Monthly Archives: May 2016

Teachable moment: You should marry the one you love.

Nora asked me tonight as we were driving whether I thought she ought to marry a boy or a girl when she grows up. I told her she should marry whomever she loves. 

“But who mommy? A boy or a girl?” She really wanted me to give her a definitive answer.

“I can’t tell you that,” I said. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

I’ll admit, it was really hard for me to just leave it at that. To not say something like: Well, most girls marry boys. I didn’t want to color my thinking—and therefore, her developing worldview—one way or the other. 

Most of the married couples close to Nora are ones who are involved in heterosexual relationships. However, we’ve spoken briefly about the many kinds of relationships that exist between people, both romantic and platonic. It’s natural she’d ask since we haven’t conditioned her to think one way or another.

Although marriage is a long way away, it’s important to me that Nora be aware of and accepting of all healthy and loving relationships, no matter the gender of couples involved. Most importantly, I want her to learn from an early age that she can express her feelings freely—always—without worrying she will be judged by me. 

I did put my foot down, though, when Nora next told me that she was going to marry forty people when she grows up.

“Oh no, dear,” I said. “The rule is, you only get to choose one.”

Why is ‘food as medicine’ such a hard pill to swallow? 

Last year, we visited an ENT several times with our oldest. Nora seemed to have a cold or be congested for much of the late fall through early spring. When the rest of the family caught a virus and then got well, Nora remained snotty and stuffy.

During one fall illness, we noticed she was saying, “What?” after everything we said. It began to drive us crazy.

And so we started the first of several trips to the audiologist for hearing tests, followed by ENT appointments to check Nora’s ears.

Everyone concluded that she was getting fluid trapped in her ears again and again, and that this was causing the temporary hearing loss. The ENT recommended tubes.

“Of course they did,” said Liam. “That’s their job. If they don’t do surgeries, they don’t make money.”

Good point, I thought. It’s not like I was concerned about Nora’s hearing interfering with her speech or development. It was just really annoying to have to repeat myself. Eventually, things cleared up on their own. We ended up not scheduling the surgery.

For better or worse—yes, I’m that kind of mom—I hopped on the Internet to investigate tubes anyway. I admit I did read some stuff that said tubes really helped children. Like kids who hadn’t been speaking suddenly started making language gains. Or stopped having painful recurrent ear infections. But this was not Nora. Her speech was very much developed, and she wasn’t suffering from ear infections, just fluid buildup.

However, I read far more that said tubes didn’t help children. That kids continued to get infections. Or the tubes fell out, and kids needed multiple surgeries. There were even recent scientific studies suggesting that tubes might not be the way to go anymore. 

Fast forward to this past late fall season. We started having the same issues. During one long cold, Nora began having hearing difficulties again. We took her to a new pediatrician in Connecticut and she suggested we try to alleviate allergies by using a nasal spray and hypoallergenic bedding. While I do think this made some improvement, I started to wonder about food intolerances, as this was about the same time I was trying to help self-diagnose some food-related symptoms I was experiencing.

We saw the audiologist again and an ENT twice. At her second follow-up with the  Connecticut ENT, the doctor declared the fluid gone and ears clear in one breath, followed by “I think her adenoids are enlarged, though, and should come out” in the very next.

What?!

This was the first I was hearing about adenoids. The ENT said they were likely enlarged and causing the constant congestion and fluid. They were also likely responsible for her nighttime snoring and mouth breathing, something I mentioned at the last visit.

The doctor then—rather abruptly—handed me a form to sign to give permission for the surgery, and then ushered me and the kids into a room to schedule said surgery.

Whoa! Slow your roll, doc. I’m sorry, but this felt so rushed to me. Surgery is not something I’m opposed to if it means my kid isn’t going to have to suffer unnecessarily. But the rate at which we went from “your ears look great” to “you’re going to need your adenoids removed” was too speedy for my comfort. 

I smiled at the receptionist, took down some possible dates, told her I was going to discuss things with my husband, and then nearly ran from the office. I’ve yet to call back.

I followed up with my pediatrician, who giggled about the incident. Apparently ENTs are known to get down to the business of scheduling these kinds of things. Makes sense, given—like the hubs reminded me—this is how they make the big bucks.

It just didn’t jive with me. I’m the kind of person who is far more interested in discovering the root cause of chronic illness and dealing with that, than just trying to medicate or rely on surgery.

I talked to my naturopath a little at my last visit. And, I might end up taking Nora there to see her yet. But in the meantime, we discussed trying to remove dairy from Nora’s diet. For a lot of folks, both young and old, dairy can cause congestion and allergy-like symptoms, and even—yup—enlarged adenoids.

At first, I felt awful thinking about telling Nora she wouldn’t be able to drink milk, eat cheese or have ice cream. She loves these foods. Turns out a lot of the foods we love and feel addicted to may be the ones causing our bodies the most harm.

I posed it to Nora as a trial. I told her we were going to experiment. If removing dairy helped her to breathe better, kept the fluid at bay, and cured her bad breath (something else I’d read about co-existing with enlarged adenoids), we would likely stick to it. And if I saw no difference, we would go back to normal.

Within two days of removing dairy (we’re almost two weeks in), the bad breath was gone, and hasn’t come back. She hasn’t been congested, and she’s closing her mouth to breathe more at night than I’ve ever noticed before. 

And, the part I thought would be difficult—keeping her from food she loves—hasn’t been too bad. We took the cheese off pizza one night. She has almond milk in her cereal and French toast. And, we found a delicious chocolate coconut ice cream we all love.

I just don’t understand why, with so much scientific and anecdotal evidence from families, that the least invasive remedies—like removing a suspected food or food group—aren’t offered as a first possible solution, or at all. 

Instead, it’s: “Let’s schedule this major surgery. Put your kid under. Remove part or her body which is said to fight infection and which may prevent illness. And after it’s over she’ll bleed down her throat a little and be on a liquid diet for about a week. Oh, and it may work at solving her problems. Or not.”

Like I said, I’m not opposed to the surgery if it’s medically necessary. But I’d rather try my little experiment first, which will have no adverse reactions, except maybe a little disappointment, and potentially huge payoffs.

Money for doctors and procedures and pharmaceutical companies should not be the guiding force behind the decisions we are making about our kids and their health. 

It’s just wrong. â˜šī¸

A case of the Mondays.

I’m lying in bed right now fighting to stay awake when my eyes just want to close. This is why I don’t write every day. It simply cannot be forced.

So here are some random pictures instead, acting as a permanent placeholder for some quality writing.

Frances sneaking a peak across the driveway to where her brother was climbing the stairs to the house solo. Uh-oh!

The week of the stomach bug when everyone wore pajamas 24/7 and watched about fifty-six hours of TV.

The kids showing of their voting day stickers.

A photo from two weeks ago. We had a beautiful week of weather before all this rain. The sun felt so warm, we just HAD to lie down on the sand and soak it up!

Three bugs watching the tube.

Heard around the house.

Keeping it brief tonight because this mama is TIRED! And in denial about having to go back to work tomorrow. 😔

While Liam was making dinner earlier tonight, the girls had been playing in the living room. All of a sudden, Frances started screaming at Nora to stop whatever it was she was doing—I couldn’t see—and then Nora burst into tears and came running into the kitchen, where I was putting away some groceries.

Nora: (crying loudly and being overly dramatic) “Mommy! Frances pinched me! And she did it really hard and on purpose.”

Frances: (pouting pathetically) “But Nora took my car and she wouldn’t give it back!”

Me: “Nora. You need to LISTEN when your sister asks you to stop. And Frances. We. Don’t. Pinch.”

Frances: (without missing a beat, and with the slightest sly smile developing) “But Mom. I was just pretending to be a crab.”

Me: Did she really just say that? Yes. Yes she did. Now, turn your head so no one can see you busting a gut.

My child is hilarious. 

Who we used to be. Before we were ‘we.’

Every now and then we experience these wondrous moments where we are able to stop, let go, and recognize the people we once were, not so long ago—or maybe a long time ago—before we had so many responsibilities. Before children. Before stress and anxiety, technology, and the fast-pace of our lives threatened to consume us all.

This afternoon I enjoyed one such moment. Liam offered to walk the kids to the park down the road so I could finish the mammoth task of folding and putting away about ten load’s worth of laundry. Once I finished, we planned on me meeting everyone at the park so that we could all grab a quick bite for dinner. 

When I got to the park, I set about wrangling the two littlest so I could change diapers before getting back in the car. When I looked up after changing the baby to see where everyone had gone, I noticed Liam had found a basketball and was shooting hoops at the court across the playground. I could hear him trying to cajole the girls into being his rebounders. 

A slow but strong smile spread across my face. I laughed out loud not only at the cuteness of them all, but because I knew I was going to go over there and attempt to steal the ball from someone so I could get in on the action too.

After I got closer and put down the baby, I did just that, much to the chagrin of Nora, who was not impressed, but rather downright offended I would think to do such a thing to her. Sucka!

There’s nothing quite like the feel of a basketball rolling off your fingertips on its way to the hoop, especially when you can feel it’s going to go in before it actually does.

My first thought after I shot the ball was: Man. Remember when I used to be fun? To have fun? 

And just like that, Liam and I were transported back in time. Taking jump shots (and bricking them hard). Making lay ups. Passing and laughing like we were kids in high school. All while the kids yelled around us, “Give it to me! Pass it to me! Mommy! Daddy! Come on!”

Basketball is an experience Liam and I both share. Only, I didn’t know him in high school. Never got to see him play. So, in this brief moment, I was able to watch him as a fun-loving thirty-six-year-old, and imagine his “other life,” the one in which he existed before me. It was like a small glimpse into his past. And maybe even our future. One in which we coach the kids and try to impart any meaningful advice we can still remember from those days gone by.
Isn’t it just SO COOL when these kinds of moments stop us in our tracks? Make us think back about how we used to be? Make us imagine what others might have been like? And make us look ahead at all that we have to look forward to with our own children?

I sure think so.  

How do you plan to spend your Mother’s Day Weekend?

TGIF! It’s been a long week. I’m kicking off my MDW with a long soak in a hot bath.

Tomorrow morning I plan on indulging in a quick visit to the laundromat to catch up on two weeks’ worth of washing, including many puke-soiled bedsheets and towels. I know it might not sound like much when compared to a weekend spa getaway, but believe you me, I plan on enjoying the solitude and finding comfort in the buzzing noise of all those costly dryers.

After that, I intend to shop for groceries and other household items at no less than five stores, because I just can’t seem to find a one-stop shop around these parts to fit all our needs. 

Following that, I imagine I’ll whip up a batch of our homemade Borax ant-killer recipe to tackle the lovely family of ants that have graced us with their kitchen-counter-ly presence this week. Nothing like a good raining to bring about the bugs.

And, if things go according to plan, I just might be able to squeeze in a pedicure, pick up a bottle (or three!) of my latest favorite wine—a Vinho Verde from the shop downtown—purchase a few new plants (an annual MD tradition at our house), and sleep in a morning or two. 

Here’s also to hoping that I remember to reach out to my own mother and let her know just how much she’s loved and appreciated. (I can barely keep a thought for more than five seconds these days!)

Happy MDW, all! â¤ī¸

Frances and her books.

The main intention of this blog was and is to create a space for me to have a consistent writing practice. Although the past year has seen its ups and downs in terms of writing for me, I’ll admit I’m pleased with the overall effort given my prior attempts at journaling.

A secondary purpose of the blog is a means to record moments as memories, to be read over and over again as the months and years speed on by.

I remember reading the following quote in graduate school years ago by the Cuban American author Anaïs Nin, and I always, always come back to it when someone asks me why I write.

It goes like this:

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospect.”

“Yes!” I thought when I read it. This is why I write. 

Tonight’s memory will be one I share with Frances as she gets older and can appreciate my mockery.
                 ————

When she was a baby, I couldn’t get Frances to sit still and listen to a book. Not for anything. Unlike her older sister, Nora, who was practically reading right out of the womb, Frances crawled immediately away once settled in my lap in front of a book, or else delighted in swatting away the pages and covers with all her infant might.

Although I was concerned she’d grow up to be a simpleton, I continued the practice of diligently reading aloud to Nora in the hopes that Frances might soak up some of it through her periphery. 

After she turned a year old, I had a little success engaging Frances with books that had texture and other sensory materials. Lift-the-flap books like Where’s Spot? were a big hit. Still, I found myself just accepting Frances was going to be a jock or a comedian instead of a Harvard grad when she hightailed it outta my lap anytime an ordinary board book or picture book came her way. (I jest you know—there’s nothing wrong with being a jock. Both Liam and I were three-sport athletes and humor is one of my more redeeming qualities. I only label and judge my children to get a laugh. Besides, just today my Harvard grad, Nora, told me she wanted to be a recycling man—yes, man—when she grows up, so she can ride on the side of the truck. I will love them however and whatever my children turn out to be.)

Anyway, back to Frances. Around eighteen months, or maybe a little thereafter, she finally, FINALLY, started to show an interest in listening to stories read aloud. She began to sit still and delight in looking at pictures and hearing the written word.

Several months later, a little before she turned two, Frances’s vocabulary just exploded. Again, prior to this happening, I was concerned that my girl of few words might have to rely on looks alone, not brains, in order to get ahead in this world. (KIDDING!)

I needn’t have worried. These days, the girl has more words than she knows what to do with. And watch out, because when she gets talking about something she’s excited about, there’s no stopping her.

Back then, though, I suddenly found myself pleasantly surprised when  Frances—not Nora—was finishing sentences aloud when I intentionally left a word or two hanging off the end. Unbeknownst to me, she HAD been soaking things up through osmosis! She had memorized parts of the books we’d been reading. It was all very exciting for me. Maybe, just maybe, she’d be Harvard-bound after all! (BTW, I’m not even a big fan of Harvard, although it’s campus is very beautiful.)

These days Frances is never far from a book. She likes to ask me or her dad to read her a book, and then—once we finish—she’ll ask for another story, but will insist on taking back the first book so she can hold it and flip through the pages as she listens to the second story. She alternates between flipping and looking at one book and listening to the other. It’s very funny. Almost OCD in the way she does it EVERY time we sit down to read.

Frances is also fond of taking books to bed with her so she can look at their pages before she falls asleep. I’ve found many-a-book under the covers where she sleeps when making the bed in the morning.

Her latest thing is to walk around the house with a chapter book, and then sit somewhere and pretend to read. Today I noticed her carrying both Trumpet of the Swan and Island of the Blue Dolphins. Only, she was pretend reading something about a mama and a baby bear and how they had to clean up the house before dinnertime.

I’ve so enjoyed watching Frances’s love affair with books blossom the way it has. I have high hopes now for Rowan, child number three, who just turned one, and who might’ve just been introduced to a book by his mother a couple of weeks ago. 

Come on! Cut me some slack. Child number three, I said. Not to worry. If he’s anything like Frances, he’ll be toting around James Joyce novels before too long and babbling on about ocean characters who meet monsters at a picnic he “reads” in their pages.

I’m feeling grateful for the fact that:

  • The last time I threw up was at 6:45 this morning…
  • The kids are all mostly feeling better, despite not having normal appetites yet…
  • The hubs—who’s the only one who’s not yet gotten sick—stayed home from work to take care of all of us today…
  • That there are just two days left in the work week…and…
  • That I’m sandwiched between the two girls right now, who are hopefully dreaming happily away.

Not looking forward to a likely trip to the laundromat this weekend to expedite the clothes washing that needs to take place in this house.

Be well, all!

The stomach bug strikes again!

What’s a mother to do? I thought after last year’s four-time (!) bout of the pukeys, we might’ve gotten a free pass this go-round. Sadly, it wasn’t to be.

Nora got sick yesterday morning all over her car seat while she was on an outing with the sitter. I ended up coming home from work early after the second vomit episode, which happened—gratefully—in the kitchen. I was present for times three through five, most of which ended up in the toilet. We had to do a sheet-change on one of the beds. At least it was early enough we were able to go to bed on time. Everyone slept well, and Nora was significantly better this morning. Still, I decided to take a sick day to stay home with the kids.

Midday, I was feeling GREAT that no one else had yet gotten sick. Could we get away with just one ill kiddo? Even though all three had been sharing a water bottle all weekend? Think positive thoughts!

When I went to get Frances from her nap at 3:00 this afternoon, I noticed bright pink chunks all over her sheets and blankets. Maybe even one of the library books, but they don’t need to know, right? Don’t worry, I won’t return it until the grace period for contagious live viruses expires. I never could get a straight answer from Frances whether she puked in her sleep, or right when she woke up. In any case, I threw her into the bathtub, stripped the second set of bedsheets, and went to wake up the baby.

At least he was well. Until…he wasn’t. Poor little guy. This is his first time with a case of the spit-ups as we like to call them around here. He doesn’t know what’s going on. I’m just grateful his little body cues when he’s ready to go so I can get him to the sink in time. As I write this it’s past time for his bedtime nursing session. I’ve held off because I know it’s just going to come right back up. And there’s very little that smells worse than projectile-vomitted breastmilk. Ugh. Just thinking about it is making me queasy.

I’ve been telling Liam for the past hour that I know it’s coming for me. I can feel the storm brewing. He thinks it’s all in my head. I guess time will tell.

Writing the blog post tonight seemed like a tall order given all that’s gone down in our house today, but hey—A post a day in May, right?

Gotta get it done.

DSC_0706

Enjoying (?) a sink bath after his first spit-ups.

DSC_0710

Sad little guy. But so snuggly! He’s never this still. We are loving the cuddles.

Our little author/illustrator is busy at work.

It seems like our eldest child might have a better chance of publishing her work than her wannabe-a-writer mother. At least, given the shear amount of material she creates week to week.

Nora started making books this fall at her school in Pennsylvania. Things really kicked into gear, though, once we moved to Connecticut. To date, she’s made something like twenty-one books, only one of which is actually complete, mind you. Most consist of a title page and maybe two to three pages of drawing with text.

In the beginning, she required a lot of help with spelling. Recently, she’s been trying to manage on her own. I love discovering her latest creations and admiring all the effort she puts into her craft.

DSC_0701

A season’t worth of books crafted from folded 8-and-1/2-by-11-inch paper and staples.


DSC_0684

“Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and “Ellie and the Doghouse” with strikingly similar characters and settings. Note the legless child on the left. Not sure what her deal is.


DSC_0685

“Appleland,” the prequel to the lesser-known “Fairyland.” Incidentally, it should be known that there was no mention nor drawing of actual apples in the book “Appleland.”


DSC_0689

This one is a little harder to interpret: “That next morning, Emily and her best (friend?) Lizzy went in the car. They went to…” Where did they go? Read on to find out!


DSC_0692

“That night (she must’ve gotten help with those two words!) they went to Grandma and Pappy’s and Grandma’s and Grandpa’s…” “Hooo Choo.” Are they owls? On a train? I don’t know.


DSC_0695

Love the imagination and detail here with the view of the back side of the people. Also love that the characters on the right page are sitting in pews at church!


DSC_0686

“Where is My Halloween Basket?” Lately we’ve been making flip-books modeled after some of our lift-the-flap favorites. These are a total pain to make, because instead of just folding and stapling paper, I have to tape together every couple of pages and then cut out little squares behind which Nora draws hidden images. the end result is worth it though. And why in the HELL are that guy’s legs so damn long?!

 

DSC_0687

“Is it under the bed?”


DSC_0688

“No.” Haha!

 

 

 

 

 

 

DSC_0703

Of course, never to be outdone, Frances has also mastered the art of book-making. Although she lacks the skills needed to write her stories, she’s never short on words to explain all of the images on her pages. According to her, the books above are about “Our Family,” “Farm Animals,” and “The Playground With Some Little Ducks Over There.”

DSC_0699

Lastly, I just had to capture this birthday card while I was recording images of the books. It’s from Nora, given to me a couple of weeks ago. “Now you [are] 37, but soon you’re going to be 38.” Thanks for the notice, girlie. 

I like to think that I will keep some of these to show Nora when she’s a bit older. Not insta-throw them away like I do much of the art work that gets made around here. I’m trying to be better about photographing the pieces I like best. My plan is to preserve the images in some kind of keepsake book, so we don’t have to hang on to the actual physical clutter. But these books are pretty special. So, I’m thinking we’ll save a few for posterity. And, if not—if some get lost or accidentally thrown away in a fit of clutter-rage—at least we’ll have this post of evidence of the work that was done.