Some Random Tidbits

The holidays are upon us, which means things will only get busier for me. Today is my last day in the office. Then it's clean, shop, and dissertate. Should life as we know it still exist after this Friday, we will be on our way to my mother-in-law's Sunday morning.

Clint and I have reached a compromise over the whole "holiday" thing. Or rather I told him what we're going to do and when he scoffed, I said, "Compromise. You have to compromise with me." I think he decided it was easier to throw in the towel.

So Saturday evening, we will drink some hot cocoa and watch Polar Express. Ethan and I will cook up a batch of Polar Express Cocoa, adding a little something more special to the event. Then we'll tuck Ethan into to bed, wait the two hours it will undoubtedly take for him to finally go to sleep and bring out Santa's gifts. Sunday morning, we'll watch the kids play with their loot and eat some breakfast. Then we'll pack up the car and head north.

I think this is a good compromise. It means I don't have to lug all the Santa stuff with us. I know some people would prefer to be present during the whole "Santa" part, but that's just the way it's going to be.

We started a new approach with Ethan in terms of behavior. It's a reward system. When his therapist was talking to me about it, she said, "so we'll focus more on rewards than consequences," to which Ethan replied, "So that means you cannot take my LeapPad away, Mom." Smarty pants! I was quick to inform him he was correct, but that instead of having free reign of the Leap, he'd have to earn the ability to play it for one hour. We have a really good day with the system on Saturday. Not so much on Sunday. But it's going to take time. And during that time, there will be frustration and anger and all sorts of second-guessing. I think the most important thing is that we choose a path and stick with it long enough to see results.

I believe Dylan is teething. He's 7 months and has no teeth, so it's quite possible. He has the stringiest drool ever, and he kept me up way more than normal last night. I hope it happens quickly. Although, then again I don't. Something about having no teeth keeps them "babyish" longer. That gummy grin. I love it, and I'm not quite ready for it to go away!

We took the boys to the park yesterday. Dylan got to swing for the first time, and I did NOT have a camera. It's the first time I've heard an actual laugh out of him. He gives mini-laughs, but getting the boy to give an all-out laugh isn't easy!

It's amazing to see how big Dylan is. How much he's trying to do. Each day is a new day. He's into everything, and I find myself constantly looking around for the things that might choke him. On Saturday, he managed to swallow something that caused him to choke and gag. Fear overtook me and I think I became a little frantic. He was fine, and I have no idea what it was. But I've become rather paranoid about the house now.

Alright. So I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season, whatever your beliefs.

When Bad Things Happen: Newtown, CT

My heart hurts right now. It hurts so very bad for those babies and their parents in Connecticut. I want to know why someone would be so willing to walk into a kindergarten classroom and begin shooting. Taking the lives of innocent children. I think of Ethan, as he is closest in age group. I think of how terrified I would be if I didn't know if he was okay. If all I knew was that he might be.

I think of how terrifying it must have been for those poor babies in the moments before their death. I think of how crushing it would be to rush to the school with the hopes that your baby was spared only to learn he wasn't. I think of the relief and guilt that floods those parents that found their children alive, if not well. Relief that tonight they get to hold their babies and tell them how much they love them. Guilt that they see other parents who will never have those moments again.

And I think of how easy it is for us to take our children for granted. How precious they are to us. How much we love them. I think about how angry I get with Ethan and how quickly I'm ready to leave his room at bedtime. And how selfish it seems to want my own time.

I think about how nice it is to hold them close and how much I want to do that now. And how much I need to remind myself even in the most trying of times that I get to hold my babies. I get to love my babies. I get to feel their sticky fingers wrapped around me. I get to hear their laughs and see their tears and share their excitements. I get to love my children and feel them.

And I will a thousand defiances from my oldest and a dozen nightly wake ups from my youngest a million over just to be lucky enough to have them in my life.

My heart bleeds for those poor parents in Newtown, CT who don't.

Love/Hate Relationship.

I have a love/hate relationship with Carrie Underwood's song Blown Away. Every time I hear it, I turn it up and sing REALLY loud. Yet it makes me sad.

Blown Away

It brings sad memories to the surface. It makes me think about the past. My childhood. And that's not something I've been spending a lot of time on since having Ethan. I haven't even contacted the Victim Center to restart my counseling sessions. It's too exhausting at a time when I'm already too exhausted.

So if it reminds me of things I rather leave alone right now, why listen?

Because I can't help it. I like the justice of it. I like the thought of that man being blown away. I like the idea that he got what he deserved and that it was probably painful. Yes, I said painful. Because the way I see it, if you're going to hurt a child, whether physically or sexually, then you deserve to feel pain in your last moments. You should not go easily. And I can see him flying around with debris crashing into him while he's helpless to do anything but know he's going to die.

Does that make me an awful person? Maybe. Maybe not. I would never be the one to inflict the pain, but if God saw fit to allow it, I wouldn't feel sympathy for someone willing to hurt a child. And so, I like the justice of the song.

Which means I'll continue to blast it whenever it comes on. And I'll continue to feel a little glimmer of hope that bad things can happen to bad people. And I will refuse to feel bad for it.

Seeing Things Differently....a few random pieces

Life in the Craft household changes on a daily basis. Here are a few things we have going on:

• Dylan moves. I mean, that child can move across the room at lightening speed. So fast, in fact, that he managed to get into his brother's mess of glitter and glue before I knew it, thus effectively eating some glue and is sure to have some sparkly poo! 
• Ethan is super excited for his Pajama Party at Preschool Friday night. Yep. We get to drop both kids off for FOUR hours. I was hoping to catch a movie, but unfortunately, Clint's work party is that night, so I guess I'll be doing that instead. *sigh*
• I need a Eureka Boss. Something that does hardwood and carpet. Little fingers and mouths abound. 
• Finals is this week. I'll be ready to see the semester end. 
• I haven't gotten anywhere on my dissertation. What was I thinking?
• My tree looks full, but really it's just lot of Ethan's gift wrapping obsession. He's been wrapping drawings and pencils. I think I'll let him open them before we head up for Christmas! 

I know there's more. Tons more. I just don't know what it is. Oh, Dylan now eats sweet potatoes, bananas, apples, squash, steel cut oats....I think that's all. He LOVES to eat. I still can't believe he's 7 months. In a month, he'll be able to eat small chunks of food.

And now for a couple shots. The first is our home-made Christmas picture. It was hard to get everyone seated and ready. Some people tell me I should cut Dylan's hair. I refuse....adamantly until he's at least one. He'll never have that crazy hair again and I just can't do it. 

 This is the normal state of my living room. For real. I can clean it up and they can destroy it in half the time! See the presents? Mostly drawings and pencils!

A child's impact...But first a milestone

First, Dylan put himself in a sitting position last night. All by himself! I was amazed. He turns 7 months on Friday, which seems way too hard to believe. I really need to write his 6 month letter. I'm behind. He went to the doctor for a weight check this morning. He's in the bottom 1/3 at 13 lbs 12oz. But, he's proportionate in weight and length and did gain, so she isn't worried. :)

And on to the real post....

We all begin as children. I don't think any one would disagree with that statement. We all begin with parents that either love us or don't love us. That path that begins after our birth is different for us all. Whether we have parents or not, because some children do not, we have people in our lives that guide us for better or for worse. We learn through those "guides" even if they don't realize their impact on us.

And all of those things that we "learn" help shape us into who we will become as adults. It doesn't mean we'll always try to emulate our "guides;" although some of us will. It means that our experiences and our "lessons" will always be a part of our memories and play a role in how we view our world. For some us, we work very hard to break cycles that should've never been. For others, we try very hard to instill the same values that our parents instilled in us.

But the fact remains that we never really knew what it meant to be a parent before we became one. And so that's where this begins. When I consider the changes that occurred in me upon the birth of my children, I come up with this:

Ethan made me a better person, but Dylan made me a better parent.

Am I shortchanging my first? No. I couldn't be a good or bad parent before Ethan was born. I could be a good person. I could be a good pregnant person, but I could not be better at something I wasn't. Before Ethan, I would tell people I was too selfish to have children. And I believed that. And at the time it was true. But then I had that child. And it no longer was true.

Ethan taught me how to be selfless. He taught me without doing anything at all other than being born to put someone else's needs before my own. He taught me to learn and practice patience. He taught me to think things through rather than act impulsively. He taught me how to love unconditionally. And he taught me that 20 sleepless nights could be erased with one big smile, one vivacious laugh, one new word, one first step, one hug, one kiss, one Mamma. He taught me how to be a better person.

Dylan. He taught me how to be a better parent. He taught me how to be more confident in my abilities as a parent. He taught me how to open my heart to more love. He continues to teach me how to share my time with them both and how to guide them down a path that will allow them to become better parents. He's made me more observant. He's given me so much and continues to give me so much as they both grow.

Both of my boys have changed my world. And both of them have no idea how special, meaningful and needed it was. I feel so blessed to be a part of their lives. And I feel blessed that I get to be their "guide."

Remember the other child....well, he's growing.

So I've been pretty focused on getting Ethan's issues under control before he breaks us that I haven't bothered to mention my youngest in a while. What a horrible thing NOT to mention that little ray of sunshine!

Dylan is now 7 months old. It doesn't seem like he should be SEVEN months old. Around 6 months, he started getting up a little bit on all fours. He's alternate between crawling and army crawling. Mostly, he stays on his belly, but he moves his legs opposite his arms, so every now and then, he picks his body off the floor and legitimately crawls. I think the other way is just faster for him.

He gives hugs and kisses. By that, I mean that when I pick him up, he grabs each side of my face, opens his mouth wide and comes in for the kill. He then moves on to whatever it was he was looking at or trying to reach. It's the most adorable thing, even if I do feel like I've been sufficiently drenched in saliva.

We still have no teeth. I can't tell if he's teething.

He generally wakes once a night these days....since I got a space heater for his room. :) Although, last night he woke up twice. Ugh.

Dylan LOVES his brother and watches with rapt attention. When he can, he crawls over to him and pulls on his hair, ears, face, whatever he can get his hands on.

So far, Dylan has had steel cut oats, bananas, butternut squash, apples, and avocados. He loves most of it these days and looks forward to eating. During the day. He doesn't do so well at night. Last month, I broke down and let him have formula. He now gets one bottle of formula a day. I continue to pump once a day at work, which isn't terrible. I look forward to the day when I don't pump any times, but I can't seem to let go completely. Motherhood....it's a strange thing.

Dylan is such a happy baby. He couldn't be a sweeter little guy. He smiles all the time, plays well on his own when I need him to, and sleeps great. He's pretty amazing. And while I feel like time should just slow down a bit, I am also so happy that I get to be a part of his growth and his life. I look forward to the day when he and his brother can really start playing together!

I remember when he was this tiny. My little 5 lb. 10 oz. bundle of joy. 

 To the days when his paci practically covered his entire face.

 To keeping him in this little napper beside my bed at 15 weeks and beyond. He was there until he was nearly five months old.

To 4 months when he became so interested in the blanket UNDER him. That blanket, BTW, was given to me by Sheila. Isn't it awesome!

To sitting up for long stretches

 

And showing off the shining personality of his!

To 7 months. Where he has begun pulling up on things and is so close to putting himself in a sitting position all by himself. Cruising isn't going to be far behind!

To everything wonderful Dylan does. Every smiles, every laugh, every snuggle, every milestone. This kid brings so much joy into our lives and I feel so blessed to have him!

Yes, I knew, but still....

I knew that being a parent was going to be one of the most challenging things I ever deigned to undertake. I knew this. I knew that I was coming to the table with few, if any, parenting skills that could be applied to the type of parent I wanted to be. I knew this. I also had a decent idea of the type of parent I DID want to be:

• Authoritative rather than authoritarian or neglectful. I wanted to set limits while also listening to my child. I wanted to be a steady person that made sure my children understood the boundaries but also knew I'd love them no matter what.
• A non-spanker. I grew up in a home with entirely too much spanking and not enough understanding or guiding. I grew up learning the yelling and hitting are the means to the end regardless of the action (I, fortunately, was not hit often. Very rarely, in fact. I was a good kid)
• A parent opposed to a friend.
• Loving. Unconditionally loving. 

These are the characteristics I wanted and hoped to see in my self. And then there was Ethan.

I am not necessarily a God-fearing woman, meaning I very well believe in God, but I don't go to church or speak of it often. I went through a time where I did questions His existence and I do still ponder questions. I don't buy into the addage, "If God brings you to it, he'll bring you through it." Because if that were the case, then I would be left to conclude that God wants me to crack. He wants me to lose my mind and become the person I never want to be. He wants me to bring to my child the same types of things that were brought to me. I can't believe that would be the case.

I love that blond-haired, blue-eyed ball of energy that I call so affectionately "bug." He's my first baby. He's my pride and joy. He's my love. But I find myself at a complete loss right now. I find myself wishing the weekend would end so he can go to school and I can go to work. I find myself begging God to make that child listen. To PLEASE make him stop! I cannot describe how much I'm warring inside. I cannot begin to explain the depths of my guilt. And the fear that it will never get better and that I will come to a point where I can't go back. Where I can't take back words I've said. I actually told him that I wanted to trade him in. Now I played it off as a joke, but I don't think I was joking at the time.

I'm at a loss. I'm SO lost.

He argues constantly. He defies me incessantly. He screams and tantrums and yells at us. He refuses the most basic chores. He whines, and whines, and whines. He doesn't believe anything we say. And he thrives when we argue. He sees us not getting a long and he uses it to his advantage. It's ruining my relationship with him and it's ruining my marriage. I'm at a loss.

My only saving Grace is that we begin behavioral therapy this week. And we will continue until we see progress. Ethan is so bright. He scored in the 99th percentile in both fluid and quantitative reasoning. He's very logical. He's very active. He's too smart for his own good. And parenting him is NOT like parenting most kids. I've been told this. I believe this. Because I know I'm a good parent. And I know I work so hard to be the kind of parent I mentioned. But I can see it slipping away. I can feel it. And I'm praying with all the faith I do have in me that this therapy will help us get on the same page and become the united front we need and help Ethan learn how to channel his energies in more productive ways. Any prayers or thoughts would be so greatly appreciated. Because right now, I can see why people run away from their lives.

I'm just fortunate that I love my children enough to take the pain and search for ways to remedy the problem. Because above all else....above all this, my two boys are my world and each night when I look in on them, I rub their heads and give them a soft kiss and truly do realize how lucky I am.

Sickness Abounds

My hands are starting to crack. I put hand sanitizer on them this morning and felt like I'd just poured salt in a gaping wound. If I didn't know better, I'd say I've caught Dylan's Eczema on the backs of my hands. The redness is gripping.

Water, soap, scrub, rinse. Water, soap, scrub, rinse. I've done this over fifty times a day since Monday morning, and it's taking it's toll. And, yes, I've lotioned up, but my hands are taking a beating. I have thought, as I can feel my skin disintegrating, about people with OCD that HAVE to wash their hands hundreds of times. It must be so painful! And then I say, "just two weeks."

We have been struck and the ripple has yet to occur. Monday morning, the very second I walked into work, my phone rang. Preschool. Any Momma with kids in school know that a call from them is NEVER a good sign. It's something to be dreaded. And dread I did. He'd thrown up. All over the table. He was sick. So without even taking off my coat, I turned around and high-tailed it back to preschool to pick up my sick and ailing child.

He never threw up again. He had two bouts of the yucky poops that day. And one at 4:30 in the morning.....all over his sheets. I told him it was okay. He was sick. He said, "Yeah, it's the sickness's fault, not mine. My white blood cells are fighting." Yes, yes, they are. And doing a damn good job.

He stayed home yesterday....they don't like poopies at preschool either. But he was fine. He slept more than usual (not much more). He ate just fine both days. He never ran a fever and never wanted to lay on the couch snuggling. His white blood cells were kicking butt.

Because that's how Ethan rolls.

But that doesn't mean we all take it in stride like my oldest. He is notorious for having a relatively mild illness that hits us like a freight train. And so I've become incredibly cautious. The Lysol comes out. The soap dispensers are checked. Sanitizer is available. Hand washing takes on a life of it's own. Every thing he touches makes me cringe and it's just one more time I have to wash my hands....because he's touched it all and I can't follow him around with a can of Lysol.

The goal? Make it till Thursday. If I can make it through Thursday, then I should be in the clear. Until then, I'm scrubbing the skin right off my knuckles. I'm eating nothing but oatmeal and soup. I'm taking a probiotic and elderberry juice. I'm keeping Dylan AWAY from his brother who seems intent on getting in his face. I'm avoiding the slightest touch from my husband, who is much less cautious than I am and usually comes down with whatever illness crosses the threshold. I'm being diligent, and I'm hoping it pays off. Because there's little I dread more than throwing up uncontrollably for hours! Other than having to nurse a baby between it all!

Honestly?

Honestly, I'm tired. Honestly, I'm at my wits end. Honestly, I'm at a loss and am ready to admit that I need HELP.

Everyone knows that I love my oldest child with everything I have. I would easily and without hesitation lay my life down for his. No question. In a second. Because I am his mother and I love him in that way only a parent can understand.

That doesn't mean raising him is easy. It doesn't mean that most days I look forward to bed time because his constant defiance/willfullness can end for the day...except the hour it takes for him to finally go to sleep!

Now I know that some of this is my fault. Our fault. We've created a situation where Ethan doesn't believe we'll follow through. It's not necessarily that we don't; it's that sometimes we go too far and we don't. Take for instance Saturday. He wouldn't get his shoes on. He wouldn't listen to anything, really, and so I said, "If you don't get your shoes on, we're aren't going." It was my last straw.

Only Clint wasn't on board with that. And so after about 30 minutes, we went.

And so my word means nothing.

Ethan is on overdrive all the time. All.The.Time. He also questions authority all the time. He also refuses to do anything the first time he is asked. He also doesn't believe we'll follow through on consequences. These things all lead to a very bad, very stressful place. A place I usually want to run from. FAST.

And so I'm thankful to start behavioral therapy. I'm hoping that it will force my husband to take some time to really talk through things. Because his solution is "let me spank him." I can't do that. I know there are other ways. And I know Ethan. It won't last long before he's over it. When I ask, "Fine. What consequence would you propose?" He never answers. Because he doesn't have a clue either. It's so frustrating not to be on the same page. And by the time the kids go to bed, he doesn't want to talk about it. It's so late and we're so tired and there's so little time.

I'm at a loss. The only thing I really know is that things cannot go on like this!

The Results Are In...

I'm going to be very careful with this post because I know that someday Ethan will read this and I want to make sure he understands why we did this and what we gained from doing it.

I chose to have Ethan IQ tested for a few reasons. First, he needs someone to be able to advocate for him, and that someone has to be his parents. He was moved into Pre-K at age three. He won't begin Kindergarten until he's nearly six. He can already do the work. What does that mean for next year when he has to repeat Pre-K? They have already said that he's learning how to work at the other kids' level. That's not what I want him to do. I want him to work at HIS level. As any parent would.

I don't know if you've ever received or ever given "the look." I have received it. And it doesn't feel good. It goes something like this. My dissertation chair is also the principal at one of the elementary schools in our school district. So I was talking to her about Ethan and my fears about kindergarten, and she gave me the, "oh-you're-one-of-those-parents-that-thinks-her-kid's-a-genius" look.  The one that says, "all parents think their children are smart. Do I really have to have this conversation." She placated me with some nonsense about how kindergarten is set up to meet the needs of all kids. Problem is what happens when academically the child DOES already know everything and realizes that he already knows everything? That's not the same as saying he's socially ahead because Ethan is anything but that. But she certainly wasn't giving me any indication of how they could meet his needs. Because to her, as I have been to any one I've talked to, I'm just another overly-involved Mom that thinks her kid is brilliant. So I need to prove it.

Second, Ethan is not a typical child. A book I'm reading says, "Can you imagine having Jim Carrey, Whoopi Goldberg, and Robin Williams---intense, verbally expressive stand-up comedians---as children and all in the same third-grade classroom or at the same dinner table...this is what these children are like." And that is what Ethan is like. You see he falls into the psychomotor oversensitivity. Activity isn't an option or a choice. It is a REAL NEED for him. He needs to be active from the time his feet hit the floor until the time they go back to bed. His preschool has said, "How are you not exhausted all the time? He's exhausting." They're in the business of kids and he exhausts them! They love him. They're enthralled by him. They're fascinated by the way his mind works, but he's also so exhausting because he's on ALL THE TIME. And the thing, if I say that to people, they say, "Oh yeah, all kids are. They have so much energy." Re-read the bit about the three comedians. That's my life ALL THE TIME. I can't describe in a way that people understand the intensity of this child. I just can't. You have to live it, and it's not easy. It's not.

There are days when I want to throw my hands in the air and say, "I just can't do this." There are moments when I know that I will fail him. I'm constantly struggling to figure out how to raise him. And so doing this provided me with the knowledge that I am not crazy. I was right. The kid is wicked smart and the kid is high-energy, active needs. He really doesn't shut down. He really doesn't need as much sleep as the rest of us. He really is normal for who Ethan is. There's nothing wrong with him. He just doesn't fit into the confines of a "normal child," but he is quite normal.

While he's still, and will continue to be, quite the challenge, I find myself relieved because now I know for sure what's going on and now I have access to resources that can help us raise him and help him grow. We can support his needs better and ensure that he has the opportunities he needs to express his energy and his uniqueness and his unending drive.

You see, Ethan may be a challenge, but Ethan is so much more than that. He's enigmatic. He's inspiring. He's full of life and energy and most people are enthralled by him. People are drawn to him. He magnetizing. He's sweet, he's loving, he's all these millions of wonderful things and he's--most of the time--a pleasure to be around. He's FUN. And I adore this child. I truly adore him. And conversation with are GREAT. And I want to make sure that he doesn't lose who he is through the system. Because the system---let's be honest---likes conformity. And I do not want him to conform at the detriment of who he is. Period.

Ethan scored high. He scored gifted. We're not telling him that. And we didn't tell him we were testing his IQ. We didn't tell him it was a test at all. He doesn't need to know. He'll figure it all out on his own, I'm sure. But for now, nothing changes for him....sort of.

We are going to go through about five behavioral sessions because he needs to learn a few things. Such as following directions instead telling you what the directions SHOULD be. Learning that sometimes even if he knows something, others may want to see it. He tends to tell people he already knows how to do it, so he doesn't have to. This is called arrogance and is common. He needs to learn how to be more empathetic. And also how to direct his energies. And Mom and Dad need to learn ways of helping him acquire these skills. We need to learn discipline techniques that might help us.

We also have to change a few other things. Instead of an 8:00 p.m. bedtime, we're moving to 9:00 p.m. bedtime. We're looking into Tae Kwon Do, which is good for kids like Ethan because it teaches teamwork, self-discipline, and structure. We will be instituting a new token system that will hopefully help him learn a little discipline at home as well.

He is a very bright, very energetic, very GREAT kid. He just needs more structure. And the way I see it, we need help, too. Why? Because you don't raise kids with developmental struggles the same way you raise average children. So you don't raise gifted kids the same way you raise average children either.

I am excited and nervous about this journey with my oldest. I am excited to watch him grow and to see his brain work. He's an amazing child. I'm nervous that I won't be able to advocate strongly enough for him. That I won't be able to aid in his growth. That I'll miss the opportunity to ensure his needs are met. I want him to be a well-rounded child, teen, and adult. I want my expectations to be realistic. He's smart, but he's still four. He's still a kid and he still needs to play like a kid and act like a kid and be a kid. And I have to foster that as well. And so I'll leave with two "Ethanisms" that show his age:

• Last week, I told Ethan, "Get dressed, I have a treat with your name on it. I'll give it to you when you get dressed and get in the car." He did, so I gave him a Snickers. As I was carrying Dylan to the car, I noticed Ethan looking at his Snickers, turning it around and around. So I asked, "What are you doing?" His response?
  
  "I don't see my name on it anywhere."
• I told Ethan to drink his Elderberry Juice. "Why?" he asks. So I explain that it will keep him healthy and that it has antioxidants in it.
  
  He asks, "Will it give me super powers?" Umm...sort of. It will help your body fight off infections.
  
  To which he responds, "Oh, it'll give my white blood cells super powers so I'll be a super hero!"
  
  Of course it will!

The Six Month Check Up and Random Bits

Dylan had his 6-month check up yesterday. And so here is how it went.

The crazy rash spreading over his body? Baby Eczema. Vaseline apparently works on that.

Weight: 13.05 lbs. Yep. He's a little guy. He dipped down to just under the 5%. She wants to see him in a month to check his weight again. She's not overly concerned....it's not that far off. And she knows I'm starting formula (a little).

Best comment of the visit? "You feed your child better than anybody I know!" You bet your ass I do. Thank you very much. :) And I'm considering MAKING my own formula for the little one. Why? Because it doesn't pretend to be organic and still have words I couldn't pronounce if you held a gun to my head.

He's healthy, happy, right on target. And he got one shot. Prevnar. Didn't cry and so far hasn't even ran a fever. I'm not letting that breath go until at least this weekend, though. It could be a delayed reaction.

Random TidBits

• In my last post, I said I was sneaking E some BMilk. I'm not gonna do that anymore. Nope. Instead, I'm going to pick up some Elderberry Concentrate today. Everyone (except Dylz) will get at least 1 tsp a day. Maybe a bit more when ill. Operation healthy family shall commence
• Wish I would've thought about it sooner. Dylz and I have been fighting off a nasty little cold. I'm feeling better today, but it's been rough, I won't lie. 
• My Saturday is going to be jam-packed. My little town is having their XMas parade...I know it's before Thanksgiving. So we have breakfast with Santa, parade, chili cook-off...etc. I also have playgroup at 2. And dinner with a friend that evening. Should be a fun day! 
• Sunday, I'm relaxing! 
• Ethan doesn't go to sleep until like 10. It's annoying and an every night occurrence. 
• We find out how his test went tomorrow. I'm excited and nervous!

Enter Breastmilk

The NCBI (just think government research), "In humans, milk excreted antibodies play a major role in protecting infants from infection by pathogens having a mucosal portal of entry." Another study says, "the most abundant type is IgA, specifically the form known as secretory IgA, which is found in great amounts throughout the gut and respiratory system of adults. These antibodies consist of two joined IgA molecules and a so-called secretory component that seems to shield the antibody molecules from being degraded by the gastric acid and digestive enzymes in the stomach and intestines. Infants who are bottle-fed have few means for battling ingested pathogens until they begin making secretory IgA on their own, often several weeks or even months after birth."

I know, I know, that's a bunch of science speak. It's science speak for Mother's Milk ROCKS.

This awesome liquid keeps that baby's gut healthy and fights off any intruders that may come to play. Not only that, but it lines the mucus passage ways, making it much more difficult for something like PC or HIB to get through to the lungs. It doesn't mean a baby can't get sick, but it does mean that a baby's symptoms may be much, much less severe.

Here's an example. The first year of Ethan's life, he was running a low-grade fever and had a few bouts of diarrhea. He was in good spirits and flew right through it without skipping a beat. That very night, I began puking my guts up for hours. It was TERRIBLE. And Clint followed. So why did Ethan do so well and not even cast up the contents of his belly, which was on solids by that point? I think it's because I was breastfeeding. As soon as he started feeling ill, I had already been exposed and I was already passing on very useful antibodies into his system. Too bad I had no antibodies to consume!

So moving on....

As we move into the winter months, I begin to worry about germs and illness, especially since the both go to two different places and I'm in a classroom (aka petri dish).

I know that Dylan will continue to receive useful antibodies that will keep him as healthy as possible. But what about Ethan? A recent talk with a lactation consultant gave me the answer.....

I should warn you that you may or may not have very strong feelings about what I'm about to admit. I make no apologies.

I'm sure that someday when Ethan reads this, he may very well throw up on the spot. However, I think it's rather ingenious and I certainly hope it works.

I'm going to sneak a few ounces of breast milk to my oldest throughout winter. Yep. Put a few ounces in his cereal or mix it with a glass of milk. He won't know the difference. I know it sounds strange and gross and weird, but if it works, who cares? As others have said, why is it okay to feed our children milk meant for another animal but not our own? Does that make sense? No. It doesn't.

No, I'm not going to breast feed my four year old. For one, I couldn't do it. For two, he wouldn't do it. But sneaking him a shot or two of antibodies a day certainly can't hurt in the health department.

The Vaccine Debate

Dylan will go to his 6 month well-baby visit tomorrow. While I'm excited to find out the weight, growth, and general well-being of my little guy, I'm also dreading the whole vaccine business. I always got Ethan's shots at the Health Department, so these "well" visits were much more relaxed.

It's so funny to see how much I've changed over the past four years. With Ethan, I definitely cried when I had to supplement him with formula, but I didn't go crazy researching which formula to get. I trusted a generic brand of Enfamil Lipil and never looked back.

With Dylan, I have researched until I'm blue in the face only to find that there is only one truly organic formula on the market, and it's for Toddlers. Even Earth's Best Organic has added ARA and DHA that is extracted using the chemical Hexane. And if you look at the ingredient list, one has to wonder where all those chemicals come from.

I haven't varied much with vaccines. I will admit that with Ethan, I did research the mess out of them. And ultimately, I decided he would get NO vaccines at two months and that I would get them as I saw fit. It worked out just fine. That kid never even ran a fever. But true to form, I have taken things much further with baby #2. Why?

It's not because I didn't care enough with baby #1. Far from it. I just knew less. I had SO much to learn about being a mom that I was on information overload. This time, I'm not concerned with the little things like figuring out how to get rid of cradle cap. I'm concerned with what I scratched the surface of with Ethan. Those big-ticket items.

Enter Vaccines.

I just finished The Vaccine Book by Dr. Robert Sears. This is not an anti-vaccine book. Quite the opposite. He provides very detailed information about why vaccines are positive. But he also provides very detailed, very real information about why they are given, when they are given, which ones have the strongest side-effect profiles, what ingredients are in them, and what ingredients may cause the problems. He never says, "Don't get this one," or "You MUST get this one." And he says that if you're going to breastfeed for at least two years and your child will not go to childcare, they probably don't need them. But obviously, that's not my case. So here's what I took from the book:

• Just as I suspected when I researched the ingredient list myself, giving infants multiple shots in one day that contain aluminum builds up. While all of the studies really revolve around the effects of giving IVs to NICU babies, the general consensus is that a build-up or overexposure of aluminum is bad for baby's brain. B-R-A-I-N. So why in God's name is it okay to give babies a shot that contains 250 micrograms of the nasty stuff followed directly by another that contains 175 micrograms? That's a whopping 425 micrograms of ALUMINUM that we're sticking them with. And you could very likely end up with more....but I left the book in the car, so I can't tell you just how much. 
• There are three main diseases/illnesses that are more prevalent between birth and age 2 that babies will likely encounter. 1). Pertussis. We've all heard this. Trouble is, you can't get Pertussis without also getting Diptheria and Tetanus--two they are unlikely to encounter as infants. Good news? The old scary DTP is no more because it had TOO MANY severe reactions. We now offer an acellular pertussis. Apparently safer. 2). Pneumococcal Disease. This sucker is transmitted just like the common cold. And while most all babies will encounter it---it's that common---few will turn into something serious such as pneumonia or MENINGITIS. But this is that scary Prevnar that has a pretty lengthy list of side effects. 3). HIB. Again, this sucker is spread like the cold, but it usually hangs out in the nose. If it gets in the lungs, though, well, you're in for a life-threatening treat. 
• After calculating the number of shots given over a child's lifetime and looking at the risk of serious reaction, it equates to about 1 in 2600. Seriously. For each single-dose shot, it's 1 in 100,000. 
• MMR has the most hefty side-effect profile, but it's unlikely that a child is going to encounter one of these and less likely that they'll die. If you hold off until their four, they'll only need ONE DOSE to meet school requirements. And the chances of a severe reaction increase with each shot given. ONE DOSE. Sign me up! 
• Reasons for still getting the Polio shot, which has been eradicated in the US is simple. Safety in herds. It hasn't been eradicated all over the world. It could easily make a come back. That doesn't mean my 6-month old needs to get it RIGHT NOW because he's in contact with LOTS of international people. 
• Prior to vaccines, more children than we can imagine caught and died from these illnesses. We are fortunate to live in a time when the reality of such diseases feels more like something we see in a history book rather than hear from our neighbor. 
• As a parent, I have the RIGHT to decide when my child gets vaccines. Two states have created laws that make it mandatory for all kids to be vaccinated. Few allow you to say no based on philosophical reasons. 

There's more, much more. But I left the book in the car. Oh, Hep B? BAD. And they give that puppy at birth unless you're smart enough to know that you should say NO!

And so here's where I currently stand. If I could, I would say, no way in hell are you sticking my child." That's what I want to say. But I can't because I do believe in the positive aspects they've had. Do I think there are too many and that we load our kids up with chemicals they don't need. You bet your ass I do and it disgusts me.

So far, Dylan has had the Rotavirus series and the DTaP. Tomorrow, he'll get the Prevnar and just the Prevnar. Mommy will be a wreck all damn day and night, but at least I'll know that his little body is only working on one foreign object rather than the recommended FIVE shots they want to give him. And since DTaP and Prevnar protect against two things I know he'll encounter, I will feel a little more at ease. Were I a stay-at-home mom that planned to breastfeed for two years, I wouldn't get those either. But I'm not, and he has an older brother that will brings tons home too. Although, I'm trying to minimize that risk as well, but that's for another day. :) 

Because he's his own guy...

My oldest is quite a character. Ethan is a very high energy child that beats to the sound of his own drum. He's opinionated, bull-headed, strong, loving, and sweet. And he's so independent.

He's full of life and a trip to be around. His mind works in ways I can't fathom and he's always willing to talk your ear off about something. He adores his brother and acts like the loving big brother that he is.

He's my challenging four year old with a zest for life and an obession with cardiac and pulmonary functions. His interest in EVERYTHING keeps me on my toes and there are days when it takes everything I have to keep up with him.

I wouldn't trade this child for the world. He is my love. He is my bug. And when I check on him at night before I go to bed, I smile with the knowledge that for now, he's mine. All. Mine.

His name is Ethan. A Super Hero one second and a serious scientist the next. There's never a dull moment with him around! And I love this guy so much it makes my heart hurt.

Rockin'

So Dylz pulled an every-two-hour night with an early wake up of 5:30 this morning. I'm tired. It's so hard having little ones. I want to sleep SO bad, and I find myself thinking, "This will pass. It will." The trouble is that when it passes, so does this stage of Dylan's life. And knowing he's my last little guy, it's bittersweet. So, so bittersweet.

I rarely get up on the weekends with the kids. This is my time to catch up on sleep so I can tackle the next week of night wakings. But this morning, I was forced to get up (the hubs was in a tree stand somewhere waiting for that mysterious monster buck to appear). The good thing about being forced to sit by the little one while he wiggles around is that he's in his best mood in the morning.

So he's been pulling his knees under him for a week or two now. But he doesn't make a move to crawl. He army crawls EVERYWHERE, but not hands and knees crawl. This morning, he pulled his knees under, rose up on his forearms and rocked back and forth. He's getting there!

It is amazing to see how quickly they change. Sometimes you can see the progression over a period of weeks. Sometimes they seem to develop skills overnight, as though they dreamed about it and were suddenly able to do it upon waking. It's so awesome to watch them figure it all out.

Dylan is just 6 months old. I know he'll be crawling soon. And while I enjoy watching him grow, it seems SO fast. And I'm truly sad about it.

Next week is our next round of vaccines. I've been reading The Vaccine Book, which is not an anti-vaccine book. Stay tuned for more....

When I die...

Words you do not expect to hear from your four year old. Let me explain.

On a recent grocery shopping excursion, I pick up a few 75% off Halloween items. One was a mummy that is sensor activated. Ethan is a little leery of the thing, but his curiosity always gets the best of him. And so this morning, he asked me, "Mom, where do Mummy's come from? Why are there Mummy's?" I suppose a lot of Mom's would've sugar-coated things and said something to the effect of they're for scaring people on Halloween, but Ethan doesn't buy fabrications well. He can be very much the realist. A car is flying in a commercial? Ethan is quick to point out that cars cannot fly.

And so I gave it to him straight. Many, many years ago in Egypt, the Egyptians would build pyramids with tombs below. When they would pass away, or die, they would put the person's organs in jars and wrap the person tight in cloth (or guaze). And that person would lay in the tomb with his heart nearby so that it would always be with him. (Remember, I was explaining this all the fly and after the whole organ thing came out, I wanted to reassure him...strange, I know, but at least I didn't tell him they'd also kill the cats to put with him). And they would put the person's favorite thing in the tomb with him.

And so Ethan says, "Oh, so when I die, I will be wrapped up?"

"No," I said, "we don't do that anymore."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Well, when I die, Mom, I want to be wrapped up like a mummy with my heart in a special jar right next to me."

"Okay. But, you know Ethan, I don't want you thinking about when you die. That's not going to happen for a very, very, very long time."

"But everybody dies."

"Well, yes, but it won't be soon."

And so the conversation continued in much the same way throughout the remainder of trip to big school. I warned the teachers that he had a new fascination with mummy's, so they wouldn't freak out when he starts talking about it. Because he will.

The child is exhausting, and maybe I shouldn't be so honest with him, but I find that not being honest often back fires when it comes to Ethan. He's currently in a phase of wanting to know where everything comes from. EVERYTHING. Where do toys come from? Where do Mommies come from? Where do cars come from? Where do Mummy's come from?

All.Day.Long. I have to search for answers. And sometimes, I simply say, I don't know, I'll have to look it up. Okay, he says. And you can bet the child will ask me if I've looked it up.

6 Months. Already?

Six months ago. That's how long it has been since I began my first contractions that would lead to the birth of my second born. I remember the events of that day as though it just happened. I remember feeling nervous yet determined. Excited yet subdued. I remember quite vividly the argument with the doctor that was NOT my doctor. I remember thinking I should've done this at home.

I remember the rush of emotions and adrenaline that pumped through my veins when I felt the "ring of fire." I remember the love and euphoria that came right after he was out and I could see him. I remember the first latch and how perfect he already was at it. The relief I felt that maybe I wouldn't crack and bleed. I remember watching for the tale-tale signs of yellowed skin and being thankful when he stayed below the threshold. And I remember the joy of watching my first born meet his baby brother for the very first time. His smile, his excitement, his pride at announcing to the world that this is HIS baby brother.

I remember all of these things and more. And it brings tears to my eyes. He is getting so big so fast. And I just want to stop time for a few moments so that I can cherish this part of our lives. I just want to hold him before he gets too old to hold.

I was so anxious for Ethan to move through the milestones. So excited to see them. With Dylan, I think "is he really old enough to do that already?" Don't get me wrong, I love watching him grow, and I smile every time I see him hit another milestones. I hug and kiss and encourage his growth, but I wish I had more time to enjoy it. My sweet boy is growing up so FAST!

At 6 months:

• He can sit for 5 minutes or longer, reaching from side to side.
• He tucks his knees under his stomach and pushes up, inching himself foward.
• He shows the same determination as his brother in getting to his favorite toys.
• He smiles a lot, but hasn't given a full-belly laugh just yet.
• He grabs our faces
• He's still breastfed, although there is formula being shipped to my house to start supplementing him during the day.
• He can still fit in to most of his 3-month clothes.
• He has eaten ground steel cut oats, bananas and apples. He's not a fan of apples.
• He still wakes once or twice a night to eat. But he's fast and efficient and rarely stays up afterward.
• He's sweet and laid back and loves watching his older brother. 
• He's still my doll baby, but I imagine he always will be.

Happy 1/2 birthday, sweet Dylan. You have forever changed my life and in ways that I could've never imagined.

Poverty vs. Middle Class

I recently attended a professional development opportunity whereas the topic was poverty. The speaker had just attended a "Poverty Summit" and wanted to bring back the information she'd gained and discuss ways we can help our students move from one class to the next.

It should come as no surprise that the difference between classes is much greater and divided than the difference in race. What I mean is that a white person and a black person both living in poverty have more in common than a poor white person and a rich white person or a poor black person and a rich black person.

As she began to speak, I began to feel the that familiar uneasy feeling take over. My eyes became shifty and I refused to look around me, instead focusing on the printed handouts she gave. That's my defense mechanism because obviously, if she's talking about poverty everyone must know that I come from poverty. That's apparently what my mind thinks.

But here's the thing.

I did speak up. She gave examples of how middle class communicates because our world is made up of middle class businesses, offices, schools, etc. However, when communicating with someone from poverty, the rules are different. Basically, a child might say, "I don't want to." A parent might say, "Well, you have to." And adult might say, "Okay, what are our options?"

The lay person may believe the best way to communicate is with the adult example. Makes sense. However, body language and tone of voice are extremely important because even that sentence could be viewed as an attack.

And then she talked about what people in poverty find important compared to people in the middle class. One of the biggest differences is in relationships. Those poverty cling to their relationships because it's all they have. And that's what makes getting an education so damn difficult.

You see, you're not asking the poverty student to give up his or her relationships temporarily. You're asking them to forever alter those relationships and possibly lose them. And that's asking a lot. To be viewed as "better than us" is a hard pill to swallow. And even if they're proud of you, the gap continues to grow the more successful you become. Because you see, at some point, you decide achievement is more important than relationships. And what's left behind are the people who have known your entire life. You'll build new friendships within the middle class world, but none of these people are ever going to know or understand you the way your parents, siblings, friends and neighbors did. And those people you left behind will never fully grasp who you've become. The chasm will grow and isolation can be a bitter pill to swallow.

There are times when we drive by homes or apartments where several people living in poverty have congregated--sitting on the porch, drinking a beer, smoking a cigarette--and I envy them. I envy them because they have relationships. And I wonder what it would be like and if it would be simpler to live like that. Now I know that it's not because I was there. I know that while they may be smiling and laughing, they probably made their kids go without something so they could have that beer or that cigarette. I know that they worry about how they're going to pay the bills or make it to work the next day because their car ain't running. I know they might be numbing that tooth ache because they can't afford to go to the dentist. I know it's not a picnic and I know I never, ever want to live like that again.

When she asked, "what can we do in our classes?" I said, "pay attention. Recognize these students and listen to them. They're trying to latch on to a new relationship and what you and how you react to them could make a lasting impression. Something they will keep for the rest of their lives."

Someone asked, "but how do you recognize them?" I don't know how someone in middle class could. I can see it on their faces, I can hear in their voice. But more that, I try to treat all of my students, even the ones that make me crazy, with the same level of respect, kindness, openness, and responsibility. And if they want to tell me about their life? I let 'em.

Halloween

I was supposed to be at conference during Halloween. I chose to stay home to spend that time with my kids. The implications to my career would be great if I wasn't trying to step back. And the time spent with my children and good friends last night is more proof that my shift in priorities is the right one. I mean, what parent wants to miss this? (The pumpkin ones are from Sunday, but I wanted to include them anyway!)

Mothering Two

I had a doctor once tell me that you don't really understand parenthood until you have two. I was pregnant with baby #2 at the time. I thought he was completely off base. After all, I knew what it meant to be a parent, and I only had one child. And for those many parents out there that never have more than the one, well, they do understand what it means to be a parent and I would never discount that. But two? Well, now I understand what he was trying to tell me.

Some people will say that two children isn't that much different than one. Those people are crazy. Either that or they're lying. Ethan kept us busy from the time he was born. There's no doubt about that. The difference was that we could focus solely on Ethan. And so tag-teaming meant that one of us could hang with the kid and the other could spend a couple hours prepping food for the week. Healthy food. One of us could spoon feed the munchkin while the other prepped our dinners.

Over time, we fell into a routine that worked well. Weekends were easier to negotiate because if one person had something going on, well, the other could take THE kid. Evenings fell into a simple routine of eat, bath, read, snuggle. And we alternated, meaning every other evening one of us was off the hook.

And then came Dylan. All of sudden tag-teaming means "you take that one and I'll take this one." Dinners have turned into phone calls to the other saying things like, "Hey, the grocery store has chicken dinner for a family of four for $8.99. You want?" Of course the other person wants. It makes life easier. No one has to make dinner. Bliss.

Now that Dylz is also being fed, well, that throws a wrench into an already delicate situation. Now I have to figure out how to get him fed and get dinner ready in time for bath around seven.

Over the weekend, I had the boys and I braved a trip to town with both. Have you ever seen those women with two or three kids all orderly and behaved? The one that calmly redirects her child when he tries to stray? I have. I hate her. And I was wondering around the store with two boys, one crying and the other trying to run away, I wondered what others thought of me. Did I look calm? Did I look "in charge?" Or did I look exactly how I felt: a mother on the verge of losing it all.

You see, back in day, I could just throw Ethan over my shoulder and ignore the "can't she control that child" look. Now? Well, it's hard to throw a four-year-old over my shoulder while holding a 5-month-old in my arms.

And so yes, I had experienced motherhood before Dylan. I did understand what it meant to love unconditionally, to worry when there was nothing to worry about, and to fight against the frazzle that comes with it all. But now, as a mom to not one but two boys, I understand that there is room to love both equally, that it's not worth sweating the small stuff because I'll know when it's time to worry, and that fighting is futile. Frazzled is just fine.