor and the hospital when I had Pumpkin Pie.
She said “So, you had your third child prematurely due to a …” and I expected her to say “incompetent cervix” which is what I have been told, but she didn’t say that…she said “due to a raging acute infection in your placenta.”
Excuse me?
Those words have never been uttered to me at any time since Pumpkin Pie was born prematurely. I saw my OB/Gyn often in the months following Pumpkin Pie's birth, and he never once told me that any pathology reports came back abnormal.
As I am processing this information, it hits me that my husband had a vasectomy to keep us from having any more children due to my so-called incompetent cervix, because, we, as compassionate, caring individuals, didn't want another child to have to suffer through what Pumpkin Pie suffered through after his birth. But in reality, the likelihood that I would have another premature baby is low because the chance of the same infection occurring is next to nothing.
I have now taken away any chance of ever having any other children with my husband and I am ONLY 28 YEARS OLD!?!?!?
EXCUSE ME?
I...We...didn't make this choice lightly. We were told all about cerclages to fix an incompetent cervix if we ever did decide to have any more children, and we thought about it and decided that the risk was too great. I didn't have the desire to spend any time on bed rest, especially with three other children to care for. We didn't want to risk having another baby in the NICU and dividing time between home and the hospital. After dealing with one sick child, and making it to the other side, closer to normalcy, we figured we'd just count ourselves extremely lucky and very blessed, and get on with our lives, raising our three boys.
I've told people that I'm happy knowing I'm never going to have to worry about getting pregnant, having morning sickness, labor and delivery, late nights with no sleep, diapers...but it wasn't true. I wasn't happy about it at all. I accepted it, because based on the information I had, it was best for us.
The truth is, I'd love to be pregnant again. I'd love to try for a daughter, just one more time. Experience an entire 9 month pregnancy, just once more. Get past the morning sickness and enjoy the fun part, like feeling the baby kick, and waddling around like I have a big basketball under my shirt for a few months...
I know what you're thinking...all hope is not lost. Hubby can get his vasectomy reversed. But the fact of the matter is, he had a really hard time recovering from his vasectomy due to a previous trauma he had, and I would never ask him to go through a reversal, no matter how badly I want to have another child.
There are other ways...sperm donors, etc...but all of that takes a lot of money, and I would feel really selfish taking money for that when the other 3 kids we already have don't deserve to go without just so we can have another child.
So, here I am again, at the door to acceptance. I haven't gone through yet...I'm still processing the news I received today. Still kicking myself for making a permanent decision that I didn't have to make. No one told us to run out and get a vasectomy. We only thought we were making the right decision...a choice that, had we not made it, we'd still be able to afford another child today. This hurt will fade, and I will be accepting of the choices we made, only this time, it will not be the kind of acceptance that one has because its the right choice to make. The acceptance will be for something I cannot change.
Today, I found out that the information I had in making a huge decision in the past was actually not correct...
I went to the gynecologist this morning for my annual physical. I just picked a new doctor, and she was reviewing my records from my old doctor and the hospital when I had Pumpkin Pie.
She said “So, you had your third child prematurely due to a …” and I expected her to say “incompetent cervix” which is what I have been told, but she didn’t say that…she said “due to a raging acute infection in your placenta.”
Excuse me?
Those words have never been uttered to me at any time since Pumpkin Pie was born prematurely. I saw my OB/Gyn often in the months following Pumpkin Pie's birth, and he never once told me that any pathology reports came back abnormal.
As I am processing this information, it hits me that my husband had a vasectomy to keep us from having any more children due to my so-called incompetent cervix, because, we, as compassionate, caring individuals, didn't want another child to have to suffer through what Pumpkin Pie suffered through after his birth. But in reality, the likelihood that I would have another premature baby is low because the chance of the same infection occurring is next to nothing.
I have now taken away any chance of ever having any other children with my husband and I am ONLY 28 YEARS OLD!?!?!?
EXCUSE ME?
I...We...didn't make this choice lightly. We were told all about cerclages to fix an incompetent cervix if we ever did decide to have any more children, and we thought about it and decided that the risk was too great. I didn't have the desire to spend any time on bed rest, especially with three other children to care for. We didn't want to risk having another baby in the NICU and dividing time between home and the hospital. After dealing with one sick child, and making it to the other side, closer to normalcy, we figured we'd just count ourselves extremely lucky and very blessed, and get on with our lives, raising our three boys.
I've told people that I'm happy knowing I'm never going to have to worry about getting pregnant, having morning sickness, labor and delivery, late nights with no sleep, diapers...but it wasn't true. I wasn't happy about it at all. I accepted it, because based on the information I had, it was best for us.
The truth is, I'd love to be pregnant again. I'd love to try for a daughter, just one more time. Experience an entire 9 month pregnancy, just once more. Get past the morning sickness and enjoy the fun part, like feeling the baby kick, and waddling around like I have a big basketball under my shirt for a few months...
I know what you're thinking...all hope is not lost. Hubby can get his vasectomy reversed. But the fact of the matter is, he had a really hard time recovering from his vasectomy due to a previous trauma he had, and I would never ask him to go through a reversal, no matter how badly I want to have another child.
There are other ways...sperm donors, etc...but all of that takes a lot of money, and I would feel really selfish taking money for that when the other 3 kids we already have don't deserve to go without just so we can have another child.
So, here I am again, at the door to acceptance. I haven't gone through yet...I'm still processing the news I received today. Still kicking myself for making a permanent decision that I didn't have to make. No one told us to run out and get a vasectomy. We only thought we were making the right decision...a choice that, had we not made it, we'd still be able to afford another child today. This hurt will fade, and I will be accepting of the choices we made, only this time, it will not be the kind of acceptance that one has because its the right choice to make. The acceptance will be for something I cannot change.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
A Kick in the Gut
Okay...I'll admit. I'm a bad blogger. I just can't find the time to do it these days. I have tons to write about...I'm full of "Not Me's" on Mondays...I could probably post a few pics of my house on Fridays for "Show Us Where You Live" since its currently clean and fairly complete and actually semi-decorated in most rooms. I was even on vacation for two weeks, and not one single blog was created...for that, I apologize to the few who link to my blog and the even fewer who come here hoping for a new glimpse into the life of this Ryan household. Here's a recap...
We started attending a new church in late May and immediately felt like we belonged! The kids love their new church activities and Clint and I have had a great time getting to know everyone in new Life Group. In Sunday school, we've been watching a video series called "Love and Respect" by Emerson Eggerichs. After a few videos, I went and bought the book. The basic premise of the book and the video series is Ephesians 5:33: "Husbands must love their wives and wives must respect their husbands." I was enjoying the videos...reading the book...thinking "This sounds pretty easy..." and then...while on vacation, I flew off the handle. One of those 
crazy, yelling, irrational rampages. No one was safe...the kids were grounded from anything I could think to ground them from...Wii, TV, computer, toys, snacks, pillows (it was a weak moment). And when Clint got home, he got it too. There was an ice chest in the living room that had been there over a week, and as I walked through the living room with an arm full of clothes, I tripped over it. Once I put the laundry down, I limped back into the living room and kicked the ice chest towards him, telling him in so many words just what kind of non-contributing member of our family I thought he was. All of this, I'm sad to say, was witnessed by our children. Of course I apologized, but the damage was done, and my kids saw first hand how not to control one's self. A few days later, I was reading in the book again and came across a passage that said:
crazy, yelling, irrational rampages. No one was safe...the kids were grounded from anything I could think to ground them from...Wii, TV, computer, toys, snacks, pillows (it was a weak moment). And when Clint got home, he got it too. There was an ice chest in the living room that had been there over a week, and as I walked through the living room with an arm full of clothes, I tripped over it. Once I put the laundry down, I limped back into the living room and kicked the ice chest towards him, telling him in so many words just what kind of non-contributing member of our family I thought he was. All of this, I'm sad to say, was witnessed by our children. Of course I apologized, but the damage was done, and my kids saw first hand how not to control one's self. A few days later, I was reading in the book again and came across a passage that said: "When your sons grow up, do you want them to be married to a woman like you?"
That statement hit me like a ton of bricks...it was a total kick in the gut. I know I was not being the way I should be. I was being uncaring, irrational, impatient, disrespectful, unrealistic....the list goes on and on. I have now made it my goal every day to exemplify the kind of woman I want my kids to be married to...patient, rational, calm, kind, loving, helpful, and most of all, respectful. I am trying to be more patient with them, taking a deep breath 
when I get aggravated, and setting realistic expectations and sticking to realistic punishments. I know I can't do this by myself. Not only am I praying to God every day for guidance, strength, and discipline for myself, I've also enlisted the help of my husband. When I start to get hot under the collar, he's there to talk me back down, and let me know that I need to chill out. Since I asked him to keep me in check, its not so hard to hear that I need to cool it. And because I'm treating him with more respect, like the way he deserves to be treated, he's showing a lot of love and being a huge contributor to our household right now. He's always been a great provider and I've been blessed to have him as a partner, but I haven't been showing him. I have spent way too much time nagging him about what he isn't doing instead of acknowledging the contributions he has made to our household, like getting up at 5am to go to go work so that he can get off in time to pick up the kids from school or camp, or coming home and doing laundry or dishes or whatever else needs to be done. As long as we work as a team, together, things are so much easier around here. I feel so blessed to have him, and as our youngest son gets ready to start school next month, and things continue to get crazier around here with gymnastics, and dance classes, and church activities and whatever else we can come up with, we'll be able to handle it all.
when I get aggravated, and setting realistic expectations and sticking to realistic punishments. I know I can't do this by myself. Not only am I praying to God every day for guidance, strength, and discipline for myself, I've also enlisted the help of my husband. When I start to get hot under the collar, he's there to talk me back down, and let me know that I need to chill out. Since I asked him to keep me in check, its not so hard to hear that I need to cool it. And because I'm treating him with more respect, like the way he deserves to be treated, he's showing a lot of love and being a huge contributor to our household right now. He's always been a great provider and I've been blessed to have him as a partner, but I haven't been showing him. I have spent way too much time nagging him about what he isn't doing instead of acknowledging the contributions he has made to our household, like getting up at 5am to go to go work so that he can get off in time to pick up the kids from school or camp, or coming home and doing laundry or dishes or whatever else needs to be done. As long as we work as a team, together, things are so much easier around here. I feel so blessed to have him, and as our youngest son gets ready to start school next month, and things continue to get crazier around here with gymnastics, and dance classes, and church activities and whatever else we can come up with, we'll be able to handle it all. I'll shout it from the rooftops. I RESPECT MY HUSBAND! And I feel so incredibly loved. :)
Friday, January 09, 2009
Not the Mom You Think I Am...
Today at work, a software consultant was in our office, schmoozing with my boss. She brought him around to introduce to everyone, and when she got to me, she repeated the same introduction I've heard time and time again.
"This is Misti! She's the baby around here. She takes care of all of us. She's going to come visit us in the nursing home in a few years to pluck our chin hairs and make sure we aren't drooling on ourselves. And she's Super Mom! She has three boys, and she cooks every night! She is just amazing because this entire health system wouldn't run without her, and then she goes home and takes care of her kids and her husband..."
Don't let the rest of this paragraph fool you. I have a fantastic boss and great co-workers.
However....when she starts this intro, I usually quit listening after "baby"...I don't particularly care to be labeled as the youngest person in the office...being the youngest carries the stigma that I'm inexperienced and incapable, when it really should be saying that I am actually in possession of a sharp mind and the ability to complete my tasks in a timely and efficient manner.
And secondly, I don't particularly enjoy being singled out...Its embarrassing!!! And its a lie!!! Lord knows I don't feel like Super Mom. My exceedingly essential (though dejectedly unacknowledged) role in the administration of the health system keeps me there later than I would like some days, and it requires my attention when I am at home as well. It works out fine with my husband's schedule, because he gets off in time to pick the kids up after school every day. And for the most part, he is fairly helpful around the house, doing the dishes and starting some laundry. He's hoping for a SAHD gig someday soon. However, his version of a "clean house" isn't necessarily the same as mine. He can look at a room with stacked piles and think its tidy, whereas I would prefer the stacked piles be dispersed to their correct locations.
When I finally get home from work, its time to make dinner, which I actually enjoy doing, and it gives me something mindless to do after a stressful day. However, once dinner is finished and I take inventory of what needs to be done around the house, I often find myself overwhelmed with the mounting tasks that are looming, and, more often than not, I feel so inundated that some nights I sit on the couch and do nothing, drowning my sorrows in a bowl of Cap'N Crunch and watching Rock of Love Bus, all the while accepting defeat and saying to myself, "If only I were a stay at home mom..."
But then I think to myself, even if I was a SAHM, there's no guarantee any of this stuff around the house would get done. I would probably acquire a whole new set of to-do's, ones that I can't do because I work, like homeroom mom, or Cub Scout leader, or perhaps I would be able to get a PTA set up for Cutie Pie and Pot Pie's school since my past attempts at starting one have failed. And without my job, we wouldn't have access to the fantastic child care center where Pumpkin Pie attends, and I would most definitely end up home-schooling him every day to get him ready for pre-k and Kindergarten. Would I absolutely love to do all of these things? You betcha! But I'd probably still have a messy home. Laundry and dishes and general organization always take a backseat to everything else that I have going on. I do my best to get things done around the house, but I am very aware of the fact that there are only 24 hours in a day. Do I wish my house was more organized? Of course. But I'm more concerned with helping my kids with their homework and spending time with them having fun, as well as quality time with my Sweetie Pie. Sure, most of the time I feel somewhat like an undisciplined failure in the homemaker department, but I'm coping. One of my goals for 2009 is to get more control over my house. I'm hoping for some direction and helpful hints from the handful of people who read my blog. So, feel free to leave me your comments with ideas that can help me...I need all of the help I can get!
"This is Misti! She's the baby around here. She takes care of all of us. She's going to come visit us in the nursing home in a few years to pluck our chin hairs and make sure we aren't drooling on ourselves. And she's Super Mom! She has three boys, and she cooks every night! She is just amazing because this entire health system wouldn't run without her, and then she goes home and takes care of her kids and her husband..."
Don't let the rest of this paragraph fool you. I have a fantastic boss and great co-workers.
However....when she starts this intro, I usually quit listening after "baby"...I don't particularly care to be labeled as the youngest person in the office...being the youngest carries the stigma that I'm inexperienced and incapable, when it really should be saying that I am actually in possession of a sharp mind and the ability to complete my tasks in a timely and efficient manner.
And secondly, I don't particularly enjoy being singled out...Its embarrassing!!! And its a lie!!! Lord knows I don't feel like Super Mom. My exceedingly essential (though dejectedly unacknowledged) role in the administration of the health system keeps me there later than I would like some days, and it requires my attention when I am at home as well. It works out fine with my husband's schedule, because he gets off in time to pick the kids up after school every day. And for the most part, he is fairly helpful around the house, doing the dishes and starting some laundry. He's hoping for a SAHD gig someday soon. However, his version of a "clean house" isn't necessarily the same as mine. He can look at a room with stacked piles and think its tidy, whereas I would prefer the stacked piles be dispersed to their correct locations.
When I finally get home from work, its time to make dinner, which I actually enjoy doing, and it gives me something mindless to do after a stressful day. However, once dinner is finished and I take inventory of what needs to be done around the house, I often find myself overwhelmed with the mounting tasks that are looming, and, more often than not, I feel so inundated that some nights I sit on the couch and do nothing, drowning my sorrows in a bowl of Cap'N Crunch and watching Rock of Love Bus, all the while accepting defeat and saying to myself, "If only I were a stay at home mom..."
But then I think to myself, even if I was a SAHM, there's no guarantee any of this stuff around the house would get done. I would probably acquire a whole new set of to-do's, ones that I can't do because I work, like homeroom mom, or Cub Scout leader, or perhaps I would be able to get a PTA set up for Cutie Pie and Pot Pie's school since my past attempts at starting one have failed. And without my job, we wouldn't have access to the fantastic child care center where Pumpkin Pie attends, and I would most definitely end up home-schooling him every day to get him ready for pre-k and Kindergarten. Would I absolutely love to do all of these things? You betcha! But I'd probably still have a messy home. Laundry and dishes and general organization always take a backseat to everything else that I have going on. I do my best to get things done around the house, but I am very aware of the fact that there are only 24 hours in a day. Do I wish my house was more organized? Of course. But I'm more concerned with helping my kids with their homework and spending time with them having fun, as well as quality time with my Sweetie Pie. Sure, most of the time I feel somewhat like an undisciplined failure in the homemaker department, but I'm coping. One of my goals for 2009 is to get more control over my house. I'm hoping for some direction and helpful hints from the handful of people who read my blog. So, feel free to leave me your comments with ideas that can help me...I need all of the help I can get!
Monday, August 11, 2008
I'm Not a Martha...Not Yet a Mary
In a comment on my last post Channeling Martha, my sister-in-law, Kelly, asked the following question....
Though I was referring to Martha Stewart, I can definately see where Kelly is coming from here. I do think being Martha is hard, though I can't honestly say I feel like Martha (Stewart or otherwise). Everyone I work with constantly calls me "Super Mom" and they can't believe how I raise three children, work a full time stressful job, keep house, cook every night, host a weekly small group, volunteer, etc...and I feel like a fraud sometimes. Yes, the part of my house that people see is clean...well, when I know people may see it its clean anyways...but I certainly don't do it alone. When I got home today, Clint had the dishes going, a loaf of bread baking, had laundry washing and drying, and was folding a basket in our bedroom. All I had to do was cook dinner. It's taken us a long time to get to this place, a routine that works for us and doesn't make one parent feel so overloaded. And we don't have any problem letting something slide, like vacuuming or mopping, until it absolutely has to be done.
...but I don't necessarily feel like Mary either...I know it is harder to be Mary. I would love to be able to read the Bible and study God's word, concentrating on the passages and the lessons. I wish I could just sit and spend that time with God without my mind wandering to what needs to be done.
I am going to shoot for just being in the happy middle...getting done what I (we) can, enjoying the blessings God gives us, and trying to make time to spend with God. If I plan it in, it happens more. I don't want to give God whatever is leftover of me...I want to have time that is specifically for God, and not just fit in somewhere. Does that happen? Not as often as I'd like it to...but I'm working on it...that's all I can do, right? And you gotta start somewhere.
I have read that amazing book "Having a Mary Heart in Martha world". I want to be a Mary...I want to relax in the moment and enjoy. I think being a Martha is hard sometimes. Do you?
Though I was referring to Martha Stewart, I can definately see where Kelly is coming from here. I do think being Martha is hard, though I can't honestly say I feel like Martha (Stewart or otherwise). Everyone I work with constantly calls me "Super Mom" and they can't believe how I raise three children, work a full time stressful job, keep house, cook every night, host a weekly small group, volunteer, etc...and I feel like a fraud sometimes. Yes, the part of my house that people see is clean...well, when I know people may see it its clean anyways...but I certainly don't do it alone. When I got home today, Clint had the dishes going, a loaf of bread baking, had laundry washing and drying, and was folding a basket in our bedroom. All I had to do was cook dinner. It's taken us a long time to get to this place, a routine that works for us and doesn't make one parent feel so overloaded. And we don't have any problem letting something slide, like vacuuming or mopping, until it absolutely has to be done.
...but I don't necessarily feel like Mary either...I know it is harder to be Mary. I would love to be able to read the Bible and study God's word, concentrating on the passages and the lessons. I wish I could just sit and spend that time with God without my mind wandering to what needs to be done.
I am going to shoot for just being in the happy middle...getting done what I (we) can, enjoying the blessings God gives us, and trying to make time to spend with God. If I plan it in, it happens more. I don't want to give God whatever is leftover of me...I want to have time that is specifically for God, and not just fit in somewhere. Does that happen? Not as often as I'd like it to...but I'm working on it...that's all I can do, right? And you gotta start somewhere.
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