Our Girl is all Grown Up...

Before we discuss how ‘Our Girl is all Grown Up’ I think I should start at the beginning of our discovery…

Let’s start with a few things that you may not know about me…

1)      I do not get sick. I have severe allergies and they create a lot of suffering during, well, all four seasons…but I don’t get sick. The kind of sick that sends you to the doctor and lands you on antibiotics (and flat on your ass) is just not in my handbook. I don’t have time for it and lucky for me, it avoids me.

2)      I do not sit still. People laugh because I can quote things that I hear on Food Network or HGTV during the day, but the common misconception is that I sit there watching it. Could not be farther from the truth. I am busy all day doing things with my children (teaching, playing, going on outings, etc), completing or starting projects of my own (paper crafts, sewing, etc), working on my business, writing (my blog, which I know I have neglected for quite some time) or just doing the ever-present household chores.

3)      I do not spend all day on the computer.  Though, judging by my Facebook, it seems that I spend a fair amount of my day on the computer, I definitely do not. I surf the internet during ‘waiting times’ and elect to have it NOT show that I am ‘mobile’ most of the time…you know, waiting in the car for school pick-up, waiting while K does gymnastics, waiting in line while running errands, etc…

This week was an exception for every single one of those little details. It started Monday. I was sick. So sick, in fact, that I ended up in the ER with the doctor contemplating emergency surgery. Ugh.  To make a long ER visit (and even longer story) short, I ended up not needing emergency surgery…whew…but I did end up with an IV filled with max doses of some heavy duty meds…and even more meds to take at home. Bleh. But the good news was that as long as I took the meds, I’d be good as new in a couple of days (“BUT BE SURE TO FINISH THE COURSE OF MEDICINE EVEN ONCE YOU START TO FEEL BETTER”…yes, sir, doctor-man!).

To top it off, my hubby was sick. Now, I get medication-needing sick once every two years or so….he’s not quite that good, but we’re still talking once a year at most. We are just not a sickly family…the kids get sick even less often! Which makes me want to debunk ‘Breast milk makes your kid less sickly’ but that is an entirely different post and I am still thinking I’ll avoid the controversy and obnoxious comments on our choice to use the dreaded ‘f’ word (formula). LOL.  I digress…so, J is sick…throwing up in the bathroom, can’t move, room spinning, debilitating nausea. He was so pale and white that his skin was almost transparent…yet at the same time, he looked a little green. Would have been perfect if it had been makeup for a Halloween costume, but it wasn’t.

I was in so much pain and so sick that my doc sent me to Urgent Care…who then sent me to the ER.  Not having family nearby at times like these is one of the biggest drawbacks of our lifestyle.  If my parents were here, it would have been one phone call and no worries. Grammy would have come to the house; packed a few necessities for each kid and just taken them home with her…she’d handle supper, bed time, school the next morning and whatever else we needed. But, that’s not the case.  So now we’re stuck. J doesn’t want me at the ER by myself. I don’t want him there (who knows what he has, he doesn’t need to be spreading it around to everyone else in the hospital) and I don’t want someone else there with me (I already know I get major emotional with pain meds and sedatives, so if I’m going to be weepy and annoying, I want to do it with J or my parents. End of story).  Finally we decide that he will stay home with the kids and I will go to the ER (thank goodness we have one really close now…not sure I could have driven much farther).

So, this is where the ‘Our Girl is all Grown Up’ part comes in. 

K is pretty self-sufficient and we already knew that.  But she was amazing.  All day (before I went to the ER) she helped me with anything that she could. And if she couldn’t easily do it, she figured it out and still managed to get it done anyway.  She was an angel (and I was soooooo glad it was a day off of school since J was at work all day).  She made sure she and her brother ate when they were hungry (of course, left at their own devices, they were choosing granola bars and yogurt all day…but it could have been worse and they thought it was the best thing ever…granola bar addicts) and had plenty of water to drink…she cleaned up everything that they got out…read books to her brother and even ‘put him down for his nap’ (walked upstairs with him, tucked him in and shut his door).   

But once I left to go to the hospital, she kicked it into high gear. J stayed home with our munchkins but he was nearly useless as he was so sick.  She did everything.  She did all the things that she’d been doing all day for her brother…and she took care of her Daddy, too.  She made sure everyone had water to drink, made supper for herself and her brother (surprisingly not granola bars…pepperoni, crackers, cheese and yogurt…not a great supper, but better than yet another Cliff bar).  She even helped C when he was struggling to get his pants pulled back up after going potty.  She was truly a ‘Little Mamma’ and a lifesaver to her Daddy and I, though I am sure she won’t understand why until she is our age, has kids and is sick beyond belief.  

I was finally done at the ER…though J had to come get me since I could not drive (because of the IV cocktail)...again, having family nearby would have been so helpful…Grampy would have probably already met me at the hospital and if not, certainly would have come to get me. So, anyway, way past bed time K loaded herself and C into Daddy’s truck…clipped C into his seat and they came to pick me up and stop at a pharmacy to get my medications filled.  It was almost too much for J to be driving and so sick but we managed. Slowest car on the road, I think. LOL.

Tuesday was a better day. She went to school like normal. I woke up groggy, disoriented and basically hung over and J still felt queasy but not unstable. She got herself ready for school, only asking for help for her hair, and suggested that she buy hot lunch (she RARELY wants to purchase lunch…she STRONGLY prefers to bring cold lunch from home) so that Daddy didn’t have to worry with making a lunch for her.  J stayed home…partly because he still felt ill and partly because I was still so disoriented and groggy.  I spent the day on the couch, in the bed or in the recliner next to my bed...on the computer or on my phone (texting, Facebooking and otherwise doing things in which it didn't matter if I dozed off mid-conversation). By the afternoon I felt well enough to go get my car from the hospital after we got K from school and J went to get pizza for supper so that the kids could have something more substantial than granola bars, pepperoni and yogurt! Thankfully yesterday’s weather was also beautiful, so the kids spent the entire afternoon outside…thus not suffering from highly uninvolved parents any longer. By bed time J and I were exhausted but feeling overall better…as long as we didn't do too much.

I’m not going to lie; I've felt like the worst parent most of the time over the past two days. I feel much better today…not quite 100%...I still get quite exhausted pretty quickly if I try to do too much, though.  However, K really proved herself. In by association, she has proved that J and I are on the right track for parenting.  She took on responsibilities far past her age and managed them with fantastic success and even a little flair.  I am so incredibly proud of her and thankful for her selfless help…but it is bittersweet, nonetheless. I sure love that girl…

~Jac

P.S. Don't worry...she's being rewarded for her selfless, caring actions. She has asked to go out to supper and we have happily agreed!

My Sweet Ladybug...

 My sweet girl. Just thinking of her brings a smile to my face.  She is a miniature version of myself...which is both a blessing and a curse.  She was the easiest of babies. She only cried when she was hungry or needed a new diaper. She slept through the night at 2 weeks old, never got sick and developed ahead of schedule.   She held her own head up at the hospital, sat, crawled, walked, talked and teethed early. She did everything early (still does).  She also did it all on her own…so independent from the very beginning.  She didn’t need to be held to feel safe and comforted. She would fall asleep on her own just as quickly as if you were rocking her.  She would also sleep anywhere…not partial to her bed or anything like that…no special blanket, stuffed animal, pacifier or anything else was needed.  Just a clean/dry diaper and BOOM, she was asleep.  Independence was just part of her personality from the beginning…bed time, for example…bath, bottle, burp and bed…no snuggling or rocking to sleep was necessary.   We rarely had any non-parent friends babysit because all the couples that were ‘debating’ when to start a family would spend time with little-miss-easy-pants and leave thinking ‘this is so easy, we can do this’. LOL. We feared being blamed for false advertisement if their child was born less cooperative than our sweet Ladybug.

Feeding was the only exception to her easy-going attitude.  She did not and would not nurse…leaving her mother (me) feeling like a total failure from the very beginning…which was only amplified by the fact that she was our first little angel. Until our doctor (we use family medicine, so we see the same doc) told me that as long as I feed her, I’m doing my part. Thank you, doctor-man. And bottles it was. She was thrilled with this decision, apparently. And proceeded to eat, grow and develop remarkably fast! Though I know there are fantastic arguments, research and studies supporting breast milk-only diets, she is fine. She’s smart (too smart if you ask me, my hubby or her kindergarten teacher), certainly well-bonded with both my husband and I and has only been sick once in her 5 years of life. I can’t ask for much better even though she was ‘just’ a formula baby. I do get tired of the people that still continue to judge me for it, though.  However as she and her baby brother get older, I become more and more confident that not only are the decisions I make good…they are what’s right for our family…and as long as I have the best interests of our children in mind, my instincts will guide me.  Too bad I wasn’t that confident back then. I’d have just told everyone to bugger off.

She is a Daddy’s Girl and she had him wrapped around that tiny finger of hers from the moment she entered this world.  She could play him like a fiddle from the very beginning and has only become more efficient as the years have passed.  It’s adorably entertaining to watch. She is also Grampy’s girl. My parents came to visit just a couple of days after she was born and she immediately wrapped Grampy around one of her tiny little fingers. One for Daddy and one for Grampy.  She knew she’d get what she wanted from one of them.  Her birthday is in early summer and since she was a bottle baby, anybody could feed her and get up with her. Fine by me.  So, my dad (Grampy) got up with her each morning and took her outside to our comfy swing…they would swing and soak up sunshine and fresh air while she took her bottle.  When she was done, she’d sleep snuggled into the cushion next to him while he drank his coffee.  It was so sweet to watch. Well, hear about…I slept through most of those 6am feedings.  Might as well take it while you can!  It was that first day that we noticed that she was also a Grampy’s girl…and that Grampy was on the hook. She would fuss and fuss and fuss (and she had not been a fussy baby thus far) and nobody would be able to soothe her…then she would hear Grampys boots (Grampy always wears boots) on the wooden stairs and immediately calm down.   If he stopped climbing, she’s start crying again…and so on…until he made it to her room and got her from her crib. Ta-da, the one week old, black hair and blue eyed little lady had gotten Grampy to do her bidding. For the first of many, many, many times to come.

She was an even easier toddler. I know, nobody says that. But she was. No temper tantrums, no attitude problems, nothing. She learned quickly…obeyed rules…and was beyond excited when she found out that she was going to be a big sister. No jealousy, just excitement. Even now.

She is the best big sister that any sibling could ever wish to have. She adores her baby brother…and she spoils him rotten. Takes care of him, gives him her last cookie, her last bite of pizza, the last bit of her drink, the book she’s reading, the toy she’s playing with…ANYTHING he wants. It’s cute…but horrible, really.  He now thinks he’s entitled to EVERYTHING. And I am, obviously, the bad guy for not giving in to his demands…because, well, his perfectly adoring sister would let him have it (whatever ‘it’ happens to be at the time).  Though, to be fair, he adores her just as much.  He gets so angry when, on the rare occasion, she gets in trouble.  If you are the one disciplining the ‘perfect sister’, prepare to be completely ignored for the rest of the day/evening/night from him…he does not tolerate his sister getting grounded, spanked, put in time out or sent to her room. He. FREAKS. Out.

Now she is 5 years old. Going on 15 most days and 25 the rest. And when she has one of those days that she ‘acts 5’, I feel like I’m going to lose it…lose my mind, my composure, my hair, everything.  She is in kindergarten and excelling at everything.  Everything except keeping her mouth shut…I told you, she is just like me.  She wants to do everything herself…birthday parties, sleepovers, field trips, all of it. No more walking her to the door at school…’Mamma, you can just let me out of the car at the sidewalk.’  At least she still calls me Mamma. She says I don’t need to walk down the hill get her from school, either…’Mamma, if you just get out of the car at the sidewalk, my teacher will let me go since she can see you from there.’  At least she still calls me Mamma.  She reads to herself. Not just short little words here and there…the little lady can sound out 4 syllable words on her own. I thought that she was just skimming books and looking at the pictures at first.  So, I thought I’d be smart (always a bad idea around her…she can make people with doctorates feel like morons) and make her tell me about the story before she can move on to something else (a verbal book report of sorts)…turns out she can tell me every little detail. So, there. So much for that great idea. ‘Mamma, it was a funny funny book that taught me all about welcoming new friends to our class!’ At least she still calls me Mamma.

At least she still calls me Mamma. And gives me a kiss every night before bed.

~Jac

My Baby has 'Boy Feet'...

He’s a Mamma’s boy. There is no denying that. But, he’s not quite 3 yet so that is to be expected. I suppose I know that he will grow out of it at some point…maybe…I secretly hope not. I secretly hope that ‘I’ll Love You Forever’ is about the two of us and we will have this amazing bond forever.

He constantly reminds me that he is a ‘Big Dude’. Literally, he is not. He is short and scrawny for his age. But healthy as can be and as strong as an ox! I know that one day a growth spurt will take him from looking six months to a year younger than his age to looking two-plus years older than his age. What he means, though, is that he can do it himself. Everything. Put on his jammies, bathe himself, feed himself, dress himself, get in the car himself, figure it out himself. He wants to be big like Daddy and he acts like Daddy is the center of the universe because he is so big and strong and seems to know everything. He asks about him constantly when he is not around. He runs to him when he gets home from work…immediately asking him to play or rough house or whatever suits his mood for that day.

He climbs in Daddy’s lap to play games or read books after supper. Did I mention he loves his feet? Lil’ Man, not Daddy. He loves his feet…and his toes even more.  He constantly reminds us, saying ‘I wub my feet’. While they play, he holds his fat little feet in his chubby little hands. He may be scrawny everywhere else, but his feet and hands still remind me of a chunky little infant. He holds his feet…unaware that he is even doing so.  When the book ends, Daddy kisses his forehead and says ‘Whatcha doing?’…’I holdin’ my feet an my toes’ he says in that adorable tiny dude voice.  Daddy reaches down and holds his feet, too.  We’ve joked for almost 3 years now about how fat his feet are…they really look like hunks of summer sausages with tiny lil’ smokies attached to the ends. Shoes have been a challenge…must be lace-up so that they will be able to be loosened to go all the way around his feet.  He started walking…full-on walking…at 9 months and his feet remained round on the bottom.  Skinny little boy…fat sausage feet. But he loves his feet.

I’m sitting next to them through this exchange. Not paying too much attention, but Mamma always knows what’s going on with the family. It’s our job, right? Daddy says ‘Have you seen this, Mamma?’  So, I look up and he shows me. Lil’ Man’s feet have bones across the top…and an arch! Don’t get me wrong, they are still chubby as feet go and I know he’s not any older. Not by more than 10 seconds since the last time I glanced over at the two of them.  But in my mind he’s suddenly 12 years old with stinky boy feet, sweaty armpits and with no need for his Mamma. I like being needed by this tiny dude, but there will be time for that still…right?

They go upstairs to get ready for bed and I hear the familiar sounds of what is sure to be a messier-than-necessary shower. But most things are messier-than-necessary with Lil’ Man.  He has had a lingering cough…off and on…for the past few days. I hear him start up again. It breaks my heart. Daddy pours some medicine for him and calls down to me that they are done and ready for prayers.  We say our bedtime prayers as a family and dole out hugs and kisses…K goes to her room to check her alarm, put out clothes for school and go to sleep.  Lil’ Man comes over to me…climbs up in my lap…’Mamma, I wub you. Can I snuggie you?’…as my heart melts, I pull a blanket over him, snuggle him down into my arms and reach for his feet…I always kiss his toes good night. And they aren’t stinky…yet.  As his cough subsides and sleep sneaks in, he mumbles ‘Mamma, I am yous dude.’ Love…

~Jac