Peace Be With You!

This Christmas season has been rough.  There’s no denying it.  And it seems as though everything came crashing down today.  So I decided to do something for myself.  I’m giving myself a Christmas gift. 

There are times when I wish that gift would be something chocolate, or some wine, and normally it would be.  I mean come on, why not unwind a little bit and relax?  But this year, I’m giving myself something different.  I’m giving myself peace. 

I can finally have peace of mind.  This comes after God has kicked me around a bit.  I’ve had my Job time this year.  And unfortunately, I haven’t come out of it with my faith as intact as Job’s, but I’m working on it.  Everyone goes through these times.  I’ve fought my depression as if it’s a huge war I’m waging.  Now I’m calling a truce, at the very least, and hopefully this will be a full all out stop to the war. 

What is happening is that I’ve finally realized, to the fullest extent, that my place is not working for the church.  See, here’s the deal.  A while back there was a job opening at the local elementary school for someone to teach reading and be a playground aide.  I considered, but then backed away from it through fear of the unknown.  However, after being kicked around a bit more, there are two more openings. One at the elementary again, and this is the kicker: there’s one at the high school!  The ages in which I am most adept at teaching!  It’s only for the second semester of the school year, and no promises after that (the local school didn’t meet Annual Yearly Progress, which means they have to do something about the test scores).  I really feel that I’m being led toward this.  I can’t explain why.  I just do.  So I’ll try for it.  If I get it, wonderful!  If I don’t…Well, we’ll work that out later.  I also know not to quit the job at the church quite yet.  I still need that income to help me out until I know for sure what will happen with this job. 

So, with a plan in place, I give myself peace.  Granted I may need some help from the friendly local pharmacist (Xanax is wonderful still!), but overall I will have peace.  I will let go of what I cannot control.  I will not worry about it.  I will be fine.  So peace be with you!  (If you’re Lutheran, I dare you to not answer, even in your mind: And also with you!)

Enjoying Kirstin

We had a wonderful weekend this past weekend.  We had to go visit Matt's folks because we were out of hamburger.  You never realize how much you need hamburger until you don't have any.  At least in this household.  So, we made the trip down to the Minnesota River Valley.

While we were there, I finally had a chance to have some time with Kirstin.  That doesn't happen nearly as often as it should right now.  Emily takes up a lot of my care and time and while I try to give Kirstin the attention she craves, it sometimes doesn't happen very well.  Especially with a teething baby that will cry if she's not in my arms.

But I was finally able to hand the fussy baby over to Grandma and take some time with Kirstin.  There were some kittens in the window well in our room in the basement.  It's a very deep window well, and there was no way the mother cat (who is tiny!) would be able to get them out of there on her own.  I felt sorry for the poor little things who were just huddled in a corner trying to keep warm.  Their eyes were open and they were moving around some, so they weren't just born, but still young enough that they needed a lot of attention from Mama Cat.  So, to spend some time with Kirstin, she and I made a kitty house.  Matt went down to the shop and got an old mineral bucket and cut a door in the side of it so we could put it upside down and the cats would have a warmer, more protected place to live.  Then Kirstin and I hopped on the gator and went to find a big rock and some straw.  I was going slower than I normally would because Kirstin was with me.  Finally, she looked at me and asked, "Mom, can't you make this thing GO?" 

I obliged.  She did fine.  I did ask Matt when we got done running our errands if he goes fast with her in the gator, and he fessed up.  He does.

Kirstin and I put the straw in the mineral bucket, upended it, patted down the straw a little bit, and then put the big rock on top of it to keep it from blowing away in the wind.  We had a perfect kitty house!  Kirstin ran around the yard and kept finding leaves to decorate it, and finally she pronounced it "beautiful!"

Matt helped us get the kittens by getting into the window well and handing them to me.  They're wild, so they did not like being taken up into human hands.  I got bit and scratched and hissed at (which by the way, a small kitten hissing is absolutely hilarious to me).  I put them in their new home and then we left them so Mama Cat could find them again. They did not stay in the house we made for them, but they did move to the bushes on the side of the house, so they have more cover there than they did in the window well.

After all that, Kirstin, Matt, and I went for another gator ride. Matt grabbed a plastic lawn chair from the deck and put it in the back of the machine and sat upon his throne like the royalty he is (royal pain?).  He had a lot of fun as we went up to see the old school bus.  We had to go through some old pasture land with many gopher hills.  Then we went to see the cows.  By this time Kirstin was nearly falling asleep in her seat, so we cut the ride short and headed up to the house again.  On the way back we stopped and grabbed some gourds to dry and paint from the trailer Grandma Millie put them on.  Kirstin had fun picking out some for herself and making the acquaintance of the barn cat, Swen.  He's a lovey cat, and jumped right up on the gator for some pets. 

Later on after supper, I got Emily squared away with Matt and a bottle, and Kirstin and I went to the hot tub.  It was chilly out, but that made it even more perfect to be in the hot tub.  We got to hear some geese, see the stars, and just play, laugh, and relax.  She started to do the Hokey Pokey in the hot tub, but I stopped her just as she slipped and swallowed some water.  We got out, and we raced back to the door to go in, and then to the bathroom so she could take a shower.  She did her rendition of the Hokey Pokey in the shower for me.  Then, after getting all cleaned up, she got wrapped in a towel again and gave Grandpa and Grandma a naked rendition of the Hokey Pokey.  We were all laughing so much. 

It was a very good day spent with Kirstin.  She's such a loving and caring little thing and it's amazing to me to see how much she knows and can do.  She changes so much every day.  I'm not going to let myself miss out on that.

Focused

Okay, so maybe not focused in the same way....

But I am focused.  On getting better, on beating this depression again, on getting my life back on track.  The first steps are done.  Emily is weaned (sniff, sniff) and I'm on my meds again.  It was a rocky first couple of weeks getting back on the meds.  Dizziness, anyone?  But now that I've been taking them for a few weeks that's abated and I can focus on getting life going. 

Right now I'm at the point of, "so what if my house is a mess?  So what if I'm not a super mom?"  Did you know that the sun is shining and it's a beautiful, cool, fall day?  Okay, so the messy house is bothering me a bit, but that will resolve itself over the weekend.  I'm having more fun with conversations and finding joy in them.  It's always a good time when a conversation about a flier a county commissioner candidate gives you goes something like this:
Matt: Hey, where did this Steve Storck thing come from?
Me: Steve Storck.
Matt: I know that, but where did it come from?
Me: No, seriously, Steve Storck came by and dropped it off.
Matt: Oh!  What'd that know you then?

Sometimes you may just need to know Matt and me to know how funny that would come off. 
I've also focused on other small things, like watching the neighbor's cat stalking a slimy, yucky salamander.  Orange tabby tail straight in the air, and Schwan pounces, only to run away very soon after licking like crazy.  Silly kitty!

One of the bigger things I've focused on is eating better and losing the baby fat.  I've lost the weight (actually, more than the weight), just not the shape.  I know round is a shape, but I miss seeing my hips when I lie down.  I'm not looking for my high school body or anything like that, but just something a little more toned. 

I got over the high school body thing this summer.  We were at Matt's folks' place and went swimming in the pit.  It was an incredibly hot day and a swim felt so good.  Soon the intimacy was jarred by a bunch of high school kids running down to the water.  All the girls were in little bikinis with their perfect, youthful bodies.  And I felt old, used up, and soft.  I left soon after with the excuse that Emily wasn't handling the heat well.  As I showered soon after going back up to the house, I had a quick cry, and then I pulled myself back up.  Their bodies hadn't done what mine had.  My body grew two babies and brought them into the world.  My body nursed and nurtured those babies.  My body chased after one of those babies so far, and will chase after the next one all too soon.  So yeah, I may be soft around the edges, but damn it! My body is beautiful because it has done beautiful things!  That and in ten years, those with the little bikinis may be feeling the same thing. 

That personal pep talk has gone a long way toward bolstering my self image.  Are there days I'd like to change things about me?  Yes, most every day.  Then I remember the talk I gave myself, and say, "I'm beautiful to those who matter, everyone else can go..."

So now that I've had my rant on something completely not on the topic, go focus on something worthy today.  Don't worry about your own looks, don't worry about the little stuff, but celebrate the good.

Crash and Burn

I know I've been very remiss about writing lately.  There's been so much going on this month, and here I've written about very little.  I do have one post that I've hand written.  I just have to type it up and post it.  This post won't be that one though. 

I've been having some rather large problems with my depression again.  If a day goes by without crying right now, I can mark it on the calendar and have a celebration.  And I truly thank the Lord for good friends.  Without them I'd be incredibly lost right now. 

I don't know what happened last weekend, but something must have.  On Monday, instead of following my usual routine for the morning, I just sat on the couch.  Then around 10:30 or so I realized I had some pretty high anxiety and I couldn't control it.  I couldn't control my breathing, I was crying, I was shaking. And because of that,I thought I was going to pass out.  What a joy that would be for Kirstin to find me on the floor or something.   After a lot of online messaging with Matt, I finally called Angie.  She came and helped me screw my head on straight and keep it there.  I was barely able to take care of my girls.  I had Kirstin give Emily a bottle after I put Emily in her high chair. Kirstin's lunch consisted of crackers, peanut butter, and beef jerky.  It was the best I could do.  I had planned on making eggs and toast, but I didn't feel I could handle even something as simple as that.

Once Angie got there, she didn't expect me to talk about what was going on, but just went with the flow of things.  She kept reminding me of what I was starting to do so that I could accomplish things.  She took care of my girls for a little bit until I felt competent again.  I got a shower, some laundry done, and got the bottles filled (I usually do that right away in the morning).  Once I felt able, I talked to Angie about it.  I told her I just didn't know what exactly happened.  Then to hear Kirstin say, "Mommy is crying a lot today."  It just about broke my heart.  We got things figured out, and my Matt brought her Matt out (they're the Matts of Computing Services on campus) and we had a nice supper and some time with friends.  I still don't know exactly what happened.  I'm pretty boggled about it all still.

I did have an appointment with my psychiatrist on Wednesday.  I described it to her, and she said it sounds like a real panic attack.  I walked out of there with a prescription for Xanax and Cymbalta.  The Xanax I'm supposed to take at night for help to sleep and to take during the day for anxiety as needed.  I start the Cymbalta tomorrow.  I can probably expect about two weeks of dizziness until my body gets used to the meds again.  That should really help me out.  I'm hoping the Cymbalta takes care of some of the anxiety as well.  It's still sky high, and I can't force myself to leave the house all the time.  My mental cheerleader has just thrown down her pom poms and left for a little bit.  I'm making my way back though. 

So, where to from here?  I figure I can only go up.  I had everything together as well as I possibly could for so long.  I guess it was only a matter of time before something happened.  I think I slipped back about halfway again.  So, up we go, and the climbing continues!

Just a Day

We've been having interesting times around here lately.  Not that anything huge has happened, but just that everything seems huge as it approaches.  I've been having a tough time of just going about daily business lately.  That really makes me scared.  I know I probably should go on the pills again, but I'm trying to fight my way through instead.  I have to force myself to leave the house and be among people again.  That's never good.  That was one of the main signs of depression for me earlier on.  And now that Vacation Bible School is going on, I have no choice but to leave my little "queendom" and go.  Unfortunately, Xanax and nursing don't go together very well, or else I'd have something to take the edge off the anxiety.  Instead, I have to curb the nausea, force myself to eat something, and just make myself go and do what I need to do.  And this is to go out among friends at the church. I do have the office to retreat to there, so I can hide a little bit.  Not that hiding helps anything, but I do get a little refuge to pull myself together. There is one night this week that I'm not going in, and the neighbor will pick up Kirstin and bring her there for me. I plan on doing some mental health exercises whilst she's gone and Matt has Emily.  Hopefully I can get myself back together for a while.

It's something else entirely when I have to face being among strangers.  Heck, just going to the grocery store is becoming a huge mental chore.  I have to cheer myself on just to get through it.  Then I wonder why I'm getting knots in my back again.  Ugh.  But I look at the girls' smiles and I know I have to just keep going.  I can't seclude myself.  I WON'T be one of those people.  But yeah, I may wind up on the pills again.  But first, I have to wean Emily, and I'm just not willing to do that quite yet.  In the meantime, I'm rereading a book, "Get it Done When You're Depressed" by Julie A Fast and John D. Preston and trying to do what it says.  I have to, so I can be a better mom to my girls.  I'm the female role model around here, and I sure don't want Matt teaching them some of the things about being a girl.  That's just a scary thought in general.  I wonder how he would react to Kirstin asking about bras like she did the other day...

But on a positive note, I've been a breast milk queen.  I pump once a day and freeze it special bags.  I have almost 4 gallons frozen now.  I just took a tally the other day.  I was amazed.  I've been pumping once a day from the very beginning.  I wasn't going to start pumping till Emily was about a month old, but then she wound up in the NICU.  This is one of those positive things to come from that.  That and the fact that we had to apply for Medical Assistance to cover part of the bill (insurance has since covered it) and that put us on WIC again.  Free food is always good.  And now we get fresh fruits and veggies, brown rice, bread or tortillas and the like too.  We never got that kind of stuff when I was on it with Kirstin.  It's a wonderful program and I recommend it to anyone who may be able to be on it. 

Another positive thing that's been happening is getting a schedule going for the girls again.  It took a while, but now we've got a routine down, and it's absolutely wonderful.  The money I spent on that blanket for Emily was very well spent.  She has yet to break out of it, even when she travels the crib during the night.  She sleeps later in the morning, so that means I can sleep too.  So now she eats at 7:00 a.m., 11:00 a.m., 1:00 p.m., 5:00 p.m., 7:00 p.m., and 9:00 p.m.  She sleeps in the morning from about 9:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. and then sleeps again from about 1:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m., and then goes to bed at 9:00 p.m.  Very rarely does she vary from this when we're home.  So that helps me plan for more activities with Kirstin.  I can sit down with her and just read a book again, and be able to cuddle her more as I do it.  And I know all this will get easier as time goes on.  Kirstin is learning to read a little bit now too, so we have fun picking out words that she knows in her books. 

So there is a lot going on right now, but none of it big.  I just have to remember that.

Survival of the fittest?

Survival of the fittest or just plain stupidity?  I'm opting for the latter.  In the past week I've come across two "news" stories of people being stupid when it comes to wild animals.  The first one is this:

Baby skunk with rabies

Okay, so some people think skunks are cute, and they wanted to help out.  I get that.  But, this is not a tame animal! Skunks are known carriers of rabies!  At what point in time does someone NOT think, "Oh, maybe I should just leave it alone and let animal control take over?"  Seriously.  Now because of those actions, many people have to go through what I've heard is a very painful process of injections so they don't have to suffer the effects of rabies. 
Honestly.  No one even thought of a quarantine period for said skunk?  Nope, let's just invite all our friends and family to come meet the animal. Isn't it a cute little thing?  Look at it, stomping toward us.  Oh, hey, it's sick.  Maybe we should go to the vet.  What? Rabies?   Hope it's a fun reunion at the doc's office while you're getting the injections.

The second story is this one (video):

Bison Attack

What were these people thinking?  "Oh, they're like cows grazing in a field- how pastoral!"  Umm, no.  First of all, cows can be dangerous too.  You have a large creature get in a mood to run you down, and see how you do.  Yeah. Not fun.  Been there, done that.  I watched Matt get run over by a calf (and worried about our chances of having children afterward, but luckily the calf stepped on his thigh instead). There's a reason farm stores sell cattle prods. It's not a fun thing. Yeah, for the most part cows just go on chewing their cud when you're in the pasture, because they have been tamed. But there are times...

However, bison are wild.  If you piss one off your chances of getting away are slim.   Why were these people out of their vehicle?  They would have had a better chance to get away then.  Just roll down the window and take the footage.  The zoom function on cameras work wonders when you want a closer shot.  I just plainly don't understand.

Then I think about it more.  Are we as a nation so insulated from the "wild" that when we see it we have no idea what's safe?  I realize I'm lucky, as are my kids.  We live in the country.  We have access to animals.  We have a wildlife area right across the road.  We get any number of birds, mammals, etc. coming through our yard.  And as a child, I was taught to respect nature.  I was taught what God gave the animals for their protection and to respect it.  I was taught to be wise and weary.  Because of that, I will never be the one running for my life from a bison, or the one to take a skunk into my home. 

My girls too, are going to learn the same.  For us, it's part of being a parent.  But then there are the kids-and adults- who never see anything other than the occasional robin in their yards.  I believe that's sad.  And it's these people who will believe taking a wild animal into their homes is fine.  It's these people who won't use common sense. 

Now, I'm not too pleased by my tame animals right now either.  Our cats were out of food.  Therefore they tried to eat the plants.  The result is less than pleasing, and takes some carpet cleaner to fix.  Ugh.  So, I'm going to sit back, relax (now that I cleaned up the cat puke), watch the animals come in from across the road, and tell Kirstin and Emily all about them. 

Why? Why? Why?

"Tell me why the stars do shine

Tell me why the ivy twines

Tell me why the sky is blue

And I'll tell you just why I love you."

"Why?" has become the word used most often by Kirstin as of late.  And to tell the truth; she's driving me insane. "Why do we have hands and arms?"

"Why do we have stairs?"

"Why do we need electricity?"

"Why?"  

"Why?"

"Why?"

It's enough to drive anyone crazy!  And the general answers aren't enough for her either.  

"Why do we have hands and arms?"

"Because God made us that way honey."
"But WHY?"

"Because that's what he wanted to do."

"WHY?" This said with a little more insistence. She gets a look from me as I'm trying to finish changing a diaper, get supper started, or just take a breather.

"Go ask your father."

Yes, sometimes I pass it off onto other people.  Sometimes she's just too smart for some of the answers I give.  

"Why do we have stairs?"
"How else would we get upstairs?"

A roll of the eyes, a hand on the hip as she sticks it out and a very sarcastic response: "Well, there ARE elevators, you know."  

Silly me, I didn't think of that. Other times I just give her something to really think about when she asks "why" too many times. 

"Why do we need electricity?" asked as we were in the car on the way to Alexandria.  We passed some wind turbines. She knows that they give us electricity and that electricity runs pretty much everything in our house.  This is a question I've answered many times before.  Hence my long winded reply.

"Well, Kirstin, it's called the progress of man.  Man is always looking for new and/or safer ways of doing work.  Before man harnessed electricity and made it do the work for us, everything was much more difficult and took much more time for us to accomplish our tasks.  Electricity helps with many of the tasks we do in our daily lives."

"Oh."

Meanwhile, Matt is driving and snickering at my response.  I gave him a look, and asked the reason for his laughter.  His response: "You just answered in a way that I would have answered."

See, the difference is that he isn't home with her 24/7 and I am.  I take the brunt of the questions.  After a while I have to insert a snarky long winded reply just so I don't have to constantly hear Kirstin's voice during the day.  

There are times when I think I just can't take all the questions anymore.  Every time I even take two second to run to the bathroom, I get asked, "Why do you have to go to the bathroom, mom?" And to think I have another child that will go through all this in a few years.  Yikes!  I guess I can just take it day to day and try not to get too frustrated at having my every move analyzed by a three year old asking "Why?" 

And tomorrow I'm sure I will have to answer many new questions beginning with "why." 

Domesiticity gone masochistic

Today I did what Matt calls "going all domestic and stuff".  Essentially that means I either A) got out the sewing machine to do more than just general repair; B) tried an entirely new recipe just to see what would happen; C) baked a bunch of stuff; or D) cleaned the house from top to bottom, including reorganizing everything. 

Today's domesticity revolved around the sewing machine.  I wanted to make Emily a new swaddling blanket of a type she wouldn't kick off in the middle of the night.  I made the pattern on Wednesday, and bought the fabric yesterday.  Today I sat down and made the blanket.  It turned out pretty well for a random attempt at making something of which I've only seen pictures.  I made the pattern myself, and had it all in my mind as to how I wanted it to turn out.  And for once, it really did turn out the way I had envisioned. 

Basically, the blanket has two arms to it-- one short and one long. 
The baby is laid down in the middle section, and the short arm wraps around first to tuck him/her in. 

Then the long arm wraps around from the other side and goes completely around the baby. 

I've seen this type of blanket elsewhere selling for more money than I was willing to spend.  A lot of blankets like this also have a little "footie sac" in them to put the baby's feet and legs into.  I didn't make one for Emily's blanket, however, because I just plainly couldn't wrap my head around how to do that and still have it be a reversible blanket.  Of course, now I have an idea as to how that could work, but I'm still not sure of the practicality of it. 

So, after pinning the pattern on, I saw I would have plenty of fabric left over.  I decided to make a smaller version of the blanket for Kirstin to use with her baby doll.  No problem, I just did the math to get the ratios correct after taking a few measurements of her doll.  Her blanket turned out better than Emily's because now I was really getting into the sewing stuff.  I still had little bits of fabric left over.  I just couldn't let those go to waste, either in the garbage, or sitting in the attic waiting for future use.  I eyed up Kirstin's doll.  Hmm...I can make pajamas for this doll.  It shouldn't be very hard, especially as it doesn't move when I'm trying to get any measurements.

Boy, was I in for a surprise!  There is a fine line when something a person generally enjoys doing turns into a form of masochism. Masochism isn't quite the right word, as that connotes a level of enjoyment through the pain that just wasn't there at the end.  Whatever the correct word, I crossed that line tonight.

I was just going to do an easy shirt and pants for Kirstin's baby doll. I carefully measured everything I needed to measure on the doll.  I made the patterns, and cut them out.  I found portions of fabric onto which they fit, and cut the fabric.  I decided to do the shirt first.  I had just spent more than half an hour at calculations and drawing very carefully with the ruler to make sure this pattern would work.  Then I looked at the sleeves.  There was no way the doll's arms would fit through something that small!  Ugh. 

Well, that's okay.  I can just do up another pattern and make the sleeves bigger.   So, that's what I did, using the same careful measurements from before.  I also checked to make sure the head would fit through the hole just to be certain.  Everything was fine.  I was excited, because I could just imagine how excited Kirstin would be to get these doll clothes!  I pinned and hemmed and did the seams in this oh so simple shirt.  Then I held it up to the doll.  Wait a second!  What happened?  All my meticulous measurements!  All my math to make sure I had everything right for the seam allowances!  And I made something that MIGHT fit a Barbie doll. That doesn't include the time spent in fixing the bobbin, which decided to do a dance and get all tangled up, the countless times I had to thread the needle on the machine, --squinting and moving around to get it in just the right light--and the time spent cutting off all the end threads so the shirt didn't look like it sprouted hair.

After all that, and the shirt was certainly too small for her baby doll.  Now dejected, I just stopped working on it.  I didn't even attempt the pants.  I was done out by doll clothes today. 

Comfort Food Memories

After a hectic week, in which we celebrated our anniversary, my birthday, and a wedding, I was feeling a bit cranky.  I'm behind on sleep, Kirstin is still in the process of being "degrammatized", and Emily is going through a growth spurt as well, so only wants to be held and fed with an occasional diaper change.  So today, in one of the times in which I could put Emily down to sleep and not have her wake up and cry until she was held again, I made poached eggs on toast for Kirstin and me. 

Poached eggs are a comfort food from childhood.  Any time I was sick and had to stay home from school, that evening my dad would make me poached eggs.  I didn't have the knack of making them for a long time though.  The ones I made were edible, but not just like my dad's.  Then I learned the secret by watching my dad.  You have to swirl the water as you put the eggs in, then the whites stay with the yolks better.  Now I make them and they're like I remember.  I wonder if I didn't learn the secret because any time I was in the kitchen when he made them, he had me start the toast right as he was getting them in.  Nice little sneaky tactic, if that's so. 

Now I make them for Kirstin and me for lunch sometimes on days when I'm feeling especially cranky.  I get cheered up just in the making of them, because of the memories.  I would also sometimes get poached eggs on an occasional weekend morning, usually before going ice-fishing.  So of course, that brings back memories of wood smoke, decoys, older country music (not today's type, think Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash), the little "chink" sound the spear made as it was rested on the ice near the hole, and watching and waiting for a fish to come in the hole.

My dad taught me a lot about how to play the decoy, how to move the spear in quietly so the fish wouldn't be scared off, and how to manage a small wood stove.  He would listen to my inane chatter and play games with me.  Instead of I Spy, which wouldn't work in the dark house, we played 20 questions and Guess the Number.  If I got too bored, I would go out and play in the snow on the lake, only to ask to be readmitted to the warmth 10 minutes later.  I don't know if he saw fewer fish when I was around, but I was always a willing fishing companion for him.

So, if you feel out of sorts, make some of your own comfort foods.  It helps!

My fair ladies

I promised to get these pictures out a long time ago.  These are from Mark and Abby's wedding, in which Kirstin was the flower girl and Matt was the best man.  Of course Emily had to get all dressed up too!  There are no pictures of Kirstin alone, because she would never stand still for the camera unless she was with someone.  Too much going on to keep still!

So, those are my little girls...And Matt.  He looks pretty good too. :P  When asked what she thought of Abby's dress, Kirstin replied, "It's perfect! Abby's so beautiful!"  I think Uncle Mark thought so too.

Revolving Door

I took some pictures of Kirstin when I went in to wake her up yesterday morning.  I found it a pleasure to do so, because she had me up quite a bit the night before.  Here she is, sleeping peacefully.  She looks like a little angel when she's asleep, doesn't she?

Aah. Now we have eyes.  We're starting to wake up.  By the way, these shots were punctuated with many grunts and squeals.  She does not wake up gracefully all the time.  Pretty soon she'll be out of bed.

We've made it out of bed, but not very far.  Still tired, and the rocking chair looked like a comfy pit stop on the way out of the room.

Now we're awake, though not happy about it.  In fact, she wouldn't walk down the stairs by herself, so I carried her like a sack of potatoes.  Then I deposited her on the couch and let her wake up fully. 

So why is she so tired?  She didn't go to bed till late, and was throwing a tantrum before that.  In fact, because she wouldn't go to bed and was screaming and thrashing so much, I took Emily out of her crib and brought her into our room for a little bit to make sure at least one child would stay asleep.  Then Kirstin and I played "revolving door."  She would get out of bed, run and open the door, and come out into the hallway and yell at us some more.  I would pick her up and carry her like I would a laundry basket-on my hip-with her head and chest parallel to the floor.  I put her back into her bed and she would repeat the process. 

I tired of the game much sooner than she did, so I stopped it at the door opening.  I held the door shut when she tried to open it.  Somehow her volume switch must have gotten stuck, because she got much louder.  After about a minute of trying to get out of her room with me holding the door and laughing at her, she started getting hoarse.  A minute later, she quieted down to whimpers with a few "Mom!" yells thrown in.  I let her open the door again.  She said, "I want to say I'm sorry, mom!" 

Battle won.  And no, Emily never did wake up through all of that.  And yes, I was laughing. Matt was laughing as well, as he was laying in bed watching Emily to make sure she didn't wake up.  Sometimes with tantrums you have a choice of laughing or getting angry.  I've found laughing works much better for me. I've had practice with tantruming children who were much older than Kirstin, so I knew if I just let her cry herself out life would be good.  She was out of control, and I gave her the time find peace again.  Afterward I gave her a hug and all was good.  We talked about it in the morning after she was fully awake.  Unfortunately, she was out of bed three more times during the night, but we made it through. 

It would seem that our sticker program isn't working very well.  Honestly it is, though.  Aside from the revolving door night, she's been up much less.  And she's finally even gotten a couple of stickers!  I'm so proud of her! 

Forward March!

Today was Emily’s Christening, which is like a baptism, but no water was applied, as she was baptized in the hospital. Of course, I did the bulletins for today, as that’s part of my job.  These were some of the toughest bulletins I ever had to do.  First, we followed a different order of service than usual for the Christening.  So I had to get that all typed into the bulletin and still not use up too much space.  Second, when I typed that Emily is our daughter and that she was born on April 29 and baptized early in the morning on May 1, it made that entire time come back in one big punch to the gut. 

I’ve evidently put most of it out of my mind so I can focus on going forward.  Today it all pretty much came back.  I did make it through the actual ceremony portion of the service without any tears.  Emily was crying for food, and Kirstin told me in the middle of it, “I have to go potty!”  So I had two excuses to leave the regular service for a little bit while I got myself under control.  Then during the sermon, which was about intersections and how awkward they can be, Pastor mentioned Emily and how she had an intersection already in her life.  He applied it to all of us, how we cross from death into life through baptism.  I had tears in my eyes again from that, but then I cleared up and was good for the rest of the day. 

I’m really hoping to use today as an ending point from all the NICU stuff and a good starting point for the rest of Emily’s life.  It’s like the service today is the last thing we needed to do for her to give her the full “proper” beginning to life.  I don’t necessarily like the word “proper” right there, but I don’t know which other word to use. 

We had a good party out here at our house after church.  We did burgers and brats on the grill, had all kinds of family and friends here, and a lot of good conversation, laughter, and fellowship.  I think every one that was here really needed that time to relax while the kids played and babies were passed around (our friends Jill and Erik have two kids as well, Henry is 10 months older than Kirstin, and Owen is 9 months older than Emily).  So now that we’ve gotten this far, and I’m feeling that I can’t live in the past with this anymore, here’s the full story: 

Emily was born around 1:30 p.m. on Thursday, April 29.  She was a perfect newborn.  I did have to be stuck to the monitors while laboring with her (boo! I wanted to walk around!) because there was meconium present when my water broke, but everything was fine in the end with that.  On Friday evening, Matt was holding her, and noticed she looked rather purple.  He patted her and walked around with her and she went back to normal.  We thought it was an artifact of the lighting in the room, because there were some strange lights in there and strange combinations.  Later, I had just fed her and put her in her bassinet and she did it again.  I immediately reached out to her and picked her up again, and she went back to normal color right after that.  I asked the nurse about it, and she said that all babies do that and it was normal.  That didn’t feel right, but she hadn’t seen it, so we went with it, somewhat grudgingly.  We sent Emily to the nursery for the night.

About 1:00 a.m. I heard Emily cry.  She was the loudest one in the nursery and my room was right across from there, so I could hear her easily.  I started putting my bed up so I could be ready when she was brought to me for a feeding. 

She never came.

I waited.

And waited some more. 

Finally I heard the nursery door open and heard one of the nurses say, “Call Doctor Abler.”

My heart sank somewhere into the depths of the earth and I started thinking, “Oh, please no! Not my baby!”  But I knew it was Emily.  Dr. Abler is our family doctor. 

Finally, a nurse came into my room and told me that they had moved Emily to the ICU so they could monitor her.  She was getting her vitals checked just before her bath and she turned purple on the nurse.  They brought me into the ICU to be with her, and I called home to Matt from there.  Amazingly, he heard the phone.  I had turned off all the ringers except the one in the basement.  He had just woken up and was turning over to go back to sleep and actually heard the phone ring. 

I told him that Emily was in the ICU and that I was waiting to hear more soon. I would let him know when I knew more.  I hung up with him, and fed Emily.  I put her back in the bassinet and she did her chameleon thing again. Her blood saturation levels were dropping.   This time they called Dr. Abler to come into the hospital.  I immediately called Matt again and told him he had to come in, because there was no way I could deal with all that on my own.  Then I called the neighbor to go be with Kirstin, who was in her own bed for the first night since the night before Emily was born.  Luckily at three in the morning, all I had to say to the neighbor was, “Emily is having problems, and Matt has to come in again, can you go be with Kirstin?”  She didn’t even question it, said, “I’ll be there.” And hung up.  It’s wonderful having people around you can count on like that. 

After I made those calls, I had the nurse call Pastor.  Matt and he arrived at roughly the same time.  Once Emily was stable again, we put her on the bed and had her baptized.  That was the only time through the entire ordeal that Matt actually cried.  We both broke down when it came time for prayer.  We couldn’t even pray with our Pastor and the nurse.  Then I held Emily for a little bit, until the hospital staff had to make full preparations for the flight team.  Then I had to hand her over again so that the flight team could get at her right away.  She had to get an IV put into her leg, and the team made other preparations with her as well, including putting on little ear muffs to cancel out some of the noise. 

After Emily left, we did too, so we could go home, pack (Matt) and repack(me) and we headed for the cities.  Emily got to the hospital around 7:30 a.m.  She had one more episode there at about 8:00 a.m.  The doctor called me so I could give permission for her to get a CT scan and a lumbar puncture and to find out when we would arrive.  We told her around 11:00 a.m. because we didn’t know exactly how traffic would be.  We actually got to the hospital around 10:00 a.m. but didn’t make it to Emily’s room till about 10:30 a.m.  Emily was hooked up to a monitor and had an IV going with sugar water and antibiotics. I was able to take a deep breath when I saw she didn’t have any tubes in her.  She was sedated for the lumbar puncture, and was still out from that when we got there.  We talked to the doctor soon after our arrival, and we were relieved to hear they had ruled out heart, lungs, and seizures.  They did an ECG and were giving her antibiotics in case it was an infection. 

And Emily never turned purple again.  After 48 hours in the NICU with constant monitoring, she was allowed to come home.  We had to take an infant CPR course, but that was about it.  That’s just general protocol for a baby coming home from NICU.  So instead of driving 15 minutes to get home, we had to drive 3 hours. 

Now we laugh over portions of that weekend.  The nurses from all over the NICU coming in and saying, “We want to see the big baby with the hair!”  Our amazement at the nurse putting a new IV into Emily and only taking maybe two minutes total to find the vein, get the IV in, and wrap it-- in such a tiny hand.  My amazement at the hotel the hospital put us up in for two nights (plush!).  Matt meeting a high school classmate in the tunnel between Children’s and Abbot when we were coming back from breakfast (he probably knows someone in Timbuktu as well!). 

And now it is time to move forward.  Remember the lessons we had to learn from Emily being in the NICU, feel humble at the awesome power of God, and be thankful for having two incredibly healthy and beautiful daughters.  It’s time to take all that and use it to become different in our lives.  It’s time to plan again, but keep our lessons.  Let life just be, and we’ll just go for the ride.  It’s easier than trying to fight what we can’t change.

Stickers and Icecream or "How to get Kirstin to do what you want."

I'm sitting here, right before my bedtime writing this.  I'm enjoying this time tonight.  I have a great sense of accomplishment from the day.  Part of that could be that I started my day at 4:15 a.m.  I got up because Kirstin wouldn't stay in her bed, and sleep attempts were futile anyway.  Instead, I looked up some stuff online that I haven't been able to get to, folded some laundry, and read part of a book I've had sitting off to the side for entirely too long.  As six o'clock edged nearer, Emily woke up again, so I fed her and started my day for real.

While I was in the shower I brainstormed ideas as to how to keep Kirstin in her bed.  Most nights she's up at least twice, and last night she was up about 7 times, which meant in total I was up 10 times last night, because of course she and Emily couldn't make their needs correspond.  After talking the matter over with Matt, we've decided to "go back to basics."  We took down her bed tent, took away all but one stuffed animal, her glo-worm and her blanket, her radio doesn't work for her anymore (I know the magical fix though), and her bright nighlight is also kaput.  And she's also down to only one book in bed.  Then we introduced the chart.  She gets a sticker tomorrow if she follows the chart.  We cross things off as she does them.  On there are things like getting her jammies on without trouble, going upstairs without complaining, staying in bed, staying quiet, and going to sleep.  Then there's a graduated system for getting her stuff back.  She needs three consecutive nights to get a couple of stuffed animals back.  We're not letting her have as many as she wants anymore, as there was barely room for her in the bed.  Then after she gets the stuffed animals, it's two more nights to one more book, etc.  So far, this first night, it's working.  We'll see how it goes later on. She's very excited about the idea of having stickers.  At the end of all of it, if she stays in her bed for 10 consecutive nights she gets a picnic with Mom.  Just the two of us.  Probably out at the WROC gardens, though I may opt for somewhere else if they're not in their full summer glory yet.  We'll see.  I think I have some time to be deciding that.

Also in the random news, I brought the girls to the library on Tuesday.  I needed some reading material and a deadline to get me back into my reading habit.  The library provided both.  While there, we got Kirstin signed up for the summer reading program.  This is the first time either of us has been involved in something like that.  She got a poster with areas to color for every 15 minutes we read.  I think I could recite the Franklin and Clifford books she chose, but if it gets us reading more, I have no problems with it.  The book time was rather lax around here before this, so it's a good incentive.  If she gets all the areas colored in on the poster she gets a gift certificate to Dairy Queen for a small cone or something like that. 

So yeah, we're bribing our older child to be good and to do things.  Right now, anything that works is fine with me.  And hey, at least stickers still make her enthusiastic about trying things!  Sometimes it's the little things in life that motivate.

Rush Rush Rush

I think I heard the phrase, "We seem to only see each other at weddings and funerals!" about half a dozen times this weekend.  And sadly, that's the truth.  We celebrated Mark and Abby's wedding on Saturday.  What a day!  What a weekend!  As I type this, I'm still exhausted.  I'll eventually put up pictures of the girls in their "fancy" dresses.  Kirstin was the flower girl, and stole the show on a few occasions before and after the wedding. Not during the wedding though, thankfully.  She looked like a little doll in her dress and with her hair done.  She got her first hair cut on Friday as a partial preparation for Saturday.  She only had about 3/4 of an inch taken off all around and then Brian found her bangs for us, too.  She watched me get my hair done(Good bye pony tail!  Hello wash and wear short hair!), and then it was her turn.  She was kind of nervous.  But look at Brian...Isn't he the type of guy with whom you would normally trust your three year old?  But she warmed up quickly and actually had fun with Brian after a few minutes.  Her hair looked wonderful when he was done.

That was the first time we've seen Brian (a good friend of Matt's from high school) in probably close to two years.  That's sad.  We have yet to meet his wife and twin girls.  And of course there was the promise of, "We'll get together sometime soon!"  I think we've said that every time we've talked and it still hasn't happened. 

The same could be said of a lot of family and friends we saw over the weekend.  It's really sad when some of those people only live about a half an hour away.  It just seems that our schedules never mesh well.  I think it's time to put aside some of the "busy-ness" and go see family a little more often.  Some of the family members we saw are really starting to seem old now...It's time to make our visits before it's too late.

I will say though, I'm very thankful for my folks right now.  If they hadn't been there to help me with the girls, I don't know how I would have made it through Saturday.  Matt was in the wedding, as was Kirstin.  Emily is only 5 weeks old.  I couldn't have continued getting Kirstin ready and cared for if I didn't have someone I could constantly rely on to help with Emily.  Matt was busy, as was Grandma Ma.  And that's what I expected.  But all the running around I had to do with Kirstin would have been impossible if I constantly had to care for Emily too.  By the way...A three year old in a puffy flower girl's dress is really difficult to put on the potty...And then have her NOT go. 

So the weekend in a nutshell: Friday whirled around with us all getting packed up and into the car. I forgot how much stuff we need when traveling with a baby.  Luckily we got it all fit in.  Went to Alexandria, got tuxes and food. Went to St. Cloud, did a tiny bit of shopping, got our hair done.  Went to Abby's folks' place for supper before rehearsal.  Did the rehearsal and then went to the hotel and then got the girls ready for bed and Matt went out with the bridal party. 

Saturday was busy with breakfast, shopping at Wal-Mart to get stuff to wrap the gifts, back to the hotel to get everything for the day.  Then it was to the church, get Kirstin into her dress, and then it was pictures, wedding (in which I walked Kirstin down the aisle to make sure she made it) and off to the reception and dance.  After a million trips to the car to bring stuff out of or into the Legion, eating, and dancing, the girls and I went back to the hotel and collapsed.

Then Sunday was a little less busy.  We did breakfast, and then went back to the hotel, got packed up, and went to Abby's folks' place for the gift opening.  After that we left and did some shopping in Alexandria on the way home (and got Kirstin a booster seat instead of a car seat! She's growing so fast!) and then got home, unpacked the car, ate supper, and collapsed here. 

Now it's just getting all the laundry done and getting everything unpacked.  Whew...Glad we don't have to do it all again, as fun as it was.

Reprieve

I finally got a little reprieve on my worries that the depression may come back. I had a very good visit with my psychiatrist this week.  The depression may still come back, but life is so different after Emily arrived as compared to when Kirstin first arrived.  First of all, I didn’t take a teaching position when I was eight months pregnant with Emily like I did when I was pregnant with Kirstin.  I think that has a lot to do with how I’m feeling this time.  I don’t have to correct papers, plan the curriculum, meet with my long-term sub, and worry about getting grades done all within two days after giving birth.  That does wonders for one’s mind frame.  This time I just have to get back into the work life at church, and that’s all done at my own pace.  I can still say, “I don’t think I can handle this right now.”  I haven’t had to step back like that so far, but just the knowledge that I can makes life much easier for me. 

Also, another large difference is that physically I’m doing much better this time.  Maybe it was that I was forced to get up and walk so much whilst Emily was at Children’s or maybe it’s just that I was in better shape all around this time, but I feel great compared to what I felt like after having Kirstin. (Oddly enough, I was more miserable DURING the pregnancy this time though). 

I’m also not so afraid to ask for help this time around.  That keeps me from feeling so overwhelmed.  Caring for a newborn is tough.  The all-hours neediness can really get to a person if they don’t have a good support system.  Then there’s the days when Emily wants nothing more than to be constantly held and even then she sometimes doesn’t stop fussing.  It helps to know that I can hand her over to her dad for a little bit and get a bit of a break.  Yesterday, I went outside for a few minutes and just looked at the plants coming up in the garden (looking good!), see what flowers are blooming, and take a look at the upcoming apple crop (huge this year!). 

I’ve also found that being completely open about my depression is cathartic.  It not only helps me, but will hopefully help others.  So I go to see a psychiatrist every few months for a check in to see how I’m doing, so what?  Depression has a stigma, and I’m hoping to change that, at least in a few people’s lives.  Just because I had to take some pills so I could manage to get out of the house doesn’t make me less of a person.  In fact, recognizing that I needed help and finally getting to the point to ask for it was a huge step in becoming who I am today.  I’m a better mom, wife, employee, just all around better in every aspect of my life for that honesty. 

Not that having come through the depression doesn’t have its drawbacks.  Now there’s a constant worry about my emotions.  If I feel sad for a while during the day, always in the back of my mind is the question: Is this the depression coming back?  Or if I’m overwhelmed or angry or snappish, I have the same question in the back of my mind.  Also, because I have been so open about the depression, I wonder if people are silently judging me and my actions just because of taking a few pills.  I’m still learning to live with this part of being a “marked” person.  But I have learned there are certain instances which will always make me feel frustrated more easily.  I must be well fed and not hungry.  When I’m hungry I’m grouchy.  Also, I must get at least 4 hours of sleep at night, or once again, I’m grouchy and more apt to feel overwhelmed.  It’s all part of recognizing your own triggers.

Et Voila!

So my house is a huge mess, I'm tired beyond belief today, and I had a few minutes of time to myself.  So what did I do?  Did I pick up the house, do laundry, or even sleep?  Nope. I worked on my blog.  I found a template that I really liked and implemented it and also came up with a name.  I'm still working on some of the peripherals, but I think I like the way it's shaping up. 

The name of my blog is now "Taking Stock."  It comes from two sources. One is an old joke in Matt's family, originally from his Uncle Dave, I believe.  Uncle Dave has three girls.  When asked what he was going to do with so many women around the house, he quipped, "Well, I think I'm going to take stock in Tampax!" 

Now Matt has two of his own girls, and he's used the same phrase.  As part of this blog will be about the girls, the name is appropriate.  But not only that, this blog is also going to be about where life is at right now, and where I may go/what I may do in the future.  Much like a store owner taking stock of items to know what to order.  You have to know what you have so you can keep going, plan, etc.

I love to tell the story...

Yesterday was Sunday School closing.  The kids got up and sang "I Love to Tell the Story."  They walked in while the congregation sang the first verse, and then they sang the refrain, and the congregation sang the second verse and the kids sang the refrain again.  It was so nice to have them up there singing.  We have very few in our Sunday School, so sometimes it takes extra planning to pull off something as simple as having the kids sing in church.  We've had to cancel before due to lack of children on the day they were supposed to sing. 

 This picture is from the 2009 VBS at our church.  It was called "Gone Fishing."

And yes, the children do love to tell the story.  Teach a Sunday School class or a Vacation Bible School class, and you'll learn this.  They get all excited (well, the lower grades) and want to tell you all about what they just learned.  Unfortunately, adults love to tell stories too. 

Gossip has been getting on my nerves lately.  Most of it is petty stuff, and it really doesn't matter in the long run.  Why do people feel the need to talk about other people in negative ways?  I mention something like, "Oh well, I just talked to so and so,  and he's doing really well!"  Nine times out of ten I get a response like, "Well, you know he did x, y and z, and if you throw in w too, you know he's just heading for another downfall." 

Thank you for telling me that you little bluebird of happiness...Here is my shingle, you know what to do. 

My object in realizing this is to distance myself from the gossip and negativity.  If so and so is really trying to make a difference, shouldn't people realize that too?  It's just something to ponder about. 

Well, it sounds like my time is up.  I have Emily starting to fuss as she wakes up from her nap, and I expect Kirstin to be up soon too.  In the mean time, keep on!

And We're Back in the Game?

Through the inspiration and coaching of a friend (Mary Aalgaard) and just the general overwhelming need to write to put my mind in order, I’ve decided to start using this blog again. May it last longer than the last time!

So much has been going on that I can’t keep it all straight, it seems. I used to be the schedule keeper, never needing a calendar, keeping it all in my mind, etc. Now? I’m lucky if I can remember what day of the week it is. Everything is starting to blur together. I guess life with a newborn does that. Mix in an active three year old, and life gets really interesting. Sleep deprivation is great, isn’t it?

Many parents before me have managed to do the multiple child rearing. Heck, many parents before me even had/have the lovely benefit of having twins. I think that would be much more difficult than what I’m facing right now. However, I’m new to this. Emily is still less than a month old. We’re still working out schedules and streamlining our day a little better. For example: bath time. The girls are on a bed time bath schedule. For Kirstin it’s just because I can’t stomach the idea of sending her to bed a dirty little urchin and for Emily it’s to introduce her to a bed time routine from the start. On the nights when both girls need baths we’ve discovered it’s easier to get Kirstin into the tub first. Who knew? I figured being she’s the older of the two, she can have her bath later. It just doesn’t work right now. Maybe once Emily is a bit older it will, but right now Emily is in the bath-food-sleep stage of bedtime routine. Kirstin’s routine is a bit more lax and so she can play while we’re getting Emily ready for bed and the like. It works out much better.

Even with the learning curve, I’m still able to recall many things I’ve forgotten about having a small baby in the house.

1) The middle of the night wake up calls: I’m starting to see less of the hours between 10:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m, but it’s still tough to get up every night. I feel lucky when I get a full four hours between feeding and changing. I know that will change, and is in the process right now.

2) The diapers: Seriously, do we have to go through three diapers per change? I know I’ve lost my speed a little over the very few years I’ve not been changing tiny diapers, but three is a bit much. If I wait until I’m relatively sure you’re all done with your little bodily functions, you’ll still find just a little bit more to help me in changing your diaper, your clothes, the changing pad, and quite possibly my own clothes. Poop should not be a projectile!

3) The feedings: I really enjoy feeding Emily, just as I really enjoyed feeding Kirstin. The intimacy with my child and the knowledge that I’m doing something with her that only I can do are really wonderful. There are times though, when she really has to quit playing with her food, so milk doesn’t go all over the place. And of course, feeding leads straight to

4) The burping: I’m not sure that I really forgot this part or just didn’t have a good lesson from Kirstin. Emily spits up. A lot. The gas drops have actually helped this a bit, but I really don’t need Emily to remind me how many shirts I have in my wardrobe. The best one was at the doctor’s office. She had good aim. Straight down the shirt to have a gooey, icky, warmness nestled in my bra. She got none on her or anywhere else on me. I did manage to wait until the doctor left the room to semi-disrobe and clean up some, but it was tough. Yuck!

5) All the good stuff that comes with having a baby. The cuddles, the coos, the smiles, the tiny baby hands and feet, the smells, watching her sleep, watching her stare in wonder, watching her cross her eyes when she’s looking at something. And all that cancels out the first four items in this list. Even they become enjoyable when balanced with the good things.

And so it goes. After viewing my blog for the first time in I don't know how long...I've decided I really need to change the look, come up with a name for it, etc. So there will most likely be changes to the appearance coming up sometime when I get a chance to sit and fiddle with it a bit. In the meantime, so long, and may your days be interesting!