Good Enough

I was going through some month old e-mail in an account I rarely check and found this gem from my little sister.

I thought it was hilarious. She’s 20, in college in another state. Apparently she’s still a fan of the Disney Channel. (No she is not a full time nanny. But she MAKES A GOOD POINT PEOPLE!) 

I was watching the disney channel and I saw some stuff that I knew I wouldn’t want my future kids to see. So, I made up a few lies about myself, and what was happening when I was watching it, in order to write a more convincing letter to the president of the disney channel.

Mr. Ross:
My name is (Eve’s little Sister), and I’ve been a fan of the disney channel for many years. I enjoyed disney channel shows as a child, and I now watch them with my nieces and nephews. I’m also a full-time nanny, and when the children I take care of watch tv, I most often choose that channel for them. I choose the disney channel because I believed it to be the cleanest and safest for them to be able to watch without requiring me to peek over their shoulders to make sure that there is nothing in the shows that is too adult for them to be seeing.
      Tonight, however, I was sorely disappointed. I watched an episode of “iCarly”, called “iSpy a mean teacher”, with my 8-year-old nephew, in which young teenagers discussed a boob job, and there was a short segment involving a floating, talking bra. As a result, I was forced to explain to my nephew what a boob job was, and what a bra was used for. Those are not questions I would have ever imagined I would need to answer after watching a disney channel show. Those are a discussions that parents should be able to decide to have with their children when they deem it appropriate. They should not be forced to have them because a show that is meant for children has adult content in the script.
      This is the only offensive material I have ever come across on the disney channel. For that reason, I will continue to watch it with my younger family members, and the children I take care of. However, I would appreciate it if disney would keep this kind of adult material out of its shows from now on. If, in the future, I find that the channel does not keep its reputation for clean, healthy content for children, my family will not watch anything on the disney channel again, neither will any of the families whose children I take care of.
 
Respectfully Yours,

Eve’s Little Sister

It has been nigh a year since I began suckling the wee one.

ONE YEAR.

That’s a record for me. But I knew going into this pregnancy that we wouldn’t have extra money for formula, nor did I want to waste any money on something like formula when I could produce nourishment myself.

Yeah for breast-feeding.

On the flip side it’s been almost a year that I’ve been away from my wee one for any length of time. I know, I could pump if I needed to, but we just kind of worked around the issue. I have this anxiety when I’m away from my babies, any child under two. The apron strings aren’t cut yet. A couple of hours go by and I find myself needing my extra appendage.

Something else happened during my nursing experience…my daughter, (bless her heart) decided that one boob did not excrete milk as quickly as she would like and she refused to eat from it all together.

That means for the past 6 months just one of my breasts has been feeding her. I know.

I’m lopsided.

Lopsided people!

Now, if I know you IRL (that means “in real life” in Internet language) I don’t want to see you oogling my chest. (Even though I know you’re going to.) Please do it discretely.

It’s been nigh 6 months that one side of my chest has been decidedly larger than the other. It’s high time to wean this girl! And that means one breast will be EVEN LARGER than usual.

So when you see me casually crossing my arms, or wearing baggy t-shirts, or cardigans in the 80 degree weather, just know that it will soon be over, these boobs have done their duty and are closing up shop.

In the meantime, look at my eyes when I’m talking to you.

So I think I’ve made the right decision, logically it makes sense, fiscally it makes sense.

So why do I feel like the biggest LOSER. Why do I feel like I have failed so HUGELY?

Let me back up for you…

See this sweet face?

She has a knack for ticking people off. People with dogs mostly.

She leaves people alone unless a dog is with them. Then she can’t keep away, she wants to play.

I’ve been yelled at by joggers (with dogs) twice in the past two months. I felt bad.

I have this thing where when people yell at me and try to make me feel bad it works. I feel bad. I also feel embarrassed. Like I don’t have my *shtuff* together, you know?

Monday night was the final straw. She saw a neighbor dog she likes to play with in his house with his family. She ran to him…through our neighbors new screen door. He had some choice words for me. Some swear words. Threats that cops would be called. He also added that another neighbor (upon hearing the commotion) came out to give him her two cents on our dog.
She’s scared of the dog as well.

He doesn’t know me. He’s never met me before. My dog made his wife cry ( I don’t blame her) and he came over to strike some fear into me.

All I could do was apologize, but nothing was good enough. He already disliked me because of my crazy dog.

I really didn’t care if he called the cops.

What I cared about was that we were “those people.” The ones the neighbors talked about over their fences. Hoping maybe we would overhear them. Or hoping someone would step up and confront us.
Apparently this guy was the appointed one. He did a fantastic job making me feel like kaka.

It’s very easy to hate something and love it all at the same time.

If I could have gotten a word in edgewise here’s what I would have told the “gentleman” about my dog.

My baby pulls this dog’s ears, puts her hands in the dog bowl while the dog is eating. Pulls her tail. Pokes her eyes. My dog has passed the baby test with all four of my children.

For that I love her.

She sits by the couch when one of my children is ill. Just sits there, as if she knows the child needs extra comfort.

She knows she’s not supposed to come upstairs, but every once in awhile she does…and I notice evil giggles coming from downstairs, and know the kids have been tormenting her and she’s come to tell on them.

She’s beautiful and graceful when she runs. 80 lbs of pure muscle.

But he didn’t want to hear that. He really didn’t even want to hear how sorry I was.

My kids cried when I told them “We have to find her a new home.”

“We love her.” They said. “Don’t give her away.”

My husband is heart broken. He saw her as a newborn. He bonded with her. They looked in each other’s eyes and she was the one. 

“You love her.” I say, “But not enough to feed her, water her, take her out for exercise, watch her while she poops and pees. That’s what I do every day. I can’t do it anymore.”

We don’t have money or time to build a fence. These days every spare penny goes for food. I never really noticed before how expensive it is to feed our family.

Our neighbors new screen door will cost us $78.

Then there is her food. I wince every time I have to buy more.

Then there are the accidents. Like when she ran in front of a snowboard last winter and her leg was cut.

I think we’ve found her a new and loving home.

Meanwhile there is now a gaping hole in our family and…

I still feel like a loser, I still feel like a failure.

The kids still ask me when our Doggy will be coming home.

“I’m all DOOONNNEE!” He yells from the bathroom.

I sigh, reluctantly getting up from my work.

He’s only three. He’s finished some important “business” in the bathroom. It’s my parental duty to wipe his doody.

He’s quirky about it to say the least. Anyone within ear shot knows when he’s in the bathroom.

Bare with me as I tell this because someday it won’t be like this, and we’ll miss it.

Here’s how it goes:

He alerts me that he needs to go. He runs to the bathroom and sits down. Then he yells for someone to come and turn on the fan and shut the door. He values his “privacies.” The next three to five minutes that follow you will hear loud grunts and moans coming from the wash closet. Then he yells that he’s done.

So it has been for the past year. Today as I went to attend to him my foot found a puddle.

His little puddle.

With toilet paper soaking on top.

*gag*

“What is this?” I asked him. Not really wanting to hear his answer.

“I tried to get it in the toilet, but it didn’t work.”

Honesty.

Part of the reason I can’t help loving three.

Of course all good writing is done in the wee hours of the night, or morning, when not another living soul is around and one can be alone with one’s thoughts. And it doesn’t help when I’ve been reading another blog that tears at my soul.

I’m only 32. 32 years old. My dad reminded me the other day when he said “You’re not a spring chicken anymore Eve.”

Ack. 32 is nothing. It used to sound like something, it used to sound like so much would be accomplished by now.

So my husband received a disturbing phone call at work. So much so that he called me very upset and possibly crying. He rarely cries folks. I cry plenty for the both of us.

His close friend just found out his wife has cervical cancer. She’s 30 years old. She’s a young, sweet mom to a five year old and 2 year old twin boys. He couldn’t believe it. He was in shock. This doesn’t happen to people our age.

But it’s happening to Jenny.

I don’t know her very well. I know her husband better. But as I read her words she is my sister, my friend, myself.  She is a young mom facing something that terrifies all of us.

Their lives have barely started.

I know that my prayers and thoughts will be with this little family and I hope to read of her steady recovery.

What does it mean to be a man? 

The older I get and the larger our family grows the more I value the essence of man; my man to be perfectly honest. Our whole world rests on his shoulders (sturdy though they are.)

Time and time again I thank the Lord that I was born a woman.

This morning he came into our room after the chaos of the morning subsided,

“I’ve been feeling really bad about how things are going.” He told me. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I know you deserve better. I will do better.”

I fought the tears that sprang behind my eyes. Better. I deserve better?

This man who’s every thought is to support and love his family; who’s kind and gentle spirit brings happiness and peace to those who know him. His work ethic is amazing. I don’t know where he gets the energy to work as hard as he does and be such a stellar father and husband. He is everything I want to be.

“You deserve better from me.” I choked the words out.

I didn’t want to start crying. He might get the wrong idea. I don’t want to cry because I think my life is so hard. I want to cry because I’m so relieved that I have him. Because I know he is always trying to do better.

Can I say that about myself?

In all honesty, no.

Motherhood isn’t easy, but it’s different.

I feel spoiled that I get this job.

Yes when the kids are all sick or cranky it’s hard. Dealing with education and health and the well-being of young ones is a serious job. Sometimes it’s the mundane activities that go along with Mothering that I most resent. But I can and do leave the dishes or laundry for another day.

He never seems to mind.

And even though I complain that I do the same thing day in and day out I realize that I don’t. Yes, there will be dishes everyday. Yes, there will be laundry everyday. But everyday our children grow up a little more, they change just a little more and I’m there to see it all. I make the rules here. When it’s sunny we pack up and head to the park, or sit outside together. When it rains or snows I beg the kids to cuddle and read with me. I think of him during happy peaceful moments and remember he’s out there in the world earning money so we can eat and have a roof over our heads, and I’m so grateful.

If I put the effort into homemaking that he puts into his business things would run much more smoothly around here. By nature I am very lazy. Even now I write when I should be folding or scrubbing something.

Alas, the choice is mine, and I am a weak woman.    

I wouldn’t want to be a man. A real man. I think I would fail terribly.  

But that is who I married.

And I’m so glad that you are, and that you don’t give up.   

I love you forever.

I’m tired all the time…much of it I relate to anemia…and a baby that still wants to nurse at 2 am.

Usually a good mid-morning nap is all my body needs to make it through the rest of the day.

But last Tuesday my throat started hurting. It was nothing a dose of ibuprofen couldn’t fix; that, and a nap. But I woke up from the nap feeling even worse than before.

What is a mom supposed to do? It was noon and I knew I had a long day ahead of me.

I loaded my kids in the car and headed to Grandma’s (you think I’m lucky but she works A LOT!) At least she had T.V. and I planned on planting my preschoolers in front of it for the rest of the evening. I dealt with my 10 month old, but just enough to keep her from choking on anything or escaping up the stairs.

My kids had Coco Puffs for dinner that evening.

Wednesday rolled around and my throat started to get to me. Mr.Good stayed around to get the kids off to school. 

“Go.” I told him. “I’ll be fine.” But as the day passed I was not fine. The pain in my throat burned like acid. It was getting hard to take. I called my husband, knowing he was on an install (shop talk for putting in some woodwork at someone’s house.) 

“I have to go and see a Doctor, I think I have Strep throat.”

I made an appointment for as late as they had one available. But the minutes were ticking by and I was in agony. I was having flashbacks of my most recent Labor and Delivery. Thinking of my L and D reminded me of some heavy pain medication I had left over from that. I took it.

Sweet relief. The burning subsided. I could see clearly. My body relaxed. Life was good.

When I walked through the doors of the Medical Office and reported my sore throat they handed me a mask.

“Thanks.” I intoned. It was hot under the mask. I kept cheating and pulling it open at the top to let cool air in. No one was looking.

A tall thin woman led me in to a private office. She asked me questions. One of which included when my last period was. ”Umm…sometime last week?” I offered. “But I’m not pregnant. We haven’t had time for intercourse this week.”

She smiled patiently at me. “We have to ask that to all the women. I don’t know why.”

I guess I gave her a little Too Much Information.

She took my temperature.

“You are the second person to come in today with a fever of 102.” She said. “You won’t throw up on me if I take a throat swab?”

“Stomach of IRON.” I assured her.

She left me in the room telling me it would be about 10 minutes. I laid back on the bed, slipping in and out of subconscious.

Fever. 102. What did that paper say that my oldest brought home from school? Swine Flu…fever between 100.9 and 102. Sore throat. Body aches.  What are the chances.

I don’t want to be That Girl. The one on the news, you know? The first one with The Flu in my little town. The Irony. When I’ve been the one joking about it to all my friends.

A young man returns, breaking my reverie. He’s funny, personable. “Strep was positive.” He told me. He looked in my throat. “It’s not that bad though.”

“Not that bad? I took a Percocet to quench the fire.”

“Oh. Well at least we know it’s Strep and we can treat it.”

Yeah. At least. That’s the good news. The bad news is that I have Swine Flu on top of it. They didn’t test me. They didn’t draw blood. But I know I have it. I came home and proceeded to puke for the next 24 hours. So much for the Stomach of IRON.

“That is strange.” Said Mr.Good. Coming home to rescue me yet again. “I’ve never heard of anyone puking over Strep Throat.”

I would have told him that I what I really had, but I couldn’t. The combination of Strep and stomach acids from dry heaving had left my voice a crackly mess. And anyhow, I didn’t want to alarm him.

The sad thing is, he managed to keep the house fairly clean and take care of the kids. I haven’t been able to do that for 10 months now. I think he makes a better mother than me. Okay, so he’d have a hard time nursing the young one. And dinner WAS brought over by loving friends for three days. How Lucky Am I?

I’m still recovering. It really took a lot out of me that Swine Flu. Let me know if you get it and we’ll compare notes.

Not to perpetuate panic, but I took the opportunity of this new strain of FLU to remind my kids to wash their hands often, cover their mouths with their elbows when they cough or sneeze, and throw their nose tissues in the trash.

Of course my older two get it. They don’t want to get sick with anything, they understand this concept. It’s my three year old that has us all concerned! The kid puts everything in his mouth, nose, or ear…he’s constantly touching everything he sees. Just yesterday morning I had to pry a very small Lego out of his nose.

So after our little “discussion” this morning I was headed down stairs to make breakfast for the kids when I heard my daughter exclaim “Get That Swine Flu Out Of Your Mouth!”

I can only assume she was talking to her three year old brother. I hope he heeds her words.

She’s doing it again…

Her bright clear eyes fixated on one object.

Her small pudgy body leans toward her goal.

We are one, Her and I.

Though the chord has been cut,  I sense her every quiver.

I know her every desire almost before the thought enters her tiny fuzzy head.

She relies on me to hold her hands as she places one wobbly foot in front of the other.

I place her gently on the carpet.

“Baby, You need to learn to crawl before you can walk.”

She looks up at me from her cobra position on the floor and screams.

“You need to learn to get there by yourself.”

I say this as I gather her into my arms.

Her wail is accusatory, her eyes still fixated on the toy she longs to touch.

With a sigh I hold out my fingers.

She wraps her sausage hands around them and pulls herself up.

Together we walk to her goal.

We repeat this exercise many times throughout the day.

How can something so small rule the household and my heart so completely?

Spring. You’ve got to love it.

The allergies, the crazy rain, the sunshine that makes an appearance every 10 days or so.

I’m getting the fever to clean. (I know people, stop fainting.) Seriously, I’m not pregnant this year, but I’m itching to thouroughly clean my house.  It’s going to be tricky and I’m not putting pressure on myself, I do have a 9 month old that requires a lot of attention, and I don’t mind giving it to her. (She’s adorable in a Gerber baby type of way.)

Also it’s baseball season. I love baseball. I love watching my 7 year old play despite the still cool weather and wearing a baby on my back and chasing around 2 preschoolers. It’s worth it.

My oldest hit a milestone…”cups” for 7 years olds, I really didn’t expect this type of safety gear already, but it’s hilarious. All the boys on the field were adjusting. Before mine put his on he asked me “How am I supposed to run in this thing?”

He ran, he adjusted. All went well.

Also, people are kind. I came home from tonight’s game to a sweet gift on my door.  I’m always humbled when people are so generous to us. I know no one has it easy right now, so it is especially touching.

It’s hard to write lately though my mind and heart are full, it’s hard to know exactly what to put down. We’ve had so many joys in the midst of drama but these experiences feel too sacred to share. And then there are others that feel too insignifacant. Especially when I read about you all out there with tragedies of your own. 

We are happy, and close, and busy. I’m loving being out of doors with the kids (weather permitting.) Summer vacation is just around the corner, so I’m pushing myself not to give up on my 7 year old. He does struggle in school, and needs extra attention on my part to keep him focused and on schedule.

My 5 year old is gearing up for kindergarten next year. She’s so ready. My 3 year old continue’s to need hugs and lots of affection from me or he starts jumping me from behind and strangling me. I have to cut him off at the path.

One of my favorite part of parenting is the mystery that is each child. They are so different. They each need something different from me. They each have their own little struggles and triumphs.

I’m doing a little changing of my own. I’m learning more about myself and my weaknesses. I’m wondering if I will ever be that mature all-knowing grown-up that I thought I’d be in younger years. 

There is always chaos now, with these four babes of mine but somehow I feel this weird sereness coming on. Maybe it’s because I feel complete with this last baby. I didn’t expect it to feel like this. It’s bittersweet knowing that she will be my last babe, she’s growing up so fast I want to tell her to slow down! But at the same time “phase two” is looking really good to us right now.

I don’t want to bring anyone down…but a gentle reminder to love the ones your with. Two stories have really twisted my soul this month. This story breaks my heart. Sweet boy, he was very much alive one day, and then gone so quickly. It really took my breath away. My heart breaks for this family. If you pray, keep them in your prayers. Then there is this one…sweet baby girl, she was much loved. Keep them in your prayers as well.