Mommy Bloggers

In Sickness and in Jest

2008-05-05T20:31:54Z

For the last week (actually 12 days) I've been trying to get over a terrible cold. I've been suffering through it silently, dosing up on various cold medicines and praying to the Gods to kill me in my sleep.

It's tough to be a wife and mother when all I want to do is crawl under the covers and sleep for days. The housework has piled up. I have dishes in the sink, my son's toys are scattered all over the living room and I haven't had the energy to vacuum.

And trying to keep a certain 3-year-old occupied, in between blowing my nose and coughing up a lung, is pure Hell. Yes. With a capital 'H'. Add to that a meltdown of a preschooler and I nearly jumped from the second floor window.

My husband isn't much help when I'm sick. He tries to act as though he wants to take care of me, all the while staying as far from me as possible so that he doesn't catch what I've got. But as for helping with the housework? Only in my dreams.

That isn't to say that he doesn't do his fair share. He does, for the most part. But ever since I became a work-at-home-mom, the bulk of the chores fall on my shoulders. And then when I get sick he doesn't step in to help.

I can't figure out why. When he's sick, he acts like a big baby and I do the best I can to make things comfy for him. I take Dawson out of the house so he can rest and get over his sickness. But when I'm the one feeling miserable he tells me to suck it up.

Just the other day, as I was laying on the couch, sneezing and coughing, he had the audacity to ask me, "So, umm, are you going to get to these dishes?"

"Geez, I'm dying over here and that's all you can think about?" I asked. "I'll do them tomorrow when I feel better."

"What time tomorrow?" he snickered.

Now, I know he was trying to be funny. He's a comical guy. Joking is second nature for him. But he chose the wrong time to be Robin Williams. I flipped out.

"How can you ask me what time, when I've been sick for a week and a half and barely functioning? You stupid jerk!" I screamed. "What ever happened to that 'in sickness and in health' part of this marriage?"

I overreacted. I know that. It's just that there seems to be a double standard here.

When men get sick, they revert back to childhood and want to be taken care of. As a mother, and someone who nurtures, I don't mind taking care of my husband. However, when women get sick, all they want is someone to help them, but men act like the tough football coach and tell us to "Tough it out."

Do I have the right to be mad? Or am I just making a mountain out of a molehill?

Apparently I Just Need More "Training"

2008-05-02T20:00:24Z

I'm pissed off. No, I'm furious. I'm extremely angry at John McCain. I wanted to tackle this topic last week but I was seething after reading this:

Republican Sen. John McCain, campaigning through poverty-stricken cities and towns, said Wednesday he opposes a Senate bill that seeks equal pay for women because it would lead to more lawsuits.

Senate Republicans killed the bill on a 56-42 vote Wednesday night. Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., had delayed the vote to give McCain's Democratic rivals, Sens. Hillary Rodham Clinton and Barack Obama, time to return to Washington to support the measure, which would make it easier for women to sue their employers for pay discrimination.

McCain skipped the vote to campaign in New Orleans.

Yes. You read that correctly. John McCain skipped this important vote because he was campaigning.

I have been sputtering about this for days. It's just another piece of evidence that proves that Republicans do not care about women like they say they do. I've always wondered why women my age are mostly Democrats and I think I figured it out. The Democrats actually give a damn about the rights of women. And while I may disagree with abortion as a "reproductive right" I do understand why so many women vote Left.

The GOP is out of touch with reality. They are perfectly content on believing that a woman's "place" is in the home. Never mind that many women choose to be home with their children. So says McCain, "They [women] need the education and training, particularly since more and more women are heads of their households, as much or more than anybody else, and it's hard for them to leave their families when they don't have somebody to take care of them."

This remark just doesn't make sense to me. I can't see the correlation between women finding it difficult to leave their families to go to work and pay inequality.

When I worked outside the home I struggled with "mom guilt". It was hard to take my son to daycare each day, without feeling as though someone else was raising my child. But my family needed my income to make ends meet, and I actually liked working. It wasn't the worst thing I could be doing. But just because I found it difficult to be a mother and an employee, does that mean I shouldn't be upset that my male co-workers, with the same qualifications, and the same job training, received a higher salary than I did?

And what about the women who are college graduates, educated women with pertinent job training? Do they need more training and education to get paid equally? If a woman does the same work as a man, and has the same qualifications, education and work experience as that man, why is she paid less? Does that seem fair? Because the man has a penis he automatically gets a salary increase? Is he paid based on testosterone? Does producing estrogen automatically knock a woman's wage down?

It's true, more women are the heads of their households. More women control the purse strings. More women are in charge of family decisions. More women have greater influence in matters of business. It's also safe to say that women are better able to influence other women on how to vote in this coming election. But the one area where women are jipped is in salaries. We are still treated as second class citizens.

Why are we treated so unfairly? Is it because we tend to be more nurturing? Because we are partners, wives and mothers? Because we have vaginas? That's it, isn't it? Men are afraid of the power of the va-jay-jay so to punish us, we get paid less money so they can still feel in control. On top. Like they have more authority.

I've got a vagina that says these men better use their salary boosts to buy protection for their man parts, you know, just in case millions of angry women can't fight the urge to kick them in the balls.

From Comedy Central's Indecision 2008:

It's men like John McCain that make it impossible for women to escape these stereotypes. (I've found another reason to be glad I didn't vote for McCain in the Wisconsin primary.)

Steve Spangler Science Absolutely ROCKS!

2008-04-29T23:09:11Z

You know me: I just never promote or recommend a product on any of my blogs. But fellow Mommy-Bloggers, I have discovered a website that absolutely rocks, and it's great for homeschoolers and parents as well as your child's teachers.

I am just so EXCITED over this discovery!

Steve Spangler Science takes the experiments into your kitchen or back yard, and encourages your kids to get down and dirty with them. With Steve's advice, freebies, and budget-conscious kits and products, your child will learn that good science doesn't exist within the pages of a dry textbook or even within the four walls of a classroom. Good science is all around us, and when a child is allowed - nay, ENCOURAGED - to make loud noises and blow things up and walk on water and make geysers and create glow-in-the-dark alien goo and lava lamps and potato-shooters (NOT guns!), our children will become enthusiastic and excited and eager to learn more.

I have always believed that a good lesson not only teaches our children something important: it also encourages our children to try and discover MORE and MORE, and to make connections.

I can't begin to tell you how much I am enjoying my discoveries on Steve Spangler Science. And, you can even sign up for a free "Experiment of the Week!" FREE!

Right now, Steve Spangler is running a contest on his blog, and if you enter, you might win TEN DOLLARS' worth of science coolness for your children! It's easy to enter; all you have to do is look at the bees and make a guess.

Bees? Well, you'll just have to go there and check it out. I think it's FANTASTIC.

As parents, we want to help our children think "out of the box," and the kind of science Steve Spangler encourages is perfection plus. Steve's experiments also involve ordinary household things, such as baking soda or cornstarch, that are in the pantry anyway. There isn't much expense with Spangler experiments. It's also good for our children when they see the adults in their lives participating and enjoying.

I've seen Steve Spangler on "Ellen," and he's all over You-Tube. Remember that awesome Mentos/Diet Coke geyser experiment? That's Steve Spangler!

My kids are in their twenties, and my neighbor's children are seven and eleven, and I'm in my, um, anonymous middle years, and I'm not sure who had the most fun doing that in my back yard!

Steve Spangler Science is having a contest! Go enter it right now; maybe you'll win it.

You Kids Sit Still and Behave

2008-04-22T23:22:30Z

When I was a kid, my family used to drive down to Alabama almost every summer. We had relatives down there, and there would be canvas army cots all over the place at night. My Alabama cousins were many years older, and I thought they were adults, I really did. Cool, stylish, trendy adults. I think the cousin closest in years to me might have been twelve.

It is the trip itself that I want to talk about. And traveling peripherals.

This was before the time of the interstate highway, and the drive took us through every little town, middle-sized town, and city in southern Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, and half of Alabama. We stopped at the occasional little local restaurant, because this was also before the day of the big chain restaurants. This meant, of course, that most of the time the food was actually good. Our car did not have air conditioning, which meant that we rode with all the windows down. It also meant that Dad had a very sunburned left arm.

There was no such thing as carseats for babies or toddlers, unless you counted those little canvas seats that hooked over the back of the front seat, and when we were on vacation, the car was too full for one of those. There were no seatbelts, either. Two parents, four kids, and a grandmother in one '59 Chevy made a pretty full load.

There was no stereo in the car, either. Not even a radio.

Dad was in charge, and we stopped when HE wanted to stop. And if we needed him to stop, it was of vital importance that we never tell him we needed to stop. It made him mad, and he would drive even farther just to demonstrate that he was in charge. This never bothered me, because I could, even as a small child, "hold it" for hours on end, but it pretty much killed my Other Sister, who generally needed to pee every twenty minutes. Fifteen minutes from our house and she was not only asking if we were there yet, she was already asking to go to the bathroom.

Hub and I could never afford to take our children on a real vacation until the summer between their 3rd and 5th grade. That year, we borrowed my parents' van, mortgaged our financial future for NINE YEARS with a new Discover Card, and went to Disney World.

That's right; it took nine years to pay off Discover. NEVER USE THIS CARD. It has the highest interest in the universe. But I digress.

My point is, all my father and mother had to do to maintain almost perfect order in a vehicle was to turn around and say "You kids sit still and behave." And we did. We weren't buckled in, so sitting still took some real effort, but disobeying our parents was far worse than sitting still. We looked out the windows, and counted cows, and sang, and played word games, and napped. We ate only when Dad stopped at a restaurant, although we did travel with a bushel of fresh peaches; we loved to watch dad toss the pits out of his window.

On that trip to Disney World with my own kids, all we had to do was say "Sit still and behave." and they behaved. We didn't travel with toys, or vcr's. We looked out the windows and counted cows and sang and played games. Sometimes, the kids napped. Really, the only differences between our trip and my parents' trip were the seat belts, the cooler of fruit, the air conditioner, and the fact that we usually stopped when the children said they needed to stop.

Here is what I do not understand at all, not one single little tiny bit: why do modern parents supply their vehicles - and thus their children - with all the comforts of home? Why do families need movies, and toys, and a constant supply of snacks, for a road trip? Why do parents nowadays allow their children to dictate when they stop and where? Why don't parents tell their kids to look out the windows, count the cows, play word games, and sing?

My parents talked to us when we were on the road. A lot of modern parents couldn't talk to their kids if they wanted to, because the kids are watching Disney in the back of the minivan.

Modern kids couldn't tell you about the scenery because they never look at it. They demand the same comforts of a vehicle that they demand at home: television, toys, food, drinks, and their own way.

A lot of modern parents would gasp in horror if they heard another parent say "You kids sit still and behave yourselves."

When did it happen that road trips became such a big deal? Tons of toys. Baskets and boxes of juiceboxes and graham crackers and cheese and bottled water. Always with the water. I don't think most people these days have ever been really thirsty because they're never without a bottle of water.

We never had drinks in the car. We drank when we stopped. We knew what it felt like to be genuinely thirsty and we appreciated those rare drinks very much. There were no sticky spills and no crumbs or wrappers in my parents' car.

When we stopped to eat, we parked and went inside. No food or drinks came back outside with us. We ate and drank in the restaurant. And we appreciated it, for we were hungry. After we ate, we weren't hungry and didn't need any snacks or drinks "for the road."

I do not mean that families should travel without air conditioning, or that the occasional drinkbox is going to make the earth stop turning. But I do believe that with many families, it's gotten completely out of hand. With some families, the children are in charge!

We provide so much stimulation via toys and videos and other OUTSIDE sources that our children are never given the chance to learn how to entertain themselves from WITHIN.

It's certainly easier to just hand the kids a graham cracker and the remote to the DVD player installed in the minivan, than to teach your kids to obey you when you tell them to settle down and behave, and to entertain themselves by looking out of the window, or reading a book, or ANYTHING that doesn't entail bothering his/her siblings. If the means of entertaining himself/herself comes WITHOUT a theme song, so much the better.

And if the kids tell you they're thirsty, tell them they can get a drink at the next stop.

What's the matter with people these days? Let your kids get thirsty. Let them get hungry. Don't anticipate EVERYTHING because when you do, they don't appreciate what they get when they get it.

If they cry or scream for food or toys, etc, tell them to look out the window, and count the cows, and see who can be first to find a blue house. You might also practice turning around and saying, "You kids sit still and behave."

And if they don't obey you, you've got a far bigger problem than you might think.

(Cross-posted at Scheiss Weekly)

my baby is five

2008-04-22T17:00:18Z

For my darling D., on his fifth birthday:

You crawled into my bed this morning, and as you cuddled up with me, I lay there remembering the day you were born.

You came into the world in a real hurry (less than an hour of hard labour) and I remember your plump little body, your lusty cries and the pride on your father's face. When our midwife told us we had a little boy (a surprise, as you were uncooperative during the ultrasound), we knew right away that you would be our D. Your name is one I have loved since I was a little girl but the deal was sealed when S. declared it the perfect choice for his little brother.

We had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days (your little lungs experienced a bit of shock at the rapidity with which you came into the world). I remember how much I missed your big brother (this was during the height of the SARS crisis and only Papa was allowed to visit) but I treasured those first days alone with my new baby.

We had a fabulous maternity leave together (and I lost 48 pounds between your nursing and all the walking I did with you in the stroller). You were, from your first days, the social, engaged, loving, headstrong, mercurial child that you are today.

You are smart, funny, enormously charismatic, and full of wonderful insight into the world around you. It is a privilege to be your mother.

And to quote your own words back at you, "I love you as much as all the days."

More.

Cross-posted to Not Just About Cancer.

Learning a Lesson on Letting Go (If Only For a Few Days)

2008-04-16T02:11:56Z

Two weeks ago (has it really been that long?) I departed for New York City. I had never been to the Big Apple before, and the excitement was too much to bear. I couldn't wait to walk through Central Park, ride the elevator to the 86th floor of the Empire State Building and admire the Flatiron Building from Madison Square Park.

The trip was magical, fabulous, amazing. There really are now words to describe the experience, only overwhelming feelings -- most of them good (seeing the Statue of Liberty), some nerve wrecking (taking the subway, alone) -- but overall I enjoyed the four blissful days away.

As a mother, it's not often that I get away sans Dawson, and when I do have the opportunity to hang out with myself, I often feel guilty for enjoying time alone.

The most difficult part of this mini mom-vacation was leaving my son in the care of my husband and my parents.

It's not that I doubted the care my son would receive, I knew he would be in good hands. After all, my husband is a competent man and a wonderful father, and my parents raised four children so it's not like they lack experience.

My biggest fear was the emotional toll I was placing on my little boy. Would he cry for me while I was gone? Would he be able to fall asleep without me by his side? Would he wake up each morning and wonder where his mama was?

The mommy guilt was eating away at me. Even though I needed to get away from the daily grind of house work and the many demands of raising a 3-year-old, I actually asked my husband if he wanted me to stay home. Obviously he said yes, but only because he was going to miss me.

"Just don't worry," he said. "You need time away, too."

Telling a mother not to worry is like telling the sun not to rise in the east. It's guaranteed that all moms worry about leaving their children with others, even family members. We cared for our babies since birth, we have an unbreakable bond, it's only natural that we believe we are the only ones who can do what we do. There's just no replacing the Mommy.

But I understand that we have to let go. If only for short periods of time. We can't always be the only force in our child's life. Sometimes we have to relinquish control of our dominant role in order to be better mothers. Sometimes we have to let Dad (and Grandma) navigate the ship. If only to regain some of our own sanity.

Four days away was enough for me. I started missing my baby and wondering what he was up to. When I finally got home, I noticed something different about Dawson.

I swear he grew. He looked taller. He learned new things while I was away.

"Mommy, the town we live in starts with a "P". It's....ummm...Puh-wover, Wis-cahn-sin!"

Grandma taught Dawson new words and shared new experiences with him while I was away. I felt the guilt in the pit of my stomach.

But I realized, while I was enjoying NYC, Dawson was enjoying the diversity that spending time with other family members can bring. I realized that maybe my son needed a vacation from me, just as much as I needed a vacation from him. The hug I received when I got off the plane showed me just how much he missed me, and how much I missed him.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Indeed it does.

A fine line

2008-04-10T18:07:03Z

I have a lot to learn about this teen parenting thing.

My first lesson is that it suddenly got really hard to figure out what is going on in her world.

I began monitoring her computer use, with her knowledge to make sure there were no hugely inappropriate things going on in her world.

I rehearsed the next level of the drinking/drugs/smoking/sex talks and filed them away, ready to bring them out should anything I read anywhere raise my suspicions.

But, not to my great surprise, I'm not finding any of these scenarios.

I fully realize that most anything can be deleted, or moved to the phone via text messages, I'm fairly confident that things in these areas are OK for now.

What I really didn't think about though, was reading about things that are obviously important to her that she doesn't talk to me about much.

I'm still learning about what things are manufactured drama for the sake of drama and which things are truly upsetting.

I've been pondering a quote I read last week about raising teens: "Where is the line between (teaching) independence and neglect?"

Of course, that doesn't usually mean criminal or egregious neglect, but it's really been on my mind as I navigate this new territory.

While she's still pretty young and not driving or going many places without an adult (curse this going to the movies thing, still, though) this idea mainly applies to me in the area of friends, family and school.

So right now, the question I ask myself is, "What is the line between things I should talk to her about and what is none of my business?"

I very rarely ask her about things I've read, I want to save my inquiries for things that truly matter.

But, for example, when I read something that indicates a good friend of hers has mistreated her, I want to stand up and say, "Friends don't do that!"

Another part of me realizes that it's something she should handle on her own.

Then the first part that won't easily be silenced (she shows up the most often, go figure) steps up and shouts that I should keep the lines of communication open while she's young, that's what a good teen parent does.

However, she is very wise and if I said something generic like, "You can talk to me anytime about anything, you know", she'd say, "Alrighty, I'll get right on that", so I probably need to be specific when bringing up stuff that matters.

Please note that both parts of me can be silenced with a good steak, or nachos on occasion, and she'll be on her own during that time either way.

I suppose the answer is that I will just have to take things as they come, people have been doing this for years, I just want to get it right the first time.

(cross posted from Busymom.net)

Birthday wishes to my daughter

2008-04-08T13:55:49Z

Gabriella,

I cannot believe you are 7 years old today. You, my miracle baby that was a surprise and blessing to all of us. You were such a little fighter in the womb. They told us to prepare to lose you when you stopped growing for over a month. But you had a mind of your own and knew that you had a place in this world. You fought. You began to grow and you came to us three weeks early. You were such a gentle birth. (And you even forgave me for finishing watching the Dallas Stars game after your entered the world.) You just snuggled in with your grandparents, aunt and brothers as if you had always been a part of us.

The weekend I was in the hospital with you was the weekend I was supposed to be picking up my one year chip for staying clean. I think you were the better prize that day.

You are the dream daughter I never thought I would have. You're the continuation of generations of women who love to live, laugh and love. You may be Daddy's little girl, but you and I have a bond that is unbreakable and unshakable. When you look into my eyes I wonder how in the world one person can love and trust me so much. I want to be the Mom you see when you look at me that way. In you I see my future and my past. I see all the wonderful things ahead of you. In our relationship, I see the full circle love that I had with my own Mom and it makes me eternally grateful that you are my daughter. My girl.

I have watched you grow from a colicky baby to a fun loving toddler to the amazing first grader you are today. Every step of the way I have cherished you and your life. The gift that you are to this entire family. You rescued me from myself. I know you were sent here to do so many things in this world. Rescuing me was one of your greatest. And you are only seven!

With you, I learned how to slow down and enjoy motherhood with more ease. I learned to worry less about "should do's" and live more in the moment. With you, I learned how that ice cream for dinner every now and then is good for the soul. With you, I realized I want to be the person you see when you look into my eyes.

Today, as you turn seven, I wouldn't be anywhere else in the world...except with you.

I love you more than you know. And remember our pinky promise: Best friends-- even when you are a teenager. (I am holding you to that.)

Happy Birthday, my sweet, sweet girl.

Love,

Mom

Cross posted on Mommy Needs Coffee

for D.

2008-03-26T21:16:16Z

When we left for our walk, you carefully buckled your Horsie into the stroller seat beside you.

You made me stop four times to tell me that Horsie was falling asleep.

You fell asleep.

You awoke suddenly, and called out my name. I stopped and gently asked what you wanted. You said, "I'm ready to go now," and fell back asleep.

When you were really awake, we went for dog food, cat food and chocolate milk at the 'dog cafe'.

The young women who work there fell for your charms. There were lots of marshmallows in your chocolate milk.

You told me that Horsie was thirsty.

I said he could have some water.

You said that Horsie prefers chocolate milk.

I told you that chocolate milk would give Horsie a stomach ache.

You said it would be OK, because Horsie would only have a couple of sips.

I asked you if you planned to drink the rest.

Horsie had to settle for water.

Did I mention that the young women who worked at the store fell for your charms?

You walked all the way home, proudly walking the dog all by yourself.

It took us forty minutes to cover the fifteen minute walk home.

We had a big fight at the busiest intersection because I made you give me the leash and hold onto my hand.

Now, it is after 10:00 and you are still awake.

You just came downstairs. I opened my mouth to scold you but you said, "Mama, I can see the moon out my window. Come see."

We looked at the moon, I kissed you goodnight (yet again) and I tucked you in bed.

You look like me.

You drive me to distraction.

And I love you to distraction.

Originally posted in June 2007, on Not Just About Cancer.

Sometimes, You Just Have To Let Them Go Without. . . .

2008-03-25T02:10:42Z

When my children were in the elementary grades, they would occasionally forget to grab their lunch off the kitchen table and bring it to school. First and second grades: I was right on top of it with lunch money or a grandmother who would drive out to school with a Happy Meal. Upper elementary grades: I let them go without.

Yes. I am a mother who required my children to reap the consequences of their actions. Grabbing the lunchbox before going out the door in the morning was their responsibility, and either they did it or they didn't, and if they did, they ate the lunch of their choice; if they didn't, they ate peanut butter or whatever the cafeteria was doling out to forgetful moneyless students that day.

The first few times, they would come crying to me. I sent them back with a "you did it, you deal with it." Because I am just that kind of stern and unmoving mother. Then I would have to fight tears and worry all afternoon that my child was sitting in a pitiless classroom, hungry and shaky and wishing she/her had a mother who loved him/her.

Funny, though. . . . I only had to do that a few times for each child, and somehow after that, they both remembered their lunches.

I had the same policy with forgotten books and homework and band instruments. After a few humiliations, they remembered.

From kindergarten through 8th grade, I was in their building, teaching on the top floor, just a few steps away. It would have been easy for me to come to the rescue over and over. However, I only did it when it was truly an emergency. If it was a matter of simple forgetfulness, a responsibility they let slip by, they were on their own.

I have had 8th graders whose mothers came to school almost daily with forgotten items. I found this appalling.

Let the consequences fall on their heads a few times, and they'll remember.

School is about more than spelling and math and science and history and standardized tests that have stomped all the joy out of learning. School is also about organization and remembering obligations and becoming independent and learning about natural consequences.

Stand in the way of that, and you're standing in the way of your child becoming responsible for his/her own actions. We all know how repulsive that kind of adult is. Why do we enable such qualities in our children?

Let's just not, okay?

Did I mention that doing this is hard? That's it's REALLY HARD? Did I mention that to know your child is going without, or is having to explain to his teacher why he/she doesn't have the homework or the violin or the bassoon or the lunchbox or the money, etc. because, well, he/she forgot it, is really, really hard? Heartbreakingly hard? And that his mother, who put out many, many reminders, let the child leave it on the kitchen table because it was a good lesson in remembering the next time, is going to be thinking about it all day and hoping her child has what it takes to make the best of a situation of his own doing and do better next time?

It's really hard. But allowing your child to grow up without ever reaping the consequences of his own actions can be harder still, down the road. Really hard. Harder than anything you can imagine while they're small.

That consequences do not fall out of the clear blue sky but are direct results of their own actions or inactions is one of the best and most important lessons we as parents can teach our children. And, as I said before, one of the hardest. For them, yes, but mostly for us.

dreams

2008-03-18T20:04:37Z

When I was pregnant with my first child, I dreamed that I gave birth to a chicken. I was horrified. I knew that I was supposed to love that chicken and I was wracked with guilt that, instead, I was repulsed by it. I was especially terrified at the prospect of breast-feeding the chicken.

Several months later, I dreamed that I gave birth to a golden retriever. I took that as a sign that I was making progress in my mental preparation for motherhood. I still didn't know how I would breastfeed a puppy but at least the creature in the crib was mammalian (and the thought of cuddling with it did not freak me out. I have never really liked birds).

I think dreams can tell us a great deal about ourselves, if we can actually figure them out.

And while I don't remember all of my dreams, there are some that stay with me very vividly. I don't believe that all of my dreams have great meaning (and some make so little sense when I wake up that I don't even try to ascribe meaning to them) but sometimes, I really feel that my dreams relay messages from my sub-conscious.

I still occasionally have a dream that I am back in university. It's time to write exams, only I haven't been to class (OK some of this did actually happen in real life). In fact, I had no idea that I had even signed up for that particular course.

It's very stressful.

In a recent version of the dream (and I have had this one more than once), I have had to quit my job and go live with my parents, since I have just found out that I did not complete high school. In this dream, I can't even find the school office to get a copy of the class schedule. As the end of the school year approaches and exams loom, I realize that I have not attended a single math class (I don't even know where the classroom is).

At the most stressful periods of my working life, I found myself back in grade school (it is not fun being the only adult in Grade 4).

In the year before my cancer diagnosis (my last year of working crazy hours), I dreamed that I had inherited a house. After living in it for some time, I would always discover that the house had another floor to it, one I had not known existed. This attic didn't always look the same but it was always beautifully furnished, dusty and fairly vast. My feeling upon discovering it was always wonder, mixed with a lot of fear and some excitement.

I took that one to mean that there was some aspect of my past that needed exploring. Perhaps I was also telling myself that I was neglecting some part of who I was.

More recently, I have been having a dream that is likely related to the unexplored house. In this one, I am staying at a large hotel. It always looks different and the location and reason for travel also vary. But in every dream, I get locked out of my room and I can't find my keys (this is something that happens to me almost every time I travel. And I lose keys all the time). I spend the rest of the dream wandering the halls, trying to find the front desk or, if I succeed in getting a new key, I can no longer find my room. All the hallways and every floor look exactly the same. Or the numbers have disappeared from the doors. Or I get my key to work in a lock, only to find that door opens to an empty room (or one with someone else in it. I have had this happen in real life, except that in the dream, I am the only one who seems to be bothered).

It's not a panicky dream (like the school ones), just a frustrating one. Perhaps I am just feeling stuck and not sure how to get to where I want to go (and unsure of what the destination should be).

I wonder what I am trying to tell myself.

Thoughts? Feel free to psychoanalyze me or share dreams of your own in the commments.

Cross-posted to Not Just About Cancer

Another Tick Tock of the Biological Clock

2008-03-17T18:17:56Z

Today, I turned twenty-nine. I don't know what it is about that number that bothers me most, the fact that it's my last year in my twenties or that in another 365 days I'll be a member of a new decade. After all, 29 is really just the gateway to 30.

I'm not so much worried about getting older as I am about my "to-do" list. You know. The List. The list of stuff I wanted to accomplish before age 30. And now, realizing I have a year left to cross those things off, I'm kind of fretting.

Don't get me wrong. I'm young. I'm not 99 for goodness sake. Still, I can't help but think about the here and now and the accomplishments I've yet to achieve.

For example, the last few years I've contemplated a second child. I have always wanted a lot of children. Five or six at least. But I'm a card carrying member of the Infertility Brigade. It took 3 years to conceive Dawson.

I've blogged my feelings about this subject time and time again. And it never gets any easier to deal with. Knowing that my biological clock is ticking is unsettling. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Can't you hear that? It's menacing.

I, myself, get sick of talking about it sometimes. I try to push those negative feelings to the back of my mind. I ignore them. I pretend it doesn't bother me. I shrug off every remark from family and friends. When others are announcing their second, third and fourth pregnancies, I smile and make the obligatory congratulations while worrying that I'll never be next.

I've played the game where I say, "It's all in God's hands" or "Someday it will happen" or "When the time is right" but really, I can't help but cry in the night, when no one else is around to hear me.

I don't want to be that woman. The one who is insanely jealous of other pregnant women. I don't want to be her. But when I see an expectant mom, I feel the pain twisting inside. I can't imagine what other women go through, the ones who've never birthed a child and so desperately wish to do so. I mean, really. I'm lucky, right? But why do I still feel incomplete?

Don't get me wrong. I love my son more than anything. More than life, he is my blessing. And I try to use that love to make myself feel better, but it doesn't.

"At least I have Dawson." I say. I don't want my little boy to think he isn't enough. But why shouldn't I want to share my love with another child? Why shouldn't I want to give my son the gift of a brother or sister to love?

With every birthday that passes, I fall a little more into the depression of not being able to conceive a second child. I just don't get it. Why do I feel this way? How do I overcome these emotions?

Why can't I enjoy my birthday without thinking about that damn biological clock and all that it reminds me of?

stop the presses!

2008-03-06T16:38:33Z

The headline would read, "Two young brothers, five years apart, play together for more than an hour without fighting."

I didn't really plan to have my kids so far apart. It's just that I wasn't in a big hurry to be pregnant again after the first time (I was sick the whole time, with horrible heart burn and fatigue. I was also plagued by what I later learned was ante-natal depression).

And then when I was ready to be pregnant, I had a miscarriage at eleven weeks. Having lived through that enormously traumatic experience, I was not keen to try again for many months.

So my kids, in the end, were born almost exactly five years apart.

At first, I found this to be advantageous. S. was keen to show the new baby how grown up he was and began to get dressed by himself every morning. He was also very eager to help and I would have him hand me things when I changed a diaper or simply make faces at the baby to keep him entertained (at that age, the boys found each other to be endlessly fascinating). It was good to have a child who was a little more independent, when the little one relied on me for everything.

But as the boys grew older (they will be ten and five this spring), and their interests grew more disparate, they stopped seeking each other out quite so much. And they also figured out how to get under each other's skin as only siblings can. These days, they seem to only play together under duress (or in response to a bribe, I admit it), when D. is bored and S. must "entertain" him as one of his chores. And all too frequently, even this scenarios end in yelling and tears of frustration.

There are, however, glimmers of hope. The boys do tend to stand together in times of adversity (usually in opposition to their parents). And they genuinely missed each other (at least in theory) when D. and I were away for a week.

And then, last Saturday, a remarkable thing happened. D. decided that he wanted to write a story. When S. heard the title, "The Boy who Fell Down the Toilet," he became very interested (nothing like a scatological reference to bring two boys together), got out the computer and proceeded to download graphics from the internet to use as illustrations. Before long, the boys had created a series of four short stories, written by D., with illustrations, typing and editorial input by his older brother.

The stories (in which the poor central character went on to get stuck in a sewer, a bathtub and a sink) were then performed to great acclaim for a parental audience (they really are both bright, funny, creative kids, in my entirely unbiased opinion).

The glow from that morning lasted for the rest of the day, as the boys basked in their success. I knew it wouldn't last but the fact that this rapprochement had occurred made me very happy.

I want very much for my boys to be friends as adults. My own relationship with my sister is extremely important to me and it means a lot that we genuinely like each other, in addition to our strong sibling bond.

I know my boys will be good, kind men who will look out and care for each other. Saturday's events gave my hope that they might be friends as well (and successful creative geniuses, too, of course).

So when yesterday morning rolled around, with both boys screaming and in tears (with lots of cries of "He always...!" and "He never....!), I quietly reminded myself of Saturday morning and waited for the storm to pass.

Cross-posted to Not Just About Cancer.

Pearls Beyond Price

2008-03-05T02:21:17Z

When my son was in kindergarten, he gave me a pair of earrings for Christmas. He picked them out himself, and he chose 'the most beautifullest earrings in the whole store' for me.

Every morning, I put them on and wore them to school. Both of my children came to school with me (from K-8!) so I wore the earrings until they went down to their classrooms at 7:50 each morning.

As soon as the coast was clear, I took off the pearl earrings and replaced them with another pair that I kept in my desk. He never knew. He still doesn't know.

As soon as my own students left, I hurriedly put my little boy's earrings on again. As far as he knew, I'd been wearing them all day. In my heart, I had.

He used to brag about how those beautiful earrings Momy always wore had been chosen by him and him alone, and purchased with his saved-up allowance. (He got fifty cents a week once he started school. A man has needs.)

I was young, and insecure, and my job was fairly new. I wanted to make a good impression. Otherwise, I would have worn those earrings all day, and either held my head high and said nothing, or explained why they were so precious to me. Some of the other teachers would have understood. Some would not have. I was young, and insecure.

When he was in the fourth grade, he bought me another pair of earrings down at the school's 'Santa's Workshop' store. They were a little less 'elegant' than the original pair, and I was able to wear them in public.

No pirate chest or Tiffany's window ever held such precious jewels.

When I cleaned out my desk, the summer of '04, that first pair of earrings was still in my pencil tray.

I do not remember the last time I wore them. I do not remember the last time I took them off and put them in the tray. I do not remember being asked where they were. I do not remember feeling different because I was now putting on 'normal' earrings in the mornings. I do not remember if he asked about them at all.

For four and a half years, I wore these earrings every morning and every evening. Purty, huh.

They are pearls beyond price. Close to three inches of pearls.

When he was in the 8th grade, I showed him the earrings in my desk drawer. He looked stunned, and said, "Mom, you've got to be kidding!"

I wasn't kidding. And when I told him how beautiful they were to me, and always would be, he looked incredulous. And then he grinned and said "Mom, you are so WEIRD."

Well, there's that.

If I had it all to do over again, I'd wear the dangly pearls the whole day.

When you get old, you get braver. And less concerned with what "people" think.

You tend to tell is like it is, when you get older. And let me tell you all: those earrings are the most beautiful jewels I own.

Advice? From MOI? Sure. Here's some advice for you all: when your children make or buy what is, to them, beautiful things for Mommy, wear them. Oh, mothers, wear these dreadful conglomerations of fake pearls and shiny things. Wear them over your heart, and touch them often and smile. Think of the thought that went into the making or selecting of these genuinely hideous "things," because the day will come when you'll look back and wish you had. Don't be too cowardly to walk proudly into the room wearing three-inch-long pearl net earrings, or broaches the size and shape of a baboon's fist, or a ring won from a bubble gum machine. Nothing a jewelry store could possibly offer will ever be worth even half as much as these gifts from the heart of a little boy or girl, chosen for their sparkle and size, because Mommy deserves the prettiest jewelry in the world.

The Old Gray Mare, She Ain't What She Used To Be: Exception One

2008-03-02T20:13:17Z

I am often lost in the past. I'm often lost on the freeway, too, but that's another post.

Lost in the past. Mostly, lost in memories of when my children were small and needed me.

I have been extremely fortunate in that neither of my children was frequently ill. They both had migraines which were often severe, and they both had the usual measles and chickenpox. Belle had walking pneumonia a few times but it never got her down. But when it came to the usual list of childhood ailments, such as earaches, vomiting, diarrhea, bad colds, flu, etc, we were really lucky. It just hardly ever happened.

Which meant, of course, that the very few times it DID happen, it was scarier than it would have been for most kids. My kids were not used to it. They still aren't.

When they were sick, I would lie with them on the sofa or bed and rub their hands and arms, and mess with their hair, and run my fingers lightly over their faces. I would sing and hum and breathe deeply and slowly to calm them down. (That breathing thing really works!) And I would love on them all night long.

Last night I was sitting here remembering that. And trying to remember when it all stopped; when did my kids stop needing me to make the bad sickness go away?

And then the phone rang.

My daughter was sick; she was terribly sick, and she called me sobbing to ask me what to do.

So I got into the car and drove up there and brought her back home. I put her in her old bed and got in with her, and rubbed her hands and arms, and messed with her hair, and ran my fingers lightly over her face. I sang and hummed and breathed deeply to calm her down, and I loved on her all night long.

The next morning she was shaky but better. She rode back up to the city with me and I dropped her off at her apartment on my way to the college. She was going to nap a little more and try to go to work by noon.

And now I am sitting here again, lost in the past, but I'm putting a footnote (1) on it.

(1) They will always need us; the old methods will always work; they're never too old to want Momy*; we never forget how to comfort them; and baby, we've still GOT it.

*There's a reason I spell it that way. Stay tuned and you'll find out.

(Parts of this post were published on Scheiss Weekly in March of 2005)