Jack is being, how shall we say, a bit of a pill lately. I think it's due to some changes in our usual routine--starting with the whole miscarriage . . . fiasco? . . . which meant I was "sick" and couldn't pick him up and things were generally sad and weird around here. Then Tom started a new job, which is great but also means he works later hours and is not home to put Jack to bed a few nights a week. And then I was out of town last weekend in California, which was awesome for me and my mental health, but not so great for Jack in terms of being on his routine. So. Things have been different (especially his sleep schedule) and he is out of sorts.
This tends to manifest itself in, to put it nicely, "outbursts." A less generous person might call them "tantrums."
One morning last week, he woke up cranky and refusing to eat. Anyone who has ever met Jack knows he never doesn't eat, so this was a little odd. I finally, finally cajoled him into eating a cereal bar (his usual breakfast of choice) and decided to use the couple of minutes it would take him to eat to go to the bathroom alone. Bad decision! He really wanted to come in with me--he banged on the door and cried. In the time I was in there, he got so upset that he smashed his cereal bar and then smeared it all over his legs.
That night when I picked him up, he was in timeout. The look on his face when he saw me--total relief mixed with a little apprehension--kind of crushed me. "He's had a bad day," his teacher said. "He's been really disobedient." She seemed a little apologetic, but I wasn't upset. I remembered this Swedish proverb I'd read (on Pinterest, of all places): "Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it." So I ran over and gathered him up in a big hug, then hurried him home so we could snuggle a little and unwind.
I've decided that this will be my new mantra. I know Jack is a good kid, and he really is good most of the time, and his outbursts are almost always because he's hungry or sleep-deprived, not just "acting out" or being bratty. So when he acts out, I'm going to love on him that much more.
And that's why, a few nights ago, when I pulled Jack away from his toys to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner, and he was so upset that he completely smashed the sandwich and ripped apart the pieces . . . I gave him a hug, and (much to Tom's surprise) made him another sandwich. And put him to bed early.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
I just need to write this out
I haven't posted in a while. I haven't been doing much lately, actually. I have a pretty good excuse.
In November, I had my IUD removed. I had done some research and Dr. Google informed me that, since Mirena thins the lining of your uterus, pregnancies that occur right after having it removed often end in miscarriage. So we had a plan, to wait for a few months before trying for another baby.
A few weeks after I had the Mirena removed, I got pregnant. Yep. So much for the plan. We found out right after Tom's birthday. At first, Tom and I were both freaked out--where were we going to fit another baby in our two-bedroom condo? How were we going to afford it? What would this mean for work, our plans to move to a bigger place?
I was also worried about what I had read, so I saw the doctor. They gave me a due date: August 25. They assured me there was nothing to worry about, but ran blood tests anyway. When you're pregnant, the level of HCG (a hormone) in your blood is supposed to double every two-three days. Mine were low, but they doubled--barely.
Still, we told our parents at Christmas. It was such a lovely surprise, breaking that news. Our parents' excitement got me excited about the idea of a new baby. A new baby! In August! Near Jack's birthday! What we didn't know, though, was that right around that time, the baby stopped growing. When I went for a sonogram after New Year's, the baby was measuring about a week behind. My midwife was still optimistic--sometimes babies grow slowly--so we scheduled another sonogram for a week later to track growth.
That weekend, I started bleeding. When Tom and I went in for the follow-up sonogram, it showed that the baby hadn't grown at all since the previous week. The pregnancy wasn't viable; I was having a miscarriage. We scheduled a D&C for the next day--a surgery to remove the "products of conception." As my midwife described it, the doctor uses a tool like a spoon to remove everything from your uterus. I keep imagining a spoon scraping the last bit of ice cream out of a bowl. My brother's girlfriend, a doctor, assures me that that's not what happens, but that's the image I can't get out of my mind.
Tom couldn't come to the surgery--he's just started a detail (like a temporary promotion) at work and couldn't get two days off in a row. My friend Kris ended up coming. It was ironic, because I actually saw her son being born in September, and now she was coming to support me at the end of this pregnancy. But she's had a D&C before, and it was really comforting to be able to talk to her about everything (in between crying jags). The doctor said that there hadn't been a lot of tissue; in fact, the baby had never had a heartbeat, which on some level I guess makes it easier than if it had had a heartbeat that stopped. It makes the baby seem less real, I guess.
I came home to flowers, cupcakes, and ice cream. Which helped a little. We got more flowers throughout the weekend, and it's been comforting to know how many of my family and friends (in real life and online) are thinking and worrying about me. For a couple of days after the surgery, the heating pad was my friend. I couldn't lift or carry Jack, which was tough, but he's been so sweet throughout this whole thing. He keeps tilting his head to the side and asking, "You a little bit sick?" or "You a little bit sad?" He kisses my IV band-aid and says, "You OK, Mama."
But now, I'm fine. Physically, anyway. I've finally showered and changed out of the sweat pants I've been wearing all week. I'm not in any pain. But. It's weird. I'm having a hard time remembering that I'm not pregnant anymore. Even though I wasn't pregnant for that long, and even while I was pregnant I never had a good feeling about it . . . for a month my focus was all baby, baby, baby. What I couldn't eat or drink, what vitamins I should take, analyzing every twinge. I'm still having a hard time adjusting.
Mostly I'm just mad. That's easier than being sad. I'm mad because, if I had done a better job of tracking my cycle, we wouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place and this never would have happened. I'm mad at my doctors for brushing off my concerns and telling me not to worry. I'm mad about how poorly they treated me at my last appointment for the D&C. And I'm mad that this whole situation means it's going to be a few months before we can try again.
We have no reason to believe this will happen again (fingers crossed, knock wood). In the meantime, I'm spoiling myself a little. I got myself a bunch of new Philosophy products, and treated myself to a mani/pedi this weekend. On Friday, I'm heading to California for a trip we'd planned months ago--but now, I'll be able to go wine tasting. Which is great, but I'd rather still be pregnant.
My mom says she hopes this is the worst thing that ever happens to me. On the one hand I think, it's not cancer or a car accident or something awful--it's just a miscarriage, it happens to a lot of people, and it's not the end of the world. But on the other hand, I agree.
In November, I had my IUD removed. I had done some research and Dr. Google informed me that, since Mirena thins the lining of your uterus, pregnancies that occur right after having it removed often end in miscarriage. So we had a plan, to wait for a few months before trying for another baby.
A few weeks after I had the Mirena removed, I got pregnant. Yep. So much for the plan. We found out right after Tom's birthday. At first, Tom and I were both freaked out--where were we going to fit another baby in our two-bedroom condo? How were we going to afford it? What would this mean for work, our plans to move to a bigger place?
I was also worried about what I had read, so I saw the doctor. They gave me a due date: August 25. They assured me there was nothing to worry about, but ran blood tests anyway. When you're pregnant, the level of HCG (a hormone) in your blood is supposed to double every two-three days. Mine were low, but they doubled--barely.
Still, we told our parents at Christmas. It was such a lovely surprise, breaking that news. Our parents' excitement got me excited about the idea of a new baby. A new baby! In August! Near Jack's birthday! What we didn't know, though, was that right around that time, the baby stopped growing. When I went for a sonogram after New Year's, the baby was measuring about a week behind. My midwife was still optimistic--sometimes babies grow slowly--so we scheduled another sonogram for a week later to track growth.
That weekend, I started bleeding. When Tom and I went in for the follow-up sonogram, it showed that the baby hadn't grown at all since the previous week. The pregnancy wasn't viable; I was having a miscarriage. We scheduled a D&C for the next day--a surgery to remove the "products of conception." As my midwife described it, the doctor uses a tool like a spoon to remove everything from your uterus. I keep imagining a spoon scraping the last bit of ice cream out of a bowl. My brother's girlfriend, a doctor, assures me that that's not what happens, but that's the image I can't get out of my mind.
Tom couldn't come to the surgery--he's just started a detail (like a temporary promotion) at work and couldn't get two days off in a row. My friend Kris ended up coming. It was ironic, because I actually saw her son being born in September, and now she was coming to support me at the end of this pregnancy. But she's had a D&C before, and it was really comforting to be able to talk to her about everything (in between crying jags). The doctor said that there hadn't been a lot of tissue; in fact, the baby had never had a heartbeat, which on some level I guess makes it easier than if it had had a heartbeat that stopped. It makes the baby seem less real, I guess.
I came home to flowers, cupcakes, and ice cream. Which helped a little. We got more flowers throughout the weekend, and it's been comforting to know how many of my family and friends (in real life and online) are thinking and worrying about me. For a couple of days after the surgery, the heating pad was my friend. I couldn't lift or carry Jack, which was tough, but he's been so sweet throughout this whole thing. He keeps tilting his head to the side and asking, "You a little bit sick?" or "You a little bit sad?" He kisses my IV band-aid and says, "You OK, Mama."
But now, I'm fine. Physically, anyway. I've finally showered and changed out of the sweat pants I've been wearing all week. I'm not in any pain. But. It's weird. I'm having a hard time remembering that I'm not pregnant anymore. Even though I wasn't pregnant for that long, and even while I was pregnant I never had a good feeling about it . . . for a month my focus was all baby, baby, baby. What I couldn't eat or drink, what vitamins I should take, analyzing every twinge. I'm still having a hard time adjusting.
Mostly I'm just mad. That's easier than being sad. I'm mad because, if I had done a better job of tracking my cycle, we wouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place and this never would have happened. I'm mad at my doctors for brushing off my concerns and telling me not to worry. I'm mad about how poorly they treated me at my last appointment for the D&C. And I'm mad that this whole situation means it's going to be a few months before we can try again.
We have no reason to believe this will happen again (fingers crossed, knock wood). In the meantime, I'm spoiling myself a little. I got myself a bunch of new Philosophy products, and treated myself to a mani/pedi this weekend. On Friday, I'm heading to California for a trip we'd planned months ago--but now, I'll be able to go wine tasting. Which is great, but I'd rather still be pregnant.
My mom says she hopes this is the worst thing that ever happens to me. On the one hand I think, it's not cancer or a car accident or something awful--it's just a miscarriage, it happens to a lot of people, and it's not the end of the world. But on the other hand, I agree.
Monday, December 19, 2011
happy holidays
Jack is really getting into Christmas this year. We've slowly been introducing the idea of Santa (the secular version) and he loves it. Plus I've been telling him that he has to take a nap every day or else Santa won't come. No, I'm not ashamed of blackmailing my kid. It's working pretty well so far.
We've been driving around looking at the lights, and he helped us cut down the tree.
He even has lights in his room now, and every morning when I go to get him his first command is "Turn da lights on!"
It's pretty fun.
On Sunday, he and I went to Target (along with everyone else in the world, it seemed). He was a really good sport the entire time, even though it was totally chaotic and I'm pretty sure he has a raging sinus infection.
On the way home, we were listening to Christmas music, and then he requested "Blue Submarine." He's getting really good at colors, but he always somehow confuses blue and yellow, so I knew what he meant.
"I helping, Mama," he said as he sang along. "This a happy song."
"Yeah, it is, buddy." I remembered how he's always loved this song--it was one thing that could always make him smile when he was just a few months old--and now he was singing along. How did he get so big?
"Mama?"
"Yeah?"
"Mama, I . . . happy."
Cue: tears. And: scene.
We've been driving around looking at the lights, and he helped us cut down the tree.
He even has lights in his room now, and every morning when I go to get him his first command is "Turn da lights on!"
It's pretty fun.
On Sunday, he and I went to Target (along with everyone else in the world, it seemed). He was a really good sport the entire time, even though it was totally chaotic and I'm pretty sure he has a raging sinus infection.
On the way home, we were listening to Christmas music, and then he requested "Blue Submarine." He's getting really good at colors, but he always somehow confuses blue and yellow, so I knew what he meant.
"I helping, Mama," he said as he sang along. "This a happy song."
"Yeah, it is, buddy." I remembered how he's always loved this song--it was one thing that could always make him smile when he was just a few months old--and now he was singing along. How did he get so big?
"Mama?"
"Yeah?"
"Mama, I . . . happy."
Cue: tears. And: scene.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
iphone 4S vs. droid incredible
What I like about my new (!) iPhone (!):
- Facetime. Also Skype, I guess. I love that this phone has video chat.
- Siri. Only nominally useful so far but I like that my phone talks to me and is also kind of a smartass.
- iTunes. I love that my music is on my phone, so everything is on one gadget--phone, ipod, also internet.
- More, better apps.
- iMessage. Basically, I can text other people with Apple for free. Which is good because last month we went WAY over our 250 free texts.
- The camera and video are awesome.
- iCloud. Which, I admit I do not in anyway understand. And I know I'm not taking full advantage of. But I could, which is the important part.
- It's pretty!
- Google integration. It came loaded with a gmail app an a gchat app. My iPhone has my gmail account connected to it, but it's too as good an interface. And I had to download some weird fake gchat app that doesn't work as well--I have to log in every time, and the links people send aren't clickable. And you can't get Google Sky Map!
- Speaking of e-mail--on my Droid, I could say I only wanted the phone to check my work e-mail on weekdays during business hours (roughly). This one checks it all the time. And it's loud.
- On the topic of sound--I haven't figured out the ringer yet. I can turn it to completely silent, or I can turn it really low, but I can't turn it to just vibrate. Or, well, I can but I have to go into settings to do it--I can't just turn the sound down temporarily. Annoying.
- They keyboard. I know this sounds lame, but I preferred the Droid keyboard. It had the comma and period on the main keyboard page and, since I'm not a 7th grader, I actually use punctuation in my texts and whatnot. So it's annoying to have to go to a second page to use those.
- When I want to share a picture, the iPhone only links to Twitter, e-mail, and texts. The Droid also automatically linked to Facebook and Flickr. I actually have to go into my Facebook and Flickr apps to upload photos--that's a lot more work for my fingers!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
as I check facebook
Tom is changing Jack into his nighttime diaper (triple stuffed, one doubled hemp insert and two microfiber inserts).
Jack: I loooove you, Dada!
Tom: Aw, thanks buddy.
[pause]
Tom: Can you say "in your face"?
Jack: Inna face!
Tom: Can you say "see ya, wouldn't wanna be ya"?
Jack: Seena been ya!
Tom: Can you say "ta-dow"?
Jack: Ta-dow!
[runs shirtless into the living room]
Jack: Ta-NAKED!
Yup, yup, definitely want another one.
Jack: I loooove you, Dada!
Tom: Aw, thanks buddy.
[pause]
Tom: Can you say "in your face"?
Jack: Inna face!
Tom: Can you say "see ya, wouldn't wanna be ya"?
Jack: Seena been ya!
Tom: Can you say "ta-dow"?
Jack: Ta-dow!
[runs shirtless into the living room]
Jack: Ta-NAKED!
Yup, yup, definitely want another one.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
mwahahahaha
A few weeks ago, our (OK, my) beloved video monitor died. Or at least the charger did, which meant that we couldn't see when Jack fell asleep or if he was really upset if he started crying. I tried to get a new charger at Radio Shack, but it somehow seemed to actually suck the remaining charge out of the monitor. Waste of $20.
I ended up buying a new one. A totally ridiculous new one, with new features including: a movable camera (so if Jack moves I can change the camera angle and see him at ALL TIMES) and a two-way talk feature, so that Jack can actually hear us instead of us just hearing him.
You can see where I'm going with this.
Today, for the second time this month--is it because he's two now?--Jack hasn't wanted to nap. We put him down around 11:30 and at 12:15 he was still jumping up and down in his crib. I went in and he had pooped, so I took care of that and laid him back down. Watching him on the monitor, he was talking to himself, standing up again, and then--best of all--he pulled his blanket over his head and started swaying like a little baby ghost.
So. I pressed the "talk" button and said, "Jackson. Lay down. Go to sleep." His little head whipped around at the camera, then the door. Then . . . he laid down. And he hasn't moved for about twenty minutes now, so I'm guessing he's asleep? Or he's too afraid of the creepy disembodied voice to move until we go get him. Either way! That monitor just paid for itself.
I ended up buying a new one. A totally ridiculous new one, with new features including: a movable camera (so if Jack moves I can change the camera angle and see him at ALL TIMES) and a two-way talk feature, so that Jack can actually hear us instead of us just hearing him.
You can see where I'm going with this.
Today, for the second time this month--is it because he's two now?--Jack hasn't wanted to nap. We put him down around 11:30 and at 12:15 he was still jumping up and down in his crib. I went in and he had pooped, so I took care of that and laid him back down. Watching him on the monitor, he was talking to himself, standing up again, and then--best of all--he pulled his blanket over his head and started swaying like a little baby ghost.
So. I pressed the "talk" button and said, "Jackson. Lay down. Go to sleep." His little head whipped around at the camera, then the door. Then . . . he laid down. And he hasn't moved for about twenty minutes now, so I'm guessing he's asleep? Or he's too afraid of the creepy disembodied voice to move until we go get him. Either way! That monitor just paid for itself.
Monday, August 22, 2011
I am not prepared for this
So, this morning, as I laid Jack down on his changing table to change his diaper, he said "Potty sit?" So I told him that I wanted to make sure he hadn't pooped yet and then he could go sit on the potty. I opened up his diaper and he hadn't pooped . . . yet. That's right, I actually saw it leaving his butt. A new parenting low. I plopped him down on the potty anyway, where he sat for about five seconds before popping up and saying "All done!" Gah. I am so not ready for potty training.
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