In spite of my pleading, no one would take Nathan outside to play. Of course, being left out is a complete bummer even for a two-year-old. To cheer him up, I asked him if he'd like to do something fun? He enthusiastically asked, "You mean laundry?" I smiled and answered, "No, something a little more fun than laundry..."
I introduced Nathan to the fun of using an apple peeler/corer. It was the most fun we've had in a long time :) until we ran out of apples to peel.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Monday Night Madness
This week's Family Home Evening was a real catastrophe. Emma started off the night by reading aloud her 10 page story she'd written at school. Nathan found a pink balloon and thought it was more interesting to hit it to Noah than to listen. We allowed him to play until the balloon hit the baby in the head twice, my head thrice, and Noah began to encourage dialogue as the balloon was beaten into our heads. Emma, wanting our full attention would pause for each interruption so the story took over 30 minutes to read. Meanwhile, Rilla, didn't seem to appreciate Nathan's balloon play and she started to fuss. Ray and I were so tired that everything seemed to be happening too slowly and when Elizabeth started asking questions about the story we both quickly suggested she could read it to herself again later if she missed parts of it. I thought, "Please don't let Emma get upset that her older siblings didn't understand the story and that is why they're asking questions...I can't take an Emma tantrum right now." Luckily, she at least didn't seem phased, so we got out our scriptures to read a chapter in Mosiah.
Abinadi is exhorting King Noah to repent of all his sins. Everyone was happy to take turns reading and we were having a nice discussion even through Nathan's new distraction. I had taken the balloon away and he found a toy gun to play with instead. So, as we're reading about the sins and evilness of King Noah, Nate insists on killing us all off one by one. Through our protests and pleads for him to not shoot at people, he took his gun, pointed it at Rilla and shot her. The knotted string thrust out hitting Rilla in the forehead. Ray yelled at him as I jumped up and took the gun away. The older children just kept on reading and asking questions like: "What are concubines?" "What is a harlot?" "What is a wine-bibber?" "Why would a girl choose to be a harlot or a concubine?" At each inquiry, Nate is trying harder to gain some attention, and yet the others are so absorbed in the scripture reading. Ray is choking on how to answer their questions and I am wondering what spiritually uplifting message are we missing? And, also, I thought that one can find all answers to ones questions in the scriptures...So, when Nathan, tackles Emma and Tessa and they start to scream I suggest we stop reading and sing Nathan's favorite primary song, "Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam." The older kids have taught him to jump up on the high notes of the song and he loves it. Unfortunately, he was too wound up already and in the middle of the song, instead of jumping up, he jumped into Noah's groin and bit his private. Noah's painful yell chases away all hopes of ending on a spiritual note, so we concluded quickly with Nathan being sent to bed by a mad dad, and me telling everyone else to get jammies on quickly! After everyone had gone to bed and I was finally able to tend to baby Rilla's needs, I pondered on how Family Home Evening is a time to teach the scriptures and to foster love for one another. I can see how some might give up after a night like this one, but I'm thinking if we can survive this, then tackling other scripture stories, like Abraham's father trying to kill him, or why it was ok for Abraham to have concubines, will be a piece of cake.
Abinadi is exhorting King Noah to repent of all his sins. Everyone was happy to take turns reading and we were having a nice discussion even through Nathan's new distraction. I had taken the balloon away and he found a toy gun to play with instead. So, as we're reading about the sins and evilness of King Noah, Nate insists on killing us all off one by one. Through our protests and pleads for him to not shoot at people, he took his gun, pointed it at Rilla and shot her. The knotted string thrust out hitting Rilla in the forehead. Ray yelled at him as I jumped up and took the gun away. The older children just kept on reading and asking questions like: "What are concubines?" "What is a harlot?" "What is a wine-bibber?" "Why would a girl choose to be a harlot or a concubine?" At each inquiry, Nate is trying harder to gain some attention, and yet the others are so absorbed in the scripture reading. Ray is choking on how to answer their questions and I am wondering what spiritually uplifting message are we missing? And, also, I thought that one can find all answers to ones questions in the scriptures...So, when Nathan, tackles Emma and Tessa and they start to scream I suggest we stop reading and sing Nathan's favorite primary song, "Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam." The older kids have taught him to jump up on the high notes of the song and he loves it. Unfortunately, he was too wound up already and in the middle of the song, instead of jumping up, he jumped into Noah's groin and bit his private. Noah's painful yell chases away all hopes of ending on a spiritual note, so we concluded quickly with Nathan being sent to bed by a mad dad, and me telling everyone else to get jammies on quickly! After everyone had gone to bed and I was finally able to tend to baby Rilla's needs, I pondered on how Family Home Evening is a time to teach the scriptures and to foster love for one another. I can see how some might give up after a night like this one, but I'm thinking if we can survive this, then tackling other scripture stories, like Abraham's father trying to kill him, or why it was ok for Abraham to have concubines, will be a piece of cake.
In Two Seconds
I've been thinking about all of the times I respond to the requests of my children by saying, "In two seconds." For example: "Mom, can I have a cookie?" "No, we'll be eating dinner in two seconds.." OR, "Mom, will you read me this book?" "Sure, in about two seconds." OR "Mom, I need to leave for school now!" "I know, I will have your hair done in two seconds."
The other night I was getting ready for bed. My two year old came in wanting to use the toilet. He started to take his pants off, so I knew he was serious. I helped get his diaper off and set him on the toilet. He proudly announced, "I did it!" I smiled as I congratulated his success. I still needed to take my contacts out...I considered the time it would take me to find a new diaper, put it on, and get Nate into his pj's. I then considered it would only take me "two seconds" to take out my contacts and then I could devote my time to Nathan. I quickly pulled up his pants leaving him bare, but thinking since he'd just gone potty, what could possibly go wrong?
I had one contact out when Nathan exclaimed, "I need to go Potty!" Out of habit I responded, "Just give me two seconds..." I was assuming he just wanted my attention. As I reached for my glasses, Nathan was doing his, "I did it song and gallop" around my bathroom. Even without my contacts in my glasses gave me enough sight to see some dark smudges on my bathroom floor that I didn't remember seeing before. I quickly asked Nate, "What did you do?" He proudly told me he pooped in his pants. Yep, he did and without a diaper or underwear it was sliding down his pant leg onto the floor. He was enjoying stepping in it and squishing it around on the cool tile floor.
I grabbed him by the shoulders and begged him to hold still for "two seconds" while I would be running to get some rags and baby wipes to clean up the mess and then be able to get him into the tub. Two seconds later, my entire floor was painted with swirls of pooh. I think I need to re-evaluate using my "two seconds" response. Definitely, two seconds for a toddler is far too long to hold still and way too long to fly free.
The other night I was getting ready for bed. My two year old came in wanting to use the toilet. He started to take his pants off, so I knew he was serious. I helped get his diaper off and set him on the toilet. He proudly announced, "I did it!" I smiled as I congratulated his success. I still needed to take my contacts out...I considered the time it would take me to find a new diaper, put it on, and get Nate into his pj's. I then considered it would only take me "two seconds" to take out my contacts and then I could devote my time to Nathan. I quickly pulled up his pants leaving him bare, but thinking since he'd just gone potty, what could possibly go wrong?
I had one contact out when Nathan exclaimed, "I need to go Potty!" Out of habit I responded, "Just give me two seconds..." I was assuming he just wanted my attention. As I reached for my glasses, Nathan was doing his, "I did it song and gallop" around my bathroom. Even without my contacts in my glasses gave me enough sight to see some dark smudges on my bathroom floor that I didn't remember seeing before. I quickly asked Nate, "What did you do?" He proudly told me he pooped in his pants. Yep, he did and without a diaper or underwear it was sliding down his pant leg onto the floor. He was enjoying stepping in it and squishing it around on the cool tile floor.
I grabbed him by the shoulders and begged him to hold still for "two seconds" while I would be running to get some rags and baby wipes to clean up the mess and then be able to get him into the tub. Two seconds later, my entire floor was painted with swirls of pooh. I think I need to re-evaluate using my "two seconds" response. Definitely, two seconds for a toddler is far too long to hold still and way too long to fly free.
Lactation Specialists
The best thing I did this time at the hospital was to request that a lactation specialist would not come to visit me. After all, Rilla is my sixth child. I have hated having a stranger come to my room to watch me nurse my baby. I have hated listening to rehearsed sales pitches on the benefits of mothers' milk. Most of all, I just hate the fact that some stranger feels entitled to critique my nursing skills, especially, when it works for me and my babies....
So, this time around, first thing I asked for was to not permit a lactation specialist to come to my room. The following morning I heard an announcement being broadcast throughout all the rooms on our floor: "Good Morning Mothers! We will be starting our lactation class at 10:00 am in the North East Lobby. All are welcome!" I started to laugh out loud. I am thinking that they must think all of us are on a special cruise ship and that a lactation workshop is equivalent to shuffleboard.
So, this time around, first thing I asked for was to not permit a lactation specialist to come to my room. The following morning I heard an announcement being broadcast throughout all the rooms on our floor: "Good Morning Mothers! We will be starting our lactation class at 10:00 am in the North East Lobby. All are welcome!" I started to laugh out loud. I am thinking that they must think all of us are on a special cruise ship and that a lactation workshop is equivalent to shuffleboard.
Postpartum Depression
Two hours after Rilla was born, my two nurses came in and told me it was time for me to get up. I still hadn't even held my baby yet, nor could I even feel my toes. I was tired and just wanted some rest. It was about 7 pm and I promised I would stand up by 4 am. Bright and early I had woken up to feed my baby and take some pain medication. I was aware of the time and my promise, but by the time 4:30 am rolled around, I found myself drained of all the energy I had mustered for this hurdle. The two young nurses came in and hurriedly explained how they wanted me to get up. My ears could hear them, but my brain wasn't processing their instructions and my body definitely wasn't responding. I felt hopeless and stupid. I just couldn't communicate what or how I was feeling. I remember one of the nurses "tenderly" sharing how she had had 3 c-sections and so she knew exactly how I was feeling. She then pleasantly told me how easy it was for her....
I remember looking at my husband across the room pleading for him to do something. He actually understood and came over to me. He helped me by practically lifting me off the bed and onto my feet. I immediately nestled my head into his chest as I sobbed. The pain was intense. I couldn't quite understand why the nurses had me get out of bed to the left, when the goal was for me to walk to the bathroom which was on the right...I just didn't know how to get my body around the bed and to the bathroom. My mind drifted back to high school when math teachers repeatedly drilled how the shortest distance between two points is a straight line and if that is true didn't my nurses know that they set me up for failure being that much farther from my desired target? All of these things running through my mind along with so much more...like why do these two nurses keep telling me how good they are, and will they just be quiet? Or, can I do this, 6 children, wow...or I am hungry, when did I last eat? Or, I have seen and held my baby once, and I don't feel any real connection and that is scaring me....So with all these thoughts and others running rampant I just cried and cried hiding my face in my husbands chest unable to speak, knowing the nurses were starting to worry I was losing it...and yet not caring what they were thinking about me. They let me lie back down realizing I wasn't going to take a step. I tried to rest a little but could not stop crying.
The DR on call came to see me a few hours later. As he came in he asked me how I was doing. I couldn't even speak. So, he assumed that I had a cold. I then burst out that I did not have a cold, but had been unable to stop crying. The pediatrician came in to give us an update on Rilla. He apologized for interrupting as he saw I was crying. My DR assured him he was not interrupting and invited him in. After the pediatricians 2 minute update he said a quick goodbye as he raced to the door. My DR looked quickly at me and then stated he had to go too. They both ran out of the room as fast as possible and I just kept crying. My logic knew I should get a grip but my hormones just didn't want to be logical. I was upset that my DR would just bail on me and a bit worried that the pediatrician would call social services or insist on a psych consult....
An hour or so later, breakfast arrived. I realized I hadn't eaten for over 24 hours since I had had the stomach flu the night before coming to the hospital. With some food in my tummy and a new nurse on duty (who is a friend of mine), I finally started feeling better. I felt like getting up and getting to the bathroom. I got my IV out! And, I made it up. My nurse and I were able to have a nice visit and laugh about my breakdown amidst 4 adults who had no idea how to deal with me. I was feeling good knowing that I wasn't in serious trouble because if I had been, the medical professionals in charge of me certainly hadn't done anything to help me.
So, while we laughed and I enjoyed visiting with a friend I started thinking about what if I had needed help...I know I have postpartum depression. I have learned how I need to deal with it. I know I need medication. Just knowing that it will be a problem, makes the craziness seem normal or at least able to endure until my hormones mellow out a bit. I realize that there are so many first time mothers who don't know what postpartum depression feels like and don't know how to ask for help or might not know they need help. Instead of having a surplus of lactation specialists who feel the need to convince even the mothers who already have committed to breastfeeding that breastfeeding is best...we should have postpartum specialists to listen to mothers' needs. Everyone worries about "baby" which is good, but we forget to worry about "mom" too. Even "mom's" DR is worried about "baby." But truly a baby is best when the mom is at her best.
I remember looking at my husband across the room pleading for him to do something. He actually understood and came over to me. He helped me by practically lifting me off the bed and onto my feet. I immediately nestled my head into his chest as I sobbed. The pain was intense. I couldn't quite understand why the nurses had me get out of bed to the left, when the goal was for me to walk to the bathroom which was on the right...I just didn't know how to get my body around the bed and to the bathroom. My mind drifted back to high school when math teachers repeatedly drilled how the shortest distance between two points is a straight line and if that is true didn't my nurses know that they set me up for failure being that much farther from my desired target? All of these things running through my mind along with so much more...like why do these two nurses keep telling me how good they are, and will they just be quiet? Or, can I do this, 6 children, wow...or I am hungry, when did I last eat? Or, I have seen and held my baby once, and I don't feel any real connection and that is scaring me....So with all these thoughts and others running rampant I just cried and cried hiding my face in my husbands chest unable to speak, knowing the nurses were starting to worry I was losing it...and yet not caring what they were thinking about me. They let me lie back down realizing I wasn't going to take a step. I tried to rest a little but could not stop crying.
The DR on call came to see me a few hours later. As he came in he asked me how I was doing. I couldn't even speak. So, he assumed that I had a cold. I then burst out that I did not have a cold, but had been unable to stop crying. The pediatrician came in to give us an update on Rilla. He apologized for interrupting as he saw I was crying. My DR assured him he was not interrupting and invited him in. After the pediatricians 2 minute update he said a quick goodbye as he raced to the door. My DR looked quickly at me and then stated he had to go too. They both ran out of the room as fast as possible and I just kept crying. My logic knew I should get a grip but my hormones just didn't want to be logical. I was upset that my DR would just bail on me and a bit worried that the pediatrician would call social services or insist on a psych consult....
An hour or so later, breakfast arrived. I realized I hadn't eaten for over 24 hours since I had had the stomach flu the night before coming to the hospital. With some food in my tummy and a new nurse on duty (who is a friend of mine), I finally started feeling better. I felt like getting up and getting to the bathroom. I got my IV out! And, I made it up. My nurse and I were able to have a nice visit and laugh about my breakdown amidst 4 adults who had no idea how to deal with me. I was feeling good knowing that I wasn't in serious trouble because if I had been, the medical professionals in charge of me certainly hadn't done anything to help me.
So, while we laughed and I enjoyed visiting with a friend I started thinking about what if I had needed help...I know I have postpartum depression. I have learned how I need to deal with it. I know I need medication. Just knowing that it will be a problem, makes the craziness seem normal or at least able to endure until my hormones mellow out a bit. I realize that there are so many first time mothers who don't know what postpartum depression feels like and don't know how to ask for help or might not know they need help. Instead of having a surplus of lactation specialists who feel the need to convince even the mothers who already have committed to breastfeeding that breastfeeding is best...we should have postpartum specialists to listen to mothers' needs. Everyone worries about "baby" which is good, but we forget to worry about "mom" too. Even "mom's" DR is worried about "baby." But truly a baby is best when the mom is at her best.
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