Just like that

I tell you. I make plans, have great ideas and then just like that, it's almost a month before I get the chance to post to my blog again. Ugh. I feel like such a slacker.

Blame it on my inner overachiever who feels the need to be SuperMom at all times. If you remember, at the end of the school year, I became the Vice Chair for the Parent Connection Committee at Mason's preschool. Well, plans kinda changed a bit. So, um, yeah, now I have stepped up and become the Chairperson for the PCC instead. Gulp. Yeah I just had a minor panic attack too. It's a long story, but basically the PCC is struggling a lot with parent involvement this year and no one came forth interested in being the leader. I pretty much said, well I'm kinda doing it anyway, and so there you go.

I haven't exactly told Fred just yet. Mostly because of his less than enthusiastic and not so supportive response when I told him I wanted to be Vice Chair. Imagine how he would react if I said, "Honey. Guess what? I am now running the whole thing." Yeah that would not go over well. So I am kinda taking my time to ease him into this knowledge. That, and well, it's a hell of a lot of work.

I was not prepared to take on this role, so naturally I was not prepared for the responsibilities and duties that have all of a sudden slapped me hard in the face. I've only been in this role, in official capacity, for a week now. Mostly, I am trying to play catch up. I have been reading through the previous Chair's binder she put together. Getting myself familiar with how she ran things, what worked and what didn't. Studying up on her notes, past agendas and meeting minutes. Working hard to come up with a strategy or plan for how to make this year successful. I'm not gonna lie, its A LOT OF WORK and I find myself struggling with it all. I really don't want to admit this, but I think I might have bitten off a bit more than I could chew.

It's not like I was really keeping up with all my domestic duties as a SAHM anyway. I'll get into my opinion on domestic duties another day. As I was saying, I already wasn't keeping up with my massive laundry list of duties as it was, but now it's all gone to the wayside.

I haven't washed my floors in months. I know, disgusting isn't it? The only time I remember to do the laundry is when there is a lack of clothes to wear and by then the piles have gotten so huge it takes me two weeks just to get through it and by then it's piled up all over again. *sigh* I don't have a dinner plan and it's 5pm and Fred is super annoyed. My kids have watched way more television that I would normally allow, and eaten way more junk food than I am completely comfortable with them having, and whined far above my tolerance level due to boredom and wanting Mommy to pay attention to them. I feel so incredibly guilty. As if I haven't been feeling guilty enough since becoming a Mom. But, in turn, I need to have some time to get non-child related work done. Not just for school, even though we have three events that are coming up and no one to chair two of those committee's and a serious lack in parents stepping up to run stations at our Safety Day event at the end of the month, but to be able to have the time to nourish myself as well.

I joined the PCC, yes to help out with my son's school, but mostly to meet other Mom's. I felt so alone at the beginning of school last year. It was Mason's first year, I was new to the whole school thing. Unsure of what to expect, not really knowing anyone but one friend. I hated that disconnected feeling, especially when everyone around me seemed to be so in tune with one another. So I signed up for Room Parent and I met Nancy. I think I spent the most time with her than any other Mom at the school, between planning classroom events and chit chatting about life in carpool line. I got to know the other parents in the classroom and play dates were made as well as friendships. I then signed on to co-chair the Art to Remember event. I met Aimee, who's children swim on my neighborhood swim team and got a background of the school from one whose children have attended for nearly 10 years. I got to know the teachers and some staff where we would exchange hello's and how is you daughter in the hallway. One day, I ran into a fellow PCC member at Wegmans, than another one at Target, and then waves started exchanging in carpool line and I no longer felt alone. I felt part of a community and that was really the point.

I want to take my experience and bring it to the Parent Connection Committee this year. The whole idea is to connect. To enlighten parents on how the PCC makes school life better. I know we all have felt at some point in our lives as if we were alone, but we really aren't and we shouldn't have to feel this way. There is whole community out there waiting for you! As our children attend school, developing their minds, they are also establishing friendships, so why shouldn't we?

That said, I am struggling with the business side of it all, sitting here putting together my own agenda as I prepare for our first official social meeting of the year. I almost already feel like a failure, having not established committee heads for the majority of our events/fundraisers. Nor do we have the officer positions fully staffed. Psst, I am going to let you in on a little secret. I don't like talking in front of groups of people, it makes me so uncomfortable and self conscious. I too, shy away from leadership roles for lack of confidence in myself that I know enough to hold such a high power position and do it effectively, because I am not much of a confrontational person. My personality is anything but tough and I'm not sure I could be stern enough to someone when they aren't getting the job done. However, I hosted an extremely successful Room Parent Coffee Talk forum last week, where I discussed the role and responsibilities of the Room Parent and shared a few tips and tricks that I learned from being a Room Parent myself. There were many new parents and I had more than a few come up to me afterwards and thank me. I admit, it felt really good. My ego was boosted a little bit and I had some more confidence in myself that I might actually be able to pull this whole thing off.

So after that long explanation, what I was really trying to say is that if you don't see me posting as often, it's because I'm either desperately trying to catch up on laundry, planning the latest party for my son's classroom, actively getting parents involved, or just spending time with my kids.

And speaking of parties, I have a 5 year old Transformers birthday party to plan. *bangs her head on the table* Yeah, I'll get on that one first thing in the morning.

Holy Crap! Was that an earthquake?

Those were the words screaming very loudly in my head as I descended the stairs after checking on my, just put down for a nap, daughter.

It started off just like any other day. Sophie waking up way too soon, but since she just stays in her room till someone comes to get her (and that might be 20 minutes later), I tend to stay in bed and get a few more minutes of rest till Mason comes charging in the room. After breakfast and a much needed cup, or two, of coffee, I join Fred and the kids outside for a morning bike ride. What a morning it was too. A nice breeze, probably in the upper 70's or lower 80's, much cooler than it has been. Mason rides around and around on his two wheels, while Sophie tries to keep up on her tricycle and at times just giving up and running after him. We wave good-bye to daddy as he drives off for his meeting in Maryland.

A few hours later, we are having lunch. Sophie is looking tired so I put her down for a nap. Then Mason and I settle down into the family room to work on a Transformers puzzle we picked up earlier in the day. It was a hard puzzle, later I realized it was because I had the edge pieces in the wrong spot. The point is that we were concentrating hard on this puzzle, sitting on the floor, when all of a sudden we heard a loud rumble and the windows rattle.

My first thought was that it was a big truck coming through the neighborhood, that was until everything started to shake. Mason looked at me, almost horrified. I kind of froze trying to settle myself as I looked up and saw the house moving. I felt dizzy and nauseous and knew this was not just a low flying plane or a tremor from the local quarry blasting. I went to grab Mason and heard picture frames falling in the other room. That was when my mind went to Sophie, alone upstairs. I jumped up, running up the stairs as fast as I could, Mason close on my heels. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, I just knew I needed to grab both kids and have them with me. I was also afraid that stuff would be falling off the shelves and walls of Sophie's room and onto her laying helpless in bed. About the time I reached the top it was all over.

I opened the door to Sophie's room. She sat up in bed, looking so innocent and confused as to why I was there and looking scared. Are you o.k.? I asked. Uh, huh, she mutters through her pacifier. Everything looked normal, only her butterfly mobile slightly swaying above her bed. I doubt she knew what happened or that it was potentially dangerous. I told her to go back to bed and quietly closed the door.

My hands trembling, my legs feeling of jello, my head reeling. Mason is practically in tears, the house is going to break. Is the house going to break, Mama? Was that an earthquake? I thought you said earthquakes don't happen here. I said we'd check on the computer, see if the news sites were reporting anything. Nothing, yet. But Facebook and Twitter were on fire. Wow, that was really an earthquake. Then CNN confirmed it, 5.8 earthquake hits the Washington D.C. area. That's when the phone rang. I rushed to get it. Fred was calling to ask if we just had an earthquake. I choke back some tears, the need to be brave for my kids starting to wear off, yes. Did you feel it too?

I spent the rest of the conversation walking around the house, picking up picture frames, checking on everything else to see if anything was broken. It wasn't. I called my dad in D.C. to see if he was o.k. We talked for a bit. Mason and I finished the puzzle. He begged for another bike ride. He rode his bike, I caught up on some reading. I talked with my sister, turned on the news. Talked with a friend, updated Facebook and Twitter.

All in all, everyone is o.k. and everything seems to be in good shape. Though, we will be making a few walks around the foundation, checking the gas lines and such just for good measure.

Ticked off

On the first day of summer things went totally wrong.

After a morning of dealing with no school and wondering what to do, I left Mason downstairs to watch Backyardigans while Sophie and I went upstairs to take a shower so I could get my head awake.

Sophie and I were giggling up a storm, sitting on the shower floor. I was teaching her the wheels on the bus song. Mason came walking in and announced very happily, "we have our first watermelons." Moments later he came back in and asked if he could take a shower too. I hesitated and then after seeing his disappointment, I caved. He undressed and walked into the shower. I told him to get his hair wet and wash up and that's when I noticed a black spot under his arm. I told him to hold up and come outside. Glasses off I couldn't really see but I knew it was some sort of bug and wanted to get a tissue or something and get it off before Mason freaked out. I tried to flick it a bit with toilet paper and that's when I stopped to get a closer look. Squinting my eyes hard I stared at it and that's when I thought, oh crap. I think this is a tick.

Shower still running, Sophie quietly playing in it, I left Mason standing in the bathroom holding his arm up. Soaking wet and naked I ran to the top of the stairs and yelled for Fred. No answer. That's when I screamed as loud as I could so he could hear where ever he was and he came running in from outside. I hurriedly told him that I think Mason has a tick on him and I am not sure what to do, I don't have my glasses. He confirmed it was a tick and said he just saw our neighbor and ran out to talk with her. Our neighbor's daughter has Lyme disease. Has since she was about Mason's age. It's been a horrible disease and we've spent the last three years listening to the stories from our neighbor. I immediately thought about this and tried to stay calm, but all I could think was my poor little boy standing naked in the bathroom with this tick stuck to his armpit. How he had his whole life ahead of him and how this moment could possibly take all that away.

It felt like forever. Waiting there for Fred to come back. I didn't know what to do. Was there something I should be doing right now? My mind was going a mile a minute and I couldn't turn it off. My hands were shaking so bad and Mason started crying. I tried to calm him but I wasn't sure myself and Fred was taking forever. Mason kept crying and saying he wanted daddy and I felt helpless and scared and I started crying too. I couldn't just leave both the kids in the house and search for Fred outside, I knew he was getting information on how to properly take the tick off and what to do afterward, but my god the two of us were just standing there with no idea what was going on or what to do. And the seconds went by so slowly. IT WAS TERRIFYING.

Finally Fred came back but he wouldn't tell me what he was doing or what needed to be done and I was freaking out. I just wanted to know. It was killing me not having this knowledge and my son's health in danger. He tried to kick me out but Mason really started to freak when Fred got the tweezers so I ran back in and held Mason as tight as I could while Fred removed the tick (and some of Mason's skin with it) and placed it in a Ziplock bag. Mason was in tears, Sophie was trying to figure out what was going on, still in the shower, and I was sobbing. My whole body shaking in horrid sobs. I didn't know if my little boy was going to be OK or not.

Moments later our neighbor came knocking on the door to check the situation. We all quickly got some clothes on Mason and myself and went downstairs. She talked to us for like 3o minutes, giving us the website of a lab we can send the tick off to in order to test for Lyme disease. Arming us with what to look out for in the next days, weeks, etc. The bulls-eye rash, any fatigue, or irritability, etc. It was a bit comforting to have her there talking with us. Looking back she can see the warning signs she missed with her daughter. I hope her experience helped us.

So many things I am trying to stay hopeful about. Hoping the test the lab does on the tick comes back negative. Hoping no rash develops. The ticks head was not imbedded in Mason's skin, nor was it engorged so I am hoping that is a good sign. Trying to stay hopeful that this tick was not on Mason longer than the few moments yesterday morning before spotting it. We didn't notice anything before then, but then again we weren't looking either and it had been quite a while since the kids had bathed; I hate admitting that.

In the meantime we are observing the bite everyday, checking the kids for ticks on a regular basis after playing in the yard. I called our pest service about getting the yard sprayed for ticks. And emailed our pediatrician about the whole situation and thought I'd mention it to him at Sophie's check up on Monday.

I don't normally pray, but last night I found myself knelt beside my bed, head bowed, hands crossed and through my tears I spoke; "Dear Heavenly Father..." I prayed, and I've been doing that a lot since yesterday. I know, we as parents, can't protect our children from everything. There will always be dangers out there. As a mother, I find it is the hardest thing to accept that harm will come to my childen in some form or another. Be it a broken heart, broken bone, or an illness. I know that I can't keep them in a bubble, locked in the house, but I feel like I want to do that sometimes. To hold them, protect them and promise nothing will ever happen to them. It is these moments that I recall that scene in Finding Nemo when Marlin, Nemo's father, says that he promised he would never let anything happen to his son and Dory replies, "well that's a silly thing to promise. You can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him." Dory was right. I see that. But, how do I ease the fear, the pain, the constant worry, the guilt? How do I let go? How do I go on with life knowing the dangers yet still find comfort and peace? I need to know that it is all going to be OK. I need to have reassurance and knowledge. I know all to well how fragile and short life really is. I have seen and experienced my share of loss.

So as I sit here, my family in bed asleep, I think about how I wish I could go back to Thursday. Before any of this happened and prevent it, but know I can't. I think of how much I have prayed for the health of my son. I think, I need to say one more prayer. A prayer for strength. To find my strength to get through this no matter the outcome, and to learn from it all.

I may sound like one neurotic mother right now, I know my husband thinks I am, but I just needed to get this out. I needed to talk and have someone listen. So if you read all of this, I say, Thanks.

With that, I am off to bed with the hope I can get some sleep tonight.

I can't keep up

Right now, life just seems to be getting busier and busier. At the last PCC meeting with Preschool I was named the new Vice Chair for the next school year. I may just regret this decision, but I am remaining hopeful that it will be good for me. It is time I got to know more Moms in the community. It is time I took some action in working on my time management skills. It is time I showed myself and my family that I can do something that scares me.

As I write this my husband has just arrived home from the doctors; face swollen, both eyes almost shut a Prednisone prescription in hand. I pray that it gives him the relief he needs. See our old house in Leesburg, the one we are renting out, has a plant in the backyard. Every time Fred would go out to de-weed or work in the yard he would get an allergic reaction. Nothing this severe, but enough to be bothersome for a few days. It's been three years and we've forgotten this little bit of information and we prepare to kick out our renters. It's a long story. He went to the rental property to get the yard in shape for putting it back on the market. Came home all blotchy red and itchy and we remembered. That was two days ago and he has only gotten worse. I pleaded with him to go to the doctor earlier but as we all know men don't listen to their wives about these things and it takes a severe act for them to do any kind of self care. Back to his swollen face, it turns out it is poison ivy in the yard and well, my husband is severely allergic. Clearly. I just have to say out loud how thankful I am that we have moved from that house, where poison ivy dwells in the backyard and where my children would be playing. Seriously thankful. Now, I am just hoping and praying that he gets better soon.

On top of all this we are preparing for our little baby girl to turn two this Saturday, with me busily planning a TinkerBell themed birthday. I've been immersed in all things green and yellow and having to do with fairies and Pixie Hollow. It's been fun. I'll be sure to take plenty of photos this year, unlike last.

Amongst all this chaos we managed to fit in Mason's first helicopter ride with Daddy, a reunion with my Eta Rho sisters from JMU, a few taco nights with family and friends, a Mother's Day tea with my little boy, an unexpected adult Easter egg hunt and Sophia learning to ride the tricycle.

I'm sure life will only get busier over the next few weeks as we count down the days till the end of school. As much as I love having a child in school, I look forward to the slower pace of summer. To splashing in the pool, family bike rides to the park, and fresh tomatoes, strawberries and peppers from our garden. To eating on the deck every night, bubbles in the yard, free movies and concerts for the kids, and trips to the Zoo. I look forward to being outside more, getting active, and playing with my husband and kids. I look forward to many many pictures and many many stories.

This wasn't my most elegant post, I've been distracted, in more ways than one. And, yeah, I'll probably be absent again from the blogosphere but I'll get the hang of this life, eventually, and find time for all the things I love.

I could not ask for more

6 years ago, it was the most gorgeous day. I was busy decorating the grounds of a beautiful historic home and the worst thing I had to worry about were my transitions glasses, and me being the only one wearing sunglasses at the ceremony. Something that didn't register when I planned an outdoor wedding.

How different that scene is from what our lives are now.

But I wouldn't change a thing.

Everything is going to be alright...

in the end.

In light of all that has happened in the last eight days, I haven't had a moment to just take it all in and breathe.

Thursday afternoon, feeling a bit rundown, I needed to just veg on the couch while the kids played. Mason had me coloring some Cars coloring pages that he was then hanging up on his wall of art in our family room. In the process of it all it somehow he slipped, or lost his balance, or as he tells it-got dizzy, and fell off the stool. I didn't really see it. I just saw him disappear out of the corner of my eye and heard a really loud sickening bang, like his tiny head smacking something really hard.

He lay there on the floor between the train table and wall, not moving, not making a sound. In the time it took me to jump off the couch and run over (a matter of seconds) he was having some sort of an episode that I can only describe and assume was a Vasovagal syncope. Something I thought he had outgrown due to it having been almost two years since his last episode. But I saw him on the ground, eyes freakishly wide, tense and almost convulsing as he was emitting a groan like he was struggling. I got down to his level, touched his face and tried to get him to respond. Nothing. I tried so hard not to panic, screamed for Fred, and tried to get to him better but the train table was in the way. I struggled to move it, screamed for Fred again, sat back down at his head and called his name over and over till he finally came to. I asked him simple questions I knew he could answer to gage his mental state and if there was any damage. I could tell he was scared and in pain, full out crying at this point. I screamed for Fred one more time as I rushed to the other side of the train table and yanked with all my might. Mason tried to get up but I made him lay down for a little longer till Fred finally came upstairs and picked him up. At this point Mason was fine, saying his head hurt but no visible bruise and even making jokes. We gave him some ice cream to get his blood sugar up. Being a Vasovagal sufferer my whole life, I know that you need something like a cookie or juice after an episode and then you are perfectly fine.

As he sat at the table eating his ice cream, I slipped away to sit on the stairs, take a breather and cry. I cried and cried because I was scared, because I was tired, because I thought I was a failure, because I felt sick to my stomach. I heard Fred suggest Mason come over and give me a hug. Here was this little boy, only four years old, reassuring his mother that he was OK and me, a grown 31 year old woman, crying on my little boys shoulder, holding him so tight, unwilling to let go. I needed to release a little of my worry and my guilt. Mason kept telling me it was enough hugging, you know how boys are, and then as I tried to get my crying under control I hear him say, very matter of factly, "don't get any tears on my BumbleBee shirt, momma."

I had to laugh. He always knows just what to say. I bought him two Transformer t-shirts yesterday and he was super excited to wear them to school as soon as possible. He had already been very upset when I picked him up. Having gotten orange paint all over his other BumbleBee shirt while painting shirts for Spring Sing, and his teacher told him the paint wasn't washable. But, he didn't take into account my super mom powers which of course got the job done. So it was no surprise that he was focused on not getting this one ruined either.

Seriously, I must learn to focus on the truly important things in life, not that other frivolous stuff . Well, according to a four year old anyway.

A lesson learned. Hopefully.

The last day of school before winter break. Snow still on the ground from the few inches of snowfall the day before. Two hour delay had carpool starting an hour later than normal and our day a little out of sorts. Luckily we got a phone call for a play date from Mason's best friend. After a quick lunch and a phone call to the doctors (who ironically is the father of our play date friend) we had Sophia dosed up with Benadryl for her stomach rash and headed out the door.

Met with uber excitement the kids threw off their winter gear and ran off to play. As usual they eventually wanted a snack so we made chocolate ice cream from a recipe in High Five magazine. With just some soy milk, ice, sugar, salt and 10 minutes of shaking we had our ice cream. I thought it was pretty cool, but like all new things we try there is a margin of error. And unfortunately the plastic bags broke and our ice cream ended up quite salty. Now we know for next time. Double bag.

A few hours later, kids still playing and Sophia asleep on my shoulder; it was after all about 4:30pm, the boys were upstairs playing and we sat on the couch for some girl talk and downtime. Then it happened.

My son started to scream. Blood curdling screams that let us know something was terribly wrong. He comes running down the stairs and very clearly upset and in pain. The reason? His best friend had bit him.

WHAT?!

Yeah, that was our reaction too. Totally in disbelief. But sure enough I lifted up Mason's shirt and there there perfectly aligned teeth marks on his upper back. Seriously, neither of us knew quite how to handle the situation. Mostly we were both stunned and in shock. Totally mortified, my friend went into action with discipline as any Mom would do. She called her husband, a.k.a. my son's doctor, and it was decided we would stick around till he got home to have him take a look. I swear Mason cried for like 45 minutes. My heart was breaking for my poor little boy and I kinda panicked inside, unsure of how to make it better. All I could do was hold him and assure him that his best friend still liked him and that Daddy would not be mad that he got bit. Though I have to say my heart broke the worst when Mason cried, "I don't want to come over here anymore." That's when his best friend erupted into tears and ran into the other room. My friend and I, the Mom's we are, just looked at each other with sad eyes. We knew better but still did not want to see this end their long time friendship of 3 years.

Honestly for me, I understand that these things happen. Boys will be boys. They play rough, they disagree. They are after all only four years old. The biggest issues at this age are sharing and learning to control their emotions. It probably didn't help that neither one had a nap and were clearly at that tired but totally wound up stage. I'm not sure how I would have handled it if our roles were reversed. I thank God that they weren't. I was still in shock. I had never seen my friend's son act out like that. Though inside I was saying to myself, "what a relief her son acts this way too." I know we always think our kids are the only ones that turn into terrors the moment they are alone with us in the house and no one believes they can act so different than the sweet, easy chid they see at school, or gym class. It was a bit of comfort to see evidence that my friends, who I feel are so perfect, go through the same thing. Maybe the one good thing that comes out of all of this will be my son never becoming a biter.

As I am writing this, I am still befuddled about how it all went down. I'm not sure we will ever know. I only know this; Mason calmed down, we had another snack, played a few games of sword fight on Wii. Smiles came back and by the time it was time to head home, we had a prescription of antibiotics, instructions on how to clean the wound, and as I suspected, my son declaring, "I want to come back tomorrow."

December Daily

Seriously, I had every intent on doing another one this year. However, life had other plans.

*Sigh*

I am so tired of being busy. So busy that even my friends are like, "where's Rachel?" Where am I? Up to my eyeballs in Preschool, Holidays, and Motherhood. For real. I have a few things to put on my NOT TO DO list for next year.

However, I've been taking photos, and from time to time, writing things down about each day. But no where near the caliber and detail that I did last year. I don't even have the foundation of album done yet and feeling like this project is totally hopeless with how far behind I have become. Though I am trying to channel Ali Edwards and say to myself, there are no rules. It doesn't have to be perfect. Just get the story down and only tell the stories you want to tell.

And so I will.

I never knew...

When we first signed Mason up for preschool I had a whole different idea of how I figured things would be as opposed to how they have turned out. Here are just a few of the things I never knew before becoming a mother of a preschooler:

I never knew that sending my son to preschool would make me want to go back. What fun, creative things they do each day and how exciting the teacher makes each lesson.

I never knew that three hours is really not enough time to get anything worth while done.

I never knew that I'd be twice as busy.

I never knew that signing on for room parent duties would put me in the role of leader, or that I'd feel so overwhelmed with the work. Taking on more than I could handle once you added on volunteering with the Parent Connection Committee. Note to self: you don't have to be supermom. Your kids will know you love and support them. Next year, room parent is enough.

I never knew I'd be so nervous at picture time and then anxiously awaiting their return, only to be brought to tears at the grown up little man staring back at me.

I never knew I'd look forward to planning, preparing and bringing in snacks for his class.

I never knew that watching little 4 year olds parade in their halloween costumes would be the highlight of my day.

I never knew I'd be so scared of parent-teacher conferences.

I never knew I'd see my son write his name after only two months.

I never knew the excitement of Fridays and a red folder would bring. To see what new art project he brought home and proudly hang it in our family room.

I never knew the extra amount of laundry I'd have on my plate, due to finger paints, play doh and god knows what else coming home all over his shirts.

I never knew that during sharing time, when asked what they are thankful for; my son would say he is thankful for parks, cars and his teacher.

I never knew how much Fred would love this school.

I never knew the joy of going to pick up my son and seeing his smile as he runs into my arms. Or the happiness of my daughter having her big brother back home as she reaches across the car to hold his hand on the way home.

I never knew I'd be so surprised by the explosion of my sons imagination and creative play. Or my new found inspiration in being crafty at home with my kids.

Mostly, I never knew that preschool would be an opportunity for both Mason and I to learn, build confidence and independence and really, truly grow.

So, yeah, that's where I've been this past month. Up to my eyeballs in preschool. Writing and sending emails. Going to meetings, taking notes, checking the yahoo group. Remembering fundraisers, soccer class on wednesdays and classroom events. Dropping off and picking up. Having family visit and preparing for holidays. Having our deck rebuilt and screened in. Coordinating teacher gifts, pot luck feasts, running endless errands and attending birthday party after birthday party.

Phew! I'm tired just reading that. How about you?

Mason hasn't had a proper "grandma sunday" in over two months and we haven't had a weekend to just sit and breathe. Not to mention the state of domesticity. The house is a mess, the laundry impossible to keep up and the fridge looking a bit empty. Getting some "me time" has gotten more difficult and things like my blog, facebook and twitter have gotten neglected. Everyday it is one more thing on the list and one more minute of me trying to hold it all together and not be a raving lunatic. But then, I take a step back and think; it's all just a part of the next step in motherhood.

The gravity of a cavity

It went a little something like this.

Me asking anyone and everyone, when is the right time you are supposed to take your child to the dentist? And like most things, getting a variety of answers. Then inquiring upon my dental hygenist friends about the stains that showed up on Mason's two front teeth. Followed by me pleading with my husband to put our kids back on dental insurance because I was certain Mason was getting to that age. However it wasn't until I was filling out the many forms required for my son's preschool, and the question asking for his dentist being left empty, that I seriously decided that I needed to get on the ball.

So yesterday I did a lot of research, phone call inquires and debating in order to find the right dentist for my child. About an hour later I had an appointment scheduled with Little Pearls Dentistry for Children. I chose them mostly because they are in-network for our insurance but also because they seemed to really have the children's comfort and interests in the forefront.

That night, I prepped Mason for what to expect. To help ease any anxiety that I was sure he might have. This is where I really love the internet. Mason in my lap, I pointed out the picture of the dentist, he is going to count your teeth. And if you have any questions or concerns you can ask him, just like your teacher. O.K.? I also pointed out the pediatric dental assistants to which Mason asked, Do you think the girl in green will clean my teeth? I read him the many testimonials from patients. Yes, the children. Things like: ...they give you a puppet to hold and let you watch your favorite t.v. show! Dude I don't get to watch my favorite t.v. show at my dentist. That is sooooo cool! And off to bed he went with a promise to bring whatever car he wanted, to hold instead of the puppet.

I woke up today having high hopes. Later in the afternoon, I left to pick up Mason from school. Getting my running hug, as always, I asked if he was ready for the dentist. Unfortunately we hadn't grabbed a car before we left and he pleaded to stop at home to get one. Being located just up the road from our neighborhood, always a plus when appointments are close to home, I didn't see a problem. Car now in hand and Mason in high spirits, we were off to the dentist.

We were greeted by a waterfall and fish tank as soon we walked in and were surprised with a Thomas train table around the corner. So while I filled out the necessary paperwork, Mason played with the train table while Sophie watched from the stroller. Once done, Mason got to choose a movie from a long list, he chose Aladdin, and holding on to my hand for comfort we headed to the back.

Holding tight to my hand, I placed Mason into the chair and the dental assistant promptly put on the movie. She was so great with Mason. Showing him the toothbrush she was going to use, how it worked and letting him touch it. Helping him put on sunglasses to shield his eyes from the light she needed to use to see in his mouth. I'm Dana by the way. I don't think I told you that. She worked as I stood in the background. The only issue Mason had was with the flavor we chose for him, raspberry. I don't like that, he said. The feeling? Does it tickle? Or the flavor? The flavor. Second time around he chose orange and liked it much better. I want orange every time o.k. mommy? Duly noted buddy.

He sat there so still, listening to her and following her directions when asked to open wider or chomp on the saliva ejector (yeah, I had to look that one up). I was so very proud of him. Do you mind if I take pictures? Camera at the ready. Go ahead. SWEET! Click. Click. Click. Enter Dr. Mike. He sat down, asked if there were any concerns on our end and started counting Mason's teeth. I turned my attention to Sophie, who was modeling excellent behavior herself. One of the nurses had given her a plush dolphin and she was showing it off, all smiles. So he is missing a tooth on the bottom. My attention shot back to the doctor. What? From what I was told this is not uncommon. Turns out instead of the normal four he only has three, missing an incisor. Sometimes the baby tooth just doesn't erupt. Nothing to do at this point but later on an x-ray will be necessary to see if an adult tooth is there or not.

Still trying to absorb the realization of my son missing a tooth (and the fact that I had no idea) I was hit with the news of a cavity. Crap. Really? No I didn't say that out loud but it's what I thought. And felt. The stain in between his two front teeth on the top, yup it's a cavity. And now I feel like such a failure as mother. While I have not taken very good care of my own teeth I really wanted to do better for my children. Still it is what it is, and I have to just accept it and move on. So I was told that we need to use a fluoride toothpaste and place a dab on the front and back on his teeth before bedtime. They said we could choose to separate the teeth to loosen the space between them to help. Not sure if I am comfortable with that. I'm not sure what it all entails, maybe sedation or numbing with a needle. Both of which would not go over well with Mason and cause him to fear the dentist in the future. So I guess we'll try the fluoride and see in six months how that goes. There was no mention of a filling or anything, so I guess it's not that bad but still it is a cavity. It was mentioned to stay away from foods with carbohydrates like goldfish and I seriously looked at the doctor like he was insane. He wants me to keep carbohydrates away from a three year old? Or he said to make sure to brush after he eats those foods. Realistically, I'm not thinking about brushing his teeth that many times a day and quite honestly he isn't in my presence for a whole three hours where he gets snacks. So honestly I don't see that happening too much.

I'm sure I'll be thought of as a horrible mother now because I don't brush my child's teeth more than just at bedtime but seriously I'm doing the best I can with strong personalities. I barely have enough time to get my son out of bed, fight with him to eat breakfast and then get dressed before heading out the door for carpool. And be on time. So to add tooth brushing on top of it is like, OH MY GOD, adding fuel to the fire. My daughter, I try to brush her teeth with the gum brush thing but, HELLO, she BITES MY FINGER and bites it hard. So bad that I have cried, certain she drew blood. You can bet I think twice before sticking any finger back in that death trap. But still I find myself so distraught over their heath, and now especially their teeth.

I went into this dental visit feeling hopeful that Mason would once again impress me with his coping skills, which in true fashion he did, but I left feeling depressed and concerned and a complete failure as a mother over a simple cavity and non-existent tooth.

*sigh*

Motherhood.

just a note: my husband so proudly came up with the title and I just had to give him credit. (Bet you didn't think you'd see me write that did you, babe?)

Let's start over

Reading and catching up on my emails this rainy Sunday morning, I came upon the September newsletter from SARK. If you are not familiar with her I suggest you do so. An author and artist she in an inspiration to many. I was first introduced to her in college when a fellow classmate let me borrow the book, The Ultimate Nap Book: Change your life without getting out of bed. I was hooked. 10 years later: I own eleven books, follow her on twitter, read her blog and subscribe to her newsletter. Oh how great it is that technology allows me so many ways to indulge in wondrous inspiration.

As I said, her most recent newsletter caught my attention. A story about creative dreams. How they are not only projects, businesses or great ideas, but ways of living differently. She writes, "my mom was a grudge holder who was very concerned with being 'right.' I've carried on that tradition while having a creative dream of being and living differently...Don't you love how the world gives us new places and ways to practice?" Below is an excerpt of the story from her newsletter.

The story ended on a happy note and she made this statement: I was profoundly reminded that when we can live and behave differently than our reactive patterns we are also untangling other larger dynamics.

It got me thinking. Really thinking. Most recently about our beach trip and my actions or rather reactions to events that unfolded. Here is my story.

It was the second to last night and our big dinner out as a group. Without discussing it with everyone, Fred and I were just informed that we, as a group, were going to go leave for dinner at 6:30pm. Upon thinking about it Fred and I thought that was a bad idea. We made our concerns known. If we don't leave till 6:30pm, by the time we arrive at the restaurant, get seated and order our food it will be close to 7:30pm and the kids bedtime. While we want to eat and have a good time the kids will be losing steam and getting fussy. It made more sense to leave closer to 5:3o or 5:45pm in order to minimize the meltdowns. While one couple agreed with our assessment when mentioned to the other, they were less than agreeable. Their baby had to be fed at 5:30pm, their son was currently napping and they hadn't had showers yet. My solution to that was, get in the shower now, your son will wake up soon and you can feed the baby at the restaurant. Simple right?

Still they did what they wanted instead, which was stick to the not leaving till they wanted plan. So the closer it got to 6pm the more my kids started to get hungry, bored and meltdown. I knew we had to go and go soon. So I suggested that Fred and I head over there, get a table (my kids settled down and fed) and wait there for everyone else to join us when they were ready. This was of course ridiculous, we could just wait here, and I GOT MAD. I mean really PISSED OFF. I just sat there festering about how wrong they were and how much I disliked them, their selfishness and unwillingness to compromise. And I remained this way the rest of the night. Being unsocial at dinner, taking it out on my husband and kids. My anger turning to hurt. Even spending a few moments crying in the bathroom. How disappointed I was with our vacation this year, how I felt disrespected and disliked by my friends. How I so desperately wanted to go home. I left feeling detached from my friends when I should have felt more tight-knit. I was not feeling good about myself or the whole situation.

I've often thought about the whole trip and the events that resulted immediately and shortly thereafter. Mostly about my behavior. What I could have done differently. Like SARK, I too want to go back and say to everyone, "can we start over?" Because seriously, when I look at how I behaved, it was, again like SARK, self-righteous and defensive. While I was so upset over how I was being treated, how disgusted I was with the selfish behavior and uncaring toward other's feelings I too was acting just like them. I was uncaring how my unwillingness to let it go and unsocial behavior was causing uncomfortableness to those around me. And my anger, while maybe justified, was being directed to those who were undeserving of it's wrath.

We cannot change others, how they behave or think or feel. Change comes with a desire to be a better person, with respect for human life. As SARK says, we all have the opportunity to live and behave differently. And I for one have the desire.

So, let's start over shall we.

New Beginnings

With the first week of school now under our belt, I can look back upon the myriad of emotions and thoughts I experienced leading up to this moment that has turned me into a parent of a preschooler. I am officially the mother of a preschooler. Yeah, it still doesn't feel normal for me to make that statement. It seemed like just yesterday he was my baby boy, learning to walk and uttering simple phrases. Today he is strapping on his backpack and excitedly thinking about what he might do during his time at school. But, for sure this is our life.

We had previously met his teacher two weeks earlier during a scheduled home visit. This is something I love about this school. Taking the time and making the extra effort to meet each student individually before the start of the school year. It really helped put some of my anxiety and fears to rest and I think for Mason as well. To have that chance to get acquainted with his teacher in a comfortable, familiar setting. So things aren't totally new the moment he walked in the first day. They discussed cars and our impending trip to the beach. His class are the Zebras, so she brought him a mask to color and then took his picture with it on. Gave him an assignment to decorate a place mat to bring in on his first day and generally left us all with a good feeling and high hopes for the year. We liked her.

Tuesday morning arrived all too early. In reality it was 7am and I'm sure most people would have been up for a few hours already. Woke up the kids, served breakfast, got everyone ready and headed out the door. I thought I'd be a ball of nerves this first day, ending with me in tears as I drove off without him. Having been through orientation the previous day I felt pretty confident things would be O.K.

We toured his classroom, found the picture his teacher took during the home visit, handed in his place mat full of everything he likes including photos of all of us. Even his teacher was impressed with his work. She was also impressed with Mason's brilliant memory when he commented to her, "I didn't see your car. The red Toyota corolla." That was because she parked somewhere else. Oh he makes me proud sometimes, that smart son of mine.

It ended with the parents heading out to the playground pavilion to be welcomed into the 2010-2011 school year and regaled with the schools awesome achievements, while Mason and his classmates spent some time with their teacher. I was pleasantly surprised and quite relieved when his teacher told us he did great.

I can't say that I didn't feel a little twinge or have some tears creep up as I watched my almost four year old, without fear or trepidation, walk hand in hand with the administrator and disappear into the school. Instead, I drove away feeling optimistic and grateful for holding it together in front of Mason. Eyes still dry, I rewarded myself with a Pumpkin Spice Latte and spent the rest of the morning catching up with an old friend and taking a much needed shower.

It was definitely a different dynamic in the house with Mason gone. A slower pace and A LOT quieter. Though I found my mind wandering to questions of how he was adapting to his new environment. Did he miss me? Is he playing well with his classmates? Is he following directions? Is he happy? Is he making friends? When I pick him up will he tell me he had fun and likes school? I didn't have to wait long for my answers.

Three hours isn't much time in the grand scheme and before I knew it I was in the car headed back to car pool. Highly anticipating what I would find. I wasn't excited about the massive line of cars that stretched out into the street (especially compared to the fast drop off that morning). However, finding Mason amongst the crowd of kids was well worth that wait. And seriously, I almost lost it for real. Feeling the tears well up and the cry rise up into my throat, sitting there in the car pool line waiting my turn, watching my son holding and swinging hands with his teacher. It was the pride I felt, for my son, for myself as his mother, knowing how much he has changed in just a short amount of time. Thinking, how grown up he looks with back pack on.

He never ceases to amaze me, this little man of mine. How well he adapts to situations I panic over and how calm and easy he finds solutions to everything. The rest of the week I parked my car and walked up to his school to get him. Per his request, but after the long line I sat in the first day, I was happy to do it. And the big running hug (usually reserved for daddy) I was guaranteed, yeah I really enjoy that.

Tomorrow night is Back to School night and I really can't wait to hear all about the things they do in class, see things Mason has created and hear how well he is performing. Now matter what I hear tomorrow though, it can't beat the sweet little voice tell me when I ask, "Did you have a good time at school today?"

"I have a good time every day, mommy." Yeah I think we made the right choice.

1. Standing in front of the school sign, 2. Orientation Day, 3. Reading his name tag, 4. Walking to class with daddy, 5. hanging up backpack on his very own hook, 6. pointing out his name for attendance, 7. Discovering the rice box, 8. His classroom, 9. The helping hands and weather board -he is the door holder, 10. showing us the potty, 11. Pose with Mommy before leaving, 12. ready for school, 13. Pose with little sister on first day, 14. Car pool, 15. Waiting in carpool for drop off, 16. drop off, 17. My brave big boy headed off to first day of preschool, 18. Pick up, 19. Walk up pick up, 20. Waiting to be picked up, 21. He caught my eye, 22. after the running hug, walking back to the car, 23. getting in the car, 24. end of week one

The Evolution of Motherhood

When you first become a parent, you fret over EVERYTHING and buy only the best for your little peanut. We all know, the best usually means expensive. But, hey this is your baby and you aren't about to feed him just any formula or pureed food much less let him poop in less than stellar generic diapers or *gasp*, wear last seasons attire. You want new. Just because you are now a mom doesn't mean you can't be posh. Right? I mean really, what are the fellows mom's at the park going to say if you aren't tooting the latest, greatest diaper bag?

Then one day the double pink lines show up again and you find yourself the mother of two. Suddenly your whole philosophy changes. What once seemed to mean so much, you now realize was oh so frivolous. You realize that posh is not a necessity. You go from top of the line to practical and affordable. You gleefully accept those hand-me-downs from your friend, but mourn the day your daughter catches up to theirs, rendering your freebie exchange out of business. So you find yourself one day at Walmart picking out some really cute mix and match outifts (and wondering why they can't clothes in your size this comfortable). So what if the pants you bought for $3 a pop fall apart after about four months because she's grown out of them anyway. Oh yeah, and that car seat you need because your son isn't the requred 40lbs. and 4 years for a booster but your daughter, the chunky butt she is, has outgrown her carrier; your friend steps in and offers theirs because really it's just collecting dust anyway. OK, so the buckle mechanism is downright frustrating and REALLY annoying at times to put together. Enough to bring out the expletive spewing psycho inside of you, but hey, it works (and it's FREE). You recycle the sheets and sippy cups from your first child. Girls can like cars and trains too. Heck, my son eats off of pink plates and chooses the Disney Princess vitamins over Toy Story on occasion.

Throughout it all, you one hold out though. Your trusty Pampers diapers you've used for years, that have NEVER failed you. Even after your friends try to convince you generic is just as good. You have flashbacks to the brand you bought at the grocery store on a whim. Thinking it would save you a few bucks, but instead it increased your water bill with all the clean up you had due to your son pissing through, each and every one. No thanks, you tell them. I've been there done that and my pampers work just fine. Not going through that mistake again. They insist that Costco diapers are different and actually work. They aren't the first to insist this to you, but you are still skeptical. Then one day to prove it, one of your friends hands over a Costco brand diaper and says, TRY IT. It sits there, in your diaper bag for a few days. You stare at it wondering. Then a week goes by and finally you pull it out, thinking the blueberries you just fed your daughter that morning should really put this diaper to the test. Despite the fact that no exploding blueberry poo happened it did successfully hold in her pee. So it makes you wonder.

You grab the latest receipt from Target and calculate how much Pampers is worth per diaper. Including the $2 off coupons you get in the mail frequently. Needing to run some errands you decide to stop off at Costco on the way and price out their diapers. Your initial find is that it is only .20 cents difference. Thinking it would be more, you decide to stick to your brand. It's not a significant savings. Then your brilliant husband opens your eyes to the fact that .20 cents added up over a month, and even a year saves you a whopping $120.00! Really? OK. I'm sold.

In all your new, saving money is way more important than labels philosophy, you head back to Costco and pick up a box. While you're there you notice the box of wipes that are 900 count for only $20. What a steal, and yeah remember these puppies are even better than Pampers at getting out wine stains from your carpet. See here for that story.

And there you have it my friends. The simple evolution of motherhood. You live, you learn, and then you get realistic. Quite honestly, at the end of the day my kids don't care whether they are pooping in designer diapers (as a side note, can I just say, how ridiculous are those Huggies jeans diapers? I poo in blue. Seriously?), or that Mom uses a cheaper version of a designer diaper bag.

Update: as I am writing this post, my daughter has been dealing with a rash on her legs (well the back of her thighs near her butt). What I thought was probably just dry skin from going to the pool frequently or possibly eczema, cause she has it other places already, turns out to be a contact reaction (allergy). The doctors diagnosis? Must be the new diapers and wipes we've been using (cause that is the only change I can think of recently). Really? Seriously? Did he just tell me that my daughter is allergic to the way cheaper, generic diapers and I HAVE to go back to overpriced designer labels? *picture me banging my head against the table and weeping*

Update, update: I've said screw that. I'll just use the topical steroid medication we already use on her eczema and stick to my cheapo diapers. Thank you very much. I mean, they aren't scented or anything. So far it has seemed to clear up the rash pretty good. And I am crossing my fingers and hopeful. But seriously, leave it to my kids to be allergic to saving money.

technical difficulties

The other day I watched as my daughter pushed her 36lb. brother around the house on our mater sit and push toy. I was amazed that she was strong enough to accomplish such a feat and rushed to grab my camera. Of course I wanted to document this momentous event. I got a few really cute ones and some action shots as well as a full minute of Sophie giggling with each step and push, and Mason exclaiming "Sophie's pushing me Mommy. She's strong." I couldn't help but smile the whole time. A somewhat rare but becoming a more common scene of these two getting along. The older she gets the more he is able to interact with her and vice versa.

I immediately thought to post the video to facebook. Wouldn't all my friends get a kick out of it? So I sat down at the table and hooked up the camera to my computer and waited. A few moments went by and iPhoto hadn't popped up. That's strange, I thought. So I checked my camera and it was turned off. Hmmm, did I forget to turn it on? So I just hit the power button again and the most horrifying words pop up on the LCD screen of my camera. No Image. Now picture me sitting there, eyes bugged out, mouth agape, frozen. What!? No image. That can't be right. Maybe they uploaded already and I missed it. Heart pounding, breath held, I click on the iPhoto window in my nav bar. Scroll down to the bottom and see no new photos. Shoot. Except I didn't say that word. Taking deep breaths I shut off the camera and unplug it from my computer, then plug it back in. Thinking this might help, praying and hoping this might help, and when I turn on my camera the photos will miraculously be there again. Still no image.

Wha...Wha....Noooooooooooooooo!

It finally sinks in. All the photos and video I had on my camera are lost. Gone forever. I feel that catch in my throat. Close my eyes and try to remember what photos were on there. The play area at Tysons Mall, Sophie at Gym class, the kids on mater today and something else. Something the other day......oh damnit why can't I remember? I feel the panic and the tears fall, splattering my keyboard in small drops as if in slow motion. Trying not to let the panic overcome me, I take my SD card out of my camera and rush downstairs.

Fred is working from home and I am not more thankful for that than today. I beg him to put the SD card in his computer and see if he can find anything. Nada. Being the awesome husband that he is, he searches to see if there is something we can do to restore the photos and downloads a program. After about an hour and not finding the photos we are about to give up when we try one more program and, Voila! There they are. I feel my heart leap, excited. Hopeful we figured this out until I realize the free version doesn't give you access to restore the photos. You have to actually purchase the program to do that and guess what, it ain't cheap. Something like $50 and with money tight right now Fred gives me the look of Sorry babe.

I understand. He says if the photos were of something important....and I agree with him. It's not the best time to be buying programs we may or may not have to ever use again just for some photos that can honestly be reproduced (not exactly. But we still have two more gym classes left, and visit the play area on occasion and really would my kids disappoint by not pushing each other on Mater again? I think not.) though, on the inside I argue that they are important because they show our everyday, what are lives are right now. Moments we won't remember years from now. Still I accept the fate of my lost treasures, think of how to replace them with new, similar memories and silently but sadly mourn their loss.

I figured out that my battery, being low (though I never got the low batter indicator), sort of died on my camera after I plugged it into my computer. And if your camera is turned off mid upload (read/write process) guess what happens?

Sometimes I really hate technology.

What's the newest hip jargon now? Oh yeah, Epic Fail.

So I just have to say that being the newest member to the mothers of preschoolers club really sucks. This is brand new territory for which I am not prepared. And after my performance so far, I wouldn't be surprised if I got kicked out of the club.

At the beginning of the month we received the welcome packet for the 2010-2011 school year. In said packet was a wealth of information from carpool guidelines to his class schedule, as well as a letter regarding parent involvement committees. I read everything, noting important dates on the calendar such as; orientation, first day of school, back to school and the PCC social. Apparently I didn't pay attention to dates enough.

I received an email from Mason's school on Thursday reminding me that the information sheet and Health forms were due back to the school on August 20th. Augsust 2oth? That is....oh crap. That's tomorrow. So what do I do? Dash to the library where important papers are kept and realize that I do not have his health form filled out or signed by his doctor. At this point I am banging my head against the table, wall, computer, really any object I can find hoping that maybe it will miraculously knock not only some intelligence back into my brain but also help me come up with some solution to this now looming problem.

Do I call our pediatrician at his house tonight and beg him to sign the papers? No, that would be rude and a violation of our friendship with his family. I'll just call the office tomorrow and cross my fingers that can fit us in to their schedule to sign.

On the phone in the morning, the receptionist sounded promising that if I got in ASAP that it would be able to be signed. So hop in the car and dash down the street to our PED's office and drop of the form. However the receptionist I came into contact with there seemed to give me the look of; seriously, you're that mom?, when I mentioned that the form was due today, and then subsequently informed me that she didn't think it'd be ready. I just wanted to look back at her and say sarcastically; yeah, I'm that mom, who in the midst of raising my two children while simultaneously running a household is overworked and tends to overlook things at times. Dude this stuff happens, you can't tell me I'm the first mother in history to rush into this office last minute begging to have a medical form signed for school.

Luckily I have an awesome pediatrician and got a phone call two hours later letting me know it was signed. Back in the car, pick up the papers while expressing my gratitude, race over to Mason's school and hand in the paperwork. ON TIME. And really the admin at the desk didn't even blink when she saw me come in, paperwork in hand. She just looked it over to make sure everything was done and thanked me kindly. Yeah, I knew I wasn't the only parent to have a massive brain fart over necessary forms due throughout the school year. Still I walked away thinking, perfect first impression Rachel. That will really win you a spot on the PCC committee. Cause every parent/teacher group is looking for a member who procrastinates, turning in EVERYTHING last minute.

*Sigh*

Now I'm thinking of a better system and more visible place for all of the preschool "stuff" that will be sure to multiply over the school year. Cause if I don't get my ass in gear, this is going to be one LONG first year of school.

Poster Child.

Yeah it's been quite a year. In terms of my body. I know what I am about to divulge might be a delicate subject to most of my readers. However, with what I have read on other blogs, message boards and in general conversation regarding this subject; it seems to be a growing trend. 

It was last year, oh sometime in October I think, that I walked into my OB/GYN's office and had the copper Mirena IUD inserted. 

Now I was no dummy. I did the research. I read the typical pamphlets, listened to my obstetrician, and perused the internet for others experiences. I read the many terrifying accounts of women who, Oh My God, recounted the experience as MORE PAINFUL THAN LABOR. Yet, I filled out that form and paid my $500 trying to only think about the period free days, months and years I was promised. 

Sitting there in the all too familiar waiting room, I nervously awaited my name to be called. Trying hard not to think about all the horrible things that might happen, and the pain. Oh the pain. 

"Rachel Briggs?"

That's me. Oh wait, I could just pretend I didn't hear that and let them think I wasn't me. Except all the nurses know who I am. It is a rather small practice. So in I went. Remembering to take deep breaths. It felt like an eternity waiting for the doctor to arrive, sitting there in that gown, all exposed and vulnerable. 

I was meeting her for the first time as my regular OB/GYN does not do the insertion of IUDs. But she was easy to talk to, nice, friendly demeanor. And talk I did. I was so nervous, I didn't shut up. Talking about life, my kids, on and on until she said, "ok, that's it. We're done."  Huh, what? I was so confused because I didn't feel a damn thing. There was no way it could be over. Where was the worse than anything I've ever felt, grab the table screaming like a banshee and then throw up, pain? Shocked, I admitted my childish fears about what I'd heard. She was sympathetic, letting me know that yes, some women experience pain but me; I am "the poster child for Mirena."

I walked out of there relieved for having felt no pain, cramping or other symptoms described in the many message boards and blogs I read. Sweet! This Mirena thing is the best decision I ever made. What was I so worried about? Life is gonna be awesome from now on. Then I got my first period after having the IUD inserted, and my love affair with Mirena ended. 

All I can say is at least something ended because my period; not so much. Constant spotting in between the heavy cycles I normally experience. After a few months I was convinced it would never stop and I'd bleed for the rest of my life. I kept joking with friends, no wonder you don't get pregnant on Mirena. You can't have sex in order to become pregnant because you're bleeding ALL THE TIME! That's how it works. Approximately five months I endured this inconvenience, always praying that maybe this time it would end. And one day it did. 

I don't remember the exact date, I just remember noticing that I hadn't had my period or spotting in a really long time. Hallelujah! I've enjoyed this new state of period free life for four glorious months and felt less regretful about my decision. No more worrying about what color pants to wear, no more changing plans because so sorry kids there is no way in hell mommy is getting in that water when she is hemorrhaging between her legs. No more pads and tampons to inconspicuously hide in my diaper bag, or back pocket for those frequent trips to the bathroom. No sir, I am living the high life and not looking back. Quite honestly menstruation is by far my least favorite thing about being a woman. Even though it gave me my two wonderfully, beautiful children. I'd really rather just have it gone all together. 

So imagine my complete and utter disappointment when yesterday, I got my period. 

What the....!? Yeah, just about every expletive word I could think of came flying out of my mouth. I've been racking my brain, trying to come up with reason why this happened; I started exercising. I mean really exercising, intentionally, on the elliptical for 45 minutes a day. I started taking naproxen twice a day, per my primary care physicians orders, for the pain in my shoulder that has lasted more than two weeks. The planets Venus and Jupiter are aligned and my cosmic karma is biting me in the ass, hard. No, seriously though, I can't seem to come up with something that totally makes sense as to why after FOUR MONTHS of nothing, my period would suddenly show up. NO WARNING!!

Frantic and frustrated, I broke down and called my OB/GYN's office praying they'd have the answers. But all they could give me was the advice to wait a month and see what happens because they couldn't do anything for me right now. And my exercise didn't seem to be excessive enough to cause major change in my menstrual cycle. I even went back through the literature and NO WHERE DOES IT SAY, OR EVEN SLIGHTLY MENTION, YOUR PERIOD MIGHT RETURN AFTER YOU HAVE ENJOYED IT'S BLISSFUL ABSENCE. Not a single sentence, or reference in any of the pages or their website. So I turned to the only thing I had left, google. And guess what I found? Other people having the same questions and similar experiences. Though a lot seemed to have worse experiences.  I suppose I should be grateful that I still have all my hair, I'm not experiencing pain or cramping, and don't have mood swings from hell (at least not caused by my IUD). Maybe I've been experiencing a lack in sex drive that others have claimed is a cause of Mirena. Or it could be the two kids I spend ALL DAY raising, but who is really placing blame here anyway.

I don't want to freak anyone out. Honestly I'm not at the point of regretting my decision. I mean, I am probably the worst at remembering to take a pill every night, much less at the same time each night. Add mommy brain to that and I'm hopeless. I might as well just pop out the third kid right now. Plus I have really enjoyed the four months of not worry about bleeding. The best part is I've had no migraines. Is the timing of this unexpected return less than stellar? Yes. Will it be a huge inconvenience if it doesn't go away by the time our beach trip arrives? Yes. But as my husband likes to tell me, there isn't anything I can do about it so why dwell and stress. It is what it is and we'll deal with it the best we can. Besides there is hope. Most people who experienced this said that their period returned only for a short time, didn't last long and then was gone again for months on end. The constant spotting on the first 3-6 months seems to be usual and due to the lining of the uterus thinning out, which results in the blissdom of little to no periods some of us experience. So yeah, it's par for the course. Am I worried something more serious might be causing this sudden onset of bleeding? Sure. Could it be the sudden taking of medication? And might it stop once I stop taking said medicine? Probably. But I'm not a doctor, I can only speculate and why spend the next month freaking out over something I have no control over at the moment? (Cause that's what I do. I am a woman.) I am trying not to and instead focuses on the fact that others have been there done that in this situation and got through it. And somehow for now, that seems enough.

Mostly I just wanted to say, yeah I'm left with questions and not exactly in the most ideal situation that I dreamed of when I first signed up for this IUD, but my experience seems to be fairly normal, if not better than most. I'm not ready to yank mine out. Not yet. I'll give it the month suggested by my OB/GYN. Would I recommend it? Sure. If you are like me and can't remember to take a pill every day. If you don't like using condoms and are not yet ready to make anything permanent and are willing to deal with a few months and possibly days intermittent of inconvenience for the overall joy of not worrying if you washed your black underwear and pants cause today is out for the white you normally wear. Or stopping mid romance to search for that one condom you swear you still have, where is it damn it? If that is you, yeah I'd get it. 

If you have been experience the same situation and are left wondering just like me, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I hope this gives you some peace of mind, some comfort and eases your fears. If you've been there, done that, maybe this will inspire you to tell your experience to help someone with theirs. And if you're still reading my blog after this, thanks.

Lessons

Remember this post? I was just waiting to get my new lenses in my old frames back. Simple right? Yeah that's what I thought until two months later and the ordeal is still not entirely resolved. *sigh*

It started off with me picking up my new pair (April 23)when they finally came in after two weeks of waiting. Hoorray! Before handing them over I was told that they overcharged for them so they upgraded my anti-reflective. My first reaction was, why didn't I get a call saying I was over charged and given the option of an upgrade or my money back? But it was done already so I just sighed, took my glasses and left. They seemed weird. Meaning my vision was wonky but I figured that was due to me just getting used to the new prescription. Outside I noticed my lenses didn't change but decided to give it another day to see if they just needed more light. But still the next day no change. Figure there are no transitions put on and tried to contact the office to see if it indeed had. After a few phone calls and no answer, I finally just walked into the office (April 27) and the lab had indeed not put transitions on. Also I mentioned the weird vision and found out the frames were bent as well. So, glasses back to the lab and me back in the back up pair.

May 6th: my glasses are back. It still took almost two weeks even with the rush they supposedly put on them. But still feel weird. Vision is not right but can't pinpoint the problem just yet. Having nausea and vertigo. Sometimes my photos on my camera look 3-D. After seeing Fred race and it making me really dizzy I almost feel over I knew something really wasn't right. Discovered after some testing that my right eye is blurry while my left eye is perfectly crisp and clear. I'm pretty sure that isn't right.

May 17th: back at the doctors office getting another exam. She tells me that I can see fine with the prescription when in the equipment but not in my glasses. That seems very odd to me but she says she is making a slight change and we'll see if that helps. Crossing my fingers that they do.

May 21: glasses back for a third time and so far still having the same problems. But decided to give it time to see if it works itself out.

June 1st: in the office again for a third exam. I tried to be more specific this time regarding my vision problems. But stating the same as I did last visit. Left eye is seeing crisp, clear, defined lines, perfect. Right eye still blurry, fuzzy edges. Seeing 3-d once again when looking at some images on my computer and my camera. Images in right eye appear smaller and farther away than right eye. Getting dizzy when move my head. Migraines, nausea, always feeling I need to adjust my glasses on my face in order to see at all. Can't interact with my kids because I get sick after a few minutes of play. Can't focus, feel crossed-eyed sometimes. The doctor much to my astonishment told me that all my problems didn't add up or make sense because, get this, MY PRESCRIPTION BASICALLY DIDNT CHANGE. Wha, wha, what?! Well then what did I pay $300 for? Geez if I had known it didn't change I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of getting new lenses! So I try to go through the whole well then lets just put the old lenses back in if they aren't any different. Of course he totally dismissed that and when I asked how I could see totally fine with old prescription (in my back up pair) and not see with the new ones, even with all the changes they've made, his explanation was allergies. Allergies? My right eye has allergies and that's why my vision is blurry and all these other problems. Riiight. That's why I can see just fine, with my allergy, in my old lenses right? Uh, huh. So feeling ignored and frustrated, not really sure what I can do at this point, I take the damn eye drops and schedule yet another exam for two weeks from now.

I should have stood my ground and demanded my old lenses be put back in and stop being jerked around because this, THIS IS RIDICULOUS. Because honestly at this point it's a quality of life issue. But it took two days, a three hour car ride with cranky kids and me feeling dizzy and car sick (and I have NEVER been car sick EVER in my entire life) and an experience at the Aquarium that should have been fun but had my head hurting, my eyes straining, feeling way too dizzy like in a fishbowl, to say enough is enough.

June4th: I finally get someone to agree to put my old lenses back in frames. I told them that I wanted a refund and in not so many words I was given the impression that this was not going to happen. I should have guessed since they didn't give me the refund when I was overcharged but instead given an upgrade I didn't even want or need. So this is where I am now. June 23rd, over a month later still dealing with this and trying to get someone to talk to me about this refund. Over the last three weeks I've been playing phone tag, in the essence that I keep calling and can't get anyone to give me an answer, call me back or even just discuss the situation. Right now I am awaiting the manager to talk with their rep at the lab and call me back. Meanwhile I am preparing documentation to dispute the charge with our credit card company.

*sigh*

You live, you hopefully learn, you go through crap you wish you didn't have to and then you report them to the Better Business Bureau, bad talk them to all your friends, family, neighbors and random strangers you see, and move on prating you put a serious kink in their profit margin.

5 years

Five years ago we said, "I do."

The whole day I was uncharacteristically calm until it was my turn to walk down the aisle. The butterflies arrived, I squeezed my father's arm and he simply said, "breathe." It was the most significant breath of my life.

Proof is in our son, our daughter, our home. The life we have built. The love and friendship we have shared.

Five years, and you still give me butterflies.

Happy Anniversary!

hello?

Dear Gods of Motherhood,

Could you possibly enlighten me on how I can get my son to leave his baby sister alone? Please?

Sincerely,

Me

I'd like a grande, non-fat dose of inspiration please

We all need a little inspiration in our lives. Whether it's to be a good mother, a better wife, adding some delicious to dinner, or telling the stories of our lives so that they will be remembered.

When it took me two years to finish Mason's baby album (meaning he was about 2.5 years old) I had lost so many important details along the way. After that, I promised myself I would make a better effort to keep up to date with Sophie so not to lose the details. The little stories you forget after time. The ones you desperately want to hold on to, not just the milestones. To aid myself with this I proudly created the layout designs for the whole album before she was born, using Becky Higgins Baby Kit. I even put post it notes dictating the picture sizes and where to put them. After Sophie was born I started to blog about her little quirks, growth and milestones each month. Even picked out the pictures. The goal was that when I found time to scrapbook I only had to go back and pull the information off my blog and enter it into the layouts. Easy right?

Today I finally got around to doing some layouts. However, I didn't end up with the results or satisfied feeling I expected to. They don't feel right to me. If that makes sense. It's not as easy as I set it up to be. The design feels all wrong, and I'm kinda in an 8.5 by 11 mode lately and these are all 12x12. I want to just rip it all up and start over completely. Maybe I'm not feeling compelled to record these stories in my scrapbooks right now (I mean technically they were already told here on my blog). Maybe it's the mindset of my layouts having to be publishable. Maybe it's the beautiful weather and I just don't want to be in a room with no windows.

So once again I'm not keeping the promise of getting Sophie's album done before she turns a year old. Though, at least I am telling her story. And eventually, I'll get that inspiration to put it all on paper. If not, I'll just tell her to go read the archives of this blog.